SEVENTEEN

Both physically and psychologically drained after their terrifying encounter with the Spinosaurus coupled with the lateness of their return to the dormitory, Alan and Ellie overslept the next morning, remaining in their beds until well after ten o'clock.  When they finally awakened, it was to the soothing patter of rain on the roof, and they were content to linger there, enjoying the peaceful sounds.

When Ellie finally swung her legs over the edge of the bed to sit up, she noticed that the muscles in her abdomen was extremely sore, a lingering after-effect of the exertion of the day before.  Lifting the hem of her blouse, she massaged the soreness with her fingers, but was satisfied that the discomfort was merely muscle strain as her body was still healing from the injuries she had sustained. 

She was briefly surprised to discover that she was still wearing the clothes she had worn the day before, and remembered that she had not bothered to undress before collapsing on her bed.  They were badly soiled and sweat-stained, as was she, so she got up and opened the drawers to the small bureau to gather up some clean clothes.  Her eyes lingered on the contents, somewhat startled to discover the drawer had been almost completely emptied, leaving only a single pair of jeans, and a couple of pairs of shorts, which she had avoided wearing into the jungle, where her legs would surely be scratched by the forest's undergrowth.  In her blouse drawer, she still had two tee shirts and one sleeveless button-down blouse, and her underwear drawer was nearly bare as well. 

Performing a quick mental calculation, she realized that she had been on the island for nine days, and not once had they bothered with the laundry.  Surely, Alan must be getting low on clean clothing as well. 

Selecting a pair of denim shorts and a gray tee shirt, she closed the drawers again and opened the curtain.  Leaning close to Alan's curtain door, she called softly, "Alan, are you awake?"  Her voice was loud enough to be heard, but not so loud that she would awaken him if he was still asleep.

"Yeah, I'm awake," he responded, promptly.  "It's just so comfortable lying here listening to the rain that I'm reluctant to get up."

"Stay in bed as long as you want," she urged.  "I'm going to take a bath or a shower or whatever you call it when you douse yourself with a pan of cold water.  Then I'll go down and start breakfast."  She glanced at her watch.  "Maybe we'd better make that lunch.  By the time I get down there, it'll be nearly eleven."

"Okay."

"Do you want me to put on a pot of coffee?"

"No.  A glass of iced tea will be fine for lunch.  Let me know when you're out of the bathroom, so I can get cleaned up, too."

"Okay."

Taking her clean clothes down the hall, she stopped at the linen closet and reached inside.  There were only three clean towels left and a couple of wash cloths. 

Gee, it's been so long since I've done laundry, I hope I remember how it's done! she thought to herself, mildly amused.  At home, the maid had always done the family's laundry, and while she was living with her parents, Ilene had insisted on taking care of Ellie's laundry along with her own, insisting that her daughter continue to convalesce.  She had been only too willing to comply with her mother's wishes, for at that time, she had no desire to do anything except sit in a medication induced stupor and stare at the picture of her family on the mantle. 

As she pushed open the bathroom door, she flipped the sign to the Occupied side, then went inside.  When her shower was finished, she tossed the wet towel and wash cloth into the hamper near the shower stall, then remembered to flip the sign back to Vacant as she made her way back to her cubical.

"All finished," she announced, speaking to the gray fabric wall and the man on the other side of it.

He yawned, sleepily.  "Okay.  I'm getting up."  She heard the rustle of his clothing and the sheets as he shifted positions and sat up.  She heard him yawn again, and could easily picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, rumpling his hair with his fingers as he tried to wake up.  It was an image that brought a smile to her face.

She had been using a large kitchen sized plastic trash container as her dirty clothes hamper, and she added the soiled clothes from yesterday to the already overflowing container, then shifted her gaze to the bedding.  It had not been changed since her arrival on the island.  Mark would have had a fit had the sheets on his bed not been changed during that length of time, but the fact was, she and Alan had been so busy that it had not even occurred to her, any more than the need to do the laundry.

That's no excuse, honey, Mark's voice scolded in her mind.  We're civilized people; we need to act like it.

I'll change them today, her thoughts responded to the gentle but effective reprimand.

The maid should be doing that, the ghostly voice of her husband admonished.  That's her job; not yours.  Menial labor is beneath you, dear.  Even though I'm no longer with you physically, you still have a responsibility to my memory.  You should not even be on that island living in such primitive conditions!  You have a reputation to maintain.  And look at the way you're dressed!  Mother would be furious if she could see you now!

I don't care! 

Frustrated Ellie pushed aside those annoying thoughts.  She knew his lecture was merely in her mind, but it almost seemed as though her conscience was allowing him to control her from the grave.  Why did she continue to be plagued with negative thoughts about her husband?  Shy couldn't she just think about the happy times?

Irritably, she picked up the comb from her dresser and went to work on her wet hair, painfully yanking away the snarls and tangles.  Next, she stripped the old sheets from the bed, and added them to the pile of clothing in her hamper, then went down the hall for clean linens.  She met Alan at the closet, who was reaching in for a clean towel.  Seeing him standing there in yesterday's clothing looking as dirty and grungy as she had before her bath softened her mood, somewhat.

"I'm putting clean linens on my bed.  I'll put some on yours, too," she announced.

"Okay.  Thanks.  I hadn't even thought about it."

"Neither had I."

While he took his shower, she returned to the bedroom and put the clean linens on her bed, then went into Alan's cubical and stripped his bed as well, and replaced them with fresh sheets and a clean pillowcase.

Except for the hurried moment during which she had retrieved the extra backpack from under his dresser, this was the first time she had actually spent more than a few seconds inside Alan's private space, and she paused to look around. 

Basically, the furnishings were a replica of hers, except for the bookcase, which occupied the space against the wall where the window was in her cubical.  Instead of works of fiction that one would normally expect to find in a bookcase, this one contained dozens of volumes of spiral notebooks chronicling his work on the island.  The cover of each journal was numbered and labeled to keep them in order. 

A smile formed on her lips.  Most people would have used a computer or, at the very least, a typewriter to keep his notes, but for some reason, Alan Grand did not get along well with electronics, and even more amusing, electronics did not get along with him!

Below the notebooks, on another shelf, were various file folders, obviously removed from the main facility and brought here for easy access.  Small black canisters of 35 mm film were also stored there, each one labeled according to date and content.  They would be developed when they returned to the States.

Not wishing to be caught snooping, she turned away from the bookcase and gathered up the dirty sheets, adding them to the ever-growing pile of laundry in his dirty clothes basket.  Leaving them to worry about later, she descended the stairs, and went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, wondering what to fix for lunch. 

There was still an unopened package of lunchmeat and some cheese.  She removed them and the half-used loaf of bread that was kept in the fridge to keep it from molding in the island's moist heat.  Two more loaves were kept in the freezer to keep them fresh.  She opened a can of soup and while it heated on the stove, she made bologna and cheese sandwiches.  A pitcher of tea was in the refrigerator, so she prepared two glasses with ice. 

Alan came into the kitchen while she was pouring the soup in bowls.

"There wasn't time to thaw out any meat, so we're just having soup and sandwiches for lunch," she told him.  "By the way, I'm afraid I'm going to have to do laundry today," she added.  "I'm almost completely out of clean clothes."

"So am I," he agreed.  "Okay.  We'll tackle it this afternoon."

"Is the washer difficult to operate, since it isn't hooked up to the water?"

"No.  I always use the rain water from the barrels, but I boil it first on the stove.  It'll have to cool a bit before you can handle it, but while it's still hot you can use it for the whites.  You'll need to let it cool for the colors, or they'll fade  . . . ."  He saw that Ellie was smiling in amusement, and realized what he was saying.  Feeling somewhat embarrassed, he gave a sheepish grin.   "I guess you already knew that, though."

"Are you trying to give me advice on how to sort clothes?" she inquired, still smiling.

"Uh, no . . .  I just . . ."

Her impish smile broadened, and she wanted desperately to kiss him at that moment, but she restrained herself, unaware that her smile was having the same affect on Alan.

This time, it was she who turned away.  Picking up the bowls of soup, she carried them into the dining room and placed them on the table.  While she was doing that, Alan fetched the bucket and made several trips into the rain to fill it with water from the barrel outside the back door, then poured it into the huge kettle to heat on the stove while they ate. 

Ellie returned to the kitchen for the sandwiches, and Alan picked up their glasses of iced tea.  Together, they sat down in the dining room to eat their meal.

"What are we going to do in the way of research while we wait for the animals to return?" Ellie asked.

Alan shrugged.  "Well, lately I've been pretty lax about documenting the events on the video tapes.  We can keep busy with that task for several days.  Hopefully, it won't take too long for the Spinosaurus to get hungry and move off to other areas."

Ellie gazed at him for several moments.  Here she had cheerfully avoided thinking about the terrors that had occurred the day before, and Alan had brought it up as if it was a casual conversation piece.  "You just had to bring up the subject of that monster, didn't you?"

He smiled.  "Sorry."

"I don't know when I've ever been that frightened," she confessed.

"That was pretty close," he agreed.

"After it leaves the area, how long do you think it will take for the other animals to come back?"

He shrugged.  "That's impossible to say.  The animals tend to eat their way around the island, moving from one area to the next.  They never stay in exactly one spot, because they would quickly consume all the vegetation.  They'll come wandering back, one day.  Hopefully sooner than later." 

She turned her gaze toward the window, where the rain continued to fall.  "I wonder where the Spino is, now?"

"I don't know."  He smiled, wistfully.  "Maybe we'll get lucky, and it'll get struck by lightning."

Ellie laughed, softly.  "Yes, that would solve one of our biggest problems, wouldn't it?"  She sighed, wistfully.  "I don't think we could get that lucky."

He looked up from his meal, his eyes meeting hers.  "Ellie, we can't live in constant fear."

She shrugged.  "I know, but I don't think I'll ever be able to go outside now without looking around for it."

"But that's good," he told her.  "That kind of alertness is necessary to survive out here.  You're learning to read the signs, to tell when danger is near.  This encounter with the Spinosaurus is just one more lesson.  A hard one, to be sure, but we're not likely to be complacent after this."  He paused to smile at her.  "I admit I'll be looking over my shoulder a little more often now, too."

When the meal was finished, they washed the dishes using some of the boiled water, and left them to dry while they gathered up their laundry and separated it into whites and colors.  Alan had found several laundry baskets during his first few weeks on the island, and he had cleaned them up and had been using them ever since.  Dumping their clothing in the plastic baskets, they carried them into the laundry room.

Alan directed her to the two washing machines that he had put back in working order, and lifted the lids.  Both machines were loaded with laundry and detergent, then turned on.  Since they were not hooked up to a water source, the hot water was transferred to the hoppers with the bucket.  After a short time, they started agitating. 

"From here on, it functions just like the one back home," Alan said with a smile. 

Like the one back home, Ellie thought, absently.  She had no idea how the one back home worked, for she had never used it.  "What are you going to do today?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"Well, I had intended to get in the garden today, but the rain doesn't look like it's going to quit any time soon.  Guess I'll go into the office and work on my journal.  I need to record the things that happened to us yesterday, while they're fresh in my mind."

"Ah, yes.  Yesterday.  If you don't mind, I think I'll leave that task to you.  I'd rather not be reminded of it."

"Okay," he smiled.  "I'll see you in a bit.  Let me know if you need any more water."

Alan walked away, leaving the woman alone in the laundry room.

While the laundry was chugging along in the washing machines, Ellie wandered to the barred door and gazed out at the wet, green landscape.  From there, she could see the garden, which appeared to be waiting patiently for the rain to end and the sun to return.  Beyond the garden was the edge of the jungle.  In the distance, obscured by the weather, she could barely make out the misty slope of the nearest mountain.  The air smelled fresh and clean, and although humid because of the rain, the temperatures had cooled.

The patter of the rain on the ground and trickling down the drainpipes were soothing, and soon she found herself yawning again. 

Bored, Ellie wandered into the kitchen, his hands shoved into the hip pockets of her denim shorts, looking for something to do.  There was always cleaning to be done, but she was not in the mood for that.  There were plenty of books in one of the front rooms, but she had left her glasses upstairs and did not want to fetch them.  She was in the mood to bake, a task she had not enjoyed in a long time.

Moving to the large preparation table, she slid open the door to the storage area beneath it, and knelt down to rummage around among the pots and pans, curious to see if she could locate a loaf pan that she could use to make some squash bread.  The vegetable drawer was full of squash, much more than they would ever be able to eat, and she knew she would have to be creative in order to utilize the wonderfully versatile vegetable.  To her surprise, she found not only three loaf pans, but two pie pans and three cookie sheets.  Eagerly, she withdrew her prizes and stood up to admire them.  Not only could she make the loaves of bread, she could make cookies and pies, if she could find enough ingredients.  If she couldn't, she'd put them on the grocery list when Alan called Miguel for the next supply shipment.

She placed the pans in the sink to wash them, and then moved to the refrigerator, hoping there were enough eggs left and enough spices to complete the project.  Yes, there were enough eggs and plenty of butter.  The spice rack was not well stocked, but she was pleased to find a container of cinnamon.  This was not a surprise, for Alan liked toast sprinkled with cinnamon.  Although he was creative enough to cook his own meals with some variety, he was not known as a culinary wizard.

She knew there was plenty of flour and white sugar in the canisters; certainly enough to make a couple of loaves of squash bread, provided she could remember the recipe her mother had used.  Well, she could improvise, if necessary.  Humming happily to herself, she went to work.

In the office, Alan soon became aware of the delicious aromas drifting through the building, and knew that Ellie was preparing some tantalizing delicacy for dessert.  After a while, he could no longer ignore the smells.  Dropping his pen onto the tablet, he stood up and made his way back to the kitchen, where he found Ellie slicing a loaf of the steaming hot bread on a platter.  Two more loaves were cooling on the cooling rack.

"What is that wonderful smell?" he exclaimed as he entered the kitchen.

"Squash bread!" she told him, proudly.  "We had a lot of squash that was about to go to waste, so I found enough ingredients to make something that at least resembles my mother's recipe.  We don't have all the spices she uses, but I think it will taste all right."

He broke off a piece of the bread and tasted it, remembering the wonderful snacks she had baked when they had lived together.  "Mmm, delicious."

"Thank you," she smiled, pleased.  "We'll freeze the other two loaves for later.  I found all kinds of cookie sheets and pie pans, too.  Next time you call in an order from Miguel, I'll be adding some things to the list.  At this point, I can make a pie crust, but we don't have anything to fill it with.  I thought we'd ask for some apples, blueberries, and chocolate pudding.  In the meantime, I think I can scrape up enough ingredients to make a batch of peanut butter cookies."

"You always were the best cook, Ellie," he praised.  "I've really missed your cooking.  Since you weren't working, I bet you spent a lot of time cooking and baking for the kids."

Her pleased smile faded, as if a cloud had suddenly drifted across her face, extinguishing her sunshine.  "No, not really," she answered, placing the loaf on the counter top.  Turning her back on him, she gathered up the loaf pans and wiped down the non-stick surfaces with a wet sponge, then returned them to the storage space in which she had found them, placing them inside with a little more force than was necessary.

A slight frown creased Alan's brow as he watched her clean up.  Her busy hands seemed to be an attempt to cover up her sudden irritability or despondency.  Carefully, he mulled over his words, wondering what he had said that had darkened her mood so completely, and recalled that this had happened once before when he had mentioned cooking for her family.  "Ellie, did I say something wrong?"

"No," she replied, shortly.

He grasped her arm and turned her around to face him again.  The sadness in her eyes was vivid, and triggered a slight twinge of sorrow in his heart to see her in so much pain.  "Was it my careless reference to your home and family?  If it was, I'm sorry.  I never meant to bring you down."

She sighed, heavily.  "It wasn't you or what you said."  He continued to hold her by the arms, indicating that he was not going to let it go until she gave him an answer, but she refused to look him in the eye.  "I used to bake cookies and cakes for Charlie and Halley, sometimes, but . . ." Might as well tell him.  " . . . I had to do it when Mark wasn't around."

"Why?  He didn't like for the children to have snacks?"

"He didn't like it when I worked in the kitchen.  We had a maid for things like that, and she was kind enough to cover for me when I wanted to bake.  Baking cookies, Alan; it's an activity a mother is supposed to share with her children, but Mark just didn't see it that way.  It wasn't acceptable for me to do things like that."  Before he could say anything, she felt compelled to defend her husband.  Raising her hand to silence his protest, she said, "You have to understand, he was raised in a wealthy environment where it was frowned upon for people to cross the lines of their social status.  It was the way he was raised, and he expected me to adhere to those rules.  I just had a little trouble adjusting to that." 

Although summers were always spent on dig sites, Alan recalled that Ellie had spent much of her spare time during the winter cooking and baking.  Especially at Christmas, when the house was constantly filled with mouth watering aromas as she experimented with new recipes.  "That doesn't seem fair, to ask you to give up something that you always took pleasure in," he said, critically.  "Couldn't he have considered it a recreational activity for you?  Like a hobby or something?"

"It wasn't that simple.  It always caused an argument, so it was just easier to go along with him.  Or, at least try to.  I wasn't very good at conforming to all his rules.  It was bad enough that I wore blue jeans and sweatshirts, casual attire 'more suited to a stable than the wife of a future politician', according to his mother," she added with sarcasm.

"Politician?" he asked with surprise, looking as if he had smelled an offensive odor at the mention of the word.

"I know.  His parents had it in their heads that he was political material, and he was being groomed by his father to eventually run for office.  They had their eyes set on the governor's seat."

"You might have one day been the First Lady of Virginia," he said.

"I didn't want to be the First Lady," she retorted.  "I just wanted to be Ellie Sattler.  I mean Degler," she added quickly.  Grant.  The unspoken name lingered on her tongue, but she did not say it.

Alan's frown deepened, wondering just how happy Ellie and Mark had truly been together.  It was becoming obvious that they had been mismatched. 

She leaned back against the counter top and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face with an angry swipe of her hand.  "That woman despised me.  During family get-togethers, she always made it a point to bring up the fact that I was not suitably dressed.  Even in an evening gown, I was never dressed to suit her."

"I bet you were beautiful in an evening gown," he said, softly.

"Not according to her.  She said I looked 'frumpy'!  She started trying to pick out my clothes, tried to get me to style my hair like hers, and learn to speak in that whispery voice she always used.  I wasn't a 'lady', and didn't deserve the honor of being a member of her family.  And Mark!" she exclaimed with disbelief.  "He just gave this tolerant smile whenever I complained about it, and said that maybe I should try to humor her; that she was just trying to help."

Alan listened patiently, understanding that, for the first time, she was finally unloading some of the baggage she carried.  "He never took your side?"

"Never.  He always took her side.  You know me, Alan!  I'm not the kind of person who can lounge around on the sofa in a glamorous gown all day being waited on hand and foot by a maid or entertaining a bunch of stuffy old hens with tea and crumpets!  I wanted to be out in the sand pile with Charlie, or making mud-pies with Halley!  Is there anything wrong with that?"

"No."

"Then why couldn't he understand that?  Why couldn't he just let me be myself, instead of forcing me to live this charade all the time?" 

"Ellie, forgive me for saying this, but he knew when he married you that you were from a middle class family.  With that in mind, why were you the one always expected to conform to their traditions?"  The question that remained unspoken was: Why did you marry him?

Misty tears were forming in her eyes, and she sighed, despondently.  "He said he loved me, and we'd handle any problems that came up.  I had reservations about it," she confessed.  "Mom was beside herself with joy when I told her that he'd asked me to marry him.  She was nuts about him.  The trouble was, 'handling problems' only meant I was supposed to try harder to learn their ways.  He would have been furious if he had come home and caught me in the kitchen.  Early in our marriage, I made him a birthday cake, and you'd have thought I'd committed treason, or something.  He let me know in no uncertain terms that I was not to do anything like that again."   Her lip was trembling, and she pressed her fingers against them, taking a few moments to compose herself again.

During her silence, Alan was imagining things he did not want to know, but felt compelled to ask anyway.  "Ellie, was he abusive toward you?"

Her eyes stared into his for a long time, sending a ripple of alarm through Alan's heart.  Finally, she pulled her eyes away.  "Not in the way you mean.  He never struck me, or anything like that, but I was frequently told how inferior I was about certain things.  If not by him, then by his mother.  Actually, she was the worst."

"Inferior, how?"

"My clothes, my manner of speaking, the way I wore my hair, my personal interests.  There wasn't anything about me that she liked.  To her, I was low class scum."

"She actually said that?" Alan asked, incredulously.

"Not in so many words, but I knew what she meant.  Whenever Mark was around, she put on this fake smile and pretended that she was trying to be helpful, to teach me to conform to their society, but if I found myself alone with her, she did nothing to hide her contempt for me.  I just didn't measure up to her expectations, and he rarely defended me against her.  When he did speak on my behalf, it was a half-hearted, 'Mom, she can't help the way she was raised', or 'She's trying her best'.  Somehow, his words sounded even more like an insult than hers did."

Alan turned away, dragging his fingers through his hair, stunned by the unexpected insight into Ellie's marriage, facts of which he had been unaware.  When he had visited, they had seemed the perfect upper class family, when in reality he sensed her life had been anything except perfect.  Obviously, her expectations had fallen far short of reality.

She could see the look of revulsion on his face, and this time it was she who grasped his arm to turn him around to face her.  "Alan, my marriage was mostly good.  I want you to understand that.  It's just that there were certain things that I hadn't bargained on.  His mother, primarily, and his inability to stand up to her.  Without her influence, things would have been different.  I think he would have been more tolerant, but he always had her nagging at him to make me into her idea of a perfect wife when she knew good and well that I would never fit her idea of a perfect daughter-in-law.  When she wasn't around, he was a good husband, and he tried hard to be a good father, even though he wasn't accustomed to fathers spending time with their children.  His father is CEO of a large corporation, making a salary that is nothing short of obscene, and of course work always came before family.  Mark's act of 'youthful rebellion', as his father put it, was taking a job with the State Department instead of with the company."

"Sounds like a cardinal sin to me," Alan said, sarcastically.

Ellie heard the sarcasm, but ignored it.  "Martin, his father, could have secured a managerial position for him in corporate, but Mark was concerned about the perception of nepotism by the other workers."

Alan nodded.  "He was right.  That's exactly what it would have been."

"I thought maybe it was a sign that he was trying to get out from under their dominance, but he just couldn't seem to step out from under their shadow in other ways."

"Other ways, meaning their idea of how you should behave?"

"Mark tolerated some of my 'lower class' habits."  In response to his frown, she added, "Yeah, that's what he called them.  He didn't like my jeans, but he didn't complain too often about them, if I didn't wear them away from the house or around his mother.  He was raised by a nanny, but he didn't push the issue when I refused to turn my kids over to one, even though it was a sore spot with his mother.  She nagged at me all the time about it."  She smiled, sadly.  "I almost convinced him to make a snowman with Charlie last winter.  I wish I could have seen that."

He gazed at her for a long moment, as if to determine if she was merely saying that for his benefit.  She seemed sincere.  "So, you were happy, then?" he asked.

She nodded.  "For the most part.  He was good to me, Alan.  As good as he was capable of being.  He gave me anything I asked for, gave me the time and space to write my book, pretended to listen whenever I talked about paleobotany or paleontology."  I just didn't love him the way I love you, and I think he knew it!  She folded her arms, and heaved a regretful sigh at her inner confession.  "He even settled for that modest sized house, when he preferred to buy a mansion."

Alan's eyes widened.  The house in which Ellie and Mark had lived was large two-story, big and sprawling with large rooms.  It had been situated in the middle of a lush two acre property in an affluent neighborhood.  "You call that modest sized?" he asked.

"Well, it was as modest I could get him to go.  You should have seen the house his mother wanted us to get.  It was a huge Tudor mansion in her neighborhood.  There was no way in hell I was going to live that close to his parents!"  She paused briefly, lowering her gaze to the floor as if ashamed.  "Ever since he died, I've only allowed myself to think about the good times we shared."  Her eyes darted to his face again, as if fearful that he would misinterpret the direction her comments were leading.  "And there were good times, Alan, but lately, ever since I came to the island  . . . some of the bad things have started coming into my mind, and I feel so damn guilty about it."

"Marriage is always made up of good and bad.  You deal with it, work through it together."

She shrugged.  "I know, but with Mark's family there wasn't any 'working through it together'.  Everything had to be done their way, with no compromise.  I guess I just feel like I'm being unfair to him, since he isn't here to defend himself.  He couldn't help the way he was raised."  She gave an ironic laugh.  "Listen to me!  Now I sound like he did!"  She paused briefly, then flashed a forced smile.  "Let's eat some of this bread while it's still hot," she suggested, effectively slamming the door on further discussion of that particular subject. 

Turning her back to him, she opened the door to the cupboard and withdrew a couple of plates, then pulled open the silverware drawer and removed a couple of forks.

Alan watched her in silence, thinking that this was the most she had ever opened up to him about her life with Mark Degler.  And nothing she had revealed fit the image he had created for himself of family life at the Degler household.  The big beautiful home, with its huge manicured lawn, was a facade, a pretense hiding the reality that they were, in every sense of the word, struggling to overcome their differences in upbringing and social classes. 

He could only wonder what other surprises she would reveal as she gradually came to terms with the tragedy that had changed her life.

 

EIGHTEEN

During the days that followed their encounter with the Spinosaurus, Alan and Ellie managed to stay busy, but they remained within the confines of the dormitory for safety's sake.  Several times each day, Alan went up to the roof with a pair of binoculars, searching the surrounding terrain and the distant plains and clearings for any indication that the peaceful plant eaters were moving back into the area, but each time, he saw only empty fields. 

The Spinosaurus was also conspicuously absent as Alan scanned the distant hills and valleys, but they did not settle for chance.  It had been in the area for a long time without detection, so it seemed wise to remain indoors until absolutely certain that it had moved on. 

Using the small two-and-a-half-inch screens on the two camcorders, the two scientists poured over tape after tape, meticulously documenting and cataloguing the contents of each one.  Since Ellie's arrival, Alan had become unusually lax in his record-keeping, but now, with no reason to leave the compound, they joined forces to complete the task.  With Ellie's assistance, the job was completed in nearly half the time than it would have on his own, but it was still a daunting task requiring a great deal of time.  When the documentation of the most recent tapes was finished, Alan brought out the tapes he had recorded before Ellie's arrival.  It provided a unique opportunity for her to see first-hand the work that Alan had been performing since his arrival the previous summer. 

When they weren't working on the tapes, there were always the mundane housekeeping chores that Ellie insisted should be done.  The kitchen and bathroom floors were scrubbed spotless, and the windows were washed until they glistened.  They attacked the cobwebs in the corners with brooms, and wiped down the walls with a damp cloth, marveling at the amount of dirt that had accumulated there.  "It's a wonder we don't have allergies with all this dust!" she complained more than once.

Alan bore up to the housekeeping chores with a tolerant smile, pleased that she was showing so much interest in the things around her.  It was a far cry from the vacant eyes that he had seen looking back at him when she had first arrived on the island.

Every few days, with Ellie standing lookout on the deck overhead, Alan ventured into his garden to pick the ripened vegetables and cultivate as necessary.  Each time, there was no indication that danger was lurking anywhere in the vicinity.

And each morning, they continued Ellie's physical fitness routine.  That, in conjunction with the fresh vegetables and clean air provided by their wilderness living, she continued to see steady and significant progress in the recovery of her health.

Nine days after they had encountered the Spinosaurus, Ellie was in her cubical making her bed when she heard Alan's excited voice calling urgently from the roof. 

"Ellie!  Come up here!"

Leaving the bed for later, Ellie left her cubical and climbed the stairs to the roof, curious to see what had inspired his enthusiasm.  There, she paused to look around, turning a complete circle as her bewildered eyes searched for the paleontologist who was nowhere to be seen.  Only the deck tables and chairs and the rain barrels were in sight - and curiously, an aluminum ladder, propped against the edge of the awning. 

Wondering if she had mistaken his location, she called, "Alan?"

"Up here!" he responded.

Moving out from under the awning, she looked up and found that he was standing on top of it, affording him an extra eight feet of height for a better view of the surrounding countryside.  He was holding a pair of binoculars, which he lowered to smile down at her over the edge. 

"Come on up," he urged.  "The view is incredible!"

Reluctant to climb that ladder with no one supporting it from below, she walked over to it to see how he had secured it.  He had placed the ladder against one of the tables, so that the bottom rung was propped against a table leg to keep it from sliding.  Because the tables were bolted to the ceiling, it provided a stable support.

Carefully, she climbed up the ladder and stepped onto the wooden sunshade.  Alan offered his hand to help steady her.

When she was firmly on her feet atop the wooden awning, he passed her the binoculars, and pointed across the landscape.  "Look over there!"  Without waiting for her to look through the glasses, he said, excitedly, "The longnecks are back!"

Raising the binoculars to her eyes, she adjusted the lenses to suit her own visual needs, and saw that several living objects were moving slowly through a distant clearing.  They were very far away, even with the aid of the binoculars, but she recognized the massive bodies and long necks of the Brachiosaurus.  They lumbered slowly among the trees at the edge of the clearing, browsing on the tree tops.  Ellie glimpsed another snake-like neck at a lower position than the others.

"I think there may be an infant with them," she commented with mounting excitement.  Shifting the binoculars slightly, she spotted a smaller creature as it emerged from the forest.  She squinted into the lenses and finally was able to distinguish the unique trio of horns protruding from its head and the protective frill that rose from the back of its skull.  "A Trike has just joined them."

Alan abruptly touched her arm to attract her attention.  "Look over there!" he told her, directing her to their left.

Ellie turned in the direction indicated, and saw a small group of Parasaurolophus were watering at the stream that cut through the valley.  "That's wonderful!" she exclaimed.  "That must mean that the Spinosaurus has moved out of the area!"

"That's my thinking.  We'll head out after breakfast and have a closer look."

Spurred on by the excitement of returning to the field, they prepared a quick breakfast of cold cereal, then gathered their gear and set out across the field again, confident that the worst of the giant flesh-eaters had moved on to other parts of the island in search of game.
                                                                                     ~~~

Hours later, Ellie observed the scene that lay before her through the viewfinder of Alan's primary camcorder, which was perched atop a tripod to steady the picture.  The point of interest was the migratory behavior of the creatures as they returned in small herds to their preferred feeding grounds.  The small group of Parasaurolophus seemed quite content to remain where they were, grazing on the lush vegetation as the majority of the other animals continued their trek to whatever part of the island they favored.

They were set up near a wide crystal clear stream in a fertile valley, filming the animals as they came to quench their thirst.  The stream was obviously a major watering hole for the animals, for they were almost completely surrounded by plant-eaters of varying species that included Brachiosaurs, Ankylosaurus, Stegosaurus, Maiasaurus, and Triceratops.  The animals in the herds paused at the stream without apparent fear, and a few inquisitive members occasionally advanced closer to get a better look at the two humans before stopping to graze or proceeding to other feeding grounds in other parts of the island. 

As Ellie monitored her subjects through the viewfinder, she felt something nibbling at the hem of her blouse.  Turning, she found an adolescent Parasaurolophus had approached from behind and seemed particularly interested in her blouse.  She turned around, and gently pushed the animal's muzzle away.  She had a limited number of blouses on the island -- she could not afford to lose one.

"Go away," she said.  Her voice was kind to avoid startling the animal.

The young hadrosaur raised its head and gazed at her through placid, curious eyes.  Seeing no fear in those gentle eyes, Ellie impulsively reached out with a slow, steady hand to stroke its soft muzzle.  It jerked its head back quickly at the initial contact, but it apparently felt no sense of alarm, for it reached for her again until its muzzle touched her hand.  This time, it did not pull away, but allowed her to stroke its head, apparently enjoying the contact.  Recalling the way Jack, her parrot, enjoyed it when she scratched his colorfully feathered head, she raised her hand slowly to the bony crest that protruded backward from the top of its head, and gently rubbed with her fingertips.  The duckbilled dinosaur lowered its head in obvious pleasure, and moved closer.

Alan, holding the other camcorder, had been watching with interest, recording the unique aspect of human-dinosaur interaction, and smiling at the fact that Ellie seemed to be enjoying the physical contact as much as the young hadrosaur.  It occurred to him at that moment that her demeanor had changed dramatically in the two and a half weeks that she had been there with him.  She was finding joy in life again, and in witnessing her enjoyment, he was finding his own source of pleasure.

The trumpeting call of an adult Parasaurolophus rose above the sounds of the other animals, and the youngster lifted its head again, recognizing its mother's call.  Reluctantly but obediently, it lumbered toward her.  Ellie kept her hand outstretched, retaining physical contact for as long as possible until it moved out of reach.  The young dinosaur's posture reminded Ellie of the time Charlie had been in trouble, and had come to her with slumped shoulders to endure his "time out".

The adult female nuzzled her offspring as if inspecting it, then, apparently satisfied that it was unharmed, she returned to her browsing.

While Alan and Ellie continued filming the young dinosaur as it rejoined its parent, both were vaguely aware that a Brachiosaurus, was approaching them on their right.  It had been nibbling on the nearby treetops, but something about them had attracted its attention, and it moved slowly toward them. 

Neither Alan nor Ellie paid it much heed.  The only real danger was being stepped on, but, like most animals, they did not like to step on objects if it could be avoided.  It knew they were there, so they were confident that it would not bother them.

The animal stopped some fifteen feet away, and stood there for several moments, watching them with such intense curiosity that Ellie tilted the handle on the tripod so that the camera was angled toward its head.  With surprise, she realized that it was staring at Alan.  Finally, it arched its long neck and lowered its small head to sniff Alan's fedora.  Alan looked up in surprise at the unexpected contact, lowering the hand-held camera at the same time, and then, to the amazement of both him and Ellie, the animal seized the hat in its teeth and lifted it off the man's head.

"Hey!" Alan protested, reaching up to reclaim his hat, but it was already out of reach.  He jumped up once in a futile attempt to reclaim his possession from the mouth of the prehistoric thief, and felt as foolish as he looked when he fell well short of his goal.  The hat was quickly carried aloft to a height of more than twenty feet, and was rapidly being chewed to pieces.  Several bits of cloth rained down around him, but there was nothing he could do but watch as his beloved fedora was totally destroyed.

Finally, deciding that the cloth hat was not palatable, the Brachiosaur dropped what was left of the hat to the ground at Alan's feet, and ambled over to the stream.  It lowered its head to the water, and drank deeply. 

Bending over, Alan picked up the remnants of his hat to gaze at it mournfully.  "Why are these islands so devastating to my hats?" he wondered aloud.  With a sigh, he dropped it back to the ground.  It was totally ruined.

Ellie's laughter reached his ears, and he glanced at her with a sheepish smile, embarrassed that she had witnessed that indignity.

"You should have seen yourself!" she cried, gleefully, gesturing toward her camera.  "I got it all on tape!"

Holding her sides, she backed away from the tripod, fearful of knocking over the camera, as her laughter rose in volume.  Soon, she was totally hysterical, and the sound of her uncontrollable laughter inspired him to laugh as well.

After so many years apart, it felt good to laugh with her again, even if the source of her hilarity was at his expense.

"I guess I did look pretty funny," he admitted.  "However, I assure you, no one but us will ever see that portion of the tape!"

She was shrieking with laughter at his indignant comment, but then her laughter changed to tears so abruptly that his smile vanished with sudden alarm.   Her body, overcome by the agony of her loss, shook uncontrollably, and her breath was drawn in ragged, heaving gasps as great sobs tore at her throat.  The anguish she had been holding back for the past three months ruptured in a flood of tears.  The dam had finally burst.

Laying the hand-held camera down on the grass, Alan rushed to her side and caught her as she collapsed into his arms.  Gently, he lowered her to the ground, and he sat there in the cool grass, rocking her as she wept.  She clutched the fabric of his shirt in one fist, as if desperate to hold on to him, and beat the other fist against his chest in frustration and hopelessness.

"They're dead!" she sobbed.  "Oh, Alan!  My babies are dead!"

"I know, honey.  I know," he said, softly, stroking her hair, trying to comfort her, but she only wept harder against his shirt. 

Oh, God, I miss them so much!"

Witnessing the magnitude of her agony was almost more than Alan could endure.  As he rested his cheek against her head, his throat constricted painfully and tears welled in his eyes in response to her anguish.  He felt totally helpless to ease her pain.  All he could do was hold her and try to console her.

"I wish I could hold them again!" she sobbed, her body convulsing forcefully.  "I just want to hold them!  Oh, God, Alan, please hold me!  I need you to hold me!"

He tightened his embrace.  Resting his cheek against the top of her head, he stroked her hair and her arm with his hand in a futile attempt to soothe her.  He had not cried in years, and he fought the urge valiantly.  The tears that had filled his eyes spilled down his cheeks and mingled with her blonde hair and his chest heaved as he struggled to control his emotions.

"I'm so sorry, honey, I'm so sorry," he said, his throat aching.

She clung to him for comfort until, after a long time, her sobs began to subside, and she sat still, content to stay in his arms, soothed by his presence.  Silently, he held her, patiently waiting for her to determine when she was ready to draw away from the embrace.

Finally, she drew back to look into his face, surprised to see the wetness on his cheeks.  She reached up to rub the tears from his face, but did not ask him to explain.  She understood that he had suffered her pain with her.

"Do you want to go back to the compound?" he asked, wiping his sleeve against his eyes to dry them.

She nodded.  Her enthusiasm over their studies was temporarily vanquished.  All around them, the animals totally ignored them.  They went on about their browsing or watering, so totally oblivious to the life-altering accident that had claimed the woman's family.

Alan stood up and offered his hand to her.  She accepted his assistance, and was pulled to her feet.  She stood rather unsteadily, her legs strangely feeble.  Her body felt deflated, totally spent of every ounce of strength she possessed, but she knew her weakness was not physical this time; it was emotional.

He began to gather up the cameras and supplies, but when she moved to help, he stopped her.  "I'll get it."

So, she stood back and watched as he collected all their gear and stowed it in the backpacks.  The primary camera and tripod were left attached together; he merely folded up the legs and carried it as one unit.  His other arm was placed protectively around her shoulders, and together they made their way back toward the dormitory.
                                                                                 ~~~

Darkness had long since fallen over the compound. 

After returning to the dormitory, Ellie had remained depressed.  She still felt fatigued, drained of energy, and had no desire to do anything.  She had retreated to the living room, and sat quietly listening to music on the radio.  Insisting that she rest, Alan had prepared supper, of which Ellie had eaten very little, and then he had washed the dishes.  When the task was completed, he returned to the living room and stood in the doorway for several minutes, watching her with a worried crease on his brow.

Instead of turning on the high-watt bulb in the reading lamp beside the sofa, she had elected instead to turn on a low-watt floor lamp that stood in the corner of the room.  In the dusky light, she still sat on the sofa, her eyes downcast and her long blonde hair softly framing her face.  She looked more depressed than he had ever seen her, but he knew that the emotional healing process was beginning.  The worst of it was behind her.

As if she had suddenly sensed his presence, she lifted her head and turned toward the doorway.  "Hi," she said, forcing a smile as she reached over and turned off the radio.

"Hi," he responded. 

He entered the room and after a moment's hesitation, wondering if he should sit with her on the sofa to offer comfort or take a chair nearby to give her some distance, he elected to sit down beside her.  Welcoming the comfort he offered, she moved closer to him, snuggling against him.  He placed his arm around her, and she rested her head against his shoulder draping her arm across his abdomen.  He felt her other arm slip behind him between his back and the cushion.  He shifted slightly to prevent her arm from going numb.  They sat like that for a long time, neither moving nor speaking, content to just be together.

Finally, Ellie broke the silence with a trace of embarrassment in her voice.  "I'm sorry I fell apart like that.  I never wanted you to see me in that condition."

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, soothingly.  "That's okay," he replied, speaking against her hair. 

"I actually feel better, now," she admitted.  "I keep hearing people talk about closure, and I didn't really understand what they meant until now.  I didn't get to attend the funerals, so it's like it was unreal to me; like there was no conclusion.  I visited their graves and left flowers, but I would stand there looking down at the markers thinking that they couldn't really be there, that it just couldn't have been real.  I still feel empty inside, but I accept it, now.  Mom told me months ago that I needed a good cry to put things to rest.  I don't know why I was unable to cry.  I didn't even cry when I found out they had died."

"You were probably in shock."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Several more moments of silence settled over them again as both of them thought about the accident.  Alan, who knew very little about it, had refrained from bringing up the painful memories since her arrival, concerned about how she would react.  Now, sensing that she was finally ready to talk about it, he asked, "How did it happen?"

For several more moments, she remained silent, as if reluctant to speak of it.  Misinterpreting her silence as an indication that he had upset her again, he found himself wishing he had withheld his question. 

"I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have ---"

"No, its okay," she assured him.  She took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh.  "We were going out to dinner that night to celebrate the publication of my book."

"The book you were writing last summer?"

"Yes.  We had made reservations at a nice restaurant, but Mark got tied up at the office, so we got a late start.  Mom had volunteered to watch the kids, and we were on our way there to drop them off."  She paused for a long moment, either gathering her courage or checking her emotions before proceeding.  "A drunk driver sped through a stop sign without headlights doing fifty miles an hour, and struck Mark's side of the car.  I don't really remember what happened next.  I woke up three days later in the hospital.  I hurt so bad I almost couldn't stand it.  I had multiple internal injuries, primarily in the abdominal region."

She felt him flinch, as if physically pained by her injuries.  "The scars?" he asked.

She nodded her head up and down against the fabric of his shirt.  "Emergency surgery.  They removed my spleen, repaired a deep laceration in my liver caused by a broken rib, and . . . and they had to perform a hysterectomy.  I can't have any more children."

He closed his eyes, saddened by the news that her dream of having children had been cruelly taken from her, and visibly shaken by the reality that she had come so close to death.  He pressed his lips against her forehead.  "Oh, Ellie.  I'm so sorry."

She shifted the position of her head on his shoulder, moving her forehead so that it rested against his neck.  "I would be okay with that if I hadn't lost Charlie and Halley."  She sighed heavily, her despair evident in the slight quiver he heard in her exhalation.  "I'm not sure I want any more kids anyway, you know?  I don't think I could stand to go through something like this again, and there are no guarantees in life, are there?  But it would have been nice to have the option, if I change my mind sometime down the road."

He didn't know how to respond to that.  As a man who had never experienced any real desire to father children, he was unfamiliar with that bond of love known only to parents.  "I know," he said, simply to acknowledge her words.

"They didn't want to tell me anything at first, but I knew," she continued without being prompted.  "I knew my husband and my children were gone.  When I asked, they told me that Mark and Halley were killed instantly, that they didn't suffer any pain or anything, like that would make it easier for me to bear.  Charlie lived for several hours, and they thought at first that he was going to make it, but he started to hemorrhage.  They couldn't stop the bleeding.  He never regained consciousness.  The damn drunk only had a few broken bones and minor injuries.  He's in prison for felony drunk driving and three counts of involuntary manslaughter, but putting him away doesn't make up for what I lost.  It's all so senseless.  Why do people do such foolish things?"

He shrugged.  "I wish I knew, Ellie."

She fell silent for a long time, then added, "My whole family, Alan.  All of them, gone.  My children barely even had a chance to live at all.  Even if I could have kept one of them, either of them, I would have been so grateful."

"There is always adoption," he suggested.  "There are so many children out there who need a permanent home."

She was quiet for a moment, apparently thinking about that, then said, "I don't know, Alan.  I don't know if I could love someone else's child like my own.  Maybe . . . someday."

He tightened his embrace, squeezing her briefly in a gesture of deep affection.  "You're the most loving person I know, Ellie.  When the time comes, I have no doubt that you'll be able to transfer that love to another child."

She did not answer, indicating that it was a subject she was not yet ready to explore.

Abandoning the subject of children, he said, "I wish I had known.  I would have been there for you."

She raised her head to look searchingly into his face.  "You would have come all that distance?"

"In a heartbeat."

"I knew you would," she whispered.  "I knew you still cared."

"I'll always care, Ellie.  Don't ever doubt that for a minute."

With a sigh, she laid her head down on his shoulder again, and for a long time, neither said anything more.  The silence was almost total, broken only by the occasional call of a wild animal in the distance or the normal creaking of the building.  Eventually, they heard the deep rumble of thunder, and finally, the soft patter of a gentle rain shower.  Occasionally, the windows were illuminated by a flash of lightning.

Listening to the soothing sounds, Alan's eyelids grew heavy, and he rested his cheek on top of her head, allowing his eyes to close, content to allow his drowsiness to overtake him.  Just as he was drifting off to sleep, her voice penetrated that deepening fog of slumber.

"Alan?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled, sleepily.

"Make love to me."

His eyes popped open, jolted wide-awake by her unexpected request.  He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, totally at a loss for words.

Realizing by his shocked silence that she had caught him off guard, she raised her head to look into his startled face as she said, "I really need you tonight.  I want to make love with you."  When he still did not respond, she took the initiative.  Shifting position and withdrawing her arms from around his waist, she moved her hands to the front of his shirt and her fingers slowly began forcing the buttons through the button holes.

Her assertiveness finally motivated him into a response, but it was not the one he wanted to make.  He wanted her as much as she claimed to want him, but instead of succumbing to the temptation to give in, he drew a deep breath and grasped her hand, stopping her.  "Ellie, no.  We can't."

He saw a trace of hurt in the blue eyes that gazed back at him, still slightly puffy and red from weeping.  "Yes, we can.  I'm not married any more, and I'm ready to move on now.  Please, I want you.  I need you."

He looked away, toward the dark window, avoiding her intense gaze.  It was difficult enough to turn her down without looking into those imploring eyes.  "No, you don't need me, Ellie," he said, softly.  "You need to take time to heal."

She looked away, offended by what she perceived to be an unspoken basis for his reluctance to make love to her.  Was he telling her that he was not interested in pursuing a relationship with her, now that she was free?  "Am I so unattractive because of my scars?" she asked with a slightly accusatory tone to her voice.

This was more than he could stand.  He rose up abruptly, cradling her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him and noticing that her eyes were filling with tears.  "I don't care about the scars!" he declared.  "With or without them, you're the most beautiful woman in the world to me, and I will always want you -- you have no idea how much!  But you're vulnerable, right now.  You don't know what you're saying."

"I know my own mind, Alan," she said, insulted.  "Why is it that men always think that women don't know what they're saying?"

"That isn't what I'm suggesting, Ellie.  I know you want me tonight, and God knows I want you, too, but tomorrow, in the light of day, you would hate me for taking advantage of you.  I couldn't stand that."

"I could never hate you, Alan."  She raised her hands to caress his cheek.  "And you wouldn't be taking advantage of me; it's my idea, not yours."

"Ellie, honey, you're killing me!" he told her, his voice shaking slightly.  "We can't do this!  Not here.  Not now.  Not like this.  You're a widow, and you're just now coming to terms with your loss.  If we made love tonight, it wouldn't be right."

She could feel him trembling beneath her hands, and knew he was struggling not to give in to a need that had been long denied.  Deep inside, she knew he was right, but she still felt rejected.  She nodded, tersely.  "All right, if that's the way you want it."   Abruptly, she stood up and strode from the room.

Alan watched her go, then fell back against the sofa back with a deep sigh of despair as her footsteps echoed through the silent building as she rushed up the stairs.  Her final statement had been untruthful.  It wasn't the way he had wanted it!

 

                                                        ~~~

Alan remained in the living room for more than an hour to allow Ellie time to fall asleep before he went up, but it gave him plenty of time to think about her emotional trauma and her unexpected invitation.  It had been just about the last thing he had expected her to ask of him, and he feared he had handled it badly.  He knew her yearning had been spawned by the emotional roller coaster ride she had endured that day, and he had no doubt that she would feel differently about it in the morning.  He hoped that she would understand why he had resisted, but he was very concerned that this incident would change things between them.  Because of her embarrassment and his rejection of her, he feared they would no longer be comfortable around each other.  She might even be bitter enough to leave the island.

Two and a half weeks ago, he would have welcomed her decision to leave, believing it was the best thing for her.  If she made that decision tomorrow, he would contact Miguel for her, but his feelings on the subject had changed completely.  Now, the thought of spending even another week on that island completely alone was something he no longer wanted to do. 

Would granting her request really be such a bad thing? he wondered. Yes, it would, his conscience responded immediately.  She's still grieving.  What would she think of you in the morning?  She would resent you for taking advantage of her!

In frustration, he covered his face with his hands, then dragged his fingers through his hair on both sides of his head.  How could one small sentence spoken by a grieving woman complicate things so desperately?

Finally, after much consideration and a flurry of conflicting emotions, he went upstairs to go to bed, but as he reached the head of the stairs, he saw the light was on in the exercise room.   Curiously, he moved toward it.  From the doorway, he observed her silently as she worked with the weights, desperately trying to recover her strength and her health -- and probably working off the frustration she had felt at his negative response.  From the door, he could see that her face was streaked with a fresh flood of tears; tears of disappointment and rejection.

He felt bad that he had hurt her feelings.  Hurting her was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, but it could not be avoided this time.  He knew he had done the right thing, and hoped that she would realize it too, once she overcame the sting of his rejection. 

Without speaking, he backed away from the doorway before she spotted him, and returned to his cubicle to prepare for bed.

He was still lying awake in his bed when he heard her soft footsteps enter the room a short time later.  She slipped quietly into her cubical, and he listened intently to the soft whisper of her clothes as she undressed for bed, totally unaware of the effect it was having on him.  Finally, he heard the sheets rustle as she lay down.

Lying on his back, his hands laced together behind his head, he stared at the ceiling, fighting the powerful and conflicting emotions that continued to rage inside him.  Had her situation not been so complicated, had she not been so recently left a widow, things would have been different.  He knew it would be wrong to act on those emotions at this time, but it had been a very long time since he had been with a woman, and she could not begin to imagine just how badly he wanted her at that moment. 

The illuminated face of the clock on his bedside table counted the minutes as they turned into hours, and still he lay awake, struggling with the ramifications of acting on his own desire.  It was her decision, he reminded himself, her idea.  Could he be blamed for responding to what she said she wanted?  

Alan finally tossed back the sheet and got out of bed.  Quietly, he slipped through his curtain, and moved to the curtain that guarded the door to Ellie's private area.  He placed his hand on the fabric, intending to draw it back, but hesitated.  After his rejection of her earlier, would she welcome him, or would she throw him out?  After a moment's hesitation, still besieged with his conscience, he drew back the curtain and entered her cubical.

Ellie rested silently on her bed, awash in a silvery swath of moonlight that illuminated her entire cubical.  She lay on her side, her face turned toward him, but she did not respond to his presence.  He listened carefully.  Her deep, even breathing indicated that she had found sleep despite the emotional turmoil she had suffered.

Quietly, he knelt down beside her bed and gazed at her face for a long time.  Her expression was serene.  He longed to kiss her, to take her into her arms and grant her any wish she desired, to take her love and give his in return.

In the block of moonlight, his hand reached out toward her ---- and stopped.

He had fully intended to wake her, to bring her out of the peaceful slumber she now enjoyed.  But his strong sense of ethics had overridden his desire.   He could not, would not, take advantage of her grief and vulnerability to satisfy a need which had been unfulfilled for so long. 

Rising to his feet again, he returned to his bed and lay back down, wishing for a cold shower -- a real cold shower --  and trying to think of other things.