She hesitated a moment more, then looked into his face, her dark eyes sober. "Remember that night on the north beach when I just about froze to death? You know, when you found me after I'd called out to you?"
"Of course,"
"This is the strange thing. I wasn't...alone out there, Jon. Sophia was with me. I know it sounds crazy, and maybe I was or am crazy, but for a minute Sophia...came back. She told me to call out for you. She made me call out. If she hadn't, you'd never have found me."
She dropped her eyes. "There, now go ahead and call me a nutcase."
Smith frowned. "Why should I do that? Sophia loved you very much." He lightly rested his hands on her shoulders. "If you were in trouble and if there were any way in this universe for her to help you, she would. I don't think it's crazy, Randi. I'm not even particularly surprised."
Randi looked up and gave a sheepish grin. "Well, she loved you a whole lot, too, Jon Smith. So don't be surprised if she shows up for you sometime, too."
He nodded thoughtfully. It wasn't a displeasing notion. "Maybe that explains why we keep bumping into each other. We're bonded through her."
"It must count for something." She came up on her toes and lightly brushed her lips against his cheek. "I have to run. They're calling my flight. You take care, Jon, till next time."
"Till next time." And he knew there would be a next time.
Smith found his shoulders squaring and his mood lightening as he finished the walk to the boarding gate. It improved further when he found someone else waiting for him at the United jetway.
Valentina Metrace wore heels and a pleasantly snug gray knit dress that matched her eyes, and a number of other male travelers shot disgruntled looks at Smith as she smiled and stood to greet him.
"Hello, Colonel."
"Hello yourself, Professor." He set his briefcase down beside her small pile of carry-ons. "Are you bound for Washington?"
"No, I'm pleased to say." She nodded up the concourse. "I'm on Southwestern a couple of slots farther on. I'm off to Palm Springs for a few days. I find I need to melt a bit of residual ice off my soul."
"Palm Springs." Smith nodded thoughtfully. "It would be nice down there this time of year."
"Oh, it is, I assure you. There's a swimming pool I know of, shaded by real palm trees and fed by one of the real palm springs. During the day I intend to lie beside it, wearing a swimsuit or less, and at night I will drink champagne and sleep between satin sheets. It will be a life of great beauty."
She held out her hand to him. "I've been thinking... it would be nice to share it with someone."
There was no coquetry in the invitation, no challenge, no dare to her offer, only a hint of wistfulness, an echo from the lonely operator's existence that Jon knew and understood.
He hesitated for a last moment. Val would be different, so very different from anyone he had ever known before, and so would any roads they might walk down together. But different wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
"I'll need to look into something first," he replied.
"What's that?"
He drew Valentina in to him. Putting a hand into her thick, rich hair, he kissed her, letting it linger, learning the softness of her lips, the delicate touch contours of her face.
Val's eyes closed into the kiss and when they opened again he could see that she had been pleased with the result as well. It had been different from one of Sophia's kisses, but that too was as it should be.
It was time. It was time and past time for a great many new things.
Smith went to change his ticket.
Epilogue
Anacosta, Maryland
The Wednesday Island operation wound down in the screen-lit dimness of Margaret Templeton's office, coming to its conclusion against the soft purring backdrop of computer cooling fans.
"We've done the partial-truth feed to both the Canadian authorities and Interpol," Templeton said from her desk workstation. "To wit, Anton Kretek and his people were involved in some armaments smuggling venture, the exact nature of which remains unknown, when their chartered helicopter went down in Hudson Bay. There were no survivors, but the appropriate wreckage has been recovered."
"Is it selling?" Fred Klein inquired, testing the soil of Maggie's bonsai tree with a probing finger.
"So far. The general consensus seems to be, the man is no great loss to anyone.