For a moment she just looked at me. Then she knelt by the side of the bed. My room was bathed in the moon’s blue glow and I could see her eyes, dark and lonely and filled with hurt. “No. I’m not.” She took a deep breath. Then staring intently into my eyes, said, “Will you make love to me?”

For a moment I just stared at her. She looked vulnerable—beautiful, lonely, and vulnerable. My body screamed for her, but I slowly shook my head. “No.”

She lowered her head. After a moment she asked, “Aren’t I pretty enough?”

“It’s not that,” I said.

“Then what is it?”

“You’re not mine.”

She touched my arm. A tear rolled down her cheek. “I’ll be yours tonight,” she whispered. “I won’t ask anything of you. I won’t hold you to anything. I promise.”

I propped myself up on my elbow. “Analise …”

“I just want someone to love me.”

I looked into her eyes. “I understand. But I can’t.”

After a moment she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Do you want me to go?” I asked.

She was looking down, but shook her head. “No.” She rubbed her eyes. “You must think I’m horrible.”

“No. I don’t.”

She knelt there for another moment, then sighed and stood. “Good night.” She started to the door.

“Analise,” I said.

She stopped, slowly turning back. Her face was wet with tears.

“Come back.”

She just looked at me.

“Come here. Please.”

She walked slowly over to the side of my bed. I moved over, making a space for her. “Let me hold you.”

“But …”

I pulled down the sheets then took her hand. “Lay down. I just want to hold you.” She sat on the side of my bed then lifted her legs onto the bed next to me. I put my arms around her, pulling her tightly in, our faces next to each other. I whispered into her ear, “I know what it’s like to feel so lonely that you just don’t care anymore. You’re a good girl, you just hurt. I understand. I hurt too. I want you too. But I’m not ready to share what belonged only to McKale and me.”

She was staring into my eyes. Then it was as if some great emotional dam burst, because she began sobbing so hard that the bed shook. I held her tightly until her sobbing slowed to a whimper. Finally she stilled and fell asleep.

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You are so beautiful,” I said. I lay back and fell asleep too.

Chapter Nineteen

C H A P T E R

Nineteen

She is a rose, blooming amidst cornfields.

Alan Christoffersen’s diary