Heather Graham by Hold Close the Memory

thinking with a little awe that it was attached to a unique leg—an extension of the man. And as ridiculous as it seemed, loving that kneecap and knowing it so well had been a part of the depth of marriage, of their relationship.
    Staring at that kneecap made her both shiver and feel tiny laps of heat along her spine. She wanted to touch every part of him and feel again the awe of exploration, of knowing him. He was Brian, but he was different, distant from her, within himself. She wanted him, to be in his arms, to feel his protective, possessive warmth, to be a part of him. But could she ever be a part of Brian again? Or had he grown too far away from her? He had always had an inner strength that set him a little apart from everyone. Even in their married life she had often wondered if she was truly his partner in all things or if as his wife she was respected yet thought of more as a sweet comfort, the woman he cherished and petted and cared for but never let totally into his world.
    “Kim, I asked you a question.”
    “What?” Staring at kneecaps could get one into trouble.
    “I asked you if he gave you any trouble.”
    “Who? Oh, David. No, uh, of course not. I’m very good at what I do, and I report to Mr. Simms, the owner of the agency.”
    He kept watching her pensively, and she wondered if some inflection of tone of voice had given her away. But he said nothing else on the subject.
    “Do you like working?”
    “Most of the time.”
    “Would you like to quit?”
    What was he getting at? she wondered. She couldn’t quit; the house might be paid for, but there were electricity bills and phone bills and clothing and on and on each month. Her grocery bills alone were outrageous, and he couldn’t have any great plans himself for the future, or could he?
    She hedged carefully. “I don’t think so, Brian. I’m not shaking the world with my photography, but I can make a ham look extremely mouthwatering! I like the challenge of working.”
    There was a hint of a smile about his lips. “There would be challenge in using all that you’ve learned to take: the type of pictures that would shake up the world. The Kim I used to know was determined to capture joy and pain and the human spirit.”
    “The Kim you used to know was an idealistic college student without twin boys to feed,” she said bitterly, and instantly regretted her outburst. None of it had been his fault. But it wasn’t my fault either, she wanted to cry out.
    Brian was still smiling easily. A shadow of something had fallen over his eyes. Had he heard the reproach she hadn’t meant?
    “I want to ask you something,” she said in an unintentionally sharp manner.
    “Ask,” he returned coolly. The one word said so much more: I may not answer, but ask all you like.
    “Who is Lisa?”
    “Lisa,” he replied softly, “is the widow of the man buried beneath my headstone.”
    “Oh?” Kim hesitated for a moment. “You know her?”
    He shrugged. “Yes.” For a moment Kim was afraid that he would say no more, but he continued. “When I finally got through to the proper military authorities, I learned that Lisa Barnes had been looking for Jim all these years. She’d even been to Nam several times, never giving up hope. So I went to see her. I was close to Jim. I thought the facts of his death coming from me would be easier than her hearing them from anyone else.” He was looking at Kim no longer. His eyes were in distant places, distant times. He shrugged again and said softly, “Lisa Barnes is a very special lady.”
    Kim stiffened. Lisa Barnes was reverently special. It made her feel like chopped liver. Lisa Barnes had waited and searched.
    Again Kim lashed out unintentionally. “Brian, I was told you were missing at first, and when you were merely missing, I waited and I searched. But then they supposedly sent you home in a box. It seemed rather absurd to keep waiting!”
    His gaze returned to her, his brow lifted slightly at her vehemence.