State Secrets by Linda Lael Miller

in its cradle.
    She sat there on the bed, cross-legged, her head in her hands, until she heard Toby downstairs. “Mom!” he yelled exuberantly, probably still excited from his afternoon at the Ice Capades, “I’m home!”
    Holly quickly leaped off the bed, found herself a robe and went down the stairs.
    Toby was waiting at the bottom, his beloved face alight. “Geez, Mom,” he said, barely able to stand still, “the ice show was great! They had the Flintstones and—” He stopped, taking in Holly’s bathrobe and mussed hair with concern. “Are you sick, Mom?”
    “No, darling, I’m not sick,” Holly answered swiftly, forcing a smile to her face. “How did you get home, by the way? I thought I was supposed to pick you up.”
    “David brought me!” Toby sang, spreading his mittened hands for emphasis.
    Holly swayed backward, just slightly, stunned. How could she have missed seeing David, when he was standing only a few feet away? Why hadn’t she sensed that he was near?
    “I hope you don’t mind,” David said quietly, but there was much, much more that his eyes were saying. They looked haunted, hollow.
    Holly’s temper flared, fanned by her fear, and she shifted her eyes to Toby’s trusting, upturned face. “Don’t you ever, ever get into anyone’s car but mine, young man!” she hissed.
    Toby retreated a step, looking as though she’d struck him. “But, Mom, David—”
    David laid a quieting hand on the child’s shoulder. “No, Tobe. She’s right. We made a mistake, you and I.”
    Toby was not appeased. He darted one furious look at his trembling aunt and dashed off into another part of the house, probably to take solace in the late-afternoon cartoons he loved to watch on television.
    “What are you doing here?” Holly half whispered, watching David, loving him even though her every instinct commanded her to tear out his hair.
    “I couldn’t stay away. Bringing Toby back from the ice show seemed the perfect excuse, so I did it. I’m sorry, Holly. I didn’t mean to undermine your authority.”
    Holly held her chin high, but inwardly she was all too conscious of her appearance. “You are very, very good at finding excuses to keep tabs on me, aren’t you, David?”
    There was a thunderous silence, and David averted his eyes for a moment before meeting Holly’s glare directly. “I love you, Holly.”
    Nothing he could have said would have surprised Holly more; she came a step nearer and her hand tightened on the banister until her knuckles ached. “What did you say?”
    “Don’t make me say it again, Holly. I already feel like enough of a fool as it is.”
    “Thanks a lot!”
    “Just get dressed, will you? We need to talk, you and I. Not fight, not make love. Talk.”
    Holly stared at him for a few minutes and then, too confused to deal with anything, turned and dashed up the stairs. Safe in the shower stall, with hot water pouring down over her head and her newly awakened body, she rested her face against the tiled wall and tried to catch her breath.
    David made himself at home in the kitchen, conscious of the glum little boy sitting slumped at the trestle table. “Your mom didn’t mean to yell at you, Tobe,” he said, finding the coffee and the filters before pouring cold water into the top of the coffeemaker.
    “She’s sure grouchy lately! And it’s almost Christmas, too!”
    David smiled somewhat sadly, and then turned to look directly at Toby, leaning back against the counter, the coffeemaker chortling behind him. “Sure enough, it is almost Christmas. Time to get a tree.”
    Toby brightened a little, but he was still miffed. “Yeah, I guess.” His eyes strayed to Holly’s desk, to the answering machine there, its light blinking frantically. “She never listens to her calls, neither.”
    For the first time since high school, David Goddard blushed. David Goddard, who had guarded presidents. “She’s been sort of busy.”
    The child bounded off the bench, a study in