You have a nice smile, Sara remarked. You should use it more often.

By the time they headed back in, Fiske had a blister on the inside of his thumb from clutching the boom line. They docked the boat and tied down the sails. Sara went up to the cottage and came back with more beer and a bag of chips and salsa. Dont let it be said that I dont feed my guests.

They sat on the boat and drank, and whittled down at the chips. The wind started to pick up and the temperature dipped suddenly as a late night storm rolled in. They watched as the clouds turned black-edged and pops of lightning appeared on the horizon. In her tank top shirt, Sara shivered a little and Fiske put his arm around her. She leaned into him. Then a few drops of rain hit and Sara jumped up. With Fiskes help she pulled out the vinyl covers and snapped them into place across the open compartments of the boat.

We better head in, she said. They walked up to the cottage, running the last few feet as it started to pour.

Long day tomorrow, Sara said, looking at the kitchen clock while patting her wet hair with a paper towel.

Especially after no sleep last night, Fiske added, yawning. They turned the lights off and headed upstairs. Sara said goodnight and went to her room. Fiske watched breeze in along with some of the rain. A shaft of lightning flared across the sky and connected with the earth somewhere. The boom was deafening. So much power, Fiske thought. He went down the hallway to the other bedroom and undressed. He sat on the bed in his undershorts and T-shirt, listening to the rain. His room was stuffy, but he made no move to open a window. The house was too old to have central air, but it didnt have window-mounted air conditioners either. Apparently Sara preferred the river breeze to cool her. A clock hanging on the wall ticked the seconds at him. He caught himself measuring his pulse against it. His heart was pumping fast, gallons of blood gushing through him. He pulled on his trousers, rose and went down the hallway. Her room was dark now, but the door was still open. The curtains kicked up and down with the bursts of wind. He stood in the doorway and watched her as she lay in bed, only a sheet over her. She was watching him watching her. Was she waiting for him? Letting him come to her this time? He moved into the room, hesitantly, as though this was the first time he had entered a womans bedroom. She didnt move or speak, neither encouraging nor discouraging. He lay down next to her and she immediately moved next to him, as though refusing to give him the opportunity to rethink his decision, to flee from her. She wore no clothes. Her body was warm, her skin smooth; the breasts spongy and heat-filled; the scent of the outside air thick over them. Saras hair was tangled and falling in her face. Her lips clenched and then opened; her fingers stroked him gently, everywhere. Together, they worked his pants off and let them fall to the floor. They kissed, lightly at first, and then with greater depth. She moved to raise his T-shirt, to rub his chest, his belly against hers. He moved her hand away and pulled his shirt back down. As the rain hit the roof and glanced off the windows, Fiske slid off his undershorts, lifted his body up, and eased himself down on top of her. *����*����* Sara awoke early, the first shafts of sunlight just dropping over the windowsill. Behind the storm had come waves of deliciously chilly air, and a sky that would transform fully from pink and gray to a deep blue in another hour. She put out her arm to touch him and felt the empty space next to her. She quickly sat up and looked around. Wrapping the sheet around her, she rushed down the hallway and checked the guest room. Empty. So was the bathroom. In a panic she reached the top of the stairs and stopped, a smile edging across her face. She watched Fiske as he poured a cup of coffee and then returned to cracking eggs in a bowl, to which he then added grated cheddar cheese. Sara stood there, the smell of simmering onion reaching her nostrils. Fiske was fully dressed, his hair damp from the shower. As he turned to pull open the refrigerator door, he saw her. Sara clutched the sheet a little tighter around her.

I thought you might have left.

Thought Id let you sleep in. It was a late night.

A wonderful night, she wanted to say, but didnt. You okay? she asked as casually as she could, unable as yet to fully read the subtle messages behind his words, his movements and expressions. Especially about something as recent as their lovemaking. Was the choice of eggs over lying next to her until they both awoke a bad sign?

Im fine, Sara. He smiled, as if to show her that this was actually so. She smiled back. Whatever youre making smells wonderful.

Nothing fancy. Western omelet.

I usually have dry toast and kitchen sink coffee. Its a nice change. Do I have time to shower?

Make it fast.

Not like last night. She smiled, flicked her eyebrows and turned away. The sheet was fully open in the back. Fiske watched her go, aroused again at the sight of her naked body, the delicate, sensual tensing of her back, legs and buttocks. He sat down at the kitchen table and looked around the cozy space. He had stood on the rear deck for a while and watched the sun slowly rise over him. Dawn always seemed so much purer over water, as though these two essential elements of life, heat and water, produced a near-spiritual performance. He glanced back at the stairs as the sound of the shower started. He had watched Sara after she had fallen asleep. In the darkness of the night, their mingled scents a second skin, it had seemed as though he belonged next to her, and she to him. But then the blunt clarity of morning had come. Fiske lifted the coffee cup to his lips, but then quickly put it back down. If he had called his brother back right away, Mike would be alive right now. Fiske could never dodge that truth. He would, in fact, have to live with it forever. ["C48"]CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Elizabeth Knight also awoke at the crack of dawn, showering and dressing quickly. Jordan Knight still slept soundly and she made no move to wake him. She brewed the coffee, poured a cup, took her notebook and sat out on the terrace and watched the sun come up. She looked over every page of her materials for oral argument today, which included the last bench memo Steven Wright would ever author. His blood seemed to replace the ink on the page. As she thought this, she had to fight back the tears again. She swore to herself that he wouldnt die in vain. Ramsey would not carry this day, this case. Knight already had great incentive to make sure that Barbara Chance and women like her could sue the Army for damages for, in essence, condoning the cruel, sadistic and illegal behavior of its male personnel. The organization had not been invented that deserved immunity from such action. But now her motivation, her will to win, to beat Ramsey, had grown a thousandfold. She finished her coffee, packed her briefcase and took a cab to the Supreme Court. *����*����* Fiske rubbed his reddened eyes and tried to put the memory of the night before and its bewildering complexities out of his mind. He sat in a special section reserved for members of the Supreme Court bar. He looked over at Sara, who sat with the other clerks in a section of seats perpendicular to the bench. She looked over at him and smiled. When the justices appeared from behind the curtain and took their seats, Perkins finished his little speech and everyone came to rigid attention. Fiske looked over at Knight. Her subtle movements, an elbow resting lightly here, a finger sifting through paper there, were those of nearly uncontrollable raw energy. She looked, he thought, like a rocket straining at its tethers, desperately wanting to explode. He looked over at Ramsey. The man was smiling, looking calm, in control. If Fiske were a betting man, though, his chips would be at the extreme right of the bench, directly in front of Justice Elizabeth Knight. The case ofChance v. United Stateswas called. Chances attorney, a hired gun from Harvard Law School, who made a practice of appearing before the Supreme Court with much success, launched into his argument with vigor. Until Ramsey cut in.