by Tara Brown
“She’s gifted. We all saw that from early on. Her natural skill in gymnastics is insane.”
“That’s true. I always joke that she’s going to be in the Olympics, but I’m starting to get worried it might actually happen.” I smiled.
“I have no doubts she will be in the Olympics. What about you, are you seeing anyone?” he asked brazenly.
“No. I was.” My cheeks flushed but I answered honestly, “I am taking some me time. A friend told me I needed four seasons of just me to figure myself out. Grieve and all that jazz.”
“Right. I guess it’s harder when your spouse actually dies.” He flinched as he said the last part.
“No. I think it’s easier.” I wasn't going to sugarcoat James to anyone.
“Speaking of which, I wanted to tell you, I found some things that indicated James and Megan—”
“I know, Jeff. And I’m so sorry. Apparently, Megan wasn't the only one.”
“You knew?” It was his turn to blush.
“Not until afterward. I found out later from a friend.” I lowered my stare, filling with borrowed shame from James and his affairs.
“I wish he was alive so I could punch his lights out for both of us.” He sighed. “As it stands, you’ll have to be the one who punches out Megan.” He turned it back into a joke.
“Done.” I laughed, grateful for the return of the lightness.
“That would actually be kinda funny.” He smiled to himself, no doubt imagining it. His heartbreak walked across his face, haunting his eyes for a moment before he lit up again. “Anyway, I better get back to the seats before Dara starts worrying I ran off too.” The joke was bitter and poignant and yet I completely understood.
“Nice seeing you again, Jeff.” I offered him a hug. That was what survivors of something like this did, they comforted each other.
“You too, Evie. Don't be such a stranger.” He squeezed once and walked off.
Coop’s steely gaze remained on the ice and the boys, but I could sense his annoyance.
“What?” I asked.
“You honestly just called me a family friend?”
“You are.”
“I’m more than that, Evie.” He turned my way and the smoke in his stare burned us both a little.
“You are, but how do I explain what you are? How do I explain what we all did to each other for a year?”
“I believe the standard is ‘it’s complicated.’ You and I are complicated.” Coop stepped closer. “Why are you still doing this? Why are you still refusing to admit you love me and you want me and we make an incredible team and family? We’re perfect for each other.” His eyes shone with emotion, most of it was sadness. I hated what I was doing to us both. “You want me to sit around here, waiting for you to choose me, while you do your year of killing bad guys and baking brownies, so you can claim you tried to find yourself. But let’s be honest about what this really is. You’re fucking waiting for him to come back. You’re actually waiting for him to come and surprise you. That's all this four seasons of bullshit and abstinence is.” His voice rose a little and cracked. “But he isn’t coming back and eventually I’m going to stop waiting.”
My throat clogged with tears as he stared me down, waiting for my confession that he was right. And he was. But I wasn't admitting it.
“Because eventually I am going to choose me and my happiness over you, the same way you have chosen him over me. He’s fucking dead, Evie. Dead. And until you realize that and mourn him, we can’t move ahead. I know he was the one. He was the one you chose and were going to choose, forever.” He stepped closer, his lips trembling slightly. “But you need to understand one thing: you were the one I chose. So as hard and firm as you grip that corpse, I am gripping you. And eventually we’ll both lose our grip and end up alone.” He stared down into my soul and exposed all my weaknesses for us both to writhe in.
I had excuses and words and thoughts but I didn't bother with any of them.
He had laid the truth, the painful and awful truth, out for us. There was no denying it so there was no excusing it.
When I didn't speak or move, he turned back to the game, making me feel like the outsider.
I was the one who didn't belong here. The rink and hockey was his. He’d gotten it in the separation.
I turned and walked away, leaving the rink, my kid, my heart, and my ability to call this four seasons of finding myself.
In a daze of regret and confusion, I drove home.
My mom greeted me in the driveway. Her face pale and tight, she was uneasy. “There’s a lawyer waiting to see you in the office.”
Time reversed, going back to the moment she had said that sentence before. "Are you serious?"
"Yes."
"Fucking perfect," I grumbled as I walked up to the door and opened it. “Is it—him?” I asked her.
She nodded and my stomach sank.
I wasn't the Evie he had met before. I was a new Evie. But Mr. Wilkes still made me uncomfortable. I entered the office to find him standing, facing the window and looking out at the backyard.
“Mr. Wilkes?” We hadn’t seen each other in almost two years. There was a mountain of dead bodies and history between that moment and this.
“Ms. Evans, so nice to see you again.” It didn't sound nice as he came forward, his hand stretched out.
I really wasn't in the mood, having just had all my truths, the ugly ones, pointed out to me. I was close to tears but maintained the stiff upper lip my mom had given me.
“I don't suppose we need to pussyfoot around with niceties.” He sighed. “I’m here because of Mr. Gustavo Servario.”
“Okay.” My heart skipped a beat.
“Two things: All your finances have been placed in some safe accounts and an accountant will contact you to ensure you understand everything. He will manage your wealth for you. Mr. Servario wanted to be sure you were taken care of. Secondly, there will be a service in Italy in one week. Mr. Servario wanted his ashes spread around an island where there is some convent. Something about ‘watching over it in his death.’” He shrugged.
A choking sound escaped my lips.
“His remains have been cremated already, and he has requested you be the person who spreads his ashes for him.”
My knees threatened to buckle but I leaned on the desk. “Are they quite certain he’s gone?” Hadn’t I just seen him last week, peeking in the window at me?
“Yes, a positive test was done on some of the remains at the explosion in Monaco. Took some time but they finally have everybody identified and have released all remains.” Mr. Wilkes’ shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry for always being the bearer of bad news. Here is the location of the service.” He handed me a card. “Sorry.” He left me there.
The card had a location handwritten on it. My knees gave out, dropping me to the hardwood floor of the office as the world came rushing at me.
I’d been so sure.
So sure.
Gustavo was alive.
There was no way he would have died so selflessly nor was it possible to kill something as strong as him.
And yet the card in my hand suggested otherwise.
Tears flooded my face, drowning me in sorrow.
I was standing on the stairs, staring at the fire all over again, the heat of the flames and the broken heart choking me.
It was fresh and new.
He was gone.
And I would never see him again.
30
Gustavo Servario RIP
The service was lovely.
The hillside overlooking the stunning azure sea with the soft spring breeze lightly rippling my hair and dress was exactly as it should have been.
Coop, Luce, and Jack stood next to me, all in disguise.
Elise was across from me, also in disguise. My heart sank when she was already at the meeting spot when we arrived.
I wore a black dress suit with huge sunglasses and let my dark hair fall around my shoulders like a
cape.
A man spoke something that sounded like Shakespeare but in Latin. The words were beautiful, even to my empty chest.
I didn't cry.
I was blank and hollow from the loss.
When he finished speaking, Luce hugged me.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she whispered.
“You and me both,” I replied.
Coop pulled me into his arms, wrapping himself around me and smothering me. I pressed my face into his chest and let him.
“I’m so sorry, Evie,” he muttered into my ear, “I never should have said any of that.”
“No,” I spoke into his armpit, “you were right.” I couldn't pull back and meet those intense eyes and tell him. I couldn’t imply that I was done with my seasons. Not here. Not now.
But I knew in my heart that if there was no chance of Gustavo Servario coming back, then there was no point in my four seasons. I had done them for one reason, and the reason had been thrown in my face.
And now there was no denying it’s validity.
Coop kissed the top of my head and turned us, walking to the waiting helicopter.
We climbed in, all five of us solemn and silent.
Elise kept her eyes on the window. She’d hardly spoken to any of us since we met at the site of the service.
Luce snuggled Jack, her face drawn and tearstained.
It dawned on me they had all waited for Servario to come back too. Even Coop. He’d waited, giving me the time I needed, but also because he wasn't sure. And now he was. We all were.
Elise wiped a tear and stared out the window. I wondered if she disliked me as much as I had her, which was why she was always polite but never anything more. Riding in the chopper with her was weirdly tense.
The flight took too long, and I was more than done with being in the chopper when we finally landed in the spot Servario had taken us the first time to drop off a child. The older nun we had met before came out. She greeted Elise with warmth and kindness, hugging her. For a moment they held one another as Elise wept. The nun lifted her gaze and smiled at the rest of us but was detached in a way. “I’m sorry for all our loss. A great man has left a great hole.” She bowed slightly and handed me the urn. “He has asked that you scatter him on the beach below.” She pointed at the craggy hillside. “So he can watch over us and protect us.”
Elise sobbed harder as the nun pulled her in close for another hug.
“Do you want to come?” I asked Elise, hating that I would have to share this moment with her, but also struggling with the fact she was so broken by this. The last time she'd seen him had likely been in anger. And the time before that he’d called her by my name as he drunkenly screwed her. It was cold and yet totally Servario.
“Okay.” She wiped her eyes and nodded, following me to the goat path to the water.
“We’ll be right back,” I said to my team as we passed them.
Elise followed me down the hill. We both struggled in our heels to the shoreline where the crashing waves and salty air took over.
She stared out at the ocean as I wrestled the lid off the silver urn. I held the opening toward her. She reached her delicate hand inside and gripped a huge fistful of ashes.
She carried them to the sea and spoke softly. I couldn't understand her words, but the way her back straightened and her shoulders tensed suggested she was angry for a moment. She tossed the ash and sighed, turning to me. “I want you to know I don't hate you. I did,” she admitted. “I knew Saransk was torturing you and I lied to Gustavo. I let that happen to you in hopes he would kill you. You were right about me. I betrayed you on purpose. It was me that sent Brute to your room in Monaco. I’m sorry.”
“I understand.” My words were forced a little, recalling how awful that torture had been and how worried I was about Saransk's men finding my kids. “You wanted him for yourself. I know that feeling. And I hated you too. And I don't anymore.” I walked past her and took the rest of the ashes and tossed them and then the urn out to sea. “And I don't hate you anymore either, Gustavo,” I said to the ashes and waves as the reality of his death came crashing down on me. "Goodbye, Servario." The words choked me.
She staggered over the rocks to me as I sank to my knees, gripping my stomach as pain ravaged me. We clung to one another, sobbing blindly into the ocean breeze and spray.
“This is exactly how he would have wanted it.” She laughed through the tears, holding me with the ash all over her hands and staining my dress. “You and I wailing into the sea like some tragic love story, Tristan-and-Isolde-style ending.”
I laughed with her but cried harder at that.
He was gone and his legacy had ended.
His crimes paid with a blood debt.
His heart filled with conflict and passion for two women.
And a world left wanting, suffering the gap he had created.
Gustavo Servario died the way he had lived, tragically.
He would be missed.
He would be remembered.
She was right, it was just how he wanted it.
31
Season Four
July 2014
The splash from the pool hit my legs as Mitch and Coop had a cannonball contest. Coop of course won but Mitch’s wasn’t far behind. He was over five foot eight now and still growing like a weed. I suspected he would be like my dad and James, well over six feet. He would look like James, who resembled Coop enough for Mitch to be mistaken as his son. It happened every now and then.
Not as often as Jules was mistaken for his daughter. Her tanned, golden skin, and emotional eyes were just like his. I wondered if this was similar to when people started looking like their pets from living together for so long. Which of course made Coop our pet. A thought that made me smile, mostly because it would annoy him.
The smell of burgers lifted my nose to the grill where Fitz was cooking. He’d come back from Dorset alone.
A fact Mom didn't seem to mind.
She and Dad still weren’t speaking.
I assumed things had been done long before the Burrow, and they’d sort of used it as the nice long break they both wanted without having to do the hard part.
She and Fitz were making dinner and I wasn't allowed near the kitchen, a fact I didn’t mind.
I was exhausted from our mission a couple of nights ago, a hunting accident in the Carpathian Mountains. Romania was beautiful but the trip felt lacking. Likely because the man we killed deserved so much more than the accidental shooting he’d received. But with the list dwindling, we found ourselves staying on track more and more. We wanted it over and we were so close.
Killing perverts had been easy and even fun at first. But the bloodshed had started to get to us, so we got creative and less personal in our approach. We had a handful left, which we planned to finish before Luce and Jack’s wedding.
“So have you thought about retirement too then?” Luce asked from the recliner next to mine, as if reading my mind.
“No.” I shook my head. “I haven’t. I was thinking maybe an office job. The kids shouldn’t grow up with a bunch of adults who don't appear to work.” I laughed.
“I guess, huh? Though, Jack and I will probably both be working. We can be their good influences. His parents have expectations and shit.” She shuddered. “Babies and charities and fundraisers and gala events. A lifetime of donating my time to others for photo ops.”
“It’s not all for photo ops, Luce,” Jack spoke over the laptop where he sat, shielded by an umbrella and wearing sunglasses. “Some of it is genuinely just volunteering out of the goodness of your heart.”
Luce rolled her eyes as she sipped her margarita. “Anyway, we’re expected to live in France and work and donate and dress up at all times because if they get a photo of me tying into a big, fat burger in my sweats, apparently, I’m in shit.”
“That's true, not that you'll find a decent burger in France.” Jack nodded, still not looking at us.
“I think you�
�ll like it, all that rubbing elbows with royals and dressing pretty. Think about the planes full of clothes. You were crazy for it.”
“I do love shoes and dressing up.” She made an excited but also crazy face.
“Deep down we all do.”
“Not me.” Jules protested. “I hate dresses and shoes.” She jumped and cannonballed Coop and her brother after the great proclamation.
“Not her.” Luce winked at me.
“They would get in the way of her playing Tarzan.” I chuckled.
“Evie, you look too dry,” Coop interrupted as he put his hands on the deck and grinned, water dripping down his handsome face.
“Coop, please don’t,” I pleaded, not even caring how weak it made me look to beg. “I’m honestly just right.” I shook my head but put my drink down just in case.
He lifted himself out of the water, his muscles flexing as water dripped off him. Had he not been threatening my warm, happy place, I might have spent an extra second staring at how ripped his sinewy body was.
But he was bent on destroying my happiness.
I jumped from the chair and ran across the lawn, screaming like a crazy person as he chased me down like a lion hunting a gazelle and tackled me into the grass. I groaned as he rolled, tucking me into his drenched body, soaking my entire outfit and staining the rest with grass. We rolled down the lawn and out of the view of everyone else, but I could hear them laughing.
“I hate you,” I managed to croak out.
“Oh, Evie. You love me and you know it.” He forced me on my back and pinned me there, letting the water from his face drip onto mine.
“You’re a terrible person.” I cringed with every drip.
“Possibly.” He nodded, smirking and staring at my lips. “But I am a high-ranking terrible person. I got a promotion, today.” He huffed his breath and beamed.
“And knocking me into the grass seemed like the way to celebrate?” I wondered how far up the ladder he was now.
“No.” He took a deep breath. “Telling you I’m done is the way I want to celebrate.” He sounded slightly out of breath. “This is the moment we have both been waiting for. We’re a handful of names away from being done the list, and I’m being promoted far beyond any field rank. Which means I’m giving you my notice. I’m finished waiting and I’m calling the game.” His bitter grin widened, not making its way to his stare, which was fierce. “I just had my thirtieth birthday and when you forced me to blow out my candles and make a wish, I did. And now, against Jules’ rules, I am telling you that wish.”