32

Paige woke up the next morning feeling very much alone and very much unemployed for the first time in her life. It would do no good to feel sorry for herself, she decided. She had made her decision, and there was no turning back.

Instead, she charted a new course for the next few weeks. She would get up and run every morning. When she got back to the condo, she would spend the rest of the morning job hunting or perhaps working on setting up her own firm. The afternoons would be reserved for research on Kristen’s case and reading about the geopolitical situation in the Mideast. She would only let herself think about Patrick in the evening.

At least that was the plan.

But there were reminders of him everywhere. Her screen saver. Pictures in her study. Old text messages. Plus, he was completely intertwined with the very case that she was now researching. His ghost was ubiquitous, and it would rise up at the most unpredictable times, strangle her heart, and leave her emotionally exhausted.

She began the week by polishing up her résumé and sending cover letters to law school friends who had landed jobs at private firms. By her third day of unemployment, she started spending more time investigating what it would take to start her own firm. Letterhead, malpractice insurance, setting up an LLC, registering with the state bar—the list was endless. Plus, she had no idea where she would find the clients.

Yet it still seemed like the best path. If Kristen’s case got thrown out early, Paige would be right back at the attorney general’s office, asking for her old job back. If she got it, she could shut down her fledgling firm. But if she had started a new job, it wouldn’t be fair to her employer to leave a few months after she started.

By Friday, she had drafted the operating agreement for her new LLC and ordered business cards. Paige Chambers, Managing Member. It had a certain ring to it.

On Wednesday, May 9, the managing member of the Chambers Law Firm took a break from her legal work and met Bill Harris at Patrick’s old apartment. They planned to spend the day together, packing Patrick’s stuff in a U-Haul that Bill would tow up to New York. Paige had been dreading the day all week.

It was the first time Paige had been to Patrick’s apartment since before the deployment. The place had a musty smell, and Paige sucked in a deep breath. She stood there for a moment, almost paralyzed as the emotions came rushing back to her. That was the couch where she’d slid next to him and he had put his arm around her shoulder. There was the table where they’d eaten undercooked steaks and debated whether steaks were better with A.1. sauce. She had been sitting in that recliner when he gave her a back rub and put her to sleep.

She stared for a moment at the pictures lining the living room shelf. Patrick and his SEAL buddies. Patrick’s grandmother and grandfather in happier times. And a picture of Paige that hadn’t been there the last time she was in this room.

“He always kept his place neat like this,” Bill Harris said, snapping Paige back to the present. He flipped on a light switch and wandered around for a few minutes. “Not as much stuff as I thought there would be.”

For most of the day, Paige withdrew into her own world and said little as they packed Patrick’s clothes, kitchen utensils, sports equipment, and personal items. Being around Bill meant she didn’t have to say much. He provided a running commentary filled with Patrick stories triggered by various items that Patrick had left behind.

It wasn’t much of an apartment. Patrick had never really cared about the finer things in life, and Paige had teased him about it. He’d duct-taped one of the cushions on the old, worn-out leather couch. He had picked up his kitchen table at a yard sale. His television and Xbox were the only things in the living room he had spent any money on.

But to Bill Harris, it might as well have been the palace of Solomon. He carefully boxed up everything, and Paige labeled the boxes with neat block letters.

It was almost noon when Bill knelt down and started cleaning out the nightstand. He came across a small box tucked away in the corner of the drawer, and Paige pretended not to notice as Bill pulled it out and opened it. She continued packing clothes from the dresser, catching the scent of Patrick, but watched with one eye as Patrick’s grandfather paused for a moment, removed his glasses, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

He put his glasses back on, closed the box, and stood. He walked over to Paige and handed it to her. “I think Patrick would want you to have this.”

Paige took it gingerly, knowing what was inside. She opened it with the greatest care, as if it were a sacred artifact.

It was a simple ring with a round-cut diamond, a four-pronged setting, and a yellow-gold band. Traditional. Elegant. The most beautiful thing Paige had ever seen. But she couldn’t keep it—that wouldn’t be right.

“He asked me about marriage on the night before he left,” Paige said, her voice brittle. “I told him I needed time.”

“I know,” Bill said, looking at the ring. “He called me about it.”

“He did?”

“Yep. He was mad at himself. Thought he might have pushed too fast. Too hard. I told him it took me three tries with his grandmother. Good women are worth the wait.”

Paige gave him a wan smile. “Three tries?”

“That woman had a stubborn streak.”

Paige touched the ring. “What did Patrick say?”

“He thought he could do it in two.”

“He was right,” Paige said. “But I still can’t keep this.”

She tried to hand it back, but Bill wouldn’t take it. “It’s not my size,” he said. “Besides, it’s yours. Patrick bought it for you.”

Paige closed the box and gave Bill a hug. “I miss him so much,” she said.

“I know. But this is something to remember him by.”

Paige put the ring in a large cardboard box that had her name on it. It joined a few of Patrick’s T-shirts, his ball cap from Auburn University, and a few dozen photographs that Paige had asked Patrick’s grandfather if she could keep.

They went on packing, and a few minutes later Paige broke the silence. “I should have said yes.”

Bill stopped packing and looked over at her. “He knew it was only a matter of time. He wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up about it.”

Bill was right, but it didn’t change the way she felt. She would forever regret their last night together.

Thirty minutes later, four men from SEAL Team Two showed up. Two of them had gone through BUD/S with Patrick. They had somehow heard, probably though Kristen, that Paige and Bill Harris were packing the apartment today. In no time they had finished loading the U-Haul, tied everything down, and cleared out the apartment.

The men also brought a whole different atmosphere to the endeavor, lifting Paige’s spirits. She could tell they were subconsciously competing with each other about how many boxes they could take at a time or how light various items of furniture were. Paige insisted on grabbing one end of the couch when one of the men took the other. She wouldn’t allow anyone to help her, and they all joked about her being an honorary female SEAL.

The stories were different now too. Bill had gone on and on about all-American Patrick, but Patrick’s SEAL buddies talked about more colorful exploits. All good-natured and harmless, but Patrick obviously enjoyed a good prank.

When the last box was packed, the men and Paige hung out at the counter area in the kitchen, finishing off some energy drinks that somebody had brought. “We all appreciate what you’re doing for Kristen,” one of the men said. “Every one of us on the teams knows this isn’t easy for you guys. But we all want the same answers that you’re trying to get.”

The others murmured their agreement and told Paige that if she ever needed anything, she should just ask.

“Anything,” one of the men emphasized. “Just call us.”

When she got home that night, Paige felt better than she had for a long time. She was still unemployed and alone. But today it felt like she had somehow crossed a threshold into the SEAL community. If you need anything, they had said, we’ll be there. And Paige didn’t doubt for one second that they meant every word. That was the thing about these guys. They were rough-hewn and full of themselves. They had obnoxious amounts of testosterone and egos the size of Texas. But they were there for each other, and that was something that had been missing in Paige’s life.

She placed the box of Patrick’s stuff next to her bed. She pulled out the small box holding the diamond ring and put it on her nightstand. Before she crawled into bed, she put on one of his T-shirts. She was emotionally exhausted, but that night, at least until the phone call came, she slept better than she’d slept in weeks.