41

IN THE THIN LIGHT OF DAWN, she saw the birds, flying helter skelter in their wallpaper cage. She imagined she heard wings flapping and strange eerie birdsongs.

"I heard your eyes blink," Paul whispered, reaching out to touch her hair.

"I have to change this wallpaper," she said. "This place should be an oasis of serenity. It's too noisy."

She laughed and cuddled close, cradling herself against Paul's shoulder. He felt good to be near and she reveled in the feel and smell of him. With remarkable efficiency, the staff had put things in order, scrubbed the place free of any traces of their ordeal.

The hullabaloo still lingered. The aftermath had been a media feast. He had addressed a joint session of Congress, told the story of his captivity, cited the evils of terrorism in any form. His bravery and courage were lauded. The Soviet Union, too, came in for plaudits. People were saying that their equally heroic gestures brought down the curtain on the cold war.

"So every cloud has a silver lining," she said.

"Or an Achilles' heel," he replied.

"You're mixing my metaphor."

Her effort to be cute won her a kiss on her head. She entwined her fingers in his and squeezed. He was silent for a long time. The light deepened, picking out shapes with greater clarity.

"Suppose they had blown us up? Would it have made any difference?" Paul whispered. Was this the first hint of what she had been waiting for? An explanation? Insight? She had not yet unraveled it for herself.

"It would to us," she said. "We'd both be dead." She wanted to say more, to offer contrition and apologies. She had been willful, impatient, romantically self-righteous. But it had taken him so long to get to the integrity part.

"There are times when the shortest distance between two points is not a straight line," he said. "The son of a bitch took us as far as we were willing to go."

Maybe even further, she decided. An honored homily bit the dust. Ends, on occasion, did justify means.

He turned his body and pressed himself against her.

She whispered, "A First Lady isn't even safe in her own bed anymore."