Secrets From the Past (17 page)

‘And what is he like?’ I asked.

‘He’s a lovely person – attractive, but a bit reserved, as I’ve just said. Nonetheless he has a great sense of humour, and he’s cultured, well-educated, and just a little complex.’

‘In what way?’ I asked, my rampant curiosity getting the better of me.

‘I suppose I should have said that his life’s been complex in a certain way. His wife was killed in Africa.’

‘Cara mentioned that. What happened to her? And what was she doing in Africa?’

‘Felicity ran a not-for-profit organization. Some sort of charity created to provide aid to deprived African children. She was on a trip with members of her team, and they died because they got trapped between two factions who were fighting each other in a bloody war. It was eight years ago.’

‘Oh my God, Jess, how awful! Allen wasn’t in Africa with her, I guess?’

‘No, he wasn’t, he was working in London. He kissed her goodbye at Heathrow Airport and never saw her again.’

‘Where did she die?’

‘In Sudan.’

‘So are you saying his life’s been complex because he’s not recovered from his wife’s death?’ I asked, staring at my sister, frowning. Eight years seemed a long time to grieve.

‘Not exactly. He’s over it now. But I do think her death does sometimes come back to haunt him, and he feels guilty, blames himself for letting her go to such a dangerous place. And in the middle of a violent civil war.’

I nodded. ‘Does he have children?’

‘No, they didn’t have kids, and believe me, he’s very thankful for that, considering what happened to Felicity.’

‘I can well understand that.’ I let out a heavy sigh. ‘What terrible things happen in life. You just never know what dreadful tragedies strike at people, what people sometimes have to bear.’

‘No, you don’t, and when we first met he hardly ever mentioned it. But he did tell me all about it eventually, and I’m glad he did. I understand him much better now.’ Jessica glanced at me and smiled. ‘You’ll like Allen, Pidge.’

‘Am I going to meet him?’

‘Of course. I invited him to lunch on Easter Sunday, and he can’t wait to meet you.’ Before I could answer Jess started to laugh, changing our slightly sombre mood. ‘You’ll never guess what he calls Mom.’

‘Did he know her then?’

‘Not well. He met her around the time he met me, and he refers to her as Grace Monroe.’

I stared at her, did not answer for a split second, and then I too began to laugh. ‘Because Mom was a cross between Grace Kelly and Marilyn Monroe? That’s what you mean, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is. Of course, he’s right on target. Dad always said that about her himself: ladylike but loaded with sex appeal.’

‘I like the sound of Allen Lambert. But where do you two stand exactly?’ I pushed, wanting to get to the heart of the situation.

‘I’m not sure about his feelings. I know he likes me a lot, and is attracted to me, and we do enjoy being together. I have a feeling he’s becoming a little emotionally attached, certainly more involved with me and on a new level.’

‘And what about you?’ I probed.

She cocked her head on one side, and a playful smile flickered on her mouth before she said, ‘I think I’m kind of falling for him, Pidge.’

I grinned at her. ‘I’m so glad I’m here. I’m going to push the two of you into each other’s arms and over the edge.’

‘The edge of what?’ she asked, looking slightly puzzled.

‘The edge of the pit of love. Down you’ll go, and you’ll both be ecstatic, I promise you.’

J
essica returned to the kitchen to finish preparing the boeuf bourguignon, and I went upstairs to look for Zac. I found him in my bedroom, sitting on the sofa, staring at the television screen.

His face was pale, and he had a stricken look in his eyes. As I closed the door and walked towards the sofa, he glanced across at me, picked up the zapper and clicked off the TV.

‘You’re upset, aren’t you?’ I said in an even voice. ‘You’ve been watching news from Libya, and the rest of the Middle East.’

‘I have, yes,’ he agreed. ‘But I’m not so much upset as
dismayed
. Uprisings in so many countries; fighting in the streets; angry, distressed civilians frantically fighting trained professional soldiers, which can only end up badly … all this rotten killing …’ His voice trailed off, and he sighed, exasperated and troubled, no question about that.

I sat down next to him on the sofa, and he took hold of my hand. ‘I just can’t stomach it any more, Serena. The whole world has gone mad. It’s become a battlefield … there’s violence and bloodshed everywhere you look.’ He stopped abruptly, leaned back, rested his head against the sofa and fell silent.

I thought he looked tired – drained even, and very sad. The short time he had been sitting in front of the television, digesting the latest news, had done him in, I decided.

Zac had been so much better this morning and over lunch, almost his old self again. Then it struck me that he was not upset because he wasn’t over there covering the events, but because he was filled with sorrow that this turmoil was happening at all.

Turning to him, wanting to express my understanding of his grief, I saw that his light green eyes were filled with tears. He started to say something, but couldn’t quite get the words out. His mouth began to tremble, and he brought his hands to his face, started to cry; I saw the tears leaking through his fingers.

‘Oh Zac, how can I help you?’ I murmured gently, putting my arm around his shoulders, moving up closer to him, longing to make him feel better. He began to sob and held onto me tightly, as if he were drowning. And in a way he was … drowning in pain and heartache.

At that precise moment something shifted in me. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I loved him completely. He was the love of my life.

There was no way for me to turn away from this knowledge, or deny it any longer. I loved Zachary North with every fibre of my being. I wanted to be with him always. To spend the rest of my life with him. No matter what happened, whatever he chose to do, we must be together, to love and cherish each other for as long as we lived.

I knew now that I had been in denial for the past year. Jessica had been right; she had said earlier that I was filled with anger about Zac’s behaviour a year ago, when we had broken up. Now that anger had mysteriously dissipated, was entirely gone. Just like that, in a flash. What I felt was total love for him. I understood him, and his predicament – disillusionment and a sense of loss. I wanted to make him whole again, to restore him to himself, to help him build a future.

Eventually, the sobs quietened, finally subsided, and he wiped his face with his fingertips, shook his head. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘So sorry, Serena.’

‘It’s all right. I understand, I really do.’

‘That’s why I wanted to be with
you
, and no one else. I need you. I trust you absolutely, and I feel safe with you, because … well, because I know you’re trustworthy, loyal, dependable, an honourable person. You have such integrity, Serena, like no one I’ve ever known. And I love you for everything you are.’

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I was touched by his words, knowing how sincere he was being. After a moment, I said, ‘Dad once told me that the impact of war on the human psyche is overwhelming. And you have been overwhelmed in Afghanistan. Fortunately, you knew you had to get out before it was too late. It’s devastated you, leaving the front, but you did the right thing.’

He stared at me intently for a long moment. ‘Tommy was right, and so are you. And yes, it
was
time …’ He paused, took a deep breath. ‘I want to tell you about the flashback I had when I smashed the television set in Venice. Can I?’

‘Yes, tell me. I’ve been wanting to know. If you unburden yourself it will help you, Zac, I’m certain of that.’

‘When I woke up that night, in the bolthole in Venice, I thought I was back in Helmand Province, where I’d been embedded for some weeks with a platoon of Marines, out on patrol near a remote village,’ he explained. ‘We were on the edge of the village, in an old building. A lot of heavily armed insurgents were out there, snipers mounting round-the-clock attacks on us. Very heavy attacks. I knew two young Marines, one from Brooklyn, the other from Connecticut – Mitch Johnson and Joe Marshall …’

Zac’s voice choked up and his mouth began to tremble. But he swiftly managed to regain his control, continuing slowly, ‘Mitch and Joe went out on a recce. The lieutenant in charge needed more information, so a reconnaissance it was.’ Zac paused, blew out air, ran his hands over his face nervously.

‘You don’t have to go on, if it’s too painful,’ I murmured softly.

‘It’s okay. I’m okay,’ he said, and after a short while he continued steadily. ‘I was with the lieutenant, Jack Bentley, from Los Angeles. Our eyes were riveted on Mitch and Joe as they moved down that dangerous road towards the village. They went very slowly, with enormous caution. A corporal and a bunch of Marines standing near us had their rifles poised ready for action and covering Joe and Mitch, watching their backs. Suddenly an improvised explosive device went off, and then another. Those roadside bombs were everywhere on that road, and lethal. Mitch and Joe were upright one moment, down on their backs the next.’

Zac stopped, swallowed hard. ‘The lieutenant acted at once, instantly radioed for a Medevac. We were very lucky: one of the Black Hawk choppers was already close, and it came in quickly.’

‘Was the chopper able to land safely?’ I asked, knowing how frightening and tricky the situation must have been – not to mention dangerous for the pilot and medics on the chopper.

‘It was tough going,’ Zac replied. ‘As you know, the Medevac chopper is not armed, but is always accompanied by another aircraft that is. As usual, the insurgents were shooting at both. Somehow, the pilot of the Medevac heli managed to get it down into the Landing Zone safely. Without any incidents. The lieutenant and some of the Marines ran forward to help move Mitch and Joe, and the medics got them into the helicopter and out safely, heading for a nearby medical facility.’

Zac blinked, coughed behind his hand, and I saw the tears glittering in his green eyes once more. After clearing his throat a few times, he said quietly, ‘The lieutenant told me he didn’t know if they were going to make it … Joe had lost a leg and had a spinal injury, and Mitch had a gaping hole in his chest—’ Abruptly, Zac broke off, jumped up and went into my bathroom, closing the door behind him.

I was certain he had gone there to weep again, seeking his privacy, needing to be alone. And I understood all the reasons why. I had been on the front line for years. I myself had been where he was emotionally at this moment. I knew how raw and distressed he must be, remembering everything, reliving what he had witnessed that violent morning in Afghanistan … thinking of the horrific injuries those two young Marines had suffered.

That was why I truly was the only person he could talk to, because I understood what he had been through. His parents and his siblings loved him, and no doubt would want to help, but they had not had any battlefield experiences; they did not know what combat was really like. I was the veteran here, and I could empathize with him, comfort him and hopefully pull him through.

As he had been recounting what had happened, I had visualized everything in my mind’s eye. The Black Hawk chopper coming in, accompanied by an armed aircraft escort for protection. I knew only too well that the insurgents never paid any attention to the Red Cross emblem painted on the underbelly of the Medevac chopper, even though under international law these helicopters were supposed to be off-limits to enemy fire. But the Red Cross meant nothing to them, even though Medevacs might transport injured insurgents, or civilian Afghan adults and children hurt by an IED or caught in crossfire, as well as troops. All were taken to medical facilities to be looked after.

I understood Zac’s raging emotions and what he was going through, and my heart ached for him. All I wanted now was to help him to heal, and to get to a better place in his mind and heart.

The bathroom door opened, and Zac walked out, obviously in better shape. He certainly looked calm as he came and sat down on the sofa, a faint smile flickering for a fleeting moment.

‘I’m sorry I lost it, Serena,’ he said. ‘I don’t exactly know what happens, but sometimes I feel overcome and I start weeping. I can’t help it, and then I’m embarrassed. A man shouldn’t cry like that.’

‘Yes, a man should cry!’ I exclaimed. ‘And I’m glad you did, and do. And I hope that you will again, if you are moved to do so. Men and women are quite different in many ways, yet we certainly share the same emotions about things.’ I grabbed his hand, held it tightly.

He remained quiet, digesting what I’d said.

‘You mustn’t be embarrassed or ashamed of crying, Zac,’ I continued. ‘You’re human, and we’re all affected by life, by its heartaches and sorrows. And also by its joys and triumphs. Always remember that.’

He inclined his head slightly, obviously agreeing. He then moved closer. ‘There’s something else I have to tell you …’ He paused, looked into my face. After a moment, he said in a low voice, ‘I’m still in love with you, Serena. I wanted to tell you that in Venice, but somehow I felt you didn’t want to hear it. At least not then, and I lost my nerve.’

I was taken aback, startled that he was announcing this, and with such conviction. I didn’t speak, simply stared back at him, seeking the right words.

‘Could we … can we? Start all over again?’ he asked me, his voice tense.

I still didn’t say anything, just looked into those green eyes, realizing how serious he was being, and sincere.

‘Do you remember what I used to say to you?’ he said. ‘Come live with me and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove? Well, I do want that – I want you to be my love, and I will make you happy.’

‘Don’t, Zac, please don’t, you’ll have me in tears,’ I whispered.

‘No tears, Pidge. Only kisses.’ He leaned into me and his lips brushed against my cheek. ‘I’m in love with you more than ever, you know.’