Eden in Winter by Richard North Patterson

rack – a form of communication, no less companionable for their relative quiet. He was suddenly aware of how close they were, of all he saw in her now. She caught him glancing at her, and turned to face him.
    Impulsively, he took the dish from her hand, putting it aside, looking into her deep brown eyes. Gazing back, she seemed neither welcoming nor fearful, as though somehow she had expected this.
    Gently, he put his hand on the nape of her neck, drawing her face to his.
    Her mouth was full and soft and warm. Their lips stayed where they were, gently pressing, and then his parted slightly, as did hers, the tips of their tongues touching, then more. He held her tight against him, their kiss deep and lingering until, at last, she drew back and, seeming to shudder, laid her head on his shoulder. He could feel the swell of her stomach against him, reminding him of her womanliness, yet all that kept them apart. But still he had wanted this.
    ‘Sweet,’ he murmured.
    ‘Yes,’ she answered softly, a trace of sadness in her voice as she raised her head to look at him. ‘What do you want from me, Adam?’
    ‘I hadn’t thought beyond this moment,’ he answered honestly. ‘I wasn’t expecting this.’
    ‘You shouldn’t have, for good reasons.’ Her eyes were filled with confusion. ‘There’s so much to this, isn’t there?’
    Adam felt the pulse in his throat. ‘Yes.’
    ‘Then just hold me for a minute. Before you go.’
    For a time he did this, silent, then murmured, ‘I won’t stop thinking about you, though.’
    ‘Nor I, you.’
    She took his hand, walking him to the door. Opening it, he turned back again. He could not seem to stop looking at her.
    ‘Before you leave,’ she asked, ‘will you at least come to say goodbye?’
    ‘Of course.’
    Bereft of words, he touched her face with curled fingers and walked into the darkness. The night felt warm, yet solitary, save for the shadow of Benjamin Blaine. Adam could still feel her behind him, in the shelter of the house where she and Ben had conceived their son.

SIX
    Two mornings later, Adam sat with Charlie Glazer on his sailboat in Menemsha harbour. The boat was the Herreshoff Charlie had raced against Ben and Adam that fateful summer. The venue had been the therapist’s idea; Adam wondered whether this was meant to evoke feelings he preferred to repress.
    For a time, Adam watched battered fishing boats labour through the mouth of the harbour. Charlie cupped a mug of coffee in his hands, wearing an alert but pleasant expression. ‘I’ve been reflecting on our last session,’ he began, ‘and what you want to accomplish here. Ordinarily, I don’t challenge my patients – especially at first. But I already know a lot about your life, and we don’t have that much time.
    ‘It’s obvious that over the years you’ve built up some very strong defences. So I’m going to push you pretty hard – because I may need to, and because I think you can take it. Are you okay with that?’
    Adam met his gaze. ‘Sure.’
    ‘Okay. I’ve thought some more about the C.I.A. Both about the nightmares of your own death, and the choice you made to follow a path so dangerous and so consuming. Maybe we should talk about who you were before that, and what triggered your decision to leave here.’
    Adam felt himself tense. ‘About the nightmares – sometimes a cigar is only a cigar. People wanting to kill you raises the possibility they’ll succeed. On that level, the dreams are simple enough.’
    ‘Sure. But you didn’t have them until Benjamin Blaine fell off a cliff, forcing you to confront your family’s past.’ Charlie leaned forward. ‘That you came to me suggests you’re grappling with some profound psychological and existential questions you may have entered the agency to avoid. I think they may have started with your parents. Perhaps Clarice most of all.’
    The last statement took Adam by surprise. ‘If you say so.’
    ‘I don’t “say”