15

-8:16

"Is she asleep?" Jack said.

Gia disengaged herself from him and leaned over Vicky, curled under a blanket at the far side of the couch.

"Uh-huh. She's out."

"Okay, I'll carry her up—"

Gia laid a hand on his arm. "Let her stay with us."

Jack nodded in the semidarkness. "I'd like that."

He'd brought along a selection of movies to have something to do other than sit and count the minutes. Classics. Films they could all watch. And, for obvious reasons, no horror.

They'd let Vicky pick the first. No surprise, she chose King Kong because it was the colorized version.

Like most kids her age, she'd had almost no exposure to black-and-whites and didn't like them. Except for King Kong. She'd cried at the end of her first viewing and for days afterward went around the house repeating in a perfect imitation of Robert Armstrong's delivery, "Oh, no, it wasn't the airplanes… it was beauty killed the beast."

That had inspired Jack to hunt down a copy of Turner's colorized version. He considered himself something of a purist when it came to movies, especially ones he liked, so the idea of tinting and tinkering with a classic offended him. But mildly. The world offered a wide array of far more important issues to get crazy about.

Yet when he watched it with Vicky he'd had to admit that it was kind of nice to see a blue ocean and a green jungle. And Vicky had loved it. What could be more important than that?

"What should we watch next?"

Gia clung to him. "Why don't we just sit here."

"We can do that. But I'd rather not feel like a condemned man waiting for the executioner to knock on the door."

"It's not going to happen," Gia said. "That's the only way I can get through tonight. Just keep telling myself it's not going to happen… it's not going to happen… and maybe if I repeat it enough times, it won't."

Jack searched for something to do, something to say to ease her pain.

"Got as good a chance as anything else."

Crummy, but the best he could come up with. She snaked her arms around him and squeezed.

"Maybe if I hold on real tight it won't be able to take you."

"Now there's a thought."

"How do you stay so calm?"

Calm? He wanted to scream, he wanted to break things.

"Who says I'm calm?"

"Look at you. Our lives are about to be torn apart, you're about to be taken God knows where, maybe to your death. Yet you sit here watching movies. The more disordered and crazy and desperate things get, the calmer you are. Tell me how you do that, because I want some."

I do it for you, he thought.

To help Gia keep it together. He sensed she was just barely holding on, hanging by the slimmest of threads. If he kept thinking about the two ends of the Stain snailing closer and closer together, he might fall apart. And then what would happen to Gia?

"I think that somewhere down in the deepest recess of my psyche I'm convinced I'll come through this. Don't ask me why. It's not logical. And because it's not logical, my conscious mind doesn't buy it. So the films help distract me. They make it easier for me. But if they don't make it easier for you—"

"No-no. They distract me too. What else do you have?"

"Well, I brought Citizen Kane."

"We must have watched that four times in the last year. I'm tired of it."

Jack never tired of it—every time he watched it he found something new—but let it slide. He looked through the short stack of tapes.

"Casablanca?" he said and realized immediately what a bad choice that was.

"Dear God, no. That final good-bye scene… I can't handle that. Too close to home."

"All right then, I've got Gone with the Wind, The Maltese Falcon, and To Kill a Mockingbird."

"All too much like real life. I need some sort of fantasy—far, far from reality."

"How about The Wizard ofOz? That far enough?"

"Perfect. I could use—"

Her voice broke off as her head snapped to the right. Jack sensed it too—movement. He stiffened when he saw it. A small cry broke from Gia.

The Lilitongue had joined them in the sitting room.

If floated to a corner and hovered there. Waiting.

CHRISTMAS EVE

1

-0:53

Jack started at the sound of a bell and felt Gia jump beside him.

The first thing he'd done after the Lilitongue's appearance was to angle the couch so they didn't have to look at the damned thing. He felt as if it was watching him.

They'd followed The Wizard ofOz with To Kill a Mockingbird. After that, with Vicky asleep a few feet away, they'd snuggled and tried to create a day-by-day review of the good times and bad times in their too-few years together.

Tried. Gia kept returning to their baby, saying that Jack would never see his child and the baby would never know her father.

Jack tried to lighten it up just a little by correcting her—his father—and insisting that the baby was going to be a boy.

And then a chime.

Gia started. "The doorbell? Who could be—?" She broke off. "Unless…"

Jack had the same thought. "Tom? Can't be."

"Can you think of anyone else who'd be out there at this hour? The sun's not even up."

Jack couldn't. He pushed himself upright and headed for the door.

"I'll get rid of him."

Gia followed. "Don't be too hard on him."

"Yeah, right. He's why we're in this spot."

"I know. But still…"

Jack pulled open the door and, sure enough, there stood Tom with a small shopping bag.

"Hello, Jack… Gia. I—"

"This isn't a good time, Tom."

"I know it's not. I mean, how could it be? But I just wanted to sit down with you for a couple of minutes and tell you a few things while we have a drink."

"I'm not thirsty."

"Please, Jack? Please? Just a couple of minutes?"

He felt Gia's hand against the small of his back as she spoke.

"A few minutes, Jack. We can spare him a few minutes."

A refusal sprang to his lips but he repressed it. Now, of all times, was not the time to argue. Besides, he was too tired for an argument. He'd had maybe three hours sleep in as many days.

He stepped back and opened the door.

"A few minutes. No more."

"Great. Thanks so much." He bustled inside. "Gia, could I trouble you for a couple of glasses?"

Jack said, "I told you I'm not thirsty."

He pulled a bottle of scotch from the bag and held it up.

"You don't drink this because you're thirsty. It's Old Pulteney single cask. It's thirty-seven years old, a hundred proof, and one of only three hundred twenty-four bottles. Please share some with me, Jack."

"I'll get the glasses," Gia said.

As she headed for the dining room, Jack reconsidered. Though mostly a beer drinker he had always liked Old Pulteney. And this batch had been casked before he was born. He wondered how it would taste.

And who knew when he'd ever taste scotch of any kind again?

"Okay, but just one."

"That's all I'm asking."

Gia met them in the sitting room with a pair of small crystal tumblers.

"Should I get ice?"

Tom uncorked the bottle. "Oh, no. You never dilute something this old and rare."

He poured two fingers' worth into each of the glasses and handed one to Jack.

"Prepare yourself for a treat, brother."

Jack sipped. It burned his tongue but left a wonderful aftertaste.

He had to nod his appreciation. "Good."

"Good? It's great! But can we sit down? I've got a few things I want to say."

Gia said, "I'll leave you two alone. But not for too long."

"This won't take long. I swear."

Jack hated to see Gia go. He didn't want her out of his sight during the fleeting time he had left. Another reason to resent Tom. But he put on a bland expression and dropped into a chair.