by Sam Reaves
Rachel nodded, eyes downcast. “I can’t even process it. I hate him and I’m grieving for him at the same time.”
“Aw, Rachel.” He reached for her hand and held it, gently. “You gotta remember, the good parts with Dan are just as real as the bad parts. It’s OK to grieve for them.”
“Thanks. That’s a nice try.” Rachel released his hand. “I’m leaving in a couple of days.”
Roger’s eyes held hers, his expression carefully neutral. “Going back overseas?”
“No, just to Washington, DC. I’m interviewing for a research position at a think tank.”
“Wow. That’s impressive. That sounds really interesting.”
“It’ll pay the rent, if it comes through. But I’m going to try to make it back here more often, for holidays at least. I never realized how much of my heart is here.”
Roger nodded solemnly. “Well, when you’re out there in Washington solving the world’s problems, just remember. There’s a one-armed man in Illinois who always . . .” Roger’s mouth hung open for a moment and he frowned a little. “Who never forgot a prom date he had once in high school.” Rachel waited for the crooked grin, but it never came.
“Try not to let eight years go by before you come see us again,” said Matt.
“I promise,” said Rachel.
The California Zephyr was sounding its horn somewhere around the curve, slowing for the station. Matt looked off into the distance and said, “Though I can understand if you don’t want to get within a thousand miles of the place.”
Rachel looked up at him gravely. “I’m glad I was here for it, given that you had to go through it. I ducked out on enough things.”
“That’s awful broad-minded of you.”
Rachel frowned into a bitter wind, trying to put the words together. “I had this fairy-tale home I wanted to come back to, but that was just escapism. It’s better to know it’s a real place with real people. It’s better to know there’s no Utopia and no escaping.”
Matt shivered, jamming his hands into his pockets. “Says you. I’ll be in Montego Bay next week, and if that ain’t escaping I don’t know what is.”
Rachel gave it a token laugh, and wiped her eyes, and then it was time for the embrace as the train pulled into sight. She clung to her brother as long as she could, and then, too soon, there was only the frozen land passing by outside the window, waiting for spring.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book could not have been completed without the generous help of Linda Bell, Dale Bjorling, Lowell Bjorling, Andrew Bowman, Nick Carlson, Howard Magnuson and David Salter. Any implausibilities or errors are strictly the fault of the author.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2015 Kevin Valentine
Sam Reaves was raised in small towns in Indiana and Illinois but gravitated to Chicago upon graduating from college and has been there ever since, when on US soil. He has lived and traveled widely in Europe and the Middle East and has worked as a teacher and a translator. He has published fiction and nonfiction as Sam Reaves; under the pen name Dominic Martell he has written a European-based suspense trilogy. He is married and has two adult children.