The early awkwardness was starting to crack and Luke seemed more at ease. “Really? So, you haven’t had a chance to see much of Seoul?”
“No. I’ve worked nearly every day since I’ve been here. On Sundays I’ve gone to church with Jessica, but it’s a little daunting because she attends a Korean church and almost all of her friends and colleagues are Korean.”
He seemed to take her disclosure as a challenge. “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.”
Claire had to tamp down a twinge of fear as they entered the parking lot. Luke noticed her scouring the area. He didn’t comment, but lightly placed his hand on her arm. He led her to a nondescript beige Kia sedan and opened the passenger door, ushering her in. She couldn’t help a slight giggle as she saw him folding into the driver’s side a moment later. “Is this your car?”
“No, thankfully,” he said wryly. “It’s part of Yongsan’s non-official fleet. Base personnel can check out a car on a first-come-first-serve basis. Believe it or not, this is one of the larger vehicles.” He grinned at her. “The only cars I fit comfortably in are full-size pickups and SUVs—not these mini things. Of necessity I’ve learned to manage.” He started the engine. “Any preference on what you’d like for dinner?”
She smiled at him, realizing that sometime in the past few minutes, she’d lost her nervous edginess. “Actually anything that isn’t kimchi and doesn’t smell like fish sounds great... In other words, I’d love something remotely American.”
He grinned again. “Pizza?”
“Perfect.”
“I know just the place. There’s an Italian restaurant on Itaewon that does a terrific Chicago–style pizza.” He put the Kia into drive and headed toward the exit.
“I’ve not yet been to Itaewon,” Claire said.
Luke chuckled. “Well, there’s a first time for all of us. I’m sure you’ve heard about it. It’s kind of a cross between 5th Avenue in New York City and New Orleans’s Bourbon Street. Plus, it’s only a couple of miles from the Yongsan Army Base, so there are a lot of servicemen and a number of...not particularly reputable people.” He looked a little sheepish. “Well, you’ll see.”
Fifteen minutes later, Luke pulled into a parking spot in a very busy commercial area and Claire was able to take in the street first hand. She saw bustling department stores interspersed with classy restaurants and dives. Coffee shops were adjacent to small stores selling everything from T-shirts to leather goods to gold jewelry to knock-off purses and shoes. Street vendors sold CDs, DVDs and cigarettes, as well as an assortment of food items—most of which Claire didn’t recognize and didn’t find particularly appealing.
During the three-block walk to the Italian restaurant, Luke kept Claire closely at his side, with his hand on the small of her back. Instinctively, she leaned slightly toward him, enjoying the sensation of protection. He didn’t stand out nearly as much here, as at least one-third of the crowd were Westerners. Many of the men and women were obviously military, although only a few were in uniform.
The restaurant they entered could have been located in any city in the U.S. Although it was crowded at the dinner hour, they were quickly ushered into a booth. Settled into her spot, Claire studied her surroundings. The tables were covered in white cloths and graced with small vases of flowers and votive candles. The aroma of garlic, basil and tomatoes permeated the room. The patrons were a decided mix of locals and visitors, mostly dining in pairs and small groups. A waiter handed them each a menu and in passable English asked for drink orders.
“Would you like some wine?” Luke asked.
“No, thanks. I don’t drink much, but go ahead if you wish.”
“Can’t tonight. I’m actually ‘on call.’” Luke requested a soda from the waiter.
“I’ll have the same,” Claire said, and the server nodded, saying he’d be back shortly for their order.
“On call for what?” Claire asked. “Is it for the embassy?”
“No, it’s for my day job. Actually, day, night, whenever job. I don’t exactly keep regular hours. The embassy gig is necessary because I’m Navy and they don’t have enough Marine officers here to do weekend duty—long story—anyway, I’m glad now to have done it because that’s how I met you.” His quick smile was genuine, and Claire felt an odd flutter in her stomach. She blushed and glanced down to her menu.
“So, tell me about your ‘whenever job.’”
He shrugged. “I review surveillance feeds all day and write reports to send up the chain of command. Sometimes I go into the field to verify impressions...pretty routine stuff...”
Claire doubted that anything he did was routine, but he seemed hesitant to go deeper. “How long have you been here doing surveillance?”
“About a year. Before that, I was stationed in several places—mostly the Persian Gulf and the Middle East.” He’d been studying her face and abruptly changed the subject. “You have the most unusual eyes I’ve ever seen.” His voice was quiet, with a pensive quality, almost as if he’d spoken his thoughts out loud.
Claire glanced down at her napkin and then back up to catch his gaze. “Yes, uh...” She shifted awkwardly and pressed her lips together. “It’s called ‘sectoral heterochromia iridis’ if you want the technical name. Basically, it’s just an irregular pigmentation of the iris.” She took a breath. “I’ve had to respond to questions about it all my life...”
He looked sympathetic but didn’t drop the subject. “So you get a lot of people staring when they notice?” It was both question and comment. “I get the same reaction when anyone sees my feet.”
His offhand comment startled a giggle from Claire, and she couldn’t prevent a side glance to the floor to study his shoes. He hadn’t been joking. Luke’s eyes crinkled at the corners at her raised eyebrows.
In seconds, she grew serious again. “When I was a kid it really bothered me when people said something about my eyes. I hated being different from the other kids, and I was really shy.” She looked up again; his gaze had not faltered. “Anyway, when I was old enough I made my parents get me colored contacts, so my eyes would just be brown. That helped a lot, but...” She sighed deeply. “Well, I was so happy with the contacts that I stupidly wore them all the time. After about a year, I ended up with pretty severe corneal ulcerations, and came close to needing a cornea transplant. That was the end of the contacts and so...” She gave him a small frown and motioned to her glasses.
He shook his head and murmured, “Kids can be dumb... I think they’re beautiful.”
The room suddenly seemed to be closing in and Claire felt a little dizzy. That feeling was accompanied by a lightness in her chest and tears threatened. She blinked self-consciously and returned her gaze to her napkin. Her heart rate soared and her stomach quivered. He couldn’t know that with that simple statement—with those four words—Luke had helped salve a wound that was more than twenty years old. In that brief moment, years of distress and embarrassment over her unusual eyes were replaced by a sense of release edging into quiet exultation.
He had called them beautiful.
Claire’s attention was brought back to the moment when the waiter placed cool glasses of Coke in front of them. “What you want to eat?” he asked.
Luke shifted his gaze to the waiter and said, “Sorry, we’re not ready. Can you give us a minute?”
“Of course. I will return shortly.” He moved on to the adjacent booth.
Slightly dazed, Claire took a sip to quench her suddenly dry mouth. Setting the glass down, she picked up her menu and tried to focus. She was not entirely successful.
“Their pizza is terrific, but they do great lasagna and pasta, too.”
Claire was still reeling from the emotional onslaught brought on by his comment, but she managed to say, “I’ve had my heart set on pizza since you mentioned it. I’m partial to pepperoni but ha
te anchovies. Otherwise, I like pretty much anything.”
“Got it. Note to self, in the future, don’t order pizza with anchovies.”
Claire smiled then, recognizing the implications of his comment. As Luke turned to get the attention of the waiter, his cell phone rang. He glanced at her and said something under his breath before pulling the device from his pocket. After scanning the caller ID, he pushed a button on the phone and growled, “Llewellyn.”
Although there was little overt change in Luke’s expression, she saw a muscle flex in his jaw. “How long ago?” He nodded absently at the response and looked pensive. “How many?...Have you notified ROK command?...Okay, contact them to be on alert status.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll be there in about fifteen.” Luke ended the call and then glared at Claire. Shaking his head, he sighed deeply.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve gotta go.” His scowl was almost comical. “Maybe I’m being punished for being mean to my brothers or not cleaning my room or something...” He got the attention of the waiter. “We have to leave. Please give me the check.”
The waiter nodded and said, “One minute.” He departed toward the kitchen.
“Anything serious?” Claire asked.
“No, not really. Looks like there’s a squid boat in the Japan Sea with too many people.”
She blinked. “Why does the U.S. Army care how many people are on a squid boat? Are they afraid the boat will sink?”
He chuckled. “Uh, no. But a larger-than-normal contingent of men could be a potential threat to the mainland. Most likely, though, they’re North Korean refugees.”
She nodded, her curiosity piqued. “But it’s night. How do you know how many people are on a random fishing boat somewhere out at sea?”
Luke gave her an enigmatic look but didn’t answer.
“Oh...I get it. If you told me, you’d have to kill me?”
He chuckled. “Nothing that dire. But I’m not going to tell you.”
She giggled and then became more serious. “What happens if they are refugees?”
His smile faded. “There are surprisingly few people who actually escape from the north. No one can get through the DMZ because of the mines and heavy fortification. A few hundred per year come through China, but the Chinese government really discourages that and will send them back if they’re caught—and it’s very bad for those who are sent back. Fewer people come by boat, mostly because they lack the resources and opportunity. At any rate, the ROK—Republic of Korea—never turns them away. There are lots of agencies here to help refugees assimilate...”
He was interrupted when the waiter gave him the check. Luke glanced at it then pulled several bills from his wallet and handed them to the waiter. “Thanks. We’ll try again tomorrow.” He rose and waited for Claire, then stood to one side, indicating that she should precede him.
“You know,” Claire said as they left the restaurant, “I’ve heard that when some people go on blind dates, they’ll have a friend call them an hour into the evening with an ‘emergency,’ to give them a way out...” She winked at him.
Luke scoffed. “Believe me, honey, this is not one of those times.” He looked relieved that she was actually joking with him. “Can we...um... Would you consider trying again tomorrow?” His eyes were practically pleading.
She smiled. “Yes, of course. But if you get another mysterious phone call before I get pizza, I’ll be very suspicious!”
“I promise. If you’ll come with me again, no phone calls!”
As they approached the Kia, he glanced at Claire. “What kind of identification do you have with you?”
“Huh?”
“Do you happen to have your temporary passport?”
“Well, yes.” She touched her purse. “Why?”
“What about a driver’s license or some kind of picture ID?”
“I have my hospital ID but not a driver’s license since I don’t drive here... Why?” she repeated.
“Good. That’ll make it easier.”
“Make what easier?” Claire was getting increasingly confused.
“Getting you on base. I have to get back now, so I can’t drive you home.”
“Why do I need to go onto the base?” She motioned to the very busy street. “It’s not a problem. I can just catch a taxi.”
“No.” His tone was blunt. “That’s not an option.”
“Wait a minute! Of course it’s an option.” She stopped walking and turned to face him. “Seriously, Luke, I understand that you need to get back to the base right now, But you don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” Her tone suggested it would be wise if he didn’t argue.
“Mary Claire—” his drawl was back, much stronger than before “—in case you’ve forgotten, the reason I came to see you today—well, at least part of the reason—is because I’m convinced someone targeted you the other night. Someone who fully intended to hurt you. I can’t take you home, but I can make sure you get home safely, which is why I need to get you on base.” He took her hand and started again in the direction of the car.
She had already lost the battle, softening even further when he’d called her ‘Mary Claire.’ Besides, she really liked the feel of his large hand enclosing hers. Trying to accommodate to his need to hurry, she said, “Luke, you’re sweet for worrying about me, but this is only tonight. You can’t be with me tomorrow morning when I go to work or tomorrow evening, or the next day, or the next.” She glanced at him and the corners of her mouth turned up a little, “Well...tomorrow evening...” she said hopefully.
“I know,” he said, his expression somber. “But I can be sure tonight. I promise that you’re going to be safe tonight.” There was a hint of something ominous in his tone. “This is my watch, Claire. Nothing is going to happen to you on my watch.”
* * *
PER LUKE’S INSTRUCTION, Claire’s escort not only walked her to the door, but he waited until Jessica answered and questioned her as to whether everything was in order before he left. Following Korean customs, Claire slipped off her shoes and placed them on a small rack in the entry.
Jessica practically pounced on Claire as she closed and locked the door. “Okay, who was that and why are you home already? And where is Lieutenant Luke?”
“That was Mr. Kim. He’s one of the local men who work on the Army base. He helps with translation and transportation—that sort of thing. Anyway, Luke was called in to take care of an emergency and he pretty much conscripted Mr. Kim to bring me home.
“What happened?” Jessica persisted.
“Let’s go to the kitchen,” she replied. “Dinner was interrupted, and I’m starved.”
In the small kitchen, Claire pulled some crackers and peanut butter out of the pantry, grabbed a plate and sat down at the table with her friend. Between bites, she ran though the events of the evening, explaining how Luke had stopped by the hospital, ostensibly to warn her of a possible threat but also to ask her to dinner. She grinned when she recounted his shy hesitance. Claire described their walk down Itaewon to the Italian restaurant and how he’d been called just as they were about to order pizza. “When he drove us onto the base, the guard waited with me at the car while Luke disappeared into one of the buildings and came back with Mr. Kim.”
“And then....” Jessica prompted.
“And then, what?”
“So Luke just waved goodbye and walked away with a ‘see you later, baby’?”
“Not exactly.” Claire grinned.
“Well, what exactly? I want details.”
“He was very gentlemanly.” Claire smiled as she took a bite of a peanut butter covered cracker. “He took my hand and asked what time I wanted to try dinner again.”
Jessica snatched a cracker. “And then?”
“Oka
y, he kissed me.” She blushed. “It was very sweet...”
In truth, it was sweet—and romantic as all get out. She replayed the memory a few hours later when she was trying to go to sleep. She recalled standing beside the Kia with Luke obviously frustrated by having to leave her. The base was very well lit, but he’d pulled her aside to a spot where they stood in shadow, away from nosy passersby. He’d taken her hand lightly in his. “Is it okay if I stop by about six tomorrow?”
“Yes, please. Six will be perfect.”
The cool breeze blew a strand of her hair onto her glasses. Luke gently moved the lock back, then leaned down to lightly touch his lips to her forehead. He regained his full height and brought her hand to his lips. With a brief smile he’d said, “See you tomorrow, Mary Claire. Please, take care.” Then he gazed at her a second longer before he turned and jogged to the adjacent building.
She was smiling sometime later when she finally went to sleep.
CHAPTER SIX
CLAIRE FINISHED CHARTING her patients’ progress by five the following evening. She had dressed more carefully than usual that morning and was wearing neat black slacks and a sweater her mother had bought her the previous Christmas. She’d never worn it because the turquoise cashmere actually accented the unusual coloring of her eyes, something she’d always avoided.
Feeling a bit giddy, Claire took a few minutes to freshen her lip gloss and comb her hair. After a moment’s contemplation, she decided to leave her hair down and it fell in glossy waves well past her shoulders. Even with her glasses, she was pleased with her reflection. She took a deep breath before heading to the playroom.
In a virtual replay of the previous evening, Luke was sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by a set of scrub-clad kids. He was playing Angry Birds with an adolescent boy wearing a mask. Giggles, shouts, cheers and a little grumbling were heard from the group, and a couple of the children were actually trying to help Luke, giving him pointers and instructions using pantomime, broken English and rapid Korean.
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