Silver Linings (22 page)

When he'd asked her to Homecoming all those years ago, she'd turned him down. Regretting that now, she hoped to rectify things tonight. She would turn the tables and ask him to dance.

I stared at Bob for several uncomfortable moments before I started toward the house. “Come inside,” I said, my heart rampaging inside of me. I yearned to hear what he'd come to tell me and at the same time dreaded finally hearing the truth about Mark.

Bob followed me and Rover trotted with him, then rushed ahead and led the way up the porch steps. My faithful companion waited for me to open the door as if he was just as eager to hear what Bob had to say as I was.

“Should I make tea?” I asked, knowing tea could be an excellent shock absorber. My mother had always brewed tea when she wanted to have a serious discussion or when she felt the need to comfort me. In the weeks following the news regarding Paul we drank enough tea together to warrant a stock investment in several name brands.

“Sure,” Bob said. He made his way into the living room and sat close to the very edge of the sofa cushion while I went into the kitchen. Once again, his hat was in his hands and he slowly rotated it, his gaze focused on it as if looking to read an inscription on the inside of the brim.

My hands shook as I poured the boiling water into the ceramic pot over the tea leaves. I didn't trust myself to carry in a tray, fearing I might drop it in my nervousness.

“I'll leave it to steep,” I said, as I joined Bob. I sat in the chair directly across from him and tucked my hands prayer-wise between my knees. Rover sat on the rug next to my feet, his chin resting on top of my right foot as if to secure me in place. I held my breath and waited.

Bob raised his head and held my look for the longest moment before he spoke. “Mark moved to Cedar Cove a few years before you—two, I think. He mainly kept to himself and took on odd jobs. Peggy and I didn't see much of him until you moved to town. We recently talked about the difference in him shortly after you arrived.”

“What difference?” No one had mentioned any of this before now.

“Peggy deserves the credit; she's the one who noticed Mark coming out of his shell. For one, he showed up at the farmers' market on Saturday mornings and then Peggy and I started seeing him around town more often. He did his work, and collected his paycheck. You have to admit the man is a talented craftsman. But he didn't go out of his way to make friends—that is, until you arrived.”

“What does my move to town have to do with any of these changes?” I wasn't sure I followed Bob's line of thinking.

“Peggy says Mark fell for you. I don't know that much about these things; I leave that up to the wife to explain. Peggy thinks Mark was waiting for you to get over the loss of your husband before he declared himself. It makes sense, I suppose. Mark was smart not to rush you or make a move when you were vulnerable and grieving.”

Thinking back over the last year, I could see what Peggy believed could be true. I had been blind to his feelings, but none of this mattered now. “I want to know why Mark left.”

“I'm getting to that,” Bob said. He set his hat aside and slowly rubbed his palms together, as if warming his hands. “Peggy told me a few weeks back that you were asking questions about Mark. How I met him and the like.”

I nodded. “I know he has a deep, dark secret and I wanted to dig up what it was.” I felt embarrassed to admit that now.

“When Peggy asked, I mentioned that I thought he might speak German.”

“Yes,” I said eagerly. “Peggy did say something about that.”

“As it happens, Mark has an affinity for languages. I believe he speaks six or more. Fluently. German, Spanish, Italian, Chinese, and Arabic.”

“Mark?” He'd never let on. Not even once. “Arabic?” I repeated. “Really?”

Bob glanced down at the rug and nodded. “Yes. Before he left, Mark told me his story. In order to understand him you need to know that his family has a strong military background. Both his father and grandfather were career military. His grandfather was a World War Two hero and his father got the Silver Cross in Vietnam. It was expected that Mark would enlist as well, and he did. He joined the army, the same as his father and grandfather, following his college graduation.”

“His given name is Jeremy,” I whispered. That much he'd voluntarily told me. “Mark was actually his father's name.”

Bob straightened. “I thought he might have told you that. I still think of him as Mark.”

“Me, too.” It was what I'd always known him as, and Jeremy felt foreign to me.

“His father died just before Mark moved here.”

It hurt that Mark had given Bob this information and had left me almost completely in the dark. All this had to be tied to the reasons he felt the need to leave, but it still pained me that he hadn't been the one to explain it himself.

“He had a sister who died when she was in her early twenties. Cancer, I believe. His mother took it hard and died shortly afterward and then a few years later his dad fell ill and died as well. His entire family was gone, and all within a short amount of time.”

“So there's only Mark left?”

“Only Mark,” Bob confirmed. “He was especially close to his father.”

That much I knew. The one and only time Mark had mentioned his father to me, his words and his voice had revealed the depth of his love and pride for the man.

“Mark served three tours of duty in Iraq.”

“As a translator?” Seeing that he was fluent in several languages, it made sense.

“I'm not completely sure of his role other than the fact that he worked gathering intelligence. I don't know how much you know about how the military works.”

“I only know what I learned when married to Paul.” That had been such a short amount of time that I hadn't had the experience of many of the other spouses.

“I was in 'Nam myself and it was hell on earth. And you can bet it wasn't any Sunday School picnic in Iraq, either.”

“I don't suspect it was,” I said.

Bob started rotating his hat again and leaned forward. “Mark worked with a young Iraqi man who, at great personal risk to himself and his family, fed Mark information. The two became as close as brothers. When Ibrahim married, Mark attended the wedding, and when his wife gave birth, Ibrahim gave his son a name that loosely correlates to Jeremy.”

I tensed, afraid of what Bob was about to tell me next.

“Ibrahim and his wife had a second child. A girl. Mark loved both children and celebrated their births with this man who'd become as close as family.”

“And…?” I could feel my throat tightening.

“Toward the end of his third tour Mark's unit was ordered to pull out of Iraq. He wasn't allowed to tell Ibrahim what was happening or why. The American military installation disappeared overnight.”

I tensed. If Mark hadn't been able to tell his friends what was happening or why…“What about Ibrahim and his family?”

Bob looked away and didn't answer, as if carefully weighing his words. “Mark's orders were specific. He was to tell Ibrahim nothing. The less the other man knew about the orders, the better it was for him in case he was taken and interrogated later. He'd served his purpose and was no longer an asset. I know it sounds harsh, but the military felt the Iraqi army had been properly trained and it was time to go.”

“You mean to say Mark was ordered to leave his friend and family behind?” Surely the army understood the possible consequences to Ibrahim and his wife and children if the country was overtaken…as currently seemed to be happening. Anyone known to have relationships with Americans would have been vulnerable.

“Yes, the military knew and so did Mark. The worst of it was that after all the help Ibrahim had given the Americans, and at great personal risk, he would now be left to the mercy of those threatening to take over the country.”

A chill shot down my spine.

“You don't need me to go into the gory details of what's been done to the men and the families of those who collaborated with the American forces.”

My hand flew to my mouth. Mark had told me he was a coward, crawling out of a black hole, and his abandonment of Ibrahim must be what he'd been referring to. But he'd had no option. No choice but to follow orders and leave behind this man he considered family.

“He left his friend, didn't he, and now his friend is dead.”

“I'll get to all that in a minute.”

“Okay.” I was sitting close to the edge of my seat.

“Against every dictate of his conscience, Mark followed orders. He hated it; he argued and was nearly court-martialed for insubordination. Remember, his family has a long military history and Mark had to choose between putting a black mark on his family name or following orders.”

“He followed orders.” That went without saying, but I said it anyway. “And hated himself for it.”

“As you can imagine, he became deeply depressed. When it came time to reup, no one expected that he'd leave the military, especially since his father and grandfather had both made it their career. It was expected that Mark would do the same, and he probably would have, if not for what happened with Ibrahim.”

“It was about the same time that he lost his family, too, wasn't it?” Everything Bob told me started to make sense. The depression, the self-recrimination, the sense that he'd failed everyone he'd ever loved.

“You were his salvation, Jo Marie. You, who came to town, grieving and lost yourself, and you were exactly what Mark needed. Falling in love with you gave him purpose. It took this long for him to accept what he had to do.”

I wrapped my arms around my stomach, my grip tight, as if to hold myself together for what was about to come next. “You're about to tell me Mark decided to return to Iraq, aren't you?”

“That's what he did, Jo Marie. He got word from an old army buddy that Ibrahim and his family needed Mark's help. They were in dire straits. I tried to talk him out of it myself, without success.”

“He went alone, too.” It wasn't a question, because I already knew the answer.

Bob's face was bleak and colorless. “He went without government sanction, without any political clout or connections. He was basically on his own and alone.”

“Ibrahim is alive?”

“Yes, according to the most recent word he'd gotten. Mark doesn't know for how much longer.”

“Mark's going back for his friend and Ibrahim's family?”

Bob lowered his gaze again. He didn't need to say it for me to know how incredibly dangerous this would be.

There had to be a reason why he would decide to go right now. Some evidence that prompted him to act. “Did he somehow get further word of the situation there?”

“No. Mark has no new information regarding his friend.”

“But he must have some idea of where Ibrahim or his family might be living and…and even if he's able to find them, how can Mark possibly help Ibrahim now? It's been years.”

“Yes, nearly five years. You're bringing up the same questions, doubts, and objections I did. No one knows for sure if Ibrahim is alive or dead. Mark's not even sure where he is.”

My heart was beating at an alarming pace. “But portions of Iraq are under control of radicals.” I wasn't telling Bob anything he didn't already know. The news reports were filled with stories of the killings, and especially anyone connected to Americans. My head refused to think of what would happen to Mark if it were learned he had once been part of the American military and he were captured. My breathing went shallow with fear.

“Jo Marie, Mark asked me to explain all this to you. He wanted you to understand the situation, so that if he didn't make it back…”

“He left knowing there was a good chance he'd die there.” His reasoning was beyond understanding. Tears clouded my eyes, but I blinked furiously, refusing to let them fall. That explained what I'd heard when I'd inadvertently stumbled upon Mark giving Bob his woodworking equipment.

Bob continued to hold my gaze. “You should also know he's made you the beneficiary of his life insurance policy.”