Betrayal dh-12

by John Lescroart

  Tara Wheatley was surprised to see Nolan back so soon. She'd spent the weeks he was gone coming to grips with her nagging sense of guilt. Which was, she told herself, ridiculous. She was an adult who could make her own decisions, and she and Evan had been broken up for months. She hadn't betrayed anybody. She was moving on in her life. She'd finally gotten around to reading the last four of Evan's letters, but after the night when she had invited Nolan back to her apartment, she couldn't make herself get around to writing back to him.

  What was she supposed to say?

  Oh, and under local news I slept with your friend Ron who came to give me your letter. I didn't really mean to, but I was confused and lonely, really lonely, and scared to be alone, he'd just more or less saved my life that particular night and I never thought you and I would ever work out our problems anyway. It was just time to act on us being finally apart, okay? We weren't together anymore and weren't going to be together, so I could sleep with another man if I wanted and you had no say over it. Okay, okay, there could have been some element where I was punishing you for going off the way you did-if you can leave me, then this is exactly what you're risking. And now-you see, you dummy?-it's happened.

  No. She wasn't going to write that letter, not now, not ever.

  And Evan, of course, never wrote to her again either.

  Ron Nolan was a strong, powerful, attractive older guy and if her life wasn't going to work out with Evan, and it clearly wasn't, then with his charm, experience, confidence, and-admit it-money, Nolan would at the very least be able to help her get over her first love. She could use a simple, uncomplicated relationship until the next real one came along.

  As if there'd ever be another one as real as Evan.

  Nolan never saw the need to tell her about the ambush at Masbah, what had happened to Evan, or the role that Nolan himself had played in it all. As far as Tara knew, Nolan had voluntarily made the decision to come home, possibly even as a result of some of their discussions about the morality of the war. Explaining it to her, he had kept it all, as his old English teacher used to say, vague enough to be true.

  And in fact, all Nolan knew about Evan Scholler was that he'd sustained a serious head wound from the last grenade they had taken and, by the time Nolan had flown out of Baghdad, still hadn't been expected to live. He might in fact already have died, although Nolan suspected that if that had happened, Tara would have heard about it from somebody.

  But whatever had happened to Evan, nearly three months had passed. Tara had moved on. For Ron Nolan, there just didn't seem to be any benefit to talking any more about it.

  She was standing in front of the artichokes in the vegetable aisle of the grocery store, two days after the start of her school's Christmas vacation. The canned music coming in to keep everybody merry and bright had just changed from the ridiculous to the sublime-the Chipmunks' version of "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" segueing rather inharmoniously into Aaron Neville singing "O Holy Night." The latter had been her and Evan's favorite recording of any Christmas song, and suddenly, hearing the first notes, Tara 's mind had gone blank. Looking down at the bins of produce arrayed in front of her, she suddenly had no idea why she was here, or what she wanted to buy.

  Unconsciously, her hand came up to cover her mouth, and she sighed deeply through her fingers, her eyes welling beyond all reason. "God," she whispered to herself.

  " Tara? Is that you?"

  Letting out another breath, she started out of her reverie. "Eileen?"

  Evan's mother was still quite attractive, and Tara had always thought it was not so much about her trim body or her pleasant, vaguely Nordic facial features, but because she exuded kindness. In Eileen Scholler's world, everybody was equal and everybody was good, even if the rest of humanity didn't think so, and she was going to like you and treat you fairly and gently no matter what. Now, her head cocked birdlike to one side, she frowned with concern. "Are you all right? You look like you're about to faint."

  "That's what I feel like." Tara tried to put on a smile but knew it must look forced. "Wow. I don't know what just happened." Bracing herself against her shopping cart, she again forced an unfelt brightness. "Stress, I'm sure. The season. But how are you? You don't shop here normally, do you? But it's so good to see you."

  "I was on my way home from work and remembered I needed some veggies. But I'm glad I stopped here now. It's so good to see you too." Her expression grew wistful. "We've missed you, you know."

  Tara nodded, sober. "I've missed you too. I really have."

  "Yes, well, I don't think you children realize what you put us poor parents through when you break up with each other. Here we were, considering you all but the daughter we never had, and the next thing you know, you're not in our lives anymore. It's the saddest thing."

  "I know," Tara said. "I'm so sorry. I never meant that to be part of it."

  "I know, dear, it's nobody's fault. It's just one of life's little heartbreaks. Or as Jim says, it's just another FOG." Lowering her voice, she came closer. "Fucking opportunity for growth. Pardon my French."

  "It's pardoned. How is Evan, by the way?"

  "Well, we still worry, of course, but he seems all right. There are still some issues, but we're going out to see him for Christmas, so we'll have a better idea how he's doing after that."

  "You're going to see him for Christmas?"

  "Yes. We're flying over next week."

  "To Iraq?"

  For an instant, Eileen Scholler went completely still. "No, dear." Her eyes narrowed-was Tara kidding her?-although the kindness remained in them. "To Walter Reed."

  "Walter…"

  "You didn't hear? I was sure you must have heard. In fact, I was a little bit annoyed, to be honest, that you never called us. If I'd have known you didn't know, I would have-"

  Tara waved her off. "That doesn't matter, Eileen. Heard what? Did something happen to Evan over there?"

  "He was wounded," she said, "this past summer. Badly, in the head. He was nearly killed."

  "Oh, my God." Suddenly her legs felt as though they weren't going to support her. She tightened her grip on the shopping cart, looked plaintively at Eileen. "What happened?"

  "They got attacked someplace in Baghdad. Most of his squadron was killed. They were all from the Peninsula. It was everywhere in the papers and on the news. Didn't you see anything about it?"

  "I stopped reading all of those articles, Eileen, and watching the news on TV. It says Iraq and I tune out. I just can't stand it. I figured if anything happened to Evan, I'd hear about it. I couldn't face the news every day."

  "Well, fortunately, he wasn't killed, and that's all they seem to report. It's like the wounded don't count. So you might never have seen his name anyway. But his squad…those poor boys."

  "All of them died?"

  "All but one, I believe. Two, counting Evan."

  "Oh, God, Eileen, I am so sorry. How is he now?"

  "Getting better every day. He's making more sense when he talks on the phone. The doctors won't say for sure, of course, but his lead neurologist predicts that Evan might be one of the very, very few to recover almost completely. Though it's probably going to be a while."

  "He's what, doing therapy?"

  "Every day. Physical and mental. But as I say, he's really coming along now. For a few weeks there, after he first arrived, we didn't even dare hope for that, so this is all really good news. Once they decided he was eligible for therapy, it's been better."

  "Why wouldn't he have been eligible?"

  Eileen pursed her lips. "There was some question about whether he'd had something to drink before he went out on his last convoy. Nobody said he was drunk, but…anyway, they had to clear that up first. If he was in fact under the influence, he might not have been eligible for benefits."

  "Even though he was shot?"

  Eileen took a calming breath. "He wasn't shot, Tara. It was a grenade."

  That news stopped her briefly. "Okay, but even so, they wer
en't going to treat him?"

  "If he'd been drunk, maybe not. Or not right away, anyway. And we've learned time is everything with his kind of injuries, believe me."

  But Tara was still reeling from the revelation. "I can't believe they really might not have treated him. How could he not be eligible for benefits if he got wounded in a war zone?"

  "It's one of the great mysteries, dear, but don't get me started on how they're treating some of those other poor wounded boys at Walter Reed. It's atrocious. But-you'll really love this-even after they ruled that he was eligible for benefits, the Army made it one of the conditions of Evan's treatment that he wouldn't complain about conditions at Walter Reed to the media or anybody else." She laid a hand on Tara 's arm, forced a tepid smile. "So the thing to do now is be grateful that they're finally helping him, and we are."

  "You are a way better person than I'd be, Eileen."

  "I don't know about that. It's the only way I know how to be. Of course it's frustrating and terrible, but at least Evan's getting better now. I don't see how making a stink at this point would do anybody any good."

  Closing her eyes, Tara blew out her frustration. She didn't believe Eileen was right-she thought that making a stink might in fact help things improve. But suddenly the country's culture seemed to have shifted to where everybody was afraid to make a stink about anything-it meant they weren't patriotic. It meant they supported the terrorists. And this whole mentality was, to her mind, just stupid.

  But she wasn't going to get in yet another argument about this ongoing and disastrous war-not with Eileen, not with Ron Nolan, not with anybody else. At least it appeared that, bad though it might have been, the worst medical part of Evan's ordeal was over. "So he's been there how long now?" she asked.

  "About three months. We hope he'll be coming home in a couple more, but we're afraid to move him too quickly. At least he's got quality care now, and we don't want to rush his recovery. When he comes back, we want him all the way back, you know?" Eileen's serene gaze settled on her might-have-been daughter-in-law. "And how about you, Tara? How have you been?"

  "Mostly good, I think."

  "Mostly good, you think? That's not the most enthusiastic response I've ever heard."

  "No. I guess not. I'm just…kind of at a loss somehow. I don't really feel whole in some way. It's like I'm waiting for something, but I'm not sure what it is, or even if I'll recognize it when it comes along. Does that make any sense?"

  "More than you think. Are you seeing anybody?"

  "More or less. I'm a little conflicted about him too. In fact…" She stopped.

  Eileen's head fell off angling to one side in her trademark gesture. "Yes?"

  Tara sighed. This close to Eileen's physical presence, now, she almost imagined she could feel emanations of her son in the air around them. And it affected her still, this sense of some deep-rooted connection between them that she'd never approached with anyone else. Certainly not with Ron Nolan.

  So why, then, was she still seeing Ron? Was it only because she'd given up on Evan after he'd clearly stopped caring about her? Or was there something simply easier about Ron? Love didn't have to be all-encompassing and overpowering, did it? True, deep, abiding love was a fairy tale, a myth. She'd found that out the hard way. Now she'd moved on into an adult, reality-based relationship that could never hurt her the way she'd been hurt with Evan. And that was smart. She was in a better place, all in all. She had to believe that.

  Besides, Evan would never take her back now. Not after what she'd done. She knew that, and she didn't blame him.

  " Tara?" Eileen stepped closer to her. "What?"

  She tried to smile, mostly failing in the effort. "Nothing really. Just what I said, being conflicted about this guy."

  "Well, if you'll take some advice from an old woman who loves you, don't do anything irrevocable unless you're sure."

  "Oh, don't worry. I'm a long way from either of those-irrevocable, or sure. I keep thinking it's the Christmas season, those old high expectations that don't seem to pan out." She swallowed against a surge of emotion that suddenly had come upon her. "Maybe Evan and I shouldn't have had such good times with you and the family back in the day. I keep waiting for it to feel that way again at Christmastime."

  "It still can, you know."

  "Well, maybe. I can keep hoping, at least." Putting on a smile now, Tara reached for some vegetables. "Anyway, I don't mean to sound so negative. Next to what you're going through, my life's great."

  "Ours is, too, dear," Eileen said. "Evan's alive and we pray he'll be fine someday. It's been a bit of a challenge, but the worst is definitely behind us. Having gotten through the worst of it, I don't know if we could be happier."

  "Well, that's the best news I could hear. You deserve it."

  "Everybody deserves happiness, dear."

  "Good people deserve it more."

  "I don't know about that." Eileen laid a hand on Tara 's arm. "But either way, you do. You're a good person."

  "Not as good as you think." Not even close, she thought. She could not shake the feeling that somehow she had cheated on Evan, even though they'd broken up, even though they weren't a couple any longer, even though she hadn't written him one letter since he'd gone overseas. "I shouldn't have been so pigheaded with Evan," she said. "I should have written him and…"

  "Hey, hey, hey." Eileen moved up closer to her. "You two had a disagreement. You did what you thought was right and so did he. That's not either of you being a bad person. You're both good people." She rubbed Tara 's arm reassuringly. "Maybe you could write him now, just a friendly little note. I'm sure he'd like to hear from you."

  "No, I couldn't do that. Besides, it's too late for that now. He's better off without me."

  "Don't you think he should be the judge of that? Maybe I'll just tell him I saw you and you said to tell him hello. I know he'd be glad to hear that. Would that be too much?"

  "I don't know, Eileen. It might be."

  "If he wrote you, do you think you could write back?"

  Tara 's head tracked a pathetic little arc. She bit at her lip. "I don't even know if I could promise that." She put her own hand over the other woman's. "We tried, Eileen, we really did. But now it's just"-she shrugged-"it's just behind us."

  Eileen, ever serene, nodded. "And that's all right too. If you change your mind and want to see him when he gets back, you've got our numbers still, I'm sure. Or even if you'd like to drop by and see us before that, you're welcome anytime. You know that, I hope."

  "I know that. Thank you." She leaned over and planted a kiss on Eileen's cheek. "You're great. I love you."

  Eileen held herself against Tara for a moment, then pulled away. "I love you, too, girl, and you're also pretty great. Us pretty greats have to stick together. And try not to be so hard on ourselves."

  "I'll try," she said. Tara 's vision had suddenly misted over. "I'll really try."

  "I know you will. It was wonderful seeing you, dear. Be happy." With a quick last little kiss on the cheek and a smile, Eileen pushed her shopping cart by behind Tara, turned the corner at the end of the aisle, and was gone.

  Nolan arrived at Tara 's place within twenty minutes of getting her call. Now Tara sat in her big chair, drinking her second glass of wine. It was nearly dark inside, the only light in the living room coming from the kitchen. With his own drink of scotch in hand, Nolan sat with his elbows on his knees, way forward on the couch, intent. "You've got to be kidding me. It must have happened within a week or two after I left."

  "You didn't know anything about it?"

  "Nothing. Why would I know anything about it?"

  "Don't get defensive, Ron. You were there, that's why."

  "I'm sorry, but no. It must have been after I left. Evan was trying to get himself and his guys transferred out of the airport and back to their regular unit the last couple of weeks I was there. It sounds like that's what must have happened. If they were still with us, Jack Allstrong would have mentioned
it to me, I'm sure." Pushing himself back into the cushions, he sat back and crossed his legs. "His mom says he's at Walter Reed now?"

  "For the last few months."

  "Jesus," he said, "that's unbelievable." But if Nolan's pose was relaxed, he felt far from it-his assumption had all along been that Evan was dead, or at least permanently rendered mentally incompetent. After the RPG hit at Masbah, Onofrio had insisted that they pile Evan into the Humvee. Nolan had field-assessed the damage to Evan's head, and it didn't look like the kind of wound from which people recovered, so he'd let himself be persuaded.

  Now Nolan drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch. "But his mother said they expect him to get better?"

  "Completely, though maybe not soon."

  "Well, that's good news, at least. And she told you all of the other troops were killed?"

  "All but one, that's what Eileen said. And then Evan."

  Nolan raked his palm down the side of his face. "God, those guys. They were good kids. I can't believe…I mean, they shouldn't have even been there. They should have been fixing big trucks." He looked across at her, so lovely and vulnerable in the dim December night. Her tears had begun again and now glistened on her cheeks. "How are you doing with this, T? You want to go see him?"

  "No!" The word came out in a rush. Then, more reflectively, she said, "I don't know what good that would do. I just didn't really expect anything like this, that's all. Maybe I should have, you know, but it just…when it's someone you know, who you loved…" She let out a weary sigh. "I don't know what to do with it. I want him to be okay, but Eileen asked me if I wanted to get back in touch with him, and I couldn't say I did. Although sometimes I think…"

  "What?"

  "No, it just would sound bad. For us, I mean."