Chapter 9 - Opus 9

As the door clicked shut, time seemed to be suspended.

Diane's senses were tingling and she took in her surroundings with a slow, deep breath. It was coming up on dinner time and the setting sun filled the room with an ever decreasing glow. Shadows lengthened. The only sound was the snapping of tiny nuts and seeds as Miguel worked at his food.

They were facing each other but were worlds apart.

Harry still leaned heavily on the kitchen counter and she had taken up position against the back of the leather couch. His eyes followed her every move as she slipped one arm out of her coat, and then the other, and layed it carefully beside her.

They hadn't been alone, really alone, in 38 days, and Harry had nearly driven himself mad by keeping count. So many times he had wanted to hold her but he was hindered by obstacles; his hospital stay, hours of reports and interviews regarding the Monroe case, relatives he hadn't seen in months coming by to wish him well.

She was now near enough to touch and he found himself fighting for control. Diane's whole world had been turned upside down and shaken violently by the events of the past few months. He knew she needed to sort things out and he had no right to make any claims on her or her time.

Harry was torn between his own needs and hers. And at this moment his own needs were running the show. Too tired to behave, he lapsed into defensive mode and tossed out a verbal gauntlet.

"I'd offer you some coffee but I wouldn't want to overstep my bounds."

Keenly aware of his cool demeanor, Diane refused to pick up the challenge tried to change the subject with a question. "You think Grace will be okay out there?"

"Like she said, it's only three blocks."

"I know, but she looked pretty beat when I got here."

"Why ARE you here, Diane?"

She paused and folded her arms, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know how to clarify such a simple question," he said flatly.