Before he could continue, her arms slipped around him in a hug so fierce that it stole his breath. Unlike the embrace after he’d gotten Gavin Edwards fired, this was no simple act of gratitude. This time Viola’s body molded against his from neck to knee. A dizzying rush swept through him, triggering delayed shock from the ordeal they’d just endured. He felt his balance going, and then a wave of desire so powerful that he pulled Viola against him as though trying to merge their bodies through their clothes.

A muffled bang froze them in place—then Viola jerked back as if a spark of static electricity had arced between them. Jimmy and Luther were hammering on the inner lid of the trunk.

“Be careful,” Tom said to the darkness. “If a cop stops you, tell him you’re making a house call to a Negro place for me. If he gives you trouble, tell him to call me at home.”

“I will,” Viola assured him. “I’ll be all right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As she walked to the driver’s door, fear blasted through Tom like Dexedrine. What if I never see her again?

“You’d better be here, damn it,” he said.

Seven hours later, she was, as perfectly dressed and coiffed as always. Tom, on the other hand, hadn’t slept more than a few minutes at a stretch all night. In the span of one hour, by a simple act of decency, he had placed himself beyond the pale of his own tribe and put his job, his life, and his family at risk. Worse, after years of repressing his feelings for Viola, he’d felt something change deep within him, a tectonic shift that could never be undone. By the standards of their ongoing mutual denial, that few seconds’ embrace in the garage had been a consummation of sorts, an admission that they shared something so powerful that they lived in constant fear of it, something that could sweep their present lives away.

“Dr. Cage, is that you?” asked a muted voice.

Tom blinked in confusion. Then he realized that someone was rapping on the window of his car. A man of about fifty stood on the other side of the glass, waiting for Tom to roll down his window.

“I thought that was you!” the man exulted as Tom pressed the power window button.

The last wisps of Viola’s memory were snatched away by the wind that blew into the car when the glass sank into the door frame.

“What you doing down in this part of town, Doc?” asked the man, as though he’d caught Tom in the midst of having an affair. “I’ll bet you’re thinking about old times, aren’t you?”

Could his thoughts be that transparent?

“You don’t recognize me, do you?” asked the man.

“Ah …”