“You’re awful skittish, for a soldier.”
Without turning, I cut my eyes at her. “Not skittish. Skilled. I could have snapped your neck.”
“But you didn’t.”
“But I could have.”
“But,” she said sweetly, “you didn’t.”
I raised my hands up and then clenched them into fists. “These hands are lethal weapons.”
Mary Beth chuckled.
I furrowed my brow. “You find that funny?”
She scooted sideways and took one of my hands in hers. Slowly, she opened it; tracing it with her finger.”
“Are you a fortune teller, too?”
“Maybe,” she grinned.
“So, if you have a particular date in mind that I’m to get off this mountain, I would love to know. Of course, I’d have to check my calendar and make sure that date works for me.”
“Not so fast,” she murmured, continuing to trace my hand, looking closer into it.
I leaned back again, with a sigh, as I watched her, relaxing at her touch. “So, tell me. What do you see?”
Her fingers continued to trace the lines in my palm, as she quietly looked down. My eyes moved to her face, which was lit only by traces of light from the slender, dark flashlight on the ground beside us. God. Why did she have to be so beautiful? That just confused things. It shouldn’t, but it did. Her dark, curly hair framed her light features. When she looked up, I couldn’t look away.
“You finished?” I queried. “Anything worth telling me?”
She smiled cryptically. “I see a fair-haired woman with blue eyes.” She looked back at my hand. “And an incredible smile.”
“That could be one of dozens of women.” I retorted.
“Her name is Amanda.”
I sat up and stared at her. How could she possibly know that?
“She loves you very much, and she misses you.”
“Well, now I know your antenna is off,” I scoffed, turning away as I leaned back again.
“She’s calling your name.”
I grinned at her. “Sex God? Are you actually hearing Sex God?”
Mary Beth didn’t flinch and continued to look at my palm. “No,” she began, closing her eyes, putting her finger to her temple and squinting as though concentrating. “I hear her,” she continued. “I hear selfish, self-centered, arrogant.”
“Again, that could be any number of women.”
“Oh, and a few other words, I can’t repeat.”
“Yeah, that would be Amanda,” I sighed.
Mary Beth slowly reached into the hidden pocket of her billowy clothing, and then slid a picture from it, placing it into my hand.
When I glanced down, Amanda was looking up at me. So, there you are; I thought I’d lost you.
“You were holding it when we found you.”
“We?”
“Abraham and I,” she clarified as she stood and walked to the table. A moment later she lit a small candle and then returned, turning off the flashlight. “We have to conserve the batteries.”
I stared at the wall, the light flickering against it. There was a flash of memory. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see it, to make sense of it.
“You kept saying ‘Amanda.’”
“Yeah, well, when people think they’re dying they say the most incredible things. I’ve heard soldiers call out for their mothers or even ask me to take care of their dog. Amanda is ancient history.” I shook my head. When I turned to her, she looked like she didn’t believe me. “Okay, fine!” I snapped. “I know it sounds cheesy, but I carry her picture just so that I can pretend I have somebody waiting. Alright?” I exhaled as I looked away from her, folding my arms. “Look, everyone has someone. If I have a picture, I don’t have to explain why I don’t.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed as she leaned back against the wall.
“Amanda was always there. I wasn’t,” I explained.
“Mm-hmm.”
The small flame danced against the wall. When I turned, the light shone in Mary Beth’s eyes. I couldn’t help but stare. She had intense eyes. I blinked. Suddenly—. “A cave.”
“What?”
“We were in a cave.”
Mary Beth looked away, nodding. “Yeah,” she gulped. “We had to get you out of the elements before you froze to death.”
“There was a fire.”
Mary Beth fidgeted and straightened out her scarves. “We had to warm you up,” she reasoned.
When her eyes met mine again, she quickly looked away. I narrowed my own and wrinkled my lips. “I don’t remember Abraham being there, but I remember you.”
Mary Beth stood and walked to the table.
Suddenly, I remembered a lot more. A smile grew on my lips as I pulled myself to standing and hobbled to her. “If I recall you did more than light a fire. I remember you, beside the fire.”
“You were delusional. You were out of your head.”
“So, isn’t there some Hippocratic oath that makes sure you don’t—.”
“The Hippocratic oath is for doctors,” she interrupted.
“Okay, so, some nurse code of ethics, then? Something to prevent you from, say, taking advantage of a wounded man.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she defended with a scoff, still not looking at me.
I stood beside her and leaned over until she had to face me.
“Stop it,” she finally said, walking away. “I thought I was going to lose you. You barely had a pulse.”
“But, you were naked.” I hobbled around her; only she turned away.
“I was not naked.”
“What? Were you wearing socks that I couldn’t see? Not that I would have noticed your feet, since—.”
“I had to do everything from my training to get your body temperature back up.”
“And where was Abraham, during your life-saving measure?”
Mary Beth cut her eyes at me. “He went back to the village for help.”
“Naked,” I said tauntingly, as I hobbled away.
“Stop it,” she reprimanded firmly, but softly.
I waited a moment, before I sang out the word again, as I turned once more, cornering her by the table. “Trust me,” I said coyly. “It’s been quite a while, but, I vaguely remember what a naked woman looks like when I see one, and you, my dear, were without clothing.”
Mary Beth refused to look at me until I reached down and tilted her chin up. I couldn’t tell if it was shame or humility in her eyes, but I smiled at her. “I’m alive because of you.”
This time, she didn’t look away.
“Thank you,” I said, with all the sincerity that I could muster.
Slowly, she managed a small smile. “You’re welcome.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
My hands moved to her cheeks, my fingers gingerly brushing against them. Her skin was soft to the touch. Her eyes beckoned me. I leaned nearer. When she didn’t resist, I moved to kiss her; only, she turned away at the last moment. My kiss landed on her head, and I held it there for a second, maybe two as I slid my hands around her, pulling her to my chest. As I felt her arms gradually slip around my back, I smiled.
When I finally let her go and limped backward, I grabbed ahold of the table for balance.
“Still favoring the leg, I see.”
“I have a little more mobility.” I felt her eyes on me as I hobbled to the toshak. “I did a lot of walking the last few days.”
“How does the leg feel?”
“Stiff.” I lowered myself onto the cushion. “But Zahra gave Abraham an oil for me to massage into my muscles. It stinks to high heaven but seems to help.” I leaned back against the wall.
Mary Beth chuckled. “Yeah, some of that stuff smells pretty awful.” Her smile faded. “Sadly, until we got here, they used oils and herbs—whatever they had—century-old recipes of healing.” She settled beside me, leaning back as well. We sat quietly for a while. When we turned to each other at the same time, we chuckled, awkwa
rdly, at ourselves. Suddenly, I felt like I was in high school, trying to get up the nerve to ask the most elusive girl in class for a date. I smiled at her and she at me.
“So, Roark,” she stammered, nervously. “Have you ever been married?”
I shook my head. “I don’t exactly have a great track record with women.”
“No?” Mary Beth feigned surprise. “Do tell.”
“I’d rather not,” I said despondently. “I’m not proud of said track record.”
“You can’t be that bad.”
“No? I guess it’s all a matter of perspective—their perspective.” When I turned to her, she looked at me expectantly. I exhaled as I looked down at my hands, uncomfortably. “No, I have never been married, although I came close twice.”
“Twice?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, without looking up. “Amanda being the most recent. That one, I saw coming. But, the first one—well, that one I didn't. That was the hardest.” I turned to her bearing a sad smile as I reflected. “We were high school sweethearts—dated for almost four years, and then I finally got up the nerve to propose.”
“What happened?”
“She slept with my best friend,” I said flatly.
Mary Beth made a face. “Not cool.”
“Yeah, not cool. I was pretty hurt. I couldn’t get past it, you know? She begged me to forgive her, but, I just couldn’t.”
“What about the best friend?”
“Him, I punched in the nose.”
Mary Beth smiled. “Did you ever forgive him?”
I looked at her, more than a little perplexed. “No. I haven’t spoken to him since.”
She looked down at her hands, shaking her head ever so slightly.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she replied meekly.
“Hey. You don’t know what it’s like to walk in on your wife screwing your best friend in your bed, a month before your wedding.” I shook my head angrily. “I wanted to kill him. So, don’t judge me. Okay? You don’t know.”
Mary Beth was quiet for many moments; then she turned to me, speaking softly. “Actually—I do.”
I faced her, surprise in my eyes, waiting for her to elaborate. Mary Beth bit her lip, contemplating her words. I saw the pain in hers before they were averted—if only for a moment—as though she were trying to get up the nerve to look back at me.
“After Henry and I were married and we both finally graduated, he wanted us to set up a family practice. His family had money, so, why not? Most physicians may work in a hospital or in an established practice for years before opening their own. But, Henry was determined to start a clinic right away.”
I watched as she wrung her hands, working through her emotions as she spoke.
“I was afraid we were taking on too much too quickly, that we would get burned out and stressed out early on. But Henry’s parents both encouraged him and told him he could do anything he wanted to do—with their financial backing and their blessing, of course.”
Her eyes revealed sadness. “When I encouraged him to wait, I suddenly became the villain, and we started having problems.” She remained stoic as she divulged the painful memories. “But it wasn’t anything I didn’t think we could work through. I mean, we loved each other. We could work through anything, right?” She drew in a deep breath and then blew it out. “Then one day, when he was in the shower, his cell phone rang, so I answered it.”
“Oh, God,” I said.
“Yeah,” she reiterated. “’Oh, God’ is right.” She wiped a tear. “It was the manager of a hotel, calling to let me know she’d found his wedding ring from when we had stayed the night before.” Mary Beth stopped suddenly.
I read the pain in her eyes.
“He told me he had fallen asleep at the clinic and slept there on the couch. Stupid me. I believed him.” She nodded, as she wiped another tear. “What idiot wears his wedding ring when he has an affair?”
I laid my hand on hers. “How long ago did this happen?”
“Five years,” she said, without taking her hand away.
“So, how did you work through it?”
Slowly her hand slipped from mine, joining the other in her lap. She hesitated, drawing in a deep breath. “I calmly sat him down and told him I knew—I knew what he’d done. At first, he denied it. I showed him the ring I’d picked up from the hotel, with a signed receipt confirming two guests, room service and wine service. When I didn’t back down, he owned it. And then he apologized. He said it was the only time he’d done anything like that and he would never do it again. That he loved me.”
“And?”
“And I forgave him.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah. Just like that,” she faced me, smiling weakly. “Of course, it wasn’t easy. We went to counseling. We had to work through the issues leading up to the affair. But, yeah, I forgave him. I forgave her. And I didn’t even know who she was. He didn’t tell me. I didn’t ask.”
“And you trusted him after that?”
“Not right away, but yes.”
“How? How could you just forget something like that? I mean, I still can’t get that image out of my head, and that was over thirteen years ago.”
“Maybe it would have been harder, had I found them together,” she said softly. “I don’t know. But don’t think for a moment that the vision of Henry with someone else wasn’t playing over and over in my head. And not knowing who was sometimes worse. I would see a beautiful woman talking to him and wonder, is that her? And then I’d foolishly imagine them together.”
“You’re a better person than I am.”
“No. I’m the same as you. I was angry, and I was hurt.”
“But you stayed with him.”
Her eyes met mine, and she smiled. “I loved him.”
“Well,” I sighed. “You must have. You moved with him to this place,” I added, motioning wide with my arms.
“Yeah,” she smiled sadly. “I did.” Her eyes conveyed something I couldn’t quite understand. “And we were closer than we’d ever been. Our love was deeper. Stronger.”
I nodded, envying her ability to get past the gut-wrenching emotions of betrayal.
“You know I’ve never told anyone about that time in our lives.”
“Me neither,” I muttered to myself. It was a time that I’d rather forget.
“And, so you know, I have no regrets.”
“None?” How could you lose a spouse and not have regrets?
As if she could read my mind, she reiterated, “None.”
“Well, I’ve got a few.”
“Always the glass-half-empty guy,” she shook her head.
“Really? We’re in a friggin’ cave. Hiding from the Taliban!”
Mary Beth laughed softly, the sweet sound echoing around us.
“And you shrug it off like it’s an everyday occurrence,” I added sarcastically before exhaling dramatically. When Mary Beth didn’t speak for many moments, I broke the silence. “If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you have kids?
“I wanted to, but—.” Mary Beth looked down. “At first, he wanted to get school behind us. Then, he wanted to be settled in his job. And then, well—.” Her eyes met mine. “I can’t imagine how it would have been to go through what we did and do it with children in the mix.” Mary Beth stared through me. “After that… I think I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know. Nothing in particular, or maybe—everything.” Before I could dig, she turned the tables. “How about you? Do you have kids?”
I shook my head. “Amanda wanted kids, but I was never home and didn’t want her to be raising a kid by herself. It didn’t seem fair.”
“As fair as not having kids?”
“Point taken.”
The quiet suddenly permeated the cavern around us.
“I wish we’d had kids. Then, I’d have—someone.”
I couldn’t even begin to comprehend what
she was feeling at this moment. And yet, when Mary Beth looked up, she smiled at me confidently. How could she possibly be so calm? I couldn’t quite grasp it, and it only annoyed me more. Suddenly, inexplicably, she squeezed my hand. “It’s okay,” she assured me. “I’ve got your back.”
“Yeah? Who’s got yours?”
She pointed upwards.
I raised my eyebrows. “The mullah?”
Mary Beth playfully cut her eyes at me.
“Oh, God!” I rolled mine.
“Exactly,” she smiled. “He put us both here for a reason.”
“Yeah?” I continued, a hint of sarcasm thrown in. “I’m starting to question His plan at this point, even if you’re not. I’m beginning to feel like one of the pawns in that chess game you gave me. Cornered.”
She leaned closer, squeezing my hand again. “Do you trust me?”
“You, I trust. Everyone else? Not so much.”
And then, as I stared into her eyes, the light dancing in those alluring, dark pools, Mary Beth did something I didn’t expect and couldn’t have predicted.
She kissed me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
And then I saw the light.
Not the proverbial light from the fireworks going off around us, or the existential glow of our passion, but a light shining down on us from above, as the board was removed, and we were rescued from our hiding place. The place where we’d just told all our secrets, unburdened our souls to one another. And we left them there in the cave, our eyes warning one another never to speak of them again.
I wasn’t staying here. We both knew that. One way or another, I was getting off this mountain, before or after the snow melted. I was a soldier, after all. And she was a missionary with a vocation of her own that I couldn’t begin to understand. What the hell was I thinking? It was evident I wasn’t. We weren’t. Collectively we’d just gone against our training. Broken protocol, allowing our emotions to pre-empt our callings.
When we returned to Mary Beth’s house, Mullah Akhssey was waiting for us. Mary Beth respectfully remained at her current residence while he and I conversed over tea that Abraham had prepared. We sipped the potent mixture and ate sweets while discussing casual subjects, like the weather and our families. Soon, he got around to the details of the Taliban visit.
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