Veils of Silk(128)

Through she doubted that any words of hers would reduce his guilt for that death, Laura said, "Pyotr was already dying, and the chance that you would be spared gave his death meaning."

"Perhaps, but his courage doesn't diminish my cowardice, or my culpability," Ian said, his voice dead. "Though I had never been a very deep thinker, I did believe that when the time came I would be able to die like a man. Not necessarily unafraid, but at least with honor. But I couldn't do it. The one, rather simple thing that I had to do in order to be the man I thought I was—and I couldn't do it."

On one level Laura could almost understand, but at the same time, the way he was torturing himself made her want to shake him. "So now you can't forgive yourself because pain and horror briefly overcame you—even though within a few days, you were willing to face the same death that had terrified you before? I have trouble believing that God will blame you for such a lapse."

He let go of her hand and rolled from the bed, then walked across the room. In the early morning sun, the wilted rose petals were turning brown around the edges.

He halted by the window, rubbing his temple as he stared out blindly. "I told you it sounded trivial. Admittedly it's hard to imagine that a God powerful enough to create the universe is very interested in my lapses—He's probably too busy keeping track of all the sparrows that fell. But while it might not matter to God, it matters to me."

He drummed his fingers on the windowsill. "I never paid much attention to religion. It was simply there, a duty to be performed when necessary and avoided when possible. But I denied the faith of my fathers as well as betraying myself, and by doing so, I destroyed a vital part of my spirit. Now the broken pieces won't go back together."

His voice cracked, and he drew a long, shuddering breath. "Pyotr died in my place. My sister and her husband risked their lives to save mine. So much effort on behalf of a man who should have died. Who did die, but didn't get it quite right."

What had Srinivasa said? He torments himself because of his own perceived failings, not seeing them as necessary steps on the path. Unable to bear Ian's grief, Laura slipped from the bed and went over to join him by the window. "It's true that after all you've endured, you can't go back to being the man you were, but you have the capacity to be better and stronger."

"Have you ever seen a piece of pottery that was better after it broke?" He scooped up a handful of rose petals, then let them trickle through his fingers and drift crookedly to the floor. "Doesn't matter how good a job of patching you do, it will never be the same again."

"A man is not a piece of crockery," she said sharply.

"No," he agreed, not looking at her. "A broken plate is fortunate enough to be thrown out. A broken man is supposed to go on living."

With sudden, searing fear, Laura said, "You will, won't you? Keep on living?"

He turned to face her, his face stark. "Don't worry, Larishka. I haven't done myself in by now and I won't in the future. I promised that to David, and I'll extend that promise to you. Duty has kept me alive. Duty to those who risked their lives for mine, duty to my family, which has suffered enough on my behalf. I'm a lucky man. I have much more now than seemed possible two months ago."

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, then clasped it to his chest, above his heart. With self-mocking humor, he said, "Since getting out of prison, my life has been one obsession after another. The first was to get back to India, to Georgina, so that everything would be all right. That didn't work, so I latched on to the idea of Falkirk. I was needed there, and it would give me a chance to expiate my sins. And then I met you." His clasp tightened. "The last and best obsession. You're not only a reason to go on living, Laura. You've made it possible to enjoy the process more than I dreamed possible."

Laura had wanted to know what haunted him, yet now that she knew, she had no idea what to say. Or no, perhaps she did. Softly she said, "I don't care if you think you're broken and badly mended. I love you as you are, far better than I could have loved you as you were."

He drew her into his arms, resting his cheek against her temple. "In Cambay, I told Georgina that she and I would no longer suit because I had looked into the abyss and it had changed me," he said quietly. "She asked if you had also looked into the abyss. I said yes. I was right, wasn't I?"

She nodded, her face pressed against his shoulder.

He stroked her hair with gentle fingers. "I, too, am glad that our lives have come together. I'm sorry, Laura, that I can't give you all that you want from me."