THE SEED THAT had taken root in Ryan’s mind after he’d lowered his guard in the psychiatrist’s debriefing had grown throughout the day and as he slept that night, until only one thought filled his mind when he awoke the next morning.
Bethany. Celine. He had to call Celine and tell her everything. Then he had to get out. Out of the desert. Out of the war.
He was no longer fit to serve in this war.
The shakes had all but vanished upon his return to the hospital—he felt as stable as he had since his return. Not a thing wrong with his mind that he could discern. He’d gone into the debriefing thinking of it as yet one more game to beat so that he could get back to being who he was, and he’d come out realizing that he was no longer who he was.
Ryan sprinkled sugar on a slice of grapefruit and placed it into his mouth. Normally he would have avoided the pink fruit because of the harsh taste the skin left in his mouth. But today he sucked the sweet nectar alongside the bitter white flesh and found the contrast refreshing.
He took a bite of toast, looked up, and stared at the empty bed beside him. They’d removed the soldier who’d died there last night. Corporal Bill Townley from Utah who had been in-country only six days when an antipersonnel mine had removed both of his legs. Bill had told Ryan his story, explaining that he was going home to his wife and two children as soon as they could move him.
The white bedsheets had been changed and folded back with perfect lines, waiting for the next patient.
Perfect lines, like Ryan. For most of his life he’d been the stoic computer in the corner, accepting input, then calculating, parsing, breaking down data before spitting it back out in the form of a report to be acted upon by others. A fine machine, highly praised for its efficiency. He had saved lives and won freedom and been a model to follow.
But that was the old him. In some ways he was a new man. The old version of himself had died in Kahlid’s basement along with seven children. The new version of himself had been resurrected yesterday as he endured the psychiatric evaluation.
He couldn’t possibly thank Doctor Newman enough.
Now realizing that he wasn’t who he thought he was, he was left with the mind-boggling task of figuring out who he really was, only a part of which he truly understood.
The part about his role as a father.
For the first time in many years Ryan thought he might actually be feeling love again. Real love, based on a feeling of great adoration, not simply the dull demands of duty.
He loved Bethany, the kind of love that made men do irrational things. In all honesty, he didn’t love Celine, but he was eager to learn how. Neither knew what he’d been through this past week, naturally. It was information of a sensitive nature that he would be allowed to speak about only when they’d finished their preliminary investigation and then only if they deemed it appropriate, which they would.
The outer door squealed and swung open. Julie walked in, smiling, black shoes clacking on the polished linoleum floor with each step. She’d said ten; it was only nine.
Ryan pushed his tray aside, swung his legs to the floor, and stood. She ignored the other patients who watched her walk. Most had physical wounds far worse than Ryan’s superficial cuts, and he felt guilty for having taken up one of the forty-eight beds in this ward. But he supposed their decision to keep him under observation as he rested his damaged mind had been justified at the debriefing. Either way, he couldn’t wait to leave the room for good.
“Good morning, Ryan,” Julie said, stepping up to him. “I see you’re ready.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s good, because we’re early. We called your wife earlier to locate her and were informed that she has a pressing engagement this evening at eight PM central time, one she seemed unwilling to break. Texas is ten hours behind us—that would be ten in the morning, an hour from now. So we made arrangements for her to be home now.”
“You… but you didn’t tell her anything?”
“No. Just that it was important that you speak with her. As you requested we’ll let you break the news. Your wife hasn’t heard a word.”
He’d rehearsed his words a dozen times through the night and had decided that he would start with an explanation of his ordeal before expressing his new outlook on both her and Bethany. She would dismiss any words of graciousness and love as so much more surface talk, the kind he offered her when the occasion fit. In order for her to understand that Ryan had changed, really changed, he would have to give her a glimpse into the pain he’d felt first.
And Bethany… angel…
He hoped she would embrace him the way he wanted her to. The way he needed her to.
“Okay,” he said, stepping past her.
He held back to let her pass and followed her from the ward to the phone room set up outside the hospital command center. “So command’s okay with it, then?”
“The phone call? Yes.”
“My going home.”
“Oh, right. Based on Dr. Newman’s recommendation, yes. He wants to see you for a follow-up at ten, after your call.”
“When? When can I go home?”
“If he clears you, three days.”
The ball of relief that rolled down his spine should have hardly surprised him, but he wasn’t acclimated to this new version of himself just yet. His gratitude must have been obvious, because Julie smiled.
“It must be nice.”
“What must be nice?”
“Being so loved. I’m jealous.”
“Really?”
She cocked her eyebrow. “Not of your wife specifically, I didn’t mean it like that. But yes, really. I can tell you love your wife and daughter very much. It must be nice.”
“It hasn’t always been like this,” was all he could think to say.
“War changes us all, Captain. Just be thankful you’re going home in one piece.”
How perfectly true.
They entered a room with cubicles set up along both walls, roughly half of which were occupied by soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen calling home for one reason or another. Julie led him to one of several at the far end, where he would have at least a modicum of privacy.
“You have half an hour, Captain.” She smiled and turned to leave him.
“Were you the one who spoke to my wife?”
“I was,” she said, turning. “Don’t worry, she’s waiting by the phone.”
“Thank you, Julie.”
She seemed slightly amused. “You’re welcome, Ryan.”
He eased into the metal chair, picked up the black phone receiver, and dialed the country code, the area code, and then the Austin number. The phone rang six times before going to voice mail. Celine’s chirpy prerecorded voice greeted him.
You’ve reached the home of Celine and Bethany Evans. Call our cells or leave a message. Beeeeeep.
“Hello?” She wasn’t picking up. “Celine?” When no once answered, he told the machine he’d try again and hung up.
Ryan jerked his head around to see Julie glance back as she exited out the far side. She had said home, not cell. To be sure, he quickly dialed Celine’s cell phone.
Her buoyant message—call me back if you insist—reminded him of just how independent Celine had become over the years. Which was fine, except that she’d become so because she wasn’t able to depend on him.
Frantic now, Ryan stabbed in the home number again. Transposed the last two numbers. Swore and started over.
The day was hot and he was sweating, but neither accounted for the faint ring in his ears.
“Hello, Celine.”
She answered. For a moment Ryan was too overcome by thankfulness to respond.
“Hello?”
“Celine?”
“Is this Ryan?”
“Yes… yes, hello, Celine.” The phone trembled in his hand but it quickly stilled when he placed his elbow on the desk. “It’s Ryan, honey.”
“I was on the other line when you called, sorry about that. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? What, a month now since your last call?”
“A month?” Had it been so long? “Yes, well… that’s not good. I—”
“A lot’s happened in this last month,” she said. “Bethany got a cover from Youth Nation.”
“She did? A cover?”
“Please tell me you know what a cover is, Ryan.”
He shifted his back toward the rest of the room. He had no idea what she was talking about. An organization called Youth Nation had offered Bethany a position, perhaps, he really couldn’t guess.
“Celine—”
“She’s modeling, you remember that much?”
“Modeling? She… she’s going to be on the cover of a magazine?”
“Youth Nation, a clothing catalog for teenagers.”
“Wow. Wow.” He couldn’t think of what else to say to this news, so he said it again. “Wow.”
“You might want to call and tell her yourself.”
“I’ll call her right away. Maybe I can tell her. I mean, tell her…” Emotion flooded his chest, cutting him off. He leaned his forehead on one hand and gripped the phone with the other, choked by his own remorse.
“On second thought, maybe it would be best if you didn’t.”
What? What was she saying? He refused to reason through any answers to the question.
“Celine.” Where did he begin? “Celine, honey, there’s something I have to tell you. Something happened to me this week.”
“Hold on.” The line clicked off for a few moments before she was back. “Sorry. Just Janie and her stupid cats’ shedding. Never mind.”
“Who’s Janie?”
Celine didn’t respond right away.
There was something in that silence that spoke with greater volume than anything she’d yet said. You don’t even know my friends. But that’s why he was calling. He was going to make all of that good.
“Celine… I was taken by—”
“Why are we doing this, Ryan?” she asked in a lower voice.
“That’s what I’m trying to say. They… I was on a mission—”
“Please, Ryan. Be quiet for just a second. You’re rambling.”
What was she doing? Ryan’s face flushed with heat. What was she doing? He had to get to the point.
“I’m coming home, Celine.”
“I can’t do this any”—she stopped and then pushed for clarification—“what do you mean, ‘coming home’?”
“I mean I’m coming home. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. The convoy I was in was hit, and I was taken by some insurgents. It wasn’t very … it was hard.”
“When?”
“A week ago.”
She hesitated.
“Sorry. You okay?”
“Yes. I am now.”
“They hurt you?”
“No.” He decided then that he would hold back any details that might make this rough on her. They needed a clean slate, not emotional turmoil over the past.
“I’m fine. Scary there for a bit but it all panned out. It made me remember, you know.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “Remember who I am.”
“Tough to be an American these days.”
“No, I mean who I am there. A husband. A father.”
She went silent.
“I know we haven’t been on the best terms, Celine, but I would like to change that.”
Still nothing from her. She wasn’t buying it.
“Celine, I’m coming home.”
“It’s too late,” she said.
“What do you mean, too late? It’s never too late.”
“When are you coming back?”
“They said three days. Maybe five days before I reach Austin.”
“You can’t do this,” she said softly. “Not now.” And he knew in that moment that she was in love with someone else. He knew from her tone, from a long sordid history of affairs, it was his job to know and he did know. But he felt no anger toward her. Only pity. For both of them.
“Celine, please, you don’t understand. I… things have changed.”
“Well, they’ve changed here too, Ryan,” she said with more strength now. She was realizing that his coming home would threaten whatever life she’d built up around herself in Austin. “You can’t just waltz in here as if nothing’s changed.”
“You’re right, you’re so right. I…” He grasped for the words to tell her, but it was all bottled up by years of silence. So he said the one thing most rehearsed since his debriefing yesterday.
“I love you, Celine.”
“No.” Her voice cut through his veins. “You just can’t come begging on your knees after all this time. And the truth is, Ryan, I’m not sure I want us to be together any longer. I know that may sound cruel at a time like this, and I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, but we have to face the truth about each other.”
“You don’t know what I’ve been through.”
“And you don’t know what I’ve been through for all of these years. I don’t think you love me. In fact I’m sure of it. I don’t even think you like me.”
“Celine, please, you can’t say that!” But she could.
“The fact is, you’ve never really wanted to be with me.”
And he knew that she was really saying she didn’t love him, that she didn’t want to be with him, but by putting it on his shoulders she was absolving herself of any guilt in her admission.
Ryan sat back in his metal chair, gut punched. It was going all wrong. She didn’t understand. Once she understood, she would change her mind. He’d brought this on himself, now he had to work his way through it. He couldn’t really blame her.
“I’m coming home, Celine. Please, I’ll be home in five days. We’ll talk then; I can explain everything. We’ll work this out, okay?”
“You don’t understand, Ryan. I don’t want to work this out. Are you listening to me?”
“Bethany—”
“Don’t even talk about Bethany! You left her a long time ago.”
His world swam. She couldn’t understand.
“It’s over,” Celine said. “You have to understand that, Ryan. This time it’s finished. I want a divorce.”
He finally found his breath. “Please… please, Celine, you don’t understand.”
“I understand that I can be loved by someone who actually loves me with more than just a paycheck.”
Her words were like blades, and Ryan tried to accept the pain they brought him. He’d beat Kahlid, hadn’t he? He would beat Celine.
He would win back her love.
He would win back Bethany’s love.
“Good-bye, Ryan.”
Thoughts of his daughter brought with them a searing pain that began to shut down his mind. The shakes were returning, and that couldn’t be a good thing, not here in front of all these officers. He had to gain some control of himself.
He would win back Bethany’s love if it was the last thing he did.
It occurred to him that the phone was silent.
“Celine?”
But Celine had hung up.