“Oh, is this the trip you were planning earlier?”
“Yes.”
“But now you’re not sure if you’re going?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’d like to be around in case Bob needs something.” His eyes are tight, careful. The warmth of his kisses starts draining out of me. It’s not to spend time with me. It’s to see my green card through so he can let me go.
“Is that the only reason?” My voice is too soft for the sharpness of the feeling.
He smiles and drops his hand from my waist to my behind. He squeezes it hard.
“That, and your ass. Although at the moment it’s quite eclipsed by this dress, I’m afraid.”
Well, it’s something. “Thank you. A U.S. Marine bought it for me. You should steer clear of him. Jealous bloke. Descendant of dragons, that one. Ghastly big too.”
“I’ll be on my guard. Although I hope you have better sense than to be involved with such a brute.”
“I like brutes, I’m finding. Seriously misunderstood creatures.” I reach on my toes to kiss his scar. He looks like he is about to press his case against brutes everywhere so I move on.
“Do you see the other Marines often?” I’m afraid of the answer. I don’t know if that would make the PTSD worse or better.
“At least once a year. We meet at the end of May at my cabin on the Rogue River for a few days.”
At the end of May—when he returned home. “Aiden, you should go see them. I’ll be okay with Bob,” I say, even though the idea of not seeing him for a day, let alone several, suddenly dims even the green card for me.
“We’ll see.” He shrugs.
“Who comes to visit other than Callahan?”
“Hendrix and Jazzman.”
“What about Marshall? Is he a Marine too?”
“Once a Marine, always a Marine.” He caresses my jawline.
“Oh, so why isn’t Marshall coming?” I don’t know why but I really want to meet his best friend.
“Because of me,” he says evenly. He wraps his arm around my waist and starts walking to the library door, but I barely notice over the strange tightening in my chest. I want to ask him what he means but this is one line I don’t know if I can ever cross. What if Aiden attacked Marshall too? I shiver, my brain rejecting the idea. No, it’s more likely that Aiden is pushing Marshall away for his safety, like he is doing with me. How can I ever ask him about this without it being either the grossest of accusations or the most painful of reminders? I kiss his neck as I begrudgingly concede that this information has to come from him.
“What’s with the big doe eyes, Elisa?”
I shrug. “Just thinking about you…and your military service.”
“What about it?”
Hmm, what question can I ask that won’t hurt? “Why is it not in your CV?”
He gives me an indulgent smile. “Elisa, with my dragon behavior as you call it, how long do you think it would take the world to suspect I have a defect if they knew that information?”
“It’s not a defect, Aiden. It’s a wound. And nothing to be ashamed of.”
He rolls his eyes. “That’s a cliché, Elisa.”
“That doesn’t make it less true.”
“Can we go now?”
He sounds like Anamelia when she is at the dentist’s office. I kiss his scar. “Yes, although I wish you would tell me where we’re going.”
He smiles. “It’s a surprise.”
I’m abruptly excited. Maybe this will be a fun night for him too, away from old memories and forming new ones. For my part, I will do my best to make those memories brilliant.
“Chemists don’t like surprises,” I pretend to grumble, even though I’m only referring to myself.
“Then this should be an easy success.”
Success? Success at what?
Chapter Thirty-Five
Top of the World
The Range Rover flies past all city exits, heading east toward Mount Hood and the airport. The moment I see the reflective green sign boasting PORTLAND INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, I shiver.
“Aiden, you’re not flying us anywhere abroad, are you?” My voice starts trembling because this is exactly the kind of thing he would do. Hydrogen, 1.008. Helium—
He chuckles, reaching over and squeezing my knee. “No, little refugee, I’m not. Somehow I didn’t think you wanted to leave the States just yet.”
I slump in the leather seat, taking a deep breath. He keeps his eyes on the road, checking the back mirror every few minutes and stealing glances at me. In the few moments that our eyes meet, I notice that the blue depths are calm. Then occasionally, at no apparent trigger, they brew again. The tectonic plates seem to have three settings: shifting when he is remembering, stilling when he is thinking, and locking. Locking is rare. I only witnessed it earlier today when he talked about injuring me or his mum.
I watch the last rays of sun fracturing on his skin with a million questions raging in my brain. How did this all start for him? What would fix it? How do I convince him to stay with me?
Perhaps feeling my gaze burning a hole in his lovely cheek, he peers at me. “What are you thinking so hard about?”
“All the questions I have about you.”
I was expecting immediate shutdown but to my surprise, he nods. “That’s the point for tonight. So that you can finally question what you see and hear.”
At the answer, I almost decide not to ask anything but as any scientist will tell you, leaving a question unasked is a bigger sin with our lot than leaving it unanswered.
“Well?” he prompts.
“I’m afraid of asking something that would be too hard for you to relive.” And too hard for me to hear.
He nods. “You should be afraid of that. But don’t worry, I would stop you. I don’t want that shit polluting your head. Or mine for that matter.”
It’s a twisted thing to give me relief but it still does.
“Well, I was wondering why you joined the Marine Corps to begin with? I mean, with your memory…it seems like such an enormous risk to take with your life.”
He shrugs. “We’re all invincible at eighteen. I finished college-level math by fifth grade, Elisa. What lure could academics possibly have held for me? The military, on the other hand, was knocking on our door daily. At first sergeants, then lieutenants, then General Sartain.”
“Who?”
He waves his hand dismissively. “He’s a big shot in the CIA. Anyway, I started having vague fantasies of being some type of James Bond.”
“But you never went into intelligence?”
“Started to.” His words become clipped, guarded.
“But then?”
He takes a deep breath, his eyes firmly on the road although with his memory, who knows if he is really looking. “But then 9/11 happened. There wasn’t a single Marine in the Corps that didn’t want to avenge it.” His voice hardens.
I remember watching the Twin Towers, huddled on the couch between Mum and Dad in our cottage. “That’s the kind of evil science can’t explain,” Dad said.
Aiden’s fingers brush against my cheek. “Are you okay?” he asks gently.
I look up at him and nod. He smiles. “Good. It worries me when you’re so quiet.”
“Would you have done it again?”
He looks back at the road. The sun has set now, and it’s darker in the car. Minutes tick in the dashboard clock. 8:29, 8:31.
“We all want second chances,” he says at last. His voice is a mix of anger and regret.
I take his answer as confirmation but I cannot fathom his words. What would he have done with his second chance that would have been worth this hell twice around?
I shiver and look out the window. We are racing through the Columbia River Gorge now, the cavernous canyon between Oregon and Washington. The sharp, craggy peaks of the Cascades pierce the skies. There are no longer lights around. Only a dark, quiet beauty.
Aiden’s index finger comes under my chin and I turn to face him. He is smiling. “Were those all your questions? Some scientist you are.”