The Other Side of the World
by
Suzanne Whitfield Vince
The Other Side of the World
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The Other Side of the World
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The Other Side of the World
Dedication
for will (the "real" luke), thank you for opening your heart to love, even when everything inside you resisted for my sister marianne, thank you for recognizing "the one" that mom had hand-picked for me and for mom, thank you for picking the perfect guy for me, i miss you more than words can say
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The Other Side of the World
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The Other Side of the World
Based on a true story
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The Other Side of the World
Chapter One November 27, 2004 San Francisco, California
Rowan McClain leaned against the vinyl-backed booth—arms crossed, lips pressed tightly together—and girded herself for the battle to come. She looked on as Evan''s eyes followed the server's retreating form until it disappeared behind the counter. Then he leaned forward, propped his elbows on the table and leveled her with an expression she'd seen one too many times lately. An expression that could cut her down and shred her to ribbons, even without the words she knew would follow. But she was ready for them. At least, as much as she could be. "You're blowing this out of proportion, Row. I think it's sweet that you sent the care packages to the troops in Iraq. All I''m saying is, real men don't read girly books. And neither do intelligent women." Rowan could feel the steam rise inside her. She opened her mouth to speak, and then thought better of it. She pulled in a long breath and pushed it out slowly in a useless attempt to calm herself. "I'm not having this argument with you again." The argument where she told him she wrote women's fiction. That intelligent women do indeed read her books, and so do men. That she'd never heard anyone refer to her books as "girly books," except for him. Whatever a "girly book" was anyway. It wouldn't matter anyhow. He didn't care that she'd received a six-figure advance and a threebook deal from one of the largest publishing houses in New York. He didn''t care that in the two 6
book deal from one of the largest publishing houses in New York. He didn''t care that in the two The Other Side of the World years since she'd been writing, she'd made almost three times as much as she would've made at the accounting firm. He didn't even care how happy writing made her. All he cared about was that she'd strayed from the plan: they'd work like dogs until they each made partner——she at the CPA firm, he at the law firm—and then they'd start their family. He'd seen her career change as a betrayal. And as payment for her betrayal, he'd recently announced that he no longer wished to have children. "No need to get defensive, sweetie. I'm just stating the facts as I see them." She wanted to rip the smug look off his face, but instead she forced a smile that was pure fiction. "Right. Got it. Anything else?" Evan pushed up from the table. "Yeah, I'm going out with the guys tonight. Don't bother with dinner." He reached for his wallet, then slipped it back into his pocket and slid the check across to her. "You got this, right?" Without waiting for a response, he kissed her on the cheek and left the restaurant. Rowan paid the bill and left. As she pushed her way past tourists and local residents on her way home, she tried not to think about the excitement she'd felt when they'd first moved into the two-bedroom condominium in San Francisco''s Cow Hollow neighborhood. Just a block from the shops and restaurants on Union Street. A quick jog to the beautiful Presidio. A short bus ride to the downtown offices of the accounting firm she'd worked at when she and Evan had first married. They'd been young, blissfully happy, and ready to take the world by storm. But lately, it felt as though the storm had gotten the better of them.
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The Other Side of the World
Chapter Two December 24, 2004 Baghdad, Iraq
They heard it before they saw it. The muffled explosion. The agonizing screams of their comrades over the radio. The sounds of war. The Humvee skidded to a stop. First Lieutenant Luke Cartwright and three of his men sprinted through the falling debris toward the plumes of smoke that billowed skyward like smokestacks. Flames burst forth from what was left of the Humvee's engine compartment, and quickly spread through the undercarriage. Luke tugged on the door handle but it wouldn't budge. He tried again, but the door would not give. He ran around to the passenger side but it, too, was sealed shut. Inside, three of his men clawed at the windows, coughing and choking on the smoke that filled the interior. Luke knew the flames were not far behind. Screams from inside sent shivers down his spine. Adrenaline surged through him, intensifying his focus.
This is what you were trained for, Cartwright. Get your shit together. "Grab whatever you can find from the rig and let's break these windows," he shouted to one of his men. "We have to get them out of here. Now." Luke took the assault rifle from the driver of the vehicle he'd been riding in, removed the magazine and shoved it into his vest. "Cover your eyes," he called to the trapped men before raising the butt of the weapon and bearing down on the driver's side window. The glass cracked but did not break. He tried again and again until the glass finally gave. Reaching his gloved hand into a small hole, he began ripping the glass out. When the hole was big enough, he pulled the 8
into a small hole, he began ripping the glass out. When the hole was big he pulled Theenough, Other Side of thethe World semi-conscious driver out and dragged the man to safety. As Luke returned for the others, another explosion rocked the vehicle. He shielded his eyes from the blast as flames rose and then retreated from the vehicle. After stripping off his Gore-Tex jacket, Luke hurried back to the vehicle while the other men continued chipping away at the other windows. The passenger on the other side clambered over the driver's seat and propelled himself out the window. He tumbled to the ground and scampered on hands and knees to the deep mud pit in the middle of the road in a desperate attempt to douse the flames making quick work of his pant leg. With one more man to extract, Luke climbed through the window to help his men with the soldier in the backseat. Specialist Edgar Thompson's boot was trapped under the twisted metal, and flames were moving upward from his leg to his midsection. The man jerked and twisted, trying to get free. Gripping the lapels of Luke's jacket, eyes wide, he cried out, "You gotta get me out of here." "Hang in there, Thompson. We're going to get you out." Luke stripped off his torn gloves and swatted at the flames snaking their way up the man''s torso while one of the other men used a crowbar to free Thompson's leg. After carefully lifting the injured man out through the back of the vehicle, they extinguished the flames, just as a convoy of military support vehicles arrived on scene. While the bomb squad scanned the area for further explosive devices, the medical team carried Thompson away from the smoldering wreckage and placed him in the backseat of one of the arriving Humvees. As the vehicle sped off, Luke could still hear the man's screams.
It was after midnight when Luke left the medical complex at Camp Liberty. Only then did he
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It was after midnight when Luke left the medical complex at Camp Liberty. Only then did he The Other Side of the World notice the twinkling lights coiled around the base of the lone palm tree, reminding him it was Christmas. Feeling anything but festive, he kicked the door to his trailer shut, thankful to have the space to himself while his roommate, Lieutenant Angel "Roddy" Rodriguez was enjoying the holiday festivities on base. With no family and no friends back home to speak of, the holidays were a painful reminder of his parents' tragic deaths on Christmas Eve six years before. He'd been a senior in college. One semester to go. But after laying his parents to rest, he did not return to the University of California in Davis. Instead, he joined the United States Army and had never looked back. He had just stripped out of his soot-stained uniform when the door to the trailer sprung open. Attached to the other side was Dr. Talia Fournier. She tossed the bags she was carrying onto his bed and plopped down beside them. "Come in," he said sarcastically. "Rough day?" Luke shot her a cross look as he pulled on a clean pair of workout shorts and reached for an Army-issue green tee. "What happened to the bandages on your hands?" she asked. Luke pulled the shirt over his head and glanced down at his hands. Despite the fact that he'd worn gloves during the rescue, the windshield glass had punctured his hands in several places, and after he'd stripped them off to help to free Thompson, Luke had sustained a few burns. "I was just going to shower." Talia patted the lumpy mattress. When he sat, she took his hands and turned them palms up. 10
Talia patted the lumpy mattress. When he sat, she took his hands and turned them palms up. The Other Side of the World After donning a pair of latex gloves and probing the injuries, she shook her head reprovingly. "I've seen raw meat in better condition." Luke yanked his hands from hers and stood up. "I'm fine." "Oh, I know you are, tough guy." She tugged his arm and guided him back down, "But you need to keep these wounds clean. I''ll leave you some plastic bags and tape to use when you shower." After extracting a few items from her medical bag, she set to work cleaning and bandaging his hands. He liked watching her work. Liked her intensity, her focus on the task at hand. She was passionate about her job, and it showed. Even with something as simple as bandaging a cut. Luke could feel her breath on his hands as she worked and he smiled at the irony of it. He was probably the only single man on base who could sit this close to her and not want to kiss her. And who could blame them? With dark hair that hung below her waist and palomino eyes, Talia was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever known. But from the first moment he met her, he saw past her physical beauty. Past the tough exterior. In her eyes, he saw a sadness and pain that mirrored his own, and he instinctively knew that he had found a friend in her. A kindred soul. "I'm sorry about Thompson," she said. "He''ll be airlifted to Landstuhl in the morning. We're keeping him comfortable in the meantime." Tightness constricted his chest. He rose from the bed, opened the screenless window and sucked in a dust-fill breath of air. He took injuries to any of his men personally, saw it as a failure on his part to protect them. Landstuhl Medical Center was the largest military hospital overseas and was the go-to place for severely injured soldiers, but Specialist Edgar Thompson's burns were worse than Luke had initially thought. Not to mention the smoke inhalation. "Will he make it?"
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The Other Side of the World Talia pushed out a tired sigh. "Not sure. I've seen worse. But if he does, it will be a long, painful road." He nodded slowly and turned back to face her. "If you don't mind, Tal, I'd like to be alone." "Of course." She removed a few plastic bags, a roll of tape, and a small vial from her medical bag and set the items on the laminate table next to the bed. She held up the plastic bottle. "In case you need something to help you sleep." "I don't want it," he said in an uneven voice. "Suit yourself." She returned the vial to her bag. Crossing the room, she rose on tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Merry Christmas, my friend." When she was halfway out the door, she turned back. "You going to the USO show tomorrow?" She glanced at her watch. "I mean tonight?" Luke groaned. Watching Britney Spears strut her stuff was the absolute last thing he wanted to do on Christmas, but he had to. For his men's sake. He nodded. "See you then."
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The Other Side of the World
Chapter Three
Luke fell in an exhausted heap onto the bed. The springs of the metal frame creaked as he settled in. He glanced at the bag Talia had left behind and peered inside. Sitting up, he tore open the envelope of the card she'd decorated with reindeer stickers. The front of the card showed a picture of the Grinch with his little dog pulling a sled overflowing with the gifts he'd stolen from Whoville. Inside she wrote, To my favorite Grinch on Christmas. Love, Talia. Despite the tragic events of the day, his lips quirked upward at the corners. In a land as barren as his heart, it was nice to know someone cared. He put the card aside and sorted through the other items in the bag. His iPod, loaded with some fresh new music, compliments of Talia. A package of pistachios—his favorite—a bag of beef jerky, several Hershey bars with almonds, and a couple of books, including the latest Harry Bosch adventure and a...romance novel? He grinned. Was Talia trying to soften him up? He set the Harry Bosch novel on his lap, placed the iPod in the bedside table and tossed the other items back into the bag. Luke ran his fingers over the palm trees that adorned the cover of Lost Light. Images of the tree-lined driveway that led up to the sprawling ranch style home of the Sonoma vineyard where he'd grown up flashed through his mind. Luke, as a young boy, running down the driveway to greet the father he idolized. That was before the drinking started. Before his father became someone Luke despised. And feared. He shook his head to stave off the memories and the associated pain—and guilt—that came along with them. Feelings were not a luxury he could afford right now. Especially after today. He opened the book to page one. 13
The Other Side of the World After reading the first fifty pages of the book, he slapped it shut. Maybe it was because it was the anniversary of his parent's violent passing. Maybe it was the events of the previous day. Maybe it was even because Harry Bosch reminded him a little too much of himself. Whatever the reason, Luke was not in the mood to read a book about death and violence. He reached into the single drawer of his bedside table and withdrew his iPod. After inserting the earbuds, he switched off the light and climbed under the thin blanket. "Blue Train" by John Coltrane began to play. Luke closed his eyes and took in the soulful sound of the saxophone. As he relaxed, the smell of smoke and burning flesh filled the room. Screams of pain and agony broadcast through the headphones. He tore them off, reached for the light and snapped it on. Tossing back the covers, he leapt from the bed as though he'd been electrocuted. His heart raced. Sweat trickled down his temples despite the chill in the air from the open window. What the hell was happening? He forced himself to take slow, deep breaths until his heart slowed to a more manageable tempo. When he had calmed down, he climbed back into bed. He reached for the Harry Bosch novel again, and then changed his mind. Instead, he reached into the bag on the nightstand and fished out the other book. My Mother's Journals by R.J. McClain. He turned the book over to read the back cover blurb and was struck by the photo of a man in a military uniform standing next to a B-26 Marauder, a World War II twin-engine bomber, used in the Pacific Theater during the war. Luke had always had a fascination for planes. Had wanted to become a pilot himself, but his eyesight kept him from realizing that dream. At least in the military. Intrigued, Luke turned to the front cover again. An open journal. The Eiffel Tower. Red roses. He shrugged, opened the book and began to read. 14
The Other Side of the World The sun was almost up when he closed the back cover. It was the first time he could remember ever reading a full-length novel in one sitting. The book, which was about betrayal and forgiveness, left him feeling...unsettled. It made him think about things he'd worked hard to forget. Feel things he didn't want to feel. Perhaps most perilous of all, it reminded him of what it meant to be human. A difficult feat considering where he was and what he'd seen in the past month. And what he'd felt for most of his life.
Luke picked at his dinner despite the fact that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast the day before. He tapped his foot nervously through the entire Britney Spears show, clapping only when Talia elbowed him. When the show was finally over, he slipped quietly out and went back to his room. He paced the cold linoleum floor for an hour before climbing into bed and turning out the light. He hoped the exhaustion he felt would finally overcome him. After tossing and turning for almost an hour, he gave up the fight. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he switched on the light and reached for the book. He reread the pages he'd dog-eared and turned to the back inside cover. That's when he saw her. Luke ran a finger over the beautiful young woman with the dark blonde hair and the shy smile. It didn't seem possible that someone so young had lived enough life to write about pain and loss in such a profound and insightful way. But then, Luke himself—not yet thirty——had experienced enough pain and loss to last a lifetime. Underneath her picture was a short bio and information on how to contact her. On a whim, he reached into the drawer of the nightstand, removed a pad of paper and began to write.
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The Other Side of the World
Chapter Four January 15, 2005 San Francisco, California
Rowan's fingers danced on the keyboard. The words flew from her fingers and onto the screen in a way they hadn't in far too long. "Mail call." Evan dropped a stack of mail—junk mostly—onto the keyboard and planted a perfunctory kiss on her cheek. She nearly shrieked at the unexpected interruption, and then smiled up at her husband. When her sister told her on Christmas Day that their mother had cancer, Evan had declared a truce. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he'd said, taking her in his arms. ""And I'm sorry I've been such a jackass lately. I don't know what''s come over me. Things at work have been stressful, but that's no excuse. Can you please forgive me?" Rowan had clung to him, buried her head into his muscular chest and wept at the news that her mother's cancer had returned. She didn't know how she would get through this without him. "Of course I will," she'd said. The truce lasted a week. On the outside looking in, things appeared normal. But Evan the jerk lurked just under the surface. Today, however, he appeared to be in a good mood. Rowan sifted through the mail, tossing the junk and setting aside the rest. Most of the remaining items were bills, except for one. She fingered the envelope and grinned at the postmark. The letter was from Iraq. "Thanks, hon." The letter was from a Captain T. Fournier. It 17
Thea Other of the World postmark. The letter was from Iraq. "Thanks, hon." The letter was from CaptainSide T. Fournier. It appeared at first glance that intelligent women do indeed read "girly books." Later, while Evan was in the shower, she read the letter.
December 25, 2004 Greetings from the other side of the world, First, I'd like to thank you for the care package you sent. Because of friends like you back home, we are probably the best fed (and best read) soldiers who ever lived. A friend passed along a copy of your book and, while it isn't the type of book I would normally read (I'm a fan of crime thrillers and murder mysteries—I especially love Harry Bosch books), after the day I had yesterday (I won't bore you with the details), it was probably the type of book I needed to read. It's been a quiet day here at Camp Liberty (unless you count the Britney Spears USO show I endured for the sake of my men). Strangely quiet, actually. Absent is the almost constant chatter of machine guns and AK-47s we have all grown used to. It's almost as if the enemy has declared a temporary cease-fire to honor the sanctity of the day. But then, the enemy here are not a reasonable people. They are murderers and extremists who would just as likely kill their brother if they thought it would earn them more glory in heaven. But, I digress. The calm quiet of the day should have been a welcome respite. But after reading My Mother's Journals, one word keeps repeating itself in my mind. Forgiveness. Something I've never been good at. I've always been one to turn my back when someone betrays me and never look back. I did it to the only woman I've ever loved. I did it to my parents, too, who died in a car accident six years ago yesterday. Ironically (or perhaps not), I now find myself in a land as devoid of feeling as I am.
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Or maybe I've just done a good job of convincing myself that I feel nothing. The longer I tell myself this, the easier it becomes. And quite frankly, it serves me well here. Enables me to focus on the mission, and on keeping my men safe. But after watching as they airlifted one of my men who suffered severe burns in an IED explosion yesterday to a hospital in Germany, I wonder if perhaps my singular focus is serving me as well as I thought it was. Perhaps the fact that I have no one to return home to makes me a danger, not only to myself but to my men. If I die, I served my purpose, did my duty. But there will be no one at home to mourn me. My men, on the other hand, have people at home who love them. Who are anxiously awaiting their return. I have as much a duty to their families as I do to them. This is what I've been thinking about all day. And it all comes back to forgiveness. But forgiveness isn't just a word, is it? It requires action on our part. A willingness to let go of the bitterness and the anger. To stop using it as a shield to protect ourselves from further hurt. Or worse, use it as a weapon against others who just want to love us. As Olivia's father Ken so aptly put it in your book, "We all screw up at least once in our lives, Olivia. It's what makes us human. But forgiveness saves us from living bitter, lonely lives." Now all this soldier has to do is figure out how. Anyhow, thank you again for your kindness, Ms. McClain. I hope you and your family enjoyed a wonderful holiday season. Sincerely, A Guy PS I love the photo on the back cover of Mac, standing by the plane. I'm curious, was the character of Mac based on a real person?
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Without even realizing it, Rowan had held her breath through most of the letter. She'd received letters from men before, but never a letter like this. A letter filled with such raw, honest emotion. It left her breathless. And speechless. She read the letter again. Even the second time around, his words leapt off the page and touched her heart. Penetrated the wall she hadn't even realized until this very moment she had built to protect it. When was the last time she'd been so honest with someone? With herself, even? When was the last time she and Evan had spoken so honestly with each other? Had they ever? "Who's the letter from?" Evan crawled under the covers. Rowan set the letter on the nightstand and shook her head. "No one. Just a guy in Iraq." Evan smirked. "A guy? Seriously?" "Don't start with me, Evan, please." She turned her back to him and switched off the light. As she settled into the darkness, a profound sadness enveloped her. She hoped Evan couldn't hear the sound of her tears as they slid down her face and plopped onto the sheets. *** "I'll have a bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate malt. Extra malt powder, please." Marie Nolen handed the menu back to the server and ignored her daughter''s reproving stare. "I'm dying," she said to the woman with the spider web tattooed across the left side of her face, ""and my daughter would rather I order the green salad with low-fat dressing on the side. Better yet, she'd rather we didn't eat here at all." She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "Your food is not that healthy." 20
The Other Side of the World Rowan felt the color rise in her cheeks. "I'll have the chef's salad and—" Snatching the menu from her daughter's hands, Marie said, "She'll have the same as me." When the webbed woman was out of earshot, she turned to Rowan. "What is it, sweetheart? What's wrong?" Rowan bit her lip to stay the tears that were beckoning. "I don't understand how you can be so...cavalier about...dying." Her mother's face folded into heavy creases. Rowan closed her eyes as tears inched down her cheeks. When she opened them, deep grooves of pain had woven themselves into the folds of her mother's face. "What is really going on, my darling? You haven't been yourself for some time now, and it's more than just my diagnosis. I''ve been so caught up in my own stuff that I can't remember the last time I heard you laugh. When did you stop laughing?" When she realized she was living with a man who didn't know her and was no longer interested in knowing her. When she realized that the one person left on earth who loved her unconditionally was going to die. The one person she loved the same way. When she received a letter from a stranger. Except, she'd stopped laughing well before then. The letter had just helped her pinpoint the why. She reached into her purse, removed the letter and slid it across the table to her mother. "He reminds me of your father." Marie placed the letter back in the envelope. "Serious and deep. A man like this is capable of deep love, if only he can learn to get out of his own way and let go of the demons." She passed the letter back to Rowan. "Your father never could." Rowan slipped the letter back into her purse. "Were you and Daddy happy?" 21
The Other Side of the World Her mother nodded. "Your father was a very devoted husband and father. He didn't always know how to show it, but I always knew it was there. He had a special kinship with your sister. They understood each other without even speaking a word. It''s why Natalie took his passing so hard." She reached across the table and lifted her daughter's chin. "And why you''ll take mine so hard." The arrival of their food provided a welcome distraction. Rowan took a moment and dabbed her eyes with the paper napkin. When she looked across the table, her mother was grinning. "Maybe I should get one of those." Her mother motioned with her head toward the waitress. "What do you think?" Despite the sadness that clung to her like a shadow at dusk, Rowan laughed. Over lunch, they laughed like they used to. And after sharing a slice of strawberry cheesecake, together they tried to figure out what the T in Captain Fournier's name was. They rattled off names: Tim, Tom, Tyler, Tobias, Tanner, Tate, Trevor, Tristan. "Tate's too formal," her mother said. "Tim and Tom are too ordinary," Rowan replied. They settled on Tanner, and decided he was of medium build with sandy brown hair and vivid green eyes. And then her mother asked the question Rowan had been debating since the letter had arrived two days before. "Are you going to write him back?" Rowan scraped the last of the graham cracker crust off the plate with her spoon. She wanted her mother's opinion, but she didn't want to appear too anxious for the answer. "Do you think I 22
her mother's opinion, but she didn't want to appear too anxious for the answer. think I The Other"Do Sideyou of the World should?" Marie Nolen nodded enthusiastically. "A letter like that deserves a reply."
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The Other Side of the World
Chapter Five February 14, 2005 Baghdad, Iraq
The door to Luke's trailer blew open, and with it, a welcome rush of cool air. And Talia. "Do you ever knock?" he asked. "What would be the fun of that?" She thrust her arms out and pressed a small box to his chest. "I think this is for you. I''m sorry I opened it, but it was addressed to me." Luke glanced down at the package. When he saw the return address, his cheeks flushed. "I, uh, didn't expect her to write back." As soon as he''d mailed the letter, he'd regretted it. It had been a strange day. With the anniversary of his parents' passing and the roadside explosion, he'd gotten caught up in the moment. Had allowed himself to think about what he'd been missing out on by holding on to so much hurt and anger. Allowed himself to actually feel the loneliness that had been his constant companion for as long as he could remember. But by the time the moment had passed, he'd already mailed the letter. Talia's eyes twinkled with mischief. "What's the matter, Lieutenant, afraid the guys will know you have a girlfriend?" "Who has a girlfriend?" Luke's roommate, Roddy, slammed the door behind him and cast a curious glance at the two of them. Luke and Talia spoke in unison. "Nobody," Luke snapped.
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The Other Side of the World "He does." Talia pointed at Luke. Luke snatched the package from Talia and tossed it onto the bed. "What? Are we in high school or something? I wrote and thanked the woman for taking the time to send a care package. That's it. End of story." He turned to Talia. "Don't you have patients to take care of or something?" As if on cue, a thunderous explosion rocked the trailer. The three of them ran out to investigate. A moon-sized crater gaped up at them. Thankfully, nobody had been walking directly in its path, but the windows of the fitness center had been blown out. A soldier ran out of the gym and rushed toward them, eyes wide with fear. Blood ran down his arm. "Doc, come quick. We got casualties in here.""
Later that night, after all of the injured had been treated and released and Roddy had gone to the officer's club, Luke retrieved the box from under his bed and laid it on his lap. It was heavier than he'd thought. Untucking the flap, he examined the contents. Another book, a blank journal, and several assorted bags of heart-shaped chocolates. He glanced at the date on his watch. Valentine's Day. How perfect. Luke removed the letter and shoved the box back under his bed. He would read the letter, but he would not read any more of R.J. McClain's touchy-feely books. He had a mission to accomplish here. A country he needed to help liberate from insurgents and extremists. War was not the time or place to think about what might've been, or what could be. From now on, he'd stick to books about murder and mayhem. He unfolded the pages of the handwritten letter.
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The Other Side of the World
January 24, 2005 Dear Guy, Thank you for your beautiful letter and your kind (and honest) words. It's always nice to have a man's perspective on my work. I'm very sorry for the loss of your parents, and for the devastating injury to your fellow comrade. You are all heroes in my book. What you do every day, putting your lives on the line so we can continue to enjoy the freedom and safety that we Americans have always enjoyed, is truly heroic. But I think you sell yourself short. You're obviously a man capable of great love, or you wouldn't be so devastated by betrayal and loss. When someone hurts you, you shut down. Me? I turn my pain into words and spill them onto the pages of my books. It helps, but it doesn't erase the wound. Those wounds, the big ones, are etched onto our souls. They become part of us. They change us, but we mustn't let them prevent us from experiencing everything life has to offer. That's the beauty of life. The richness of it. It's how we learn to truly appreciate the good times. To experience true and profound joy. Easy to say, I know. As I write these words, I'm still trying to grasp the fact that my mother, the person I love most in this world, will not be with me a year from now. On Christmas Day, she was diagnosed with cancer. For the third time. She beat it twice, but now it is in her bones. I know she will die soon. Part of me will die, too. And yet, every moment I'm with her is so brilliant, so pure. I am keenly aware of how much I love her, and how much she loves me. I am also aware of how rare this love we have is, and I cling to each moment as if it is our last because, one day too soon, it will be. Maybe writing about your pain will help you, too. I've enclosed a blank journal that you can use to jot down your feelings. Get them out of your head, put them down on paper, and then put 26
The Other Sideand of the use to jot down your feelings. Get them out of your head, put them down on paper, thenWorld put
them away so you can focus on your mission there. Carrying them around in your head (and your heart) can be a heavy burden to carry with you everywhere you go. I've also included another of my books. I wrote Life, Take Three after losing my father a year ago. It was a way for me to try to better understand him. The father character was based on my grandfather, but as they say, we are often a product of the people who raised us. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. With regard to your question about Mac, the answer is yes, and no. When my grandmother died a few years ago, we found the picture of Mac in her things. My grandmother was in the Women's Army Corps during World War II, where she met and fell in love with Mac, a pilot in the Army Air Corps. We know nothing of Mac, or what became of him, so the character of Mac was simply a figment of my imagination, as was the character of Virginia (trust me, my grandmother wouldn't have made good nun material...she was as feisty as they come). So I guess that's it for now. Again, thank you for taking the time to reach out and share a little of yourself. I hope you don't mind that I did the same. And by the way, you were wrong about one thing you said in your letter. There is at least one person back home who would mourn you. I hope to hear from you again. In the meantime, please stay safe. Sincerely, R.J. McClain PS Harry Bosch rocks. I've read every book in the series.
Luke clutched the letter to his chest and groaned. How could a woman he'd never met, a total stranger, reach inside him and touch him so deeply? Her honesty and vulnerability were 27
stranger, reach inside him and touch him so deeply? Her honesty and vulnerability were The Other Side of the World surprising. Instinctively, he wanted to protect her. Shield her from her pain. He'd only ever felt that way about two women before, including his mother. And he never wanted to feel that way again. As much as he appreciated her kindness and her efforts to engage him, he had no intention of writing her back. He tucked the letter back in the box and shoved it under the bed. Over the next two weeks, the box remained there. But at night, despite his resolve to forget her, he thought about R.J., and he replayed her words in his head. He understood now how someone so young could write about pain and loss in such a meaningful way. She'd lost a lot—her father, her grandparents, and soon she would lose her mother. He was sorry for her, but at the same time it made him feel less alone to know there was someone out there who understood the pain that such a loss carried with it. Like a scarlet letter that was forever etched onto your soul. All around him, his fellow soldiers talked openly about their wives—or husbands—and their children, friends and family back home. Luke had no one, except a beautiful stranger. A beautiful,
married stranger, according to her bio. By the end of March, he had not written R.J. McClain, but he had retrieved the journal from the box and begun writing. At first, his entries were an accounting of the day's events. But as the weeks passed, without even noticing, he'd begun to write about Emily. He'd fallen in love with her the first time he'd seen her. She'd moved to Sonoma the summer between their junior and senior years of high school. She was pretty, shy and smart. Luke had a reputation for being the bad boy, and he liked it that way. Clad in a black leather jacket—his trademark—a white t-shirt and jeans, he fancied himself a modern-day James Dean, complete with square jaw and walnut-colored hair, which he sculpted into place each morning. He''d done his share of dating, but nobody had ever laid claim to his heart. Until the day he met Emily Saunders. It took him months to work up the courage to ask her out, but once he did, they were 28
Thehe Other the World It took him months to work up the courage to ask her out, but once did, Side they of were inseparable. Even when she announced she'd accepted a scholarship at Boston University—he'd be going to the University of California at Davis—they vowed to see each other as often as possible. And they had. Until the spring of their junior year, when Luke flew to Boston to surprise Emily on her twenty-first birthday. He arrived just after noon. Her roommate said she was in class but expected her back by mid-afternoon. Luke waited on the steps of her dorm building until one o''clock the following morning in the frigid air. He was about to leave when he saw her. She stopped just a few feet away from him, locked in an embrace with another man, kissing him as she'd once kissed him. In that moment, something inside him broke. "Happy birthday, Em," he said with great effort. Emily whirled around at the sound of his voice. "Luke, what are you...oh my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to find out this way. I was going to tell you—" Luke stood, marched past her and turned to look at her one last time. "Glad I could save you the trouble." He never saw or heard from her again.
Those wounds, the big ones, are etched onto our souls. They become part of us. R.J.'s words repeated themselves to him. Emily was a part of him; there was no denying it. Strangely, he no longer wanted to. He smiled into the darkness at the memory of her. He'd learned about love from her. And he was a better man because of it. Maybe someday, he would allow himself to love again. A few nights later, unable to sleep, Luke put on his headphones and hit shuffle on his iPod. As he lay back down and blinked into the semi-darkness, Peter Cetera began to croon to "Along Comes a Woman."
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The Other Side of the World He clicked off the music and bolted upright. His thoughts turned from Emily to R.J. McClain, the beautiful stranger he was beginning to think of as a friend. He reached under the bed and withdrew the book she had sent. There was no harm in reading it. It didn't mean he had to write her back. After clipping his reading light onto the book, he began to read. The following night, he wrote a letter to the author.
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Chapter Six May 2, 2005 San Francisco, California
"Since when did you start caring about what's happening over in Iraq?" Evan asked. The remote flew out of Rowan's hand. "Oh, hi, I didn't know you were home." She reached for the remote and directed her attention back to the news report. "And anyway, I've always cared about our troops. You know that." He stood in front of the TV. "As long as I've known you, you have steadfastly refused to watch the news. 'It's too depressing. I know there is violence in the world; I just don't need to have it shoved in my face every night,' you say. What gives, Row?" She peered up at him and blinked. "That doesn't mean I don't care. Besides, I think it's my duty as an American to know what's going on over there," she explained. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to catch the end of the news report. Dinner's in the oven. We'll eat when this is over." She waved him away from the television and turned up the volume. "Alright then, I guess you're not interested in today's mail. Or the letter from Iraq." Her heart accelerated. She muted the television. It was all she could do to stay seated. "Just leave it on the table. I'll look at it after dinner." Then she unmuted the TV and feigned interest in the rest of the news report. Over dinner, Evan chatted animatedly about his latest case. Apparently a high-ranking politician was being sued by his mistress for child support. Rowan had seen the allegations all over the news awhile back. "We go to trial next week," he said. 32
The Other Side of the World She smiled dutifully and nodded at the appropriate times, but it was the letter at the end of the dinner table that held her attention. She cast a glance to her right. "Row?" "Yeah, that sounds great, hon," she said automatically. "I asked how the next great American novel is coming along," he said. Her head snapped up. She searched her husband's face for a smirk or a grin but found no traces of sarcasm. At least he hadn't referred to it as a "girly book"" this time. "Oh, great," she said. "Except I've been struggling with a particular scene all week, one where the hero escapes from a POW camp." Evan cocked an eyebrow. "A POW camp in a girly book?" And there it was. "I thought maybe we could go hiking this weekend," she said while washing the dishes. "We haven't done that in a long time." Like years. "What do you think?" "Sounds great, sweetheart, but I can't this weekend. I'm leaving Friday night for Tahoe. I told you last week I was going fishing with the boys this weekend."" He most certainly had not mentioned it. "But you'll be home in time for dinner at my mother's Sunday night, won't you?" A blank look covered his face. Rowan's mouth fell open. She stopped scrubbing the pot she'd been working on. "Evan, it's my mother's birthday. Natalie and I are making dinner for her, remember? We talked about this a few days ago. It will very likely be her last birthday, and we want to make it special." Evan sighed heavily. "I'll try to make it, but I have to prep for court on Monday. You know 33
Evan sighed heavily. "I'll try to make it, but I have to prep for court Monday. know TheonOther SideYou of the World how tense I get the night before court." Rowan slapped the sponge down. "Do whatever you want to, Evan. You will anyway." Grabbing the letter off the table, she marched into the study, and closed—then locked——the door behind her. She sat at the computer and put her head in her hands. Her body trembled. She tried to corral her thoughts. Tried to puzzle out the scene she'd been stuck on for days, but she was too angry, too sad to write. Normally her emotions fueled her writing. In fact, she wrote her best work when she was able to feel what her characters felt. But tonight she was not able to channel her emotions into words. She lifted the picture of her and Evan on their honeymoon in Italy from the desk and curled into her favorite, overstuffed chair, tucking her legs underneath her. She looked down at the happy faces and tried to recall when she'd last felt that happy with him. Sadly, she could not. She remembered the first time she met him, the first time she'd kissed him, the first time she'd made love to him—all had happened when they were sixteen——but she could not remember the last time they'd really connected. Except when she wore the sexy lingerie he bought her for birthdays and anniversaries. And that wasn't the kind of connection she craved. Rowan put the picture down and turned her attention to the letter. When a month had gone by and she'd received no response to her letter, she wondered whether he had received it. When two months had passed, she wondered, with every news report of casualties in Iraq, whether Tanner had been among them. Tonight, as she held his letter in her hands, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he had been spared. Then she opened the letter and read.
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April 21, 2005 Dear Ms. McClain, Thank you for taking the time to write back, and for the care package. You are very blessed, indeed, to share such a rare and beautiful love with another human being. Your mother is equally blessed. I am truly sorry to hear about her diagnosis. Please know you have a friend on the other side of the world who cares. My relationship with my own mother (and father) was a complicated one. I grew up on a vineyard in northern California. Every year my father planted an acre of sunflowers—they were my mother's favorite—behind the house, with a patch of grass in the middle. When I was a boy, my mother and I would have picnics in the field. Sometimes my father would join us. While they talked, I would weave my way through the rows of flowers and watch my parents as they lay on their backs, staring up at the sky. Sometimes I'd even see them kissing. Life was good then. I was happy and innocent and in love with life. I was going to grow up to be a farmer, like my dad. Harvesting grapes and making wine. Or, maybe like my mother, running the business that has been in her family for three generations. I can remember the day, the exact moment in fact, when everything changed. It was my seventh birthday. As I'd done nearly every day of my life when my father came home from work, I ran down the long tree-lined driveway and chased his truck up the drive. He'd hop out of the truck, bend down and throw me over his shoulder, carrying me inside while I giggled with laughter. But that night, he pushed past me without acknowledging me or even wishing me a happy birthday. Dinner was strangely quiet and while my mother and I ate cake, my father drank from a bottle of what I now know was bourbon. All I knew then was that it made his breath smell bad. And it made him mean. 35
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There were no more picnics after that, and no more sunflowers. I learned to stay out of my father's way and to cover my ears when my parents fought. And to ignore the bruises on my mother's cheek. When I'd ask, she'd tell me that one day I would understand. That my father had seen and done things in the war (Viet Nam) that no man should have to see or do. That he was a hero. I later learned that my father was a tunnel rat in Nam, and that he'd killed a young boy he thought was holding a grenade but later learned it was a dead rat. It was dark in the tunnels, and he'd been taught to shoot first and ask questions after. He later learned the boy was seven years old. I guess something about my turning seven triggered the memory for him. On a certain level, I do understand. I've seen firsthand what the insurgents do to women and children (and animals). How they are shot and left to die along the roadside with bombs strapped onto them, hoping we will stop to help them and get blown to bits in the process. I understand what it's like to do things that, in the real world, you'd never be asked to do. I understand how all of that can mess with a man, change him. What I can't understand is how he could take his pain out on his family. One night, when I was sixteen, I came home from a night of partying with friends and found my father with his hands around my mother's throat. By then I was taller than my father by a few inches, and I was at least as angry as he was. I stepped between my parents and told my father that if he wanted to hit someone, to hit me. He did. He beat me up good that night. The following day, he checked himself into rehab. Things were better after he returned, but our family was never the same. I don't think my mother ever recovered from those years. I planned to join the military after high school, to get as far away from home as I could and never look back. But then I met Emily, my girlfriend in the last year of high school and first three years of college. She went to college in Boston. I tried to get 36
last year of high school and first three years of college. She went to college in Boston. I tried to get The Other Side of the World into BU but didn't have the grades, so I went to school locally. Our plan was for me to join the Army after college. Emily would travel the world with me as my wife. But then, I guess fate had other plans for us. And so, when my parents died during my senior year of college, I left school and joined the Army. I've been running ever since. From the anger, the bitterness, the loneliness. But the thing I'm learning is, no matter how far or how fast I run, those things are always with me. The bottom line is, people do things for reasons we can't always understand, and it isn't always necessary to understand in order to forgive (there's that word again). I'm still working on that part. But then, Rome wasn't built in a day. I've never told anyone my story before. Not even Emily. And frankly, I'm not exactly sure what compels me to share it with someone I've never even met. Perhaps that's what war does to a man. Makes him want to confess everything to a total stranger. Or maybe it's the fact that we've both experienced pain and loss and have survived to tell about it. Well, it's getting late and the sun will be coming up soon. I hope to hear from you again. In the meantime, I will keep you and your mother in my prayers. Sincerely, Guy PS I think our grandmothers were related. Mine was a hoot, to be sure. A smoker, a boozer and a legendary card shark. Couldn't have been more proud of her.
Rowan wiped a sleeve across her tear-stained cheeks, and then pressed the letter to her. She tried to imagine what it would've been like growing up in a family where you never felt safe. Or 37
tried to imagine what it would've been like growing up in a family where you never felt safe. Or The Other Side of the World loved. Or worse, to feel those things, only to have them taken away without notice. She understood the loneliness he spoke of. She experienced it every night as she lay beside a man she'd once known better than she'd known herself, but who had become a total stranger. A loneliness so thick it clung to her like a low lying fog. Before she knew it, her shoulders shook as fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks. She cried for the little boy Tanner had once been. She cried for his damaged father, and his mother, and for all they could've had if his father had learned to find solace, not in a bottle, but in the love of his family. And she cried for herself. For the fact that she still loved a man who, despite all the years they'd been together, seemed to have outgrown her. For the fact that she, too, was about to have the only family she'd ever known taken away from her. More than anything, she wanted to curl up in her mother's arms and stay there. She wanted to cry on her shoulder and hear her say, "It will be alright, sweetheart," as she had so many times before. Why, oh why, had she taken those moments for granted? Why hadn't she stored them up in her mind so she could retrieve them when she most needed them? Like right now. But it was her turn now to be strong for her mother, and she planned to make the most of the time they had left. She'd sort things out with Evan later. The following morning, as they brushed their teeth in tandem, Evan asked about the letter. "Was it from the same guy?" Rowan nodded, pretending to be disinterested in the conversation. She was, in fact, disinterested in anything he had to say. Evan watched her in the mirror, studied her like a legal brief. His lips curled into a foamy
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Evan watched her in the mirror, studied her like a legal brief. His lips curled into a foamy The Other Side of the World smile. "Isn't that cute. Rowan has herself a boyfriend." Writing the next letter proved difficult. Every time she tried, she'd hear Evan's voice in her head.
Isn't that cute. Rowan has herself a boyfriend. And she'd start over. She tried to think of something profound and interesting to write, but instead she wrote from the heart. Just as Tanner had done.
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Chapter Seven May 19, 2005 Baghdad, Iraq
The knock on the door sent Luke diving to the floor before realizing where he was. The knock sounded again. His heart thundered in his chest as he rose to his feet, crossed the room in two strides and snatched the door open. "When are you planning to tell her your name is not T. Fournier?" Talia shoved the box into his chest like a quarterback feeding the ball to his receiver. Heat traveled from Luke's neck to his face. He grinned sheepishly. "I was going to...but then I thought she would think it was cowardly of me to have used a false name in the first place." Besides, he'd decided, there was comfort in the anonymity. Talia stood, hands on hips, and studied him. "Okay, but I get half of what's in there from now on. And I get to pick my half first." Luke considered the offer and nodded. "Deal." They opened the box and split the contents. Luke protested over Talia taking the pistachios, but he didn't really care. All he cared about was the letter. Since he'd written her the last time, he'd second-guessed himself. Again. The last letter had been even more personal than the first one. A lot more personal. Had he gone too far? Revealed too much? He really needed to learn to wait a day or two before mailing the next letter. If there was a next one. But as he held her letter in his hand, he knew there would be. It wasn't until after he''d sent the last one that he'd realized how much he was coming to depend on her. She was his only connection to the outside, but more than 40
Sidebut of more the World much he was coming to depend on her. She was his only connection The to theOther outside, than that, she was becoming a confidant. A friend. After Talia left, he ripped open the envelope.
May 5, 2005 Dear Guy, Thank you for trusting me enough to share your story with me. It takes courage to face our demons head on and to break down the walls we've erected to protect our hearts. Your letter made me realize that I've done the same thing with my own heart. My mother jokes about her impending death, uses it to get what she wants (and trust me, it works). I bristle when she makes jokes, and then she reminds me that her sense of humor is part of who she is. And she'll ask me, "Should I just shrivel up and die?" And I realize she is at peace with her diagnosis. It is I who am not. I keep thinking, if I just pretend everything is okay, then maybe one day it will be. That this will all have just been a bad dream. Rationally I know that's not possible, but sometimes being with her, being "present" with her, is more than I can bear. It is at those times I am especially grateful for my sister, ever the pragmatist, despite the fact that we are about as different as siblings can be. Natalie is driven and intellectual, like my father; I'm sensitive and emotional (and occasionally funny), like my mother. I did my obligatory duty and went to college. While my overachieving sister went to medical school, I studied accounting and worked for a large CPA firm for a few years before landing a contract with a publisher and leaving corporate America behind for good. Now I write "girly books" for a living (this you already know), as my family calls them (except my mother, who loves a good romance novel). I write books and do taxes. Isn't that special? 41
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Aside from that, I guess my life is pretty tame, so I live vicariously through my characters— their lives are so much more interesting than mine! By the way, my mother said that the next time I write, I am to tell my new friend hello. So hello (and goodnight), my new friend. Stay safe and keep in touch. Sincerely, R.J McClain PS Happy Cinco de Mayo (do they celebrate that there?)
Never in his life had Luke felt such an immediate emotional connection to another person. Though he had no idea what the R in R.J. stood for (Rachel? Robin? Riley?), he knew her heart. He knew she was sensitive, vulnerable, and emotional, but she was also smart, funny, and playful. It didn''t hurt that she was also beautiful.
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Chapter Eight
Over the summer, insurgent activity increased, making for long days and short nights. On July 16, a suicide bomber detonated his explosive belt in a crowded marketplace thirty-five miles outside of Baghdad just as a tanker carrying cooking gas was passing by. The blast killed more than a hundred people and set off an inferno that destroyed dozens of buildings, including a mosque where worshippers were emerging after evening prayers. Another suicide bomber, trailing a US military convoy near Baghdad, triggered his device just as two minibuses carrying Iraqi civilians were passing. Eleven civilians were killed, nine wounded. In early August, a six-man Marine sniper unit was attacked by a large insurgent force. All six Marines were killed. Two days later, the Marines launched Operation Quick Strike in an effort to find the insurgents responsible. On day one, forty insurgents were killed. On day two, a Marine amphibious assault vehicle carrying sixteen men hit a roadside bomb. Fifteen Marines were killed; the other received third-degree burns on the majority of his body. In late August, nearly a thousand civilians were killed in a stampede on the Al-Aimmah Bridge in Baghdad. Rumors of an imminent suicide bomb attack spread like wildfire through the crowd of a million people marching toward the Al Kadhimiya Mosque. On September 1, the US Army, in conjunction with the New Iraqi Army, launched a military offensive against Al Qaeda insurgents in response to the growing increase of insurgent attacks against the US. The mission was to destroy suspected insurgents' base of operations in the city of Tal Afar. Though the initial fighting was heavy, the operation was declared finished by midSeptember. 43
The Other Side of the World During this time, Luke and R.J. exchanged a few more letters. More and more, he found himself looking forward to mail call. Or mail delivery, as it was, from Talia. In between, he took to re-reading her previous letters. Despite the escalating violence in the region—or maybe because of it—when he did write, Luke kept the tone of his letters upbeat and playful, and R.J. responded in kind. One day in early October, Luke received word that a high-value target—a Saddam Hussein sympathizer who was purportedly responsible for a rash of suicide bombings—had been spotted in the affluent district of Karrada. Luke and his men were sent out on what was commonly known as a ""knock and talk" to gather intel on the whereabouts of their suspect. The convoy split up. Each four-man team was assigned a specific area and would conduct interviews with local residents using an interpreter. By late afternoon, exhausted from the intense heat and frustrated from the lack of cooperation, Luke's team arrived at their final destination for the day. As they approached the house, three children stood in the courtyard. The oldest of the boys stepped forward. "Welcome," the boy said. "Welcome," Luke said, without help from the interpreter. "How are you today?" "Praise be to Allah," the boy said. "Praise be to Allah. Do you play soccer?" Luke asked. The boy nodded. "Are these your brothers?" "Yes...brothers." The boy pointed to each one. "Abid, Dabir. I am Abdul."" 44
The Other Side of the World "I am pleased to meet you, Abdul. My name is Luke." "Luke." Now with the help of the interpreter, Luke asked Abdul whether his father was at home. The boy shook his head. "My father." Abdul rubbed his wrists together as if he was handcuffed. "The Americans took him away." "Did your father shoot at Americans?" Luke asked, again through the interpreter. "No. Do you want to come in the house, where our mother is?" "Who else is inside the house?" Luke asked. "Nobody." Abdul was quick to respond. A little too quick, perhaps. "No uncles or other friends visiting?" Abdul exchanged glances with his brothers. "Would you like some tea?" he asked. "Yes, I would like tea. Shokran." A slow smile met the boy's lips. "Okay. My brothers and I will go get tea." When Abdul and his brothers went inside the house, Luke and one of his men went around to the back of the house while the other two stayed in front. A curtain covered one of the rear windows. Through the other, they could see the kitchen. They crouched low and watched as one of the younger boys poured tea. He placed the cups on a tray and carried it out of the kitchen, with the other brother in tow. Abdul lagged behind. When he was alone in the kitchen, he climbed onto the counter, reached into a cabinet and withdrew an AK-47. Luke shouted to Specialist Martin Gray to stay put, and radioed his men in front. Within seconds, two men emerged from the back of the house and took off running. Both were armed. 45
seconds, two men emerged from the back of the house and took off running. Both were armed. The Other Side of the World Luke and Martin gave chase, but before they were even out of the yard, one of the men turned and began to fire. Luke fired back and the man went down, but not before a bullet hit Luke's right bicep. He stumbled as the second man took aim, but Martin released several rounds and the gunfight was over. By the time they made their way to the front of the house, Abdul was in a standoff with Luke's other men. "Abdul, the two men you were hiding have fled. They are safe. Put your weapon down and we will let you go," Luke said via the interpreter. "I heard gunfire," Abdul said. "They are dead. I know they are. And you killed them." He turned the assault rifle on Luke. Luke peered through the scope of his M-4, his eyes trained on Abdul's trigger finger. "No," he said to the boy. "You are wrong. They shot me, and they got away. Look at my arm. I'm telling you the truth. Put down your weapon, Abdul. This is your last warning." Luke watched as the boy's trigger finger began to squeeze. He held his breath, pleading to God, and Allah, that the boy would change his mind. The boy's finger squeezed harder on the trigger. Five shots rang out simultaneously. Four shots lifted the boy's body into the air before dropping him into a heap onto the scorched patch of earth that made up the front yard. One struck Luke in the center of the chest.
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Chapter Nine
Luke stood in the center of the yard, his weapon trained on Abdul. When Luke looked through the scope, the two brothers stood behind Abdul. Both held weapons. Luke looked up, looked around. Where had they come from? They hadn't been there a moment ago. Moreover, where had his men gone? He peered through the scope again. Three more boys appeared. Now there were six, each one with a weapon aimed at him. Abdul laughed. "Big, brave soldier. All alone with no one to protect him. What are you going to do now, American?" Without warning or provocation, Luke fired his weapon at the boy. He went down, but his laughter did not stop. Luke fired again. The laughing stopped. He took aim at the next boy, and was about to fire when he noticed the boy no longer held a weapon. He held a rat. Luke glanced up. There were now more boys than he could count. Each held a dead rat in his hands. He tried to scream but the sound caught in his throat. He clutched his chest. His heart beat wildly beneath his hand. "Luke." The voice was out of place. A woman's voice. "Luke." His eyes snapped open. He stared up at a figure above him. He knew her, but he could not
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His eyes snapped open. He stared up at a figure above him. He knew her, but he could not The Other Side of the World place her. He gripped her arm and pulled himself up, and then cried out in pain. Sweat poured down his back. "Luke, it's me, Talia. You had a bad dream, but you're fine now." He fell back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. The echo of his heart beat loudly in his ears. Talia rested her hand on his and he grabbed onto it. His chest jerked up and down as he tried to catch his breath. He felt a cool hand press against his forehead. "Roddy, give me a hand here," Talia said. "Luke, let's get you up."" With assistance, Luke sat up and looked around. He was in his own bed. Remnants of the nightmare still clung to him. He shook his head, hoping the memory of it would leave him, and wishing it had only been a bad dream. But it hadn't been a dream. He'd really killed Abdul. He could feel the black mark it had left on his soul. It wasn't the first time Luke had discharged his weapon. It wasn't the first time he'd been shot at. But it was the first time he''d killed a child. "Against my better judgment, I let you come back here last night rather than staying overnight in medical, but it appears you've developed a fever." She stuck a thermometer into his mouth. He pulled it out. "I'm not going back there. Just give me something for it and I'll be fine." She shoved the thermometer back in and eased him back against the pillows. "Just relax while I check your wounds." Talia whistled at the thermometer. "A hundred two. The good news is that the wound on your arm is clean. No infection. And the bruising on your chest will heal. You're lucky Abdul had good aim. Got you square in the center of your vest."" "Yeah." Roddy clutched his bicep. "And lucky the other bastard had bad aim." 48
The Other Side of the World "Yeah, real lucky," Luke muttered. Over the next few days, Luke's fever rose and fell, finally breaking on day four. He rose from the bed and tried to put on his uniform but was unable to lift his shirt over his head. Frustrated, he sat back down, winded from the experience. The nightmare he had the first night returned the following night, and every night after that. Roddy would sit up with him and they would talk through it, but nothing Roddy said made Luke feel better. "You had no choice. It was you or him," Roddy would say. Or, "All four of you fired, Luke, not just you." And even, "He was thirteen. In this land, he is considered a man, not a boy." Luke loved Roddy for trying to help. And on a conscious level, Luke even agreed with him. They were the exact words Luke would say to his own men in the same situation. But on a deeper level, he knew this experience had changed him. Over the next week, Luke avoided sleep as much as he could. He stayed up late, reading. He finally finished the Harry Bosch novel he'd started the previous Christmas. He read the first two Lincoln Lawyer books. He even read another romance novel, but all it did was make him miss R.J. It had been several weeks since he'd written her. He wanted to, but he wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to tell her what had happened. Wanted to hear her say it was alright. That he would be alright. But he knew he could never speak about the events of that day. What he could tell her, however, was that he finally understood his father. Really understood him. She would know what he meant. Before he lost his nerve, he drew out a sheet of paper and began to write.
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Chapter Ten October 22, 2005 San Francisco, California
Rowan set the pastrami sandwiches on the counter of the Pacific Heights home where she'd grown up and called to her mother. No answer. She called again. The thump of the ceiling fan in the kitchen was the only sound to greet her. A current of fear pulsed through her.
Oh, God, no. She tore up the stairs to her mother's room. The sight of her mother's slender form curled under the covers both alarmed and calmed her. "Mom!" She rushed to the bed. Her mother blinked awake and smiled. Rowan released a pent-up breath. "Mom, are you okay?" Marie Nolen nodded, still groggy from sleep. "What time is it?" Rowan placed a hand on her mother's forehead. "It's after noon. I brought lunch, like we talked about this morning. You''re burning up, Mom. We need to get you to the hospital." Normally they went out to lunch on Saturdays, but this week her mother suggested they eat in. Rowan had noticed her mother slowing down over the past couple of months, but had never 52
Rowan had noticed her mother slowing down over the past couple of months, but had never The Other Side of the World known her to take to her bed in the middle of the day. Her mother lay back down. "I just need to rest awhile. You go ahead and eat, sweetheart." Rowan's chest tightened. She kissed her mother's cheek and quietly left the room. Downstairs, she pulled out her cell phone and called her sister. "What do you mean, she has a temperature?" Natalie asked in a tight voice. "What is it? Did you take it?" Rowan's throat constricted. "Well, no, I didn't. She was really out of it so I just touched her forehead. Nat, she's burning up. Her cheeks are flushed and she didn't even remember our conversation from this morning." "Okay, listen to me. When I hang up, I want you to call 911. Put a sweater on Mom and stay with her until the paramedics get there. I'm going to pack an overnight bag and I'll meet you at the hospital. I'll be there in about an hour." "She's going to be alright, isn't she?" After a long pause, she asked again. "Nat, tell me she's going to be alright." "I'll see you in an hour, Row." And she hung up. Nurses bustled around the emergency room like army ants, running test after test, but three hours later, they still hadn't spoken to the doctor. Finally, a short, round man with a horseshoe of hair appeared, chart in hand, and ushered them into the hallway. "As you know," Dr. Goldberg began, "your mother's cancer has spread to the lungs—" The doctor's words were like a punch to the stomach. Rowan turned sharply to her sister. "No, I didn't know that. Did you?"" Color filled her sister's cheeks. "I...yes...I''m sorry, Row. Mom didn't want you to know." 53
The Other Side of the World It was just like her mother to want to protect her, despite the fact that Rowan was a grown woman. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. "You okay?" Natalie asked. Rowan's head bobbed. Natalie turned back to Dr. Goldberg. "Please continue." "Right. Well, as I was saying, your mother's lung function is already compromised because of the cancer, which makes treating pneumonia a bit more challenging." Rowan drew in a sharp breath. "Pneumonia? Oh God, will she be okay?" Dr. Goldberg tilted his head and considered the question for what felt like a century. Rowan wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake the answer out of him. "It's difficult to say," he said at last. "We''re going to move her to intensive care, unless..." He quirked an eyebrow at Natalie. "Dr. Forbes," he said, ""does your mother have a DNR?" Natalie's eyes flicked over her sister's and then back to the doctor. "I am the power of attorney for my mother's health care matters. Please do everything you can for her." While they waited for their mother to get settled into the ICU, Rowan texted Evan. "My mother is in the hospital, in the ICU. I won't be home tonight. R." The drone of machines filled the air in the ICU. Marie Nolen rested comfortably as the sisters sat side by side in companionable silence while they waited for their mother to wake up. Rowan checked her phone for a response from Evan. There was none. "What's Prince Charming doing tonight?" Natalie asked. Evan had earned the nickname on their wedding day as the handsome couple left the church in a horse-drawn carriage. But lately, Natalie's use of the name, or maybe it was the tone in which 54
in a horse-drawn carriage. But lately, Natalie's use of the name, or maybe was the tone in which The itOther Side of the World she used it, was a little more derogatory. Not that it wasn't deserved. Rowan glanced at the clock above her mother's bed. It was after seven. "Well, he played basketball with the boys this afternoon. I texted that I won't be home tonight, so my guess is, he's probably out drinking with the boys." Natalie expelled a long breath. "I figured when he didn't come for Mom's birthday there was trouble in paradise, but I haven''t wanted to ask." "I haven't wanted to ask either," Rowan said. The sisters' laughing roused their mother from her slumber. She lifted the oxygen mask from her face and smiled at her girls. "What's all the racket?"" The following afternoon, Rowan went home to shower and change clothes before she returned to the hospital. She'd convinced Natalie to go home to be with her kids while Rowan stayed with their mother. They agreed to switch off nights thereafter. Her stomach dipped as she turned the key in the lock. She hadn't heard from Evan all night. She'd even sent him a second text. And she had no idea what to expect from him now. She pushed open the door and waited. Nothing happened. She went in. "Evan?" she called. No response. She released a pent-up breath and locked the door behind her. Things weren't bad between them, exactly. They chatted over dinner, usually about Evan's work, but other than that, they simply moved about in quiet efficiency, each doing their own thing. And as long as Rowan made dinner every night and occasionally wore the Victoria's Secret lingerie he continued to bring home, there were no arguments. There would be. One day they would have a long overdue "come to Jesus" discussion about their marriage and their future, but it would not be today. She was not ready to lose her marriage and her mother at the same time. 55
The Other Side of the World After showering and changing, she wrote a quick note—"Went back to the hospital for a while. Will be home for dinner. R"—and was almost out the door when she saw the letter. Evan had attached a Post-it, on which he''d written, "A letter from your boyfriend." Underneath the note, he'd drawn a smiley face. Rowan snatched the letter from the table and left the house.
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The Other Side of the World
Chapter Eleven
When Rowan arrived at the hospital, Natalie was crocheting while their mother slept beside her. Rowan listened to the sound of her mother's breath. "She sounds better." For the past couple of days, all she'd heard was ragged, phlegmy wheezing. "The respiratory therapist was just here," Natalie explained, not looking up from her crocheting. "Still, she sounds better. Don't you think?" Natalie looked up from the afghan she was making. "Don't get your hopes up, Row. It's only been two days. It's going to be a long road. If she recovers at all, it will be a miracle." Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. "Stop talking like that." Natalie's brow furrowed. "Like what?" "Like a...doctor. Someone who doesn't love Mom like we do. And don't ever talk like that in front of her!" Her sister opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and resumed her crocheting. Natalie was a civilian doctor for the military. She saw patients every day who had survived the horrors in Iraq. "You're a doctor, Nat. Surely you've seen a miracle."" Natalie's hands stilled. She pushed out a heavy sigh and nodded. "I see them every day." When she met her sister's eyes, they shone with tears. "And you're right. I'm sorry. Mom's going to be fine." 58
The Other Side of the World Rowan's lip quivered. "Promise?" "Yeah, I promise." Rowan sniffled. Taking the seat next to her sister, she opened the newspaper and began reading reports from Iraq. Since becoming friends with Tanner, she'd become mildly obsessed about watching news reports. She'd even subscribed to the daily newspaper. "Look." The newspaper collapsed on Rowan's lap and a smile filled her face. "Hi, sleepy head. How are you feeling today?" Her mother pointed to the newspaper. "Look." Rowan held up the paper. "Look at what?" she asked. Her mother shook her head. "Look." Rowan glanced at Natalie, who shrugged. "He's okay?" Marie Nolen asked. "Who, Mom? Is who okay?" Her mother's lips pursed. She looked as if she was searching for the right words. "Tanner," she said at last. "Oh, yes. He's fine. In fact, I got a letter from him today. Do you want me to read it?" Her mother nodded emphatically. Rowan unfolded the letter and read it aloud.
October 14, 2005 59
The Other Side of the World
Dear R.J., I apologize for the delay in responding to your last letter. If you've been following the war on the news, you probably already know that things have been a tad bit...busy...around here for some time now. On the one hand, it makes the time go by fast. On the other, we've lost a lot of good men. Too many. With each loss, it becomes harder and harder to remember life "outside the wire." And then I think about my father, and I can hear his voice saying, "Son, I had to hike through dense jungles and shimmy through narrow, slimy tunnels, sleep on the cold, hard ground in the pouring rain, and eat C-rations. You sleep in a real bed every night, eat three squares a day—not to mention the truckloads of food in those care packages you all receive—and get to take a hot shower every day. Quit your complaining." And I laugh because he would be right (except about the hot water), and I wish I could hear his voice saying those things to me for real. Wish he would be waiting for me when I get home. Wish I could tell him I'm sorry. For what he endured in Nam, for what he suffered afterward. For not understanding. Because I do understand now. Most of all I would tell him I love him. On a lighter note, I've been enjoying a few days of much needed rest. Today I slept in (until 0700), ate my three squares (don't you just love military slang?), and officiated the Indy-500 (remote-controlled) car race at the Camp Liberty Speedway (it was that or watch The Sound of Music in the outdoor theater). As I lay here on my bed—the door and window open—it is at least a hundred degrees (and it's after eleven at night). I close my eyes and try to remember the cool Northern California nights. Why, you must be downright freezing about now in San Francisco! Anyway, I guess it's time to hit the rack (sorry, can't help myself). I hope your mother is still 60
Other of theis World Anyway, I guess it's time to hit the rack (sorry, can't help myself).The I hope yourSide mother still
keeping you entertained. Please tell her your friend on the other side of the world says hello. And goodbye (for now). Write soon. Sincerely, Guy
"Nice to know I keep you entertained," her mother said. Rowan placed the oxygen mask over her mother's mouth and nose, planted a kiss on her cheek and whispered into her ear. "Always, Mom." It wasn't until the following night, after Natalie had gone home and her mother was sleeping, that Rowan got the chance to read the letter again. Something Tanner said had bothered her since she'd read it the first time, but she could not put her finger on it. It was on the second read through that she got it.
Because I do understand now. Her mouth went dry. She read it again.
Because I do understand now. Did it mean what she thought it meant? Was he telling her he'd killed a child? Her breath came in shallow puffs as she tried to grasp the magnitude of it, but instinctively she knew she never would. She wanted to put her arms around him and tell him it was okay. It would be okay. While her mother slept, Rowan tried to summon the right words to use in her response. Should she ask him about it? Would he want to talk about it? Would he even be allowed to talk about it? She guessed no on all three counts. 61
The Other Side of the World Humor. Whatever had happened, he hadn't lost his sense of humor, which was a good sign. She would respond in kind. She knew his time there would soon be coming to an end. She would remind him of everything he had to come home to. Including her. Evan's words popped into her head.
Rowan has herself a boyfriend. Tanner could never be more than a friend, but one thing was certain. This anonymous soldier had become important to her, and she wanted to make sure he knew it.
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Chapter Twelve October 31, 2005 Baghdad, Iraq
October was holy month in Iraq. Ramadan. As expected, the number of insurgent attacks increased during this period because of the belief among the insurgent forces that fighting during Islam's holy month puts a believer especially close to God. By the end of the month, the troops were all battle weary and exhausted. The letter was waiting on his pillow when he got back to his room. Next to the letter was a Ghirardelli chocolate bar with nuts. Affixed to the bar was a Post-it. "Your share of the care package." Luke shook his head and grinned. He knew he was being hoodwinked, but he didn't care. All he wanted was the letter. Though it had only been a couple of weeks since he'd mailed his last letter to her, he still found himself disappointed every time Talia stopped by empty-handed. Since the shooting, his dreams had been plagued by nightmares that included some variation of the boy, Luke's father, and rats—both dead and alive. Sometimes he woke up screaming. Sometimes, like last night, Roddy woke him up. Every night, he woke up thinking of R.J. Wanting to talk to her. Needing to hear her talk about ordinary things. Later that night, when Roddy was asleep, Luke read the letter.
October 25, 2005
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The Other Side of the World
Dear Guy, I was very relieved to get your letter. Every night when I watch the news and hear about US casualties in Iraq, my heart sinks. I hold my breath every time I pull open the post office box, praying for word that you're okay. Today it finally came. I'm so glad you're alright. Hopefully your deployment will be coming to an end soon. I'm sure you can hardly wait to leave that place behind. Unless, of course, you're considering another tour (you're not, are you?). In your last letter, you mentioned that sometimes it's hard to remember what life is like "outside the wire." As your friend, I consider it my duty to remind you of what life is like here on the other side of the world. Here are but a few of the things waiting for you upon your return. You've mentioned that food is plentiful there, but when was the last time you had a slice of piping hot pizza with cheese oozing down the side (and a cold beer to go with it)? Or a bowl of fresh pasta with garlic bread? Or even a cup of real coffee and a warm pastry? You mentioned the lack of hot water and the constant chatter of machine gun fire. When was the last time you soaked in a hot tub and put on clothing of your own choice (something that isn't tan or green)? Or walked along the ocean, listening to the sound of waves crashing in? Or closed your eyes and heard nothing, except maybe the sweet sound of a bird's song? You've mentioned the limited entertainment choices at Camp Liberty. When was the last time you went for an evening stroll with a friend, or hung out and listened to music, or sat in a cool movie theater on a hot afternoon, watching a movie (something other than The Sound of Music—which, by the way, happens to be my favorite movie) and eating popcorn? In all seriousness, I realize it will take time for you to readjust to life in a civilized world. What you've experienced has of course changed you. But you're also coming home a stronger, more sure version of yourself. The world is your oyster, as they say. And you will have at least one 64
The you Other World more sure version of yourself. The world is your oyster, as they say. And willSide haveofatthe least one
person waiting to meet you. But for now I must bid you good night. My mother is demanding chocolate pudding. I must put on my fur-lined boots and don my parka before heading out into the frigid night air to forage for pudding. So good night, my friend. Stay safe and write soon. Sincerely, R.J.
Before putting the letter in the drawer with the others, Luke read it a few more times, pleased to read that R.J. had been worried about him. Pleased that she'd thought about him. Pleased that she wanted to meet him.
You will have at least one friend waiting to meet you. Luke wanted to do all the things she'd mentioned. And he wanted to do them with her. He closed his eyes and imagined sitting across the table from her at a small, intimate café, a steaming cup of hot coffee in his hands, a warm crisp chocolate croissant resting on the plate before him. He couldn''t imagine anything better. Or anything more unrealistic. Still holding the letter, Luke lay back on his bed and stared up at the water-stained ceiling. R.J. was kind and beautiful and funny, but he hadn't forgotten she was married. He'd tried to, though. Had allowed himself to get swept up in the moment, and had foolishly believed she felt something for him too. But now, faced with the reality of going home, he could see the futility of the situation.
You will have at least one person waiting to meet you. 65
The Other Side of the World But there would be no intimate meeting in a café. There would be no meeting, period. No matter how much he'd come to feel for her. And he had, far more than he was willing to admit, even to himself. He tried to convince himself it was just the situation. That he'd exaggerated his feelings for her because he was lonely. That in the real world they'd have nothing in common. But nothing could be further from the truth. He was in love with her. And his feelings had nothing to do with his present situation. Outside the open window, Luke could hear a group of men arguing about whether the guy wearing the Saddam Hussein costume really deserved to win the grand prize. "It's so last year," one of the men said, reminding Luke that it was Halloween. In twenty-five days, he'd be here a year, which meant he'd be leaving soon. Strangely, he had mixed feelings about it. He would be leaving a different man, a better man, but at the end of the day he still had no one to return home to, and there were so many men here who did. He thought about getting out of the Army, returning to the family business, but if he signed up for another tour, he might be able to spare one man's family—his wife and children—from the fate that had befallen too many of his comrades this past year. And it might just prevent him from making a fool of himself with a woman he could never have. Luke paced the length of the small room; his heart accelerated with every step. Until recently, he hadn't thought about re-upping. But then, nobody thought the war would go on this long, especially since Saddam Hussein's capture. Now, however, it seemed likely that the war would continue for some time to come. And men all around him, including Roddy, were talking about coming back. At first, Luke scoffed at the idea. He couldn't wait to get out of this hellhole. To go home and start living. Really living. But the truth was, he'd never felt more alive than he had in the past year. 66
of past the World start living. Really living. But the truth was, he'd never felt more alive The than Other he hadSide in the year. He belonged here. And his men needed him. But this time, he would do it with no distractions. He sat down on the bed and withdrew the notebook from his bedside table. He had to write her. Now, while he had the courage. He had to tell her of his decision. Thank her for her friendship, and for giving him the courage to do what needed to be done. And ask her not to write anymore. When he finished writing the letter, he slid it into an envelope but did not address it. He'd planned to sign his real name to the letter, but perhaps now it would be best to let her continue to think he was Captain T. Fournier, thus ensuring she would never be able to look him up. But he wasn't ready to do it yet, wasn't ready to let her go completely, so he placed the envelope into his bedside table, unaddressed for now, and slipped his earphones on. Peter Cetera picked up where he'd left off last, talking about needing someone to count on. Luke had needed someone to count on. And for the past year, it had been R.J. But now he had to let her go, and learn once more to count on himself. He'd always been a loner anyway, had learned at a young age that he couldn't count on anyone but himself. So why was it so hard to do so now? He'd come here expecting a lot of things to happen: deprivation, loss, injury, maybe even death. But he'd never expected to fall in love. And despite the fact that it hurt like hell to love someone who could never love him back, Luke wouldn''t trade the experience for anything. It'd been a relief to know he could fall in love again. And when he'd finished his time here, however many tours it took to restore peace to this land, he would go home with an open heart, and maybe one day he'd find someone to love. For the next three weeks, the letter sat in the drawer. He'd picked it up a few times, but in the end he decided to wait and mail it on the day he left Camp Liberty to return to the States. That 67
Other Side of theThat World end he decided to wait and mail it on the day he left Camp Liberty toThe return to the States. way, there was zero chance she could get a letter back to him before he left.
Replacement troops arrived the week before Lieutenants Cartwright and Rodriguez were due to leave, and time passed quickly as they got the new men up to speed. The night before they were due to depart, Luke and Roddy, joined by Talia, went to the officers' club to celebrate. Talia raised her glass of sparkling cider. "Here's to not seeing your ugly mugs anymore." With only fifty general surgeons and fifteen orthopedic surgeons serving approximately 140,000 troops in Iraq, tour times were being extended for Army doctors. Luke knew Talia didn't mind. She thrived on her work here. Said it made her feel closer to Eric, the man she'd loved. A fellow Army doctor, Eric had been stationed in Fallujah, and had been killed in a roadside bombing on his way to help injured soldiers two months before Talia was due to arrive here. "Actually," Luke lifted his glass, "with any luck, we'll be seeing you again soon." Talia's head jerked up. "No." She looked from Luke to Roddy. "Both of you?" The two men grinned. "Hooah," Roddy said. "What does Tina have to say about it?" Talia asked. Roddy gripped his glass and guzzled the contents. "You haven't told her yet, have you?" Talia asked. Roddy stared into the empty glass and shook his head. "Most of the battalion is re-upping. I can't let the team down. God, country, family. Right?" He looked to Luke. "I stepped up so you wouldn't have to," Luke said. "You have a new baby on the way, and two other kids who need you. The guys will understand. Besides," he smirked, "I'm twice the soldier you are. No one will even notice you''re not here." 68
The Other Side of the World Talia slapped her glass on the bar. "A short but productive shore leave, I see," she said of Roddy's long weekend in Germany the previous spring. ""Good job, Lieutenant." The three of them laughed and toasted to a friendship that had begun at Baghdad International Airport one year before. All three had arrived armed and prepared to do battle, and the enemy had not disappointed any of them. "Promise me one thing, Roddy," Talia said. "Go home and hold your new daughter in your arms before you make your decision."" Roddy nodded, and in his eyes Luke could see doubt. And fear. Lieutenant Angel Rodriguez did not want to come back. It was as plain as the nose on his face.
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Chapter Thirteen Thanksgiving Day, 2005 Baghdad, Iraq
Luke arose before the dawn. He showered and dressed before returning to his room to pack the last of his belongings. In the split second it took to open the door, Luke would remember hearing three things simultaneously: the sound of bugles trumpeting the morning reveille; the sound of Roddy's alarm clock going off; the deafening sound of a mortar rocket as it struck the ground behind their trailer. What Luke saw in that split second would also be permanently etched in his mind: the window being blown off its hinges; the wall behind their beds bursting from its seams; Roddy sailing through the air as though he'd been shot from a canon. What Luke didn't see was the five-inch slice of shrapnel that had lodged itself into his left leg, just below the knee. Everything that happened afterward was a blur: Luke sprinting toward Roddy, who had landed in a heap some fifty feet from the trailer. Luke lifting his friend off the ground and sprinting toward medical, despite his severely injured leg. The look of horror on Talia's face when she saw them both. The medical team hopped into action, placing each man on a gurney and wheeling them into separate bays. Luke tried to sit up but Talia pushed him down. He grabbed her arm and drew her close. "Forget about me. Go save Roddy. He has a family who needs him." "Luke, I'm the only one who can save your leg. Roddy's in good hands with Dr. Whitaker." 70
The Other Side of the World A woman in scrubs rushed into the room. "Dr. Fournier, Dr. Whitaker needs you. Stat." Luke could see the uncertainty in her eyes. He grabbed her arm roughly. "Go! I mean it, Talia. If there's a choice to make here, choose him." Talia jumped into action. "Push ten cc's of morphine and tend to his other wounds. Tourniquet the leg and I'll be back as soon as I can,"" she said to a man in scrubs. She turned to Luke. "You hang in there. I'll be back as soon as I can. And don't worry. You''re going to be fine." For Luke, it wasn't himself he was worried about. *** Talia fingered the two-inch square photo of R.J. McClain. The picture had been found in the detritus left behind in the emergency bay after Lieutenant Cartwright had been medevaced to the nearest Army Combat Support Hospital in Baghdad. She'd wanted to go see him before he was transferred to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany, but between the explosion that had wounded him and an increase in casualties resulting from a sudden spike in insurgent activity, she had been unable to see him before he left Iraq. She'd been surprised to find the photo. She knew Luke had been corresponding with the author, but despite the fact Talia had teased him about her, she hadn't realized he'd actually developed feelings for the woman. But if Talia had learned anything in her time here, it was that everyone needed a reason to keep on fighting. Someone to keep fighting for. Perhaps R.J. McClain had been Luke's reason. Talia touched the bottom right corner of the photo, which had been neatly severed by a fragment of shrapnel. Dried blood spatter dotted the face of the beautiful young woman. She looked just the type Talia would picture for Luke. Sweet, sensitive, caring. And after having read
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looked just the type Talia would picture for Luke. Sweet, sensitive, caring. And after having read The Other Side of the World the woman's books, Talia could tell R.J. McClain was all of those things. At the knock on her door, Talia placed the photo in her bedside table. She'd figure out what to do with it later. "Come in," she called. The young man who appeared before her looked like a boy. A sergeant by rank, he was probably in his mid-twenties, but Talia felt old enough to be his mother. Though she was only thirty, she'd experienced enough hardship for two lifetimes, not the least of which was losing Eric. "What can I do for you, Sergeant Dalton?" she asked. The young man stepped cautiously forward, a shopping bag in his extended arm. "Hello, Captain Fournier, ma'am. These items were found in Lieutenant Cartwright's old room. I know you two were...friends, and I thought you might know what to do with them?" Talia reached for the bag and peered at the contents. A handful of books, a few letters, a notebook, and an iPod with a cracked screen stared back at her. "Thank you, Sergeant," she said. "That will be all." Sergeant Dalton saluted Talia and made a hasty retreat. When the door closed behind him, Talia removed the items from the bag. There were several letters from R.J. McClain, and a blank envelope that contained several sheets of paper. Talia unfolded the pages and began to read, stopping quickly when she realized it was a letter from Luke to R.J. Refolding the pages, Talia leaned back against the wall and puzzled over the unsent letter, dated October 31. Three weeks before the explosion. Why hadn't he sent it? He hadn't even addressed the envelope. Was he going to finally tell R.J. his real name? Had he told her of his plans to sign up for another tour? Did she have feelings for him, too? The pages of the letters would most likely reveal the answers, but Talia would not invade Luke's privacy. She shoved the
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would most likely reveal the answers, but Talia would not invade Luke's privacy. She shoved the The Other Side of the World letters, along with the photo, into one of the books and pushed them to the back of the drawer in her bedside table. She would decide what to do about the unsent letter later.
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Chapter Fourteen
Luke dreamed he was in a field of sunflowers. He could see his parents lying on a blanket as he wove between the giant stalks, never straying too far for fear he'd lose sight of them. He ran and ran until he was breathless. A sharp pain radiated from his ankle up to his knee and he lost his footing. As he tumbled to the ground, he reached for his foot but it was not there. He sat up, looked down at his legs and screamed at the bloody stump that used to be his left leg. "Lieutenant Cartwright." The female voice was not his mother's. A gentle hand caressed his shoulder, shook him gently. "Lieutenant Cartwright," the voice called again. Luke's eyes snapped open. He stared up at the plaster ceiling as sweat trickled down his temples. A face appeared above him. A pretty face. A kind face. The woman bent down and helped Luke to sit up. He took in his surroundings. He was in a hospital. And then he remembered. The explosion. The pain in his leg. Roddy. "Lieutenant Angel Rodriguez," Luke said. "We were injured in Iraq. Is he...did he..." Luke tossed off the covers and tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed, but a jolt of pain laid him flat. He sat up again, determined to get to Roddy, and that's when he saw it. The bandage. The stump. The look of pity on the nurse''s face. Luke lay back down and swiped at the hot, angry tears. It hadn't been a dream. It was real. He'd really lost his leg. The last thing he remembered was Talia telling him he would be fine. 74
The Side be of the He'd really lost his leg. The last thing he remembered was Talia telling himOther he would fine.World Wiping his eyes with the sheet, he sat up again and took in his surroundings. ""Where am I?" he asked the nurse. "You're at Walter Reed. You arrived two weeks ago." Luke's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Two weeks? Why don't I remember anything? What day is it?" Nurse Amy Dwyer smiled warmly. "It's Christmas Eve. You've had two surgeries since you arrived, and have been heavily sedated, which is why you don''t remember anything." Christmas Eve. Luke did the calculation in his head. That meant it'd been four weeks since the explosion. "Did you...cut off my leg here?"" Nurse Amy nodded solemnly. "Yes. The doctor in Iraq did an amazing job trying to save it, but unfortunately, one of your other wounds became infected and spread to your leg. We had to remove it in order to save your life." Luke fell back against the pillows again; he winced at the pain the sudden movement had caused. He squeezed his eyes shut and remembered the blast. His mind replayed the events in slow motion. He knew he would never forget Roddy's limp body in his arms, blood pumping out of him from every imaginable direction. "And Lieutenant Rodriguez?" he asked hoarsely, eyes still clamped closed. "He's here," Nurse Amy said. Luke's eyes popped open. He sat up despite the pain. "He made it? He's alive?" Amy nodded but her expression was somber. "He's in critical condition, on life support, but yes, he's alive." "I want to see him." Luke tossed aside the covers again. This time he managed to position 75
"I want to see him." Luke tossed aside the covers again. This timeThe he managed to of position Other Side the World himself on the side of the bed. "Take me to see him."" "Lieutenant, I don't think...you're in no condition......" Luke lunged forward and reached for the wheelchair beside the bed next to his. He missed the chair and landed face down on the cold tile floor. Thirty minutes later, he was wheeled into intensive care. "Wait here," Nurse Dwyer told him. "Let me make sure Lieutenant Rodriguez's family is okay with you visiting." A few minutes later, a woman with long, dark hair, swollen eyes, and an enormous belly emerged from Room 5 of the ICU. Luke guessed her to be Christina, Roddy's wife. "Luke?" The woman approached cautiously. Luke recognized her from Roddy's photos. "Hi, Tina." Tears splashed down her cheeks as she stepped forward. She bent to her knees and folded him into her arms. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for saving my husband''s life." "How is he?" Luke asked. Tina drew back and brushed the tears from her cheek. "He's hanging in there. How are you?" She pointed to Luke's leg. "They said you probably wouldn't have lost your leg if you hadn't helped my husband." Luke shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Yeah, well, I wish I could've done more." Tina smiled sadly. "I know you do. That's how you men are. Come on, let's go see him."
"How long before I get my prosthesis?" Luke asked his doctor later that night. "It will be at least another month before you're healed enough," Captain Perdue replied. "In 76
The Other Sidereplied. of the World "It will be at least another month before you're healed enough," Captain Perdue "In the meantime, we can get you working with the physical therapist to help build up your strength. But right now you need rest." Luke leaned back against the pillows and sighed. From across the floor, he heard the unmistakable sound of carolers, their gay voices singing cheerfully, as though they had not a care in the world. As they neared, he switched off the light and closed his eyes. The light turned back on. Luke opened his eyes and saw a tall, sturdy woman in a nurse's uniform towering over him. She spoke with a heavy German accent. "You sit up on your own or I'll help you?" It sounded more like a command than a question. As Luke sat up, Nurse Hilda Ranke set a paper cup that contained an assortment of pills. She pushed a cup of water toward him. He pushed it back. "What are these?" He examined the pills. "Antibiotic, two for pain medicine, sleeping pill." "Which one is the antibiotic?" he asked. "The blue one." Luke fished out the blue pill, swallowed it without water, and pushed the others away. Hilda pushed them back. "Take them all." He lay back down. "No. I don't need them." To his surprise, Hilda smiled. "You're the big man, yes? You think you can handle the pain?" Luke nodded. Hilda's smile widened. "Suit yourself. But, I'll leave them here. Just in case." "Whatever," he said. "But they'll still be there in the morning."" "We will see." Hilda marched out of the room. 77
The Other Side of the World A few hours later, the pain became unbearable. Luke bit down so hard on his pillow, he actually tore through the pillowcase. Sweat drenched his body as he writhed in pain. The strange part was, what hurt the most was the part of the leg that was no longer there. By two o'clock in the morning, he could take it no more. As a compromise, he took only one of the pain pills. An hour later, he fell into a fitful sleep.
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The Other Side of the World
Chapter Fifteen Christmas Day, 2005 San Francisco, California
Christmas was bittersweet for Rowan. Her mother had survived the pneumonia, and had been home for a few weeks now. But her time in the hospital had taken a toll on her, physically and emotionally. She didn't seem to have much fight left in her. Upon discharge, the doctor recommended—and Natalie concurred—that the girls hire a fulltime caregiver for their mother. Rowan balked at first, claimed she could care for their mother herself, but soon realized she was not up to the task. Barbara Hemsworth——Bobbie, for short— arrived two days before Christmas, and had already won the hearts of all three Nolen women. Christmas Day arrived with a flurry of activity and mountains of gifts. Natalie's children—Sam, age four and Callie, almost three—squealed with delight and laughter at the bounty Santa had brought them. Paper flew in every direction, followed by rounds of oohs and aahs. Rowan sat in muted silence, seeing but not hearing the activity, her eyes locked onto her mother. Tears slid down her mother's cheeks as she watched her grandchildren, a look of total adoration affixed to her thin but still beautiful face. In that moment, Rowan felt a current of love so powerful it stole the breath from her lungs. She closed her eyes and took in every sound. Every giggle. Every rip of paper. Every melodic note of music playing in the background. She could even hear her mother weeping. It was, without a doubt, the most brilliant moment of her life. A moment she would remember as long as she lived. A moment she wished she could share in a letter to Tanner. But that wasn''t going to happen. He 79
A moment she wished she could share in a letter to Tanner. But that The wasn''t goingSide to happen. He Other of the World had never responded to her last letter, and she had agonized for weeks about it. She'd gone from worrying something had happened to him, to wondering whether he'd ever received her letter, and finally to believing he had returned to the States and had chosen to end their friendship. She didn't blame him. Who was she to him? A friend who had maybe helped to make things a little better during a difficult time? And now, God willing, he was back home—to Sonoma or wherever he was stationed now——getting on with his life. And he'd probably long since forgotten about her. "Thinking about Evan?" At the sound of her sister's voice, Rowan started. Evan had decided to spend Christmas in Tahoe with some of his work buddies, rather than with her. When she'd asked, "Do your friends know you have a family?" Evan had responded with, "What family? It's just you and me. You decided that when you left the accounting firm. Remember?"" No, Rowan was most definitely not thinking about Evan. She smiled at her sister. "No, I was just taking it all in. The kids' laughter. The smile on Mom's face. We're very blessed, you know." The girls watched as Callie climbed off her father's lap and onto her grandmother's with a new book in her hand. "Will you read it to me, Grandma?"" she asked. "I think it will make you feel better." Natalie clasped Rowan's hand and squeezed. "Yes we are, little sister. Very blessed indeed."
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The Other Side of the World
Chapter Sixteen
Every time he took a pain pill, Luke considered it a failure. But the pain was worse than he ever could've imagined. His body was weak, and the physical therapy sessions were grueling. The nights were the most difficult of all: long hours spent alone in the dark with nothing but his thoughts for company. Thoughts of an unknown future. Thoughts of Roddy, who had still not awakened. Thoughts of R.J. Thoughts of her were the most painful of all. He'd look at the clock, dial it back three hours to California time, and wonder what she was doing at that precise moment. How her mother was. And what had become of his last letter to her. Did she think about him? Did she miss his letters? More importantly, did she miss him? And then he'd remind himself he needed to forget her. That even if she hadn't been married, who would want a one-legged drifter? Because that's all he was now. Another tour of duty was out of the question. And Luke couldn't see himself sitting behind a desk, pushing paper for a living. So he'd made the decision to leave the Army when his tour was up in a year's time. That is, if the Army didn't medically discharge him first. After that, who knew? He'd go home to Sonoma and figure things out from there. In mid-January, when he was told he needed another surgery to remove an additional two inches from his stump so his prosthesis would fit properly, Luke's world became even darker. Visits from Tina, which had been fewer and further between in recent weeks, stopped altogether. Offers of friendship from the other inmates, as he called them, of Ward 57, Walter Reed''s amputee ward, ceased as well. Even the nurses kept their distance whenever possible. 81
The Other Side of the World Two weeks after surgery, Luke gave up fighting completely. Delirious from pain and an infection that had settled into his stump, he took as much pain medication as was offered. Sometimes he even asked for more. Except when Nurse Ranke was on duty. She would simply smile, shake her head and march off. One night in early February, Luke dreamed he was back in Iraq. After seeing a child sitting on the side of a dirt road crying, he ordered the convoy to stop. Stepping out of the Humvee, Luke approached the girl, bent to his knees and gently touched her arm. Her head came up. She offered him a smile and lifted a hand, which held a bouquet of flowers. When he reached for the flowers, they exploded. He jolted awake, his heart hammering in his chest. Sweat rolled off him, soaking the sheets and the pillowcase. Seeing the familiar paper pill cup on the bed tray, he sat up, lifted the cup to his lips and noticed it was empty. He glanced at the clock to his right. It had been six hours since his last dose. What the hell? "Looking for these?" Luke swiveled to his left. It took only a split second to recognize the man in the wheelchair. He was much thinner now, and his hair was longer—as was Luke's—but there was no denying it. Luke broke into a grin. The first honest one he'd had since he'd arrived there. "Roddy," was all Luke could manage before being overcome by emotion. Roddy rolled the chair to the edge of the bed. Luke turned onto his side and, ignoring the pain in his leg, drew his friend in for a long overdue embrace. Every time Luke had asked about Roddy, the news was always the same. He was still in a coma, and Luke knew the more time that passed, the less chance there was that Roddy would
82
coma, and Luke knew the more time that passed, the less chance there was that Roddy would The Other Side of the World awaken at all. So he'd stopped asking. "When did you wake up?" "Coupla weeks ago." Roddy adjusted the patch over the eye he'd lost in the blast. "Listen, man," he started, but Luke cut him off. "Don't say it, Angel. We survived. We both survived. It's all that matters." As Luke spoke the words, he realized he meant them. It was the first time since he'd arrived at Walter Reed that he actually felt grateful to be here. To be home, on American soil. To have survived the atrocities of war. To have a future, uncertain as it was. A future made brighter knowing Roddy had made it. "How's Tina? Has she had the baby yet?" "Last week." Roddy beamed. "Angelica Sofia Rodriguez. Seven pounds, twelve ounces." Luke extended his hand. "Congratulations, Padre." Once the infection had cleared, there was no stopping Luke. He spent tireless days in physical therapy, and had learned how to walk on his new leg in only a week. Roddy visited every night, and the two men were frequently joined by others on Ward 57, many of whom had suffered even graver injuries. They swapped war stories, always trying to one-up each another, but they also shared their fears about the future. Luke found comfort in knowing there were others who felt the same way he did. One by one, each of them was discharged, and by the time it was Luke's turn to leave, he had become lifetime friends with each of them. One bright, sunny morning, on the third day of March, 2006, Nurse Hilda Ranke wheeled Lieutenant Lucas Cartwright to the lobby of Walter Reed Medical Center. From there he rose, planted a kiss on her tear-stained cheek, and walked out of the place he'd called home for the past three months. Then he boarded a plane to San Francisco with a brand new leg and a renewed 83
three months. Then he boarded a plane to San Francisco with a brand new leg and a renewed The Other Side of the World sense of hope.
After landing in San Francisco, Luke took a shuttle to Sonoma. After paying the driver, he stood at the foot of the driveway, an Army-issued duffel bag strapped across his back, and stared up at the house he had long ago called home. A sliver of light still flickered above the mountaintops and cast a long shadow against the pavement. He closed his eyes and drew in a long, slow breath of fresh air comingled with the earthy scent of soil. Overhead, a hawk soared as if in welcome. He walked slowly up the drive, dropped his duffel and rang the bell. When he'd left home the last time, after his parents' deaths, Luke had given permission to Tom Stack, the vineyard manager, to move into the house with his wife, Mary, and their two sons. When a second ring of the doorbell yielded no response, Luke felt underneath the large flowerpot for the house key. Though the plant had long since departed this world, the key remained. As he entered the house, it was clear that no one had lived here since his parents. Sheets draped the furniture and an intricate labyrinth of spider webs decorated the beamed ceilings. After he dropped his bags inside the front door, Luke quickly set about tidying the house. When he finished, he sat down in his father's armchair and a wave of memories washed over him. Memories that had long been suppressed but now seemed desperate to be remembered. Luke streaking through the house in his Superman cape—with nothing underneath—trying to outrun his mother and the bathtub that awaited him. He couldn't have been more than three. The heavenly aroma of fresh baked cookies that filled the air when he came home from school. His mother rushing to the door to greet his father at the end of a long day in the vineyards. Before going to Iraq, the only memories he'd allowed himself were the bad ones. The ones that began on his seventh birthday. The ones that caused him to erect the barrier he had built 84
of the that began on his seventh birthday. The ones that caused him to erectThe the Other barrierSide he had builtWorld around his heart to protect him, as much as was possible, from further pain. But those memories didn't tell the full story of who he was. During his time in Iraq, he'd come to see this. R.J.'s books, and her letters, had helped him to understand himself, and his father. But she couldn't help him now. What he needed to do now, he needed to do alone if he was to ever have peace, and love, again in his life. The following morning, Luke awoke to the sound of the doorbell. He shot out of bed and stumbled to the floor before he remembered that he had only one leg. It had been a rough night. The endless sounds of silence he had so eagerly anticipated had nearly driven him mad. After tossing and turning for hours, he finally turned on the television, and had fallen asleep to the sounds of John Wayne shooting up the Wild West. The doorbell rang again. With no time to attach his prosthetic leg, he hobbled over to the bureau in his childhood room and pulled a pair of jeans from the drawer. Sitting down on the bed, he slid his good leg in first, and then the other, surprised to find the pants he'd last worn in high school still fit. With room to spare. He hopped on one leg—a trick he'd become quite adept at—to the front door, just as the bell rang a third time. He pulled the door open and came face to face with a man he had known since he'd learned his own name. Tom Stack had a shock of gray hair and the bluest eyes Luke had ever seen. Tom was his father's age, which meant he'd been old in Luke's young mind, but still, the deeply grooved lines on the man's kind face surprised Luke now. Tom and Mary Stack had always been kind to Luke. Tom worked alongside Luke's father for many years, and probably knew the man better than Luke himself did. The Stacks' door had always been open to him. No questions asked. A safe harbor when things got too rough at home. 85
The Other of at thehome. World always been open to him. No questions asked. A safe harbor when things got tooSide rough It was where Luke had gone the night his father had hit him. And where he'd stayed for several weeks afterward. "Tom." Luke extended his hand in greeting. "Please, come in." He hopped back to allow Tom entry and was about to close the door when a little girl in a denim jumper who looked to be around four bounded into the house. The girl grabbed ahold of Luke's vacant pant leg. "Where's your leg?" the girl asked earnestly. Luke could not help but laugh. Tom, on the other hand, looked mortified. "Haley!" the older man admonished. To Luke, he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know." "It's alright." Luke met the man's apologetic gaze. ""I'm lucky it's all they took." Tom had also served in Viet Nam, and Luke knew the man understood perfectly what he meant. "My leg, young lady, is in the other room. Do you want to see it?" The little girl's mouth gaped open. "Uh huh." A few minutes later, Luke emerged from the bedroom with the prosthesis attached. He lifted up his pant leg and Haley drew in a sharp breath. "Cool." She reached to touch it. "Are you a robot?" Luke chased the girl around the room in robot-fashion while she squealed in delight. "Your granddaughter?" Luke asked as he fell onto the couch, breathless. Haley climbed up and sat beside him. Tom nodded as he sat across from Luke. "You should've told me you were coming. I would've met you at the airport. Mary would''ve invited all the kids over and made your favorite dinner. We'd have thrown you a real—" He paused at his own words and grinned. "On second thought, scratch that. You did the right thing, sneaking in under the radar. I know how it is when 86
thought, scratch that. You did the right thing, sneaking in under the radar. I knowSide howofitthe is when The Other World you first get home. Especially to a place this...quiet. Takes awhile to get back into the swing of things." "Thanks for understanding." Tom fixed him with a long, thoughtful look. "I haven't talked with you since your parents passed. How are you really doing, son?" Luke pushed out a heavy sigh as Haley snuggled in tighter. He looked down at the little girl with the soft brown curls and a vision of R.J. holding a small child with blonde ringlets flashed into his mind. He shook his head to clear the thought. "I'm doing alright. You're right about the silence, though. It's rather...loud. Gonna take awhile to get used to it. How'd you deal with it when you came home?" Tom shrugged. "It was different back then. We weren't exactly hailed as heroes by the general public. And besides, war wasn't something you ever talked about. That''s when I came to work for your father. We had the war in common, but we never spoke about it. We just put our heads down and worked hard. Eventually, you just learn how to live back in society. Same way you learned to live over there. "Nowadays they have support groups and the government recognizes PTSD for what it is. Guys are talking about what happened to them, not holding it in. You're fortunate, Luke. I hope you take advantage of everything the Army offers you. I''m not very good at talking about stuff, but I'm a good listener. I'm here if you ever need me."
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The Other Side of the World
Chapter Seventeen March 6, 2006 Bagdad, Iraq
Talia put the last of her belongings into the duffel bag and zipped it closed. Leaving Iraq would be bittersweet. There was no denying the past fifteen months had been the most exciting time in her career, but she'd grown tired of treating young children, fellow soldiers, and friends who had sustained devastating injuries in the face of a brutal and senseless war. She was almost out the door when she remembered the items in her bedside table. Removing the drawer, she unzipped the duffel and dumped the items in. She was about to reclose the bag when she noticed the letter Luke had written to R.J. McClain some months ago. The one he'd never sent. The one he hadn't even addressed. Talia withdrew a pen from her uniform shirt pocket and hastily addressed the letter exactly the way R.J. had addressed her last letter to Luke, except in reverse order. On impulse, Talia tossed the photo Luke had carried around into the envelope and licked it shut. She'd drop it in the post on her way out.
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The Other Side of the World
Chapter Eighteen March 16, 2006 San Francisco, California
Rowan gripped the iron railing and peered up at the door to the place she called home. But it didn't feel like home. Not anymore. Not for a while now. Twenty-three steps, but it might as well have been the stairway to the Great Wall of China. It wasn't just fatigue that kept her pinned in place. It was the uneasy feeling that gnawed at her insides every time she came home lately. The uncertainty of what kind of reception she'd receive. She took a weary step. And then another. When she reached the landing, she slipped the key in the lock, wrestled with a smile, and pushed open the door. Evan was reading the newspaper in his favorite chair. He looked handsome and boyish in a pair of faded jeans and a Notre Dame tshirt. His dark hair was still tousled from sleep. She bent down and swept a brief kiss across his lips. "Morning." Evan smiled up at her and the knot in her stomach uncoiled a little. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. "You can do better than that." He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her with intention. Rowan pressed a hand to his chest and broke the kiss. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I can't right now. I need to shower and get back to my mom''s. She had a rough night and I don't want to leave her for too long." Evan's grip tightened around her waist and he planted a kiss on her neck. "It's Saturday, Row.
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Evan's grip tightened around her waist and he planted a kiss on her neck. "It's Saturday, Row. The Other Side of the World I thought we could crawl back into bed for a little while and then go to your favorite place for breakfast. Surely your mother can afford us that. Besides, I thought it was your sister's turn to watch her."
Watch her? Her mother was not a child who needed watching. She was dying of cancer. A slow burn crept into Rowan's cheeks and she extricated herself from her husband''s grasp. "Natalie has the flu and doesn't want to get Mom sick." Evan pushed out of the chair and stalked into the kitchen. Rowan followed. After refilling his coffee mug, he brushed past her, pausing briefly. "What difference does it make?" His voice, like his expression, was stone cold. "She's dying anyway. Maybe it would speed things up." His words hurled through the air like a missile, striking her so forcefully she was unable to draw a breath. She stood mutely and watched as the man she had pledged her life to, the only man whose bed she had ever shared, strode casually past her into his office and shut the door. The sound of blood rushing through her body echoed like a jackhammer inside her head. A low, guttural cry emanated from somewhere within her. Keep it together, Rowan. Your mother
needs you. Now is not the time to have this conversation. But she wanted to. She took a few deep breaths and started toward the bedroom to shower and change. The office door opened. Rowan turned swiftly and peered up at her husband. The sharp set of his mouth softened, and for a moment so did her heart. But when he opened his mouth to speak, the apology she hoped for did not come. "Are you still here? I thought you'd be gone by now." She trembled from head to foot. Let it go. 90
The Other Side of the World She couldn't do it. She marched forward, stopping within inches of him, and rose to her full height. "What do you want from me, Evan? My mother is dying. Your father died, too. Remember? Of brain cancer. You watched him suffer the same way I'm watching my mother suffer. Is your heart really so small that you can't find even a speck of compassion for what I'm going through?" Evan's face contorted. He stepped closer, his hands fisted at his sides. "My father got what he deserves, and don't you ever mention him again." "And my mother? Does she deserve what she's getting, too?" He pursed his lips to speak but no words emerged. He turned his back to her and blew out a heavy sigh. "No," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Your mother does not deserve to go out like this." Rowan stepped forward and touched his shoulder. "I'm doing the best I can, Evan. I'm here every evening when you get home from work. I make you dinner before I go back to my mom's. I don't sleep. I can't write. I've missed my last two deadlines and my publisher is threatening to drop me. What more do you want from me?" He turned to face her, arms crossed, lips pressed tightly together. Evan the jerk had regained control. "Sex once a week would be nice, for starters." Bile rose in her throat. She thought she might be sick. "Alright then." She pointed to the bedroom. "Let's go." She started toward their room. When he didn't follow, she turned back. "Oh, is now not a good time for you?" The sharp edges of his jaw set into a tight line. His eyes narrowed into slits. "You sicken me," 91
The sharp edges of his jaw set into a tight line. His eyes narrowed into slits. "You sicken me," The Other Side of the World he said. A throaty laugh escaped her lips. "I. Sicken. You? And why is that, Evan? What did I ever do to you? I make dinner for you. I run your personal errands. I even wear the sleazy lingerie you buy me." Her heart thundered in her chest. ""When was the last time you did anything for me? Anything at all?" "I married you," he spat. Rowan stumbled backward and clutched her chest, gasping for air. His words had actually knocked the air from her lungs. She stared at him, wide-eyed and mute, and wondered how she had ever loved this man. "Get out," he said. "If you don't want to be a wife to me, I''ll find someone who will." He reached behind him and held up a small envelope. "And take your boyfriend with you." Rowan's breath hitched at the familiar postmark. She reached for the envelope. He yanked it away. Refusing to let her husband know how much Luke's letters meant to her, she feigned disinterest and turned toward the bedroom to pack. He flung the letter at her. "Nice to know where I stand with you, Row. Not only am I second place to your mother, I'm second fiddle to a ghost." Rowan scooped the letter off the floor and clutched it tightly. Thirty minutes later, without having showered, she wheeled the oversized suitcase through the living room and quietly closed the front door behind her.
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The Other Side of the World
Chapter Nineteen
Rowan slipped through the back door of her parents' Pacific Heights home, wheeled her bag through the kitchen and into her room. Or rather, the room she'd occupied until she and Evan had married. The room she would occupy again, at least until she made other arrangements. Upstairs, she could hear Bobbie reading to her mother from the latest Soap Opera Digest.
Days of Our Lives. Her mother had never missed an episode since it first aired in 1965. But lately her mother hadn't been able to stay awake long enough to watch a full episode, so Rowan and Bobbie read the highlights from the weekly NBC digest. In her room, Rowan sat on the edge of her bed and ran her finger over the familiar postmark on the envelope. She'd nearly fainted with relief when she saw the letter. It'd been nearly six months since she'd heard from him and she had given up hope that she ever would. She hadn't opened it yet, was waiting to share it with her mother, who enjoyed Tanner's letters almost as much as Rowan herself did. After a quick shower, she padded up the stairs to her mother's room. The room was dark, the air stale. Rowan flung open the drapes. A spray of unexpected sunlight spilled into the room, along with a splendid view of the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance. She planted a kiss first on Bobbie's cheek, and then on her mother's. Her mother's eyes shone with love, as they always did when Rowan entered the room. It had always been that way between them. Bobbie rose from the stiff wooden chair she insisted on using. She said it made her sit up straighter, which helped with her sciatica. The elderly woman had been a godsend to them. After 93
straighter, which helped with her sciatica. The elderly woman had been to them. Thea godsend Other Side of the After World fifty years as a nurse, she now spent her days caring for terminally ill patients. Rowan couldn't imagine a job where, going in, you knew you would lose every single patient you cared for. "Someone has to do it, dear," Bobbie once said. "People like your mother deserve to be treated with dignity and love. Besides, I enjoy making new friends, and I like being useful. Just imagine how many new friends I'll have waiting for me at the pearly gates when God decides it's my turn to go?" "You're a saint, Bobbie," Rowan had said. "I'll leave you to it," Bobbie said, waving off the compliment. "Thank you," Rowan said. "By the way, I picked up a chocolate croissant for you. It's on the kitchen table." At the mention of the pastry, her mother's brows arched. She lifted the oxygen mask that covered her mouth and nose. "Did someone mention chocolate?" Her mother's voice was thin and hoarse but the glint in her eyes made Rowan laugh out loud. She dangled the bag with the scrumptious treats in the air. "And," she held up the letter, "look what else we have." Her mother's smile filled the room. She lifted the edge of the eiderdown comforter and motioned to Rowan. "Hop on in." Rowan climbed underneath the soft bedding and snuggled next to her mother. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of her. Her heart throbbed with grief but she bit back her tears, determined to make the most of this and every moment they had left. As they munched on the croissants, they chatted about simple, everyday things like whether Jack Bauer and Chloe O'Brian could save the world from impending doom once again, or who 94
Jack Bauer and Chloe O'Brian could save the world from impending doom once again, or who The Other Side of the World would be the next castaway to be voted off Survivor: Panama. When Rowan had finished eating her croissant, and most of her mother's, she reached for the letter she'd placed on the bedside table. "Are you ready?" Her mother wiped her face with a napkin. "Let's start with the first one. I want to hear them all again before we read this one." Rowan's head swiveled toward her mother. "But...we haven't heard from him for six months. We have to find out what happened." Her voice rose an octave higher. "We have to make sure he's okay."" Marie Nolen took the letter from her daughter's hand and squinted at the envelope. "The letter was postmarked two weeks ago. He's fine. I want to hear them from the beginning. My house, my rules, Rowan Jean. Call it a dying woman's second-to-last request." Rowan smirked. She'd learned to appreciate her mother's humor, even in the face of death. "And what will the last request be?"" Her mother smiled sheepishly and offered a one-shoulder shrug. "I'm not sure, but it will probably involve chocolate." Rowan kissed her mother's cracked lips, placed the oxygen mask back in place, and went to retrieve the rest of the letters, which she kept safely tucked away in the ornate carved wood box her father had made for her when she was a child, and hidden in the back of her underwear drawer. When she returned with the letters, her mother's eyes were heavy with sleep. After squeezing a dropper of morphine into her mother's mouth, Rowan pulled the covers up to her chin, kissed 95
a dropper of morphine into her mother's mouth, Rowan pulled the covers up to her chin, kissed The Other Side of the World her cheek and lay down on the bed beside her.
The curtains snapped open. A shock of sunlight filled the room. Rowan squeezed her eyes shut, pulled the pillow over her head and tried to crawl back into her cozy slumber. "Rowan," a gentle voice called. The voice was very distinctly not Evan's. She opened her eyes and lifted the pillow. She was in her mother's bed, but there was no sign of her mother. "Rowan," the voice behind her called again. Rowan sprung from the bed, nearly knocking Bobbie over. "What's wrong? Where's Mom? Is everything okay? What time is it?"" "Your mother is fine," Bobbie said calmly. "But I need your help getting her out of the tub." Rowan glanced at the clock: 10:00 a.m. How on earth had she slept for...nearly twenty hours? "Yes, of course." She rushed toward the bathroom. Seeing her mother''s rail-thin body lying prone in the tub, she turned to Bobbie. "Why is she lying down in the tub? What happened to the chair?" Bobbie's face paled. "I'm so sorry," she said. ""She asked me to get her a drink of water. When I came back in, she'd shoved the chair out of the tub and climbed down into the water. I was only gone a minute. Maybe less." Rowan glanced down at her mother, who grinned mischievously. Rowan couldn't help but laugh. "It's okay, Bobbie. My mom has always been a bath person. She can read War and Peace and never even notice that the water has turned cold." After dressing her mother, they settled her back into bed. Rowan lifted the oxygen mask over 96
After dressing her mother, they settled her back into bed. RowanThe lifted the oxygen over Other Side ofmask the World her head. Her mother pushed it away. Rowan sat on the bed next to her mother. "What's the matter, Mom?" "I want to go home." Her mother's eyes were pleading. "Please, I don't want to die here. I want to be in my own bed. At home." Rowan pulled the covers over her mother's shivering form, drew in a jagged breath and willed herself not to cry. "Okay, Mom, tell you what. You rest for a while and I'll make the arrangements, okay?" The fear in her mother's eyes lessened. Rowan measured out a dose of morphine and administered it. Within minutes, her mother was asleep. While her mother slept, Rowan sat on the window seat of the generous bay window in the bedroom, looking out at the San Francisco bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. It was uncharacteristically sunny for a March morning. She clutched a throw pillow to her chest and checked the text messages on her phone. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed that Evan hadn''t texted.
I married you. His words hit below the belt and her stomach turned over at the memory of them. Was she supposed to be grateful that he'd chosen her? Married her? For months now, maybe even years, she'd stood by and let him demean her, objectify her because she believed in her heart that he loved her. That he was envious she'd found a career she loved. That he would come to his senses. She married him for better or worse, and every married couple went through periods of ups and downs, didn't they? But this was more than that. Evan didn't love her anymore. He'd outgrown her. Now she would have to move on without him. 97
The Other Side of the World She glanced at her mother, restless even in sleep, and Rowan knew that soon, she would have to move on without her mother, too. Tears inched slowly down her cheeks as tentacles of grief wove themselves around her heart and squeezed. And for the first time she could remember, she felt completely, utterly alone.
It had been two days since her mother had eaten anything, and she'd barely awoken except to take her pain medicine. Rowan sat by her mother's bedside with her laptop, having written a grand total of three words in two days. She closed the laptop and tossed it aside with a huff. Bobbie placed a gentle hand on Rowan's shoulder. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Now is not the time for you to work." Rowan's jaw trembled. "How much longer do you think...will she..." Bobbie pulled Rowan into her arms and held her. "I know, sweetheart, it's not easy to watch the one you love the most go." A sob rose in Rowan's throat, breaking over her like a wave. She rested her head on Bobbie's shoulder as she watched her mother sleep and felt her heart break into a million tiny pieces. Her sister arrived that afternoon, giving Bobbie some much needed time to tend to her own affairs. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner." Natalie kissed her sister''s cheek. "But I didn't want to take the chance of getting Mom sick." "Evan said you should've come anyway. Said it might speed things up." Natalie stared at her sister in disbelief. "Nice. And how is Prince Charming, anyway?" "I wouldn't know," she said. "He kicked me out a few days ago. Haven''t heard a word from 98
"I wouldn't know," she said. "He kicked me out a few days ago. Haven''t heardSide a word The Other of thefrom World him since." Her sister's brows hiked up her forehead. "He kicked you out?" "Yep. It was put out or get out. I'd been up all night with Mom. I wasn't in the mood." Her sister shook her head. "See, that's why I went for the nerdy one with glasses. The goodlooking ones are always pricks. Act like you should be grateful they are willing to even give you the time of day. The nerdy ones worship the ground you walk on."" Rowan sulked. "Evan wasn't always such a jerk. Was he?" Natalie considered her sister's question. "No, but ever since you left the accounting firm to write full-time, he's been a world-class jerk. I hate the way he puts you down and makes fun of your books." Rowan blinked back tears. She refused to let Evan hurt her anymore. Especially now, when she needed to focus on her mother. "You've poked jabs at me, too," she said. "Yeah, I know, but that's just sisterly teasing. I've read your books, Row, and they're good. Really good. I've given copies to all the female docs and nurses at the clinic. Next to Mom, I'm your biggest fan." A slow smile curved Rowan's lips. "Really?" "Yes, really. I'm proud of you, baby sister. And Mom will never shut up about you. If Evan can't respect you for who you are, then screw him. There is someone else out there who deserves you. Trust me." She pointed to the letter box, now resting on their mother's bedside table. The most recent letter, still unread, sat on top of it. "Who knows, maybe it's the soldier you've been writing to. Maybe he's the one." 99
The Other Side of the World At the mention of Tanner, Rowan's stomach flipped. He'd been a beacon of light in the storm that had taken up residence in her life over the past year. She missed hearing from him more than she was willing to admit. And yet, she still had not read the letter. At first, she''d wanted to read it with her mother, but the right opportunity hadn't presented itself. And now, she realized, she was waiting to read it when she most needed a friend. That moment also had not yet presented itself. But it would, and very soon by the sound of her mother's ragged breathing.
The first rays of sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting a kaleidoscope-like image against the walls and ceiling of the enormous master suite. Rowan sat in the window seat, pretending to read a Harry Bosch novel she'd read before, while Bobbie sat in the hard wooden chair on the opposite side of the bed, reading the Bible. Natalie was still asleep downstairs in her childhood room. Her mother, who hadn't awoken in almost two days, opened her eyes, shoved off the oxygen mask and tried to push herself up in bed. Rowan and Bobbie rushed to help her. When she was seated upright, she took Bobbie's hand. "I want to speak to my daughter alone, please." Bobbie retreated from the bedroom. Her mother patted the bed beside her and Rowan sat down, facing her. "Not everyone...who comes into our lives...is meant to stay forever. People grow...and change, and sometimes they discover...they no longer want...the same things from life. You and Evan...were teenagers when you fell in love."" Rowan lifted the oxygen mask to her mother's face. "Take a couple of breaths, Mom." Marie Nolen drew in a long, shuddering breath and pushed the mask away. "It will be hard...without him and...without me...but you will be......fine. One day...soon...you 100
"It will be hard...without him and...without me...but you will be......fine. One day...soon...you The Other Side of the World will meet...the one you are...meant to...be with." She clutched Rowan's hand. Her penetrating eyes bore into her daughter's. "Trust...me." Her mother's body slumped and her eyes fell shut. "Mom?" Rowan shouted, gently shaking her. Bobbie and Natalie ran into the room. Marie opened her eyes. Everyone sighed with relief. After settling her back down in bed and turning up the oxygen level running through the mask, Bobbie administered another dose of morphine and left the sisters alone with their mother. "It won't be long now," Bobbie said. "I'll be just outside if you need me." "Look," their mother whispered. The girls looked around the room. "Mom," Natalie said. "Who do you see? Is it Daddy?" Her mother shook her head. For a brief moment, she opened her eyes and looked at Rowan. "That's how you'll know him. Okay?"" "Know who?" Natalie asked. Rowan shrugged and patted her mother's hand. "Okay, Mom. Just close your eyes and rest now." Over the next few hours, the space between their mother's breaths grew longer. On occasion, she would jerk awake, wide-eyed as if in fear, and then she'd settle back down. The girls lay on either side of her. "It's okay, Mom," Rowan whispered. "You can go now."" "I'll take care of her, Mom, don't worry," Natalie said. At three minutes after midnight on Friday, March 24, 2006, Marie Nolen passed away. 101
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Chapter Twenty
Later that day, Rowan texted Evan the news. A few minutes later, she received a reply. The first words she'd heard from him since their fight. "I'm sorry, Row. For everything. I did love you once. I don't blame you for everything. I know I've been a jerk. I think it's best we move on. E." She texted him back. "I agree. I'll come for my things one day next week while you're at work." A week later, after her mother's service, after Natalie and her family had gone home, after she had collected her things from the condo, Rowan sat alone in her childhood bedroom, stalked by a loneliness so profound she thought she would go mad. For two days, she lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep, rising only to use the bathroom or to get a glass of water. By day four, starvation got the better of her, and over the next two days, she ate everything in her mother's well-stocked kitchen. Then she went back to bed and pulled the covers over her head. Still sleep would not come. On day seven, she prayed for help. That's when she remembered the letter. She raced upstairs to her mother's bedroom, grabbed the box without stopping to look around, and ran back downstairs. Sifting through the letters, she found the one she was looking for. It was postmarked March 7. She'd been waiting to read it until she most needed a friend. That moment had arrived. She turned the letter over, stuck her finger under the flap, and then flipped the envelope back over. She hadn't noticed until now that the handwriting on the front was different. She pulled out the other letters for comparison. It was different alright. But what did it mean? 103
The Other Side of the World She tore open the letter and removed it from the envelope. Something fell out of the pages and flittered to the floor. She bent down and lifted a small photo...of herself. The bottom right corner had been cut off and there was something red spattered on her face. She looked closer. A rush of air filled her lungs. It looked like blood. She quickly unfolded the letter. The first thing that caught her attention was the date. October 31. Exactly five months ago. But it was postmarked just over three weeks ago. What the heck? Maybe the letter might provide some clues.
October 31, 2005 Dear Ms. McClain: I've been BOG (boots on the ground) for nearly a year now. My orders to return to American soil will come any day now. It's funny, but when you first arrive here the thought of staying for a year is overwhelming. You obsess about all the things you mentioned in your letter all the time. But then, before you know it, and without even realizing it's happened, you become accustomed to life here on the other side of the world. The men (and women) around you become your family. People you would give your life to protect. People who would do the same for you. People who have done the same for you. There is an old custom in war of halting the fighting to remove the dead from the battlefield. Once each army has declared its dead, it would fire three volleys to indicate the dead had been cared for, and they were ready to get back to the fight. It's what might be called a battlefield courtesy. Out here, we fire three volleys within sight of the fallen warrior's boots, rifle, or helmet. 104
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Since Operation Iraqi Freedom began, we have lost almost two thousand troops. That's at least six thousand shots echoing across the desert in their honor. Many of the fallen were fathers. Most of them were sons. I am a rare breed that is neither of those. And it is for this reason that I have decided to sign up for another tour. It is my hope that in doing so, I can spare a wife, a child, a parent the grief of losing their loved one.
Tears blurred her vision. She swiped them away with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Clearly, when Tanner wrote the letter five months ago, he intended to sign up for another tour. But he had never mailed the letter. Someone had mailed it for him. But who? And why? And why did they include the photo? She looked at it again. The spatter was definitely blood.
No, no, no! Please, God, let me be wrong. When her vision cleared enough, she continued to read.
And so, it's with a heavy heart that I write this letter to you. A goodbye of sorts. But before I sign off one last time, I wanted to take a moment to thank you once more for the kindness you've shown me this past year. Your friendship has meant far more to me than I am able to express. You are truly a remarkable woman. In another place, another time, I'm afraid I would fall hopelessly in love with you. Please know that wherever I am, I will carry a part of you in my heart. I wish you nothing but the best, R.J. To quote a beautiful author I know, I wish you a life filled with "true and profound joy." 105
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Respectfully, A Guy
The letter fell to the floor. She curled into a fetal position and rocked. Her body shook with grief so profound she couldn't even cry. He loved her. And now he was gone. She'd never be able to tell him that she loved him, too. A keening sound emanated from somewhere inside her. She pulled the pillow over her head to silence it. Someone yanked the pillow away. "Get up and get dressed. You're coming home with me." It was Natalie.
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Chapter Twenty One One Year Later
Luke parked the rusty old pickup truck on Kentucky Street, just off East Washington in downtown Petaluma. Haley pointed to the bookstore across the street. "Can we go in there when we're done at the bank, Uncle Luke? Grandma's birthday is next week and she loves to read." Over the past year, Haley and Luke had become great friends. He taught her how to tell the difference between a Chardonnay and a Cabernet Sauvignon grape—though she couldn't quite pronounce their names—and about picnics in the sunflower patch, which he'd replanted his first summer home. She taught him about tea parties, Disney princesses, and life in its purest, simplest form. "No problem, sweetheart." Luke took the girl's hand as they crossed the street. Thirty minutes later, they were browsing through Copperfield's bookstore. They wove their way up one aisle and down the next as they passed through the children's books section—they were, after all, shopping for Haley's grandmother, not Haley herself as Luke reminded her—past the cookbooks—not an appropriate birthday gift——and finally, into the women's fiction section. Halfway down the aisle, Luke stopped short. The air drained from his lungs. He reached for the book with a trembling hand. It was one he'd never read, by an author he knew well. Or rather, one he used to know. As he thumbed through the book, A Letter to Annabelle, he noticed the sign above the shelf. It read: Local Authors. "Can I help you find something?" a voice behind him asked politely. 107
The Other Side of the World Luke spun around to face a young woman with pink hair and a nose ring. "What does that mean, local authors? Would someone who lived in San Francisco be considered a local author?" The woman shrugged. "It could, yes. But generally it means that the author lives in Sonoma County." He thrust the book he was holding toward her. "What about this author?" She took the book from him. "R.J. McClain," she said aloud. "I'm not familiar with her, but I can ask one of the other staff members about her if you'd like." Luke considered the offer. He'd worked hard to move forward with his life this past year, and although he still thought of R.J. often, she was now just a girl he used to know. "No, it's okay. Thank you." He placed the book back on the shelf and took Haley's hand. "Come on," he said. "Let's go back to the children''s section. I think Grandma would love a new book that she can read to you."
That night, before he crawled into bed, Luke dragged his Army trunk from the closet and sifted through the contents until he found what he was searching for. He retrieved the two books, returned the previous year by Talia on a surprise visit to the ranch, and carried them to the bed. Tucked inside the one with a portion of the back cover missing—where R.J.'s photo had once been —were the letters she'd written him. He removed the letters and set the books aside. It was the first time since he'd returned from Iraq that he'd held the letters in his hands. When he'd first returned home, he was plagued with nightmares and flashbacks. Every loud sound he heard—an engine backfiring, the slamming of a door, even the thump of the air conditioner when it turned on—had him diving for cover. Sometimes he even woke up inside his bedroom 108
when it turned on—had him diving for cover. Sometimes he even woke up inside his bedroom The Other Side of the World closet, not remembering how he'd gotten there. As he'd learned his first night home, the worst part was the silence. It left him too much time to think. Too much time to remember. It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or for a bomb to drop. Thankfully, Luke had found a good therapist. And his doctor had hooked him up with a group of returning soldiers also suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. It had taken a lot of hard work, even more than learning to live with only one leg, but now, a year after his return, he could finally sleep without the television or the radio on. He enjoyed long walks through the vineyard. And he was no longer anxious about the future. After reading the first letter from R.J., Luke remembered the embarrassment he'd felt about having written her the first time. He'd felt oddly vulnerable at the time, and had regretted being so open with a total stranger. But her return letter, and the ones that followed, had reassured him. She'd seen in his words a truth he had never acknowledged in himself. That he was a man capable of great love. He'd always looked at love as a curse. She taught him to see it as a blessing. He thought about R.J.'s mother, who had surely passed on by now, and wondered how R.J. was coping with the loss. Those wounds, the big ones, are etched onto our souls. They become
part of us. He thought about the book he'd held in his hands that morning. A Letter to Annabelle. Had writing it helped her deal with the deep grief of losing her mother? But mostly, he thought about her. He wondered what she was doing now. If she ever thought of him. He hoped she was happy. She certainly deserved to be. And so did he. Now, on the eve of his official retirement from the Army, Luke was excited about the future. As of tomorrow, he'd be a civilian. He would assume responsibility for the family business. And one day, in the not too 109
The Side thetoo World a civilian. He would assume responsibility for the family business. And oneOther day, in theofnot distant future, he hoped to fall in love again. As he tucked the letters back inside the book, he hoped he would be lucky enough to find a girl like R.J.
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Chapter Twenty Two
Luke was ushered into the private office of Dr. Natalie Forbes. The office was small and cramped, but neatly appointed. Pictures lined the credenza behind the desk and one by one, he took them in. Children, a boy and a girl, at various stages from infancy to their current ages, which Luke guessed to be about four—the girl—and five—the boy. A black-and-white photo showed two young girls wearing matching dresses with lace collars— Easter, Luke presumed—and sporting shiny leather shoes with ankle-length socks and brimmed hats. A family photo of Dr. Forbes with, Luke assumed, her husband and their children, and...his eyes stopped on a photograph of a woman in a Women's Army Corps uniform. Setting his cell phone on the desk, Luke crossed the room and picked up the picture. The woman, wearing the signature brown jacket with matching beret, a tan shirt, and tie, smiled back at him. She had curly brown hair and a twinkle in her eye. She looked oddly familiar. For some reason, the picture made him think of R.J. The door behind him opened. He carefully placed the photo back on the credenza and turned to greet Dr. Forbes. "Luke." She extended her hand. "Nice to see you. Please, have a seat." Luke sat back down. "I hope you don't mind, I was just admiring the photograph of...is it your grandmother?" Dr. Forbes looked at the photo on the credenza and smiled. "Yes, it is. She was a piece of work, that one. As feisty as they come. She always had a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the 111
work, that one. As feisty as they come. She always had a cigarette in one andSide a drink the Thehand Other of theinWorld other, but she could make my sister and I laugh until our sides ached. She was also a bit of a gypsy. Carried her crystal ball and tarot cards with her wherever she went."" "I think we must've had the same grandmother. At least as far as the feisty part goes," he said, feeling as if he was somehow repeating himself. Dr. Forbes laughed. "Ah, well, they sure don't make them like that anymore, do they? But anyway." She shuffled through a stack of file folders before locating the one she wanted. ""Today is your last day in the Army. How are you feeling about that?" Luke leaned back in the chair and scrubbed his palms across the Army fatigue uniform pants. He wondered whether he would ever wear green again. But then again, he was proud of his service to his country. "Good. I'm ready for life, take three."" Again, Luke thought of R.J. Dr. Forbes glanced up suddenly. She studied him like a textbook. Luke shifted in his seat. "Is something wrong?" "I...no, sorry. How's the leg?" She still seemed distracted. "The leg is good," he said. "In fact, I got my new prosthetic for running last month, and I''m getting the hang of it. Feels good to be able to run again." The smile returned to her face. "That's wonderful, Luke. You'll continue working with Dr. Wesley after your official discharge today?"" Dr. Wesley was an orthopedic specialist in San Francisco who worked with amputees. He always pushed Luke to do more than he thought he could, and he had come to respect the doctor immensely. "I will. In fact, he challenged me to run a 5K over Memorial Day weekend. I said I would, only if he ran it with me. So far there's a team of about twenty of us participating." They chatted for a few more minutes before they finished their last official visit. Just as Dr. 112
They chatted for a few more minutes before they finished their last official visit. Just as Dr. The Other Side of the World Forbes rose from her chair, something behind her clattered to the ground. She bent to pick it up and turned back toward Luke. She sat back down, still holding the photo in her hands, and then looked up. Her brow was furrowed again. "Luke, this may sound strange, but...are you seeing anyone? Romantically, I mean." He shifted in his chair. He hoped the embarrassment he felt hadn't made its way to his face. "I, uh, no, ma'am. I'm not romantically involved with anyone right now, but—" Dr. Forbes interrupted. "I know it sounds strange, and I've honestly never done this before, but I feel somehow as though my grandmother wants you to meet my sister." The air evaporated from the room. The strange thing was, he'd felt a connection to the woman in the photo the moment he saw her. And he did want to meet someone, wanted to fall in love again, but suddenly, faced with the possibility, he didn't feel ready. He couldn''t help it, but he was still thinking about R.J. More today, for some reason, than he had in a long time. "Oh, wow, that's really nice," he said. "It''s just that...I do have feelings for someone and—" "No, no—I get it." Dr. Forbes waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "I shouldn't have asked. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry. It was very unprofessional of me." Perspiration dotted his forehead. He pushed up from the chair. "I'm very flattered, Dr. Forbes. Really. At another time in my life, I'd probably jump at the chance to meet your sister." Dr. Forbes smiled graciously. "Thank you, Luke. I hope I didn't embarrass you." She walked him to the door and held it open for him. ""I wish you nothing but the best. Please keep in touch and let me know how you're doing." Luke was almost to his truck when he realized he'd left his cell phone in Dr. Forbes's office. He made the trek back and was about to knock on her door when it pulled open. "I'm sorry, I 113
He made the trek back and was about to knock on her door when it pulled open. "I'm sorry, I The Other Side of the World forgot—" She held up the cell phone in her right hand, but it was what she held in her left hand that captured his attention. He couldn't quite read the title, but it didn't look like the one he'd seen in the bookstore the other day. He pointed to the book. "You read R.J. McClain's books?" Natalie lifted her left hand and examined the contents. She almost looked surprised to see the book there. "Yes, I do. It's kind of a family requirement." Luke's eyebrow quirked up. "Family requirement?" She nodded. "Yes, R.J. McClain—she goes by Nolen now since her divorce—is my sister. Have you read her books?" Luke's heart tripped in his chest. His good leg nearly buckled beneath him. He gripped the door handle for support. "R.J. is your sister?"
And she's divorced? Natalie tilted her head. "Rowan. And yes. Why? Do you know her?" He'd like to think he knew her well. Knew what drove her. Knew what mattered to her. And he had, once upon a time. But not anymore. He shook his head. Natalie held up the book. "This is the best one yet." He read the title. The Other Side of the World. His breath lodged in his throat. He tightened his grip on the door handle. "If I didn't know better, I'd think she wrote this about someone she knew. Someone she loved." Luke thought he might pass out. He tried to speak but he couldn't drag the words from his throat. 114
The Other Side of the World Dr. Forbes's face paled. "Luke? Are you alright?" "Before, when you asked me if I was seeing someone?" he finally managed. One side of Natalie's mouth quirked up. "Yes?" Luke's heart hammered in his chest. "I...I'd like to meet your sister. If the offer is still open, that is." The other side of Natalie's mouth curled up. "I'll write down her email address."
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Chapter Twenty Three
Rowan raced to catch the call before it went to voicemail and picked it up without checking the caller ID. "Okay, I know you're going to hate me, but just hear me out." It was Natalie. Rowan sat down. "What did you do now?" Her sister replayed the meeting she'd had that morning with Luke Cartwright, a now ex-Army lieutenant who had served in Iraq. While her sister talked, Rowan pushed open the French doors in the living room, revealing the postcard perfect view of the surrounding landscape. The two-acre property she'd bought the previous year was surrounded on three sides by vineyard. "Are you listening?" Natalie asked. "Hm, yes. Cute, nice, well-mannered. A little shy, but is open to meeting me." "Right, and get this," her sister said. "He's read some of your books."" Rowan sat upright. Thoughts of Tanner crowded her mind. "What did you say his name was?" "Luke Cartwright." Rowan slumped back into the chair. For a moment, she forgot Tanner was gone. After reading his last letter and confirming the red blotches were indeed blood, Natalie had agreed. Tanner had most likely been killed in action. Someone, maybe a friend, had found the letter and mailed it to Rowan. "And the weird thing is, when I asked him how he was feeling about retiring from the Army, you know what he said?" Without waiting for a reply, Natalie rushed on. "He said, ''Great, I'm 116
you know what he said?" Without waiting for a reply, Natalie rushed on. "He said, ''Great, I'm The Other Side of the World ready for life, take three.'" "Well, you did say he's read my books." Rowan had come a long way in the past year. She missed her mother every day, sometimes more than she could bear, but she was moving forward with her life. And she was over Evan. The divorce was quick and painless, at least as much as was possible, with everything being split down the middle. But she wasn't sure she was ready to start dating again. "How did you get around to talking about me?" she asked. "Okay, this is where it gets strange. Luke was holding the picture of Grandma when I came into the office. He placed it back on the credenza—in the middle of the credenza, Row——and sat down. Later, when he was about to leave, the picture just flew off the shelf and onto the floor." Natalie stopped talking. Rowan could hear the kids in the background. A moment later, her sister continued without missing a beat. "The hair on my arms stood up and I knew, as sure as if Grandma had spoken the words, that you were supposed to meet this guy."
One day soon you will meet the one you are meant to be with. Her mother's words echoed in Rowan's head. Before she passed, her mother kept repeating the word look. Could she have meant Luke?
That's how you'll know him. Had her mother somehow foreseen the future before she departed? Was it even possible? A shiver passed through her despite the warmth of the sun's rays. Rowan and her mother had shared the deepest bond possible between two human beings, but this sounded crazy, even to her own ears. "Gosh, I don't know, Nat. I'm really not ready—" 117
The Other Side of the World "Just meet him," Natalie begged. "It will do you good to get out of the house. Besides, you know better than to argue with Grandma Annie."" Rowan blew out a heavy breath. She couldn't believe she was saying it, but before she knew it, the words spilled forth. "Okay, Nat. I'll meet him.""
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Chapter Twenty-Four
Rowan. Luke turned the name over on his tongue. It felt...different. Unexpected. But it suited her. He'd been too embarrassed to tell Dr. Forbes—Natalie—that he didn't have an email account, so he took the piece of paper with Rowan's email address and promised he'd write her soon. As soon as he bought a computer and figured out how to set up an email account. Haley, almost six now, was giving him instructions on how to choose an email name. "Why wouldn't I just use my name?
[email protected]." "Okay, first of all," Haley said, "nobody uses AOL anymore. Go with Yahoo or Hotmail. You're pretty cute, Uncle Luke. If I were you, I'd go with Hotmail. That's what I did." "You're six, and you have your own email account?" Haley sighed. "Not my own, exactly. I share it with my mom. I'm not old enough to have my very own email yet. And another thing, you should pick a fun screen name. Nothing personal, but LukeCartwright is boring. How about LukeRocks4U?"" Luke nearly spit out the coffee he'd just sipped. "I think I'll go with boring. But thanks for the tip." When they were done setting up the email account, Haley showed him how to compose an email. "Are we writing an Army buddy or a girl?" she asked, fingers poised to type. Luke hoisted her into his arms and moved toward the living room where her grandfather was watching a Spaghetti Western. "A girl." He set her onto the couch. "And I think I''ve got it from
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watching a Spaghetti Western. "A girl." He set her onto the couch. "And I think I''ve got it from The Other Side of the World here." Haley held out her hand, palm up. Luke fished a five-dollar bill from his pocket and forked it over. Best five bucks he'd ever spent. "Did someone mention a girl?" Tom peered over the rim of his glasses. "Not open for discussion," Luke said. "Now come on. We can't be late for Grandma's birthday party."
Luke stared at the blinking cursor. It had been nearly two hours and he hadn't gotten past the salutation. Should he address the email Dear Rowan, Hi Rowan, or just plain, Rowan? He didn't know. He moved on to the body of the email. This, he knew, was the most important part. What he didn't know, considering he'd never sent or received an email before——except for official military business—was whether it should be long (tell her something about himself), or whether he should keep it short. He opted for short. He also wasn't certain whether he should ask her to dinner or something more casual, like a coffee date. Dinner meant candy and flowers—at least it used to mean that—which was fine, but, like Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle, he'd been out of the dating world for a very long time and wasn't sure a formal dinner date was the way to go. For reasons he couldn''t begin to fathom, he decided to consult Haley on the matter. "Definitely a coffee date, Uncle Luke," she'd said. "While flowers——no candy—are a nice gesture, save them for a second, maybe third, date. And no kissing on the first date. A hug is okay though." 121
The Other Side of the World Luke was almost afraid to ask, but he decided to chance it. "How do you know all this stuff?" Silence greeted him on the other end of the line. And then, "My mom dates a lot." "I'm sorry, Hay. I know the divorce has been hard on you." "It's okay," she said. "Daddy is staying with Grandma and Grandpa, so I get to spend more time with them. And with you." "Works for me," Luke said before he ended the call. His final dilemma was how to sign the email. Should he go with Sincerely, Best, or just be casual and go with just Luke? Or use his full name? So many things to consider. After he finished the email, he hit the Send button and climbed into bed. Sleep did not come. In truth, he did not want it to. He was afraid he'd wake up and his meeting with Dr. Forbes, at least the part about meeting Rowan, would have been a dream. After leaving the doctor's office, Luke had sat in his truck for nearly an hour, too stunned to absorb what had just happened. And too afraid to believe it was true. What were the odds that the sister of the woman he'd corresponded with, the woman he'd nearly fallen in love with, would end up being his doctor? And that she would want him to meet her sister? This kind of thing didn't happen to him. This kind of thing didn't happen to anyone. Did it? He stood a better chance of winning the lottery, getting elected president of the United States, and finding a cure for cancer. All on the same day. He wondered whether she still lived in San Francisco, or whether she'd moved to the North Bay. It didn't matter. He'd have driven to Iraq, and back, to meet her. 122
The Other Side of the World Finally giving up on sleep, Luke turned on the computer again. He didn't expect to have a reply from Rowan so quickly, but he wanted to reread what he'd written. He groaned. Even to himself he sounded lame.
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Chapter Twenty Five
Rowan stretched lazily, tossed back the covers and climbed out of bed. She padded down the hall on slippered feet and started the coffee. While she waited for it to finish brewing, she fired up her laptop. Excitement threaded through her. The day held promise. The promise of a happily ever after. At least for the characters in her latest novel. Despite all that had happened the year before, her publishers had dropped her. She didn't blame them. In the year leading up to her mother's passing, she hadn't written much. And what she did write didn't meet even her own standards. She'd considered giving up writing altogether, but when faced with a decision between going back to the corporate world and continuing to write, she decided to enter the brave new world of self-publishing. Although she still set deadlines for herself, she didn't stress when she missed them. As a result, her passion for writing—and for life—had slowly returned to her. And with the higher royalty rates she received as a self-published author, she was making more than she ever had before. Rowan started every morning by checking her email. Today her in-box was filled completely with spam. Except for one. Her heart sped up. She clicked it open.
Dear Rowan, I've been sitting here for hours trying to think of something clever (i.e. brilliant, charming, or funny) to say, but I keep coming up empty. I even thought about writing you a poem, but alas, I am no poet. I know it. No need to show it. 125
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Apparently your grandmother thinks we should meet, and from what your sister told me about her, I think it would be best not to argue. So, what do you say? May I buy you a cup of coffee? Sincerely, Luke Cartwright PS I live in Sonoma. And you?
Natalie had been right. Luke was cute. His email had been charming. She was flattered that he'd spent so much time trying to think of just the right thing to say. Email could be awkward that way. She typed out a quick reply. *** Without even realizing he'd fallen asleep, Luke was startled awake by the sound of SpongeBob SquarePants's laughter, signaling him that he had a new email. Haley's idea of fun. Having fallen asleep on the sofa, he rushed to the bedroom and clicked open the email.
Dear Luke, You are a smart man. It took my grandfather decades to learn what you learned in one day: Do whatever Grandma says. Life is much easier that way. I, too, live in Sonoma (my grandmother would say it's a sign), and I love coffee. How about the Coffee Garden on Saturday? Say, 10:00 a.m.? I look forward to meeting you. Sincerely, 126
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Rowan
His heart skipped a beat. Two and a half years later, he was finally going to meet her. He could hardly believe it. The only thing he needed to decide now was whether to tell her who he was on the first date, or wait? It seemed dishonest not to tell her, but he wanted her to like him for who he was now, not who he'd been when he'd written those letters. Tortured. Insecure. A man with a chip on his shoulder. A man who read romance novels. Then again, if he hadn't read them, he wouldn't have met her. He decided to play it by ear.
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Chapter Twenty Six
Luke arrived at the Coffee Garden an hour before the scheduled meeting time. Forty-five minutes and three cups of coffee later, his stomach began to cramp. Five minutes before Rowan was due to arrive, he started sweating profusely and the tremor, which had begun in his hands, now traveled the length of his body.
Keep it together, Luke. He closed his eyes. Peter Cetera crooned overhead. It seemed that "Along Comes a Woman" was destined to be their theme song. He opened his eyes and saw her coming toward him, her long hair swaying as she moved. His breath stilled. She was as beautiful as he'd imagined. More so, maybe. She seemed to be moving in slow motion. He tried to stand, but his left leg locked up on him. He fell forward. Toward her. Into her. She opened her arms to catch him. His arms went around her. Her eyes were the color of summer. The softest shade of blue he'd ever seen. She smiled at him. It was the same shy smile she wore in her picture. "Luke?" she asked. Reluctantly, he stepped back, released his grip on her. "I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else," he said. Confusion knitted her brow. He grinned. "Just kidding. But if you wouldn't mind going outside and coming back in, I wouldn't mind trying this again."" 128
The Other Side of the World Her laughter filled the room. It was the most beautiful sound Luke had heard in a long time. Maybe ever. "I'll blame it on the bionic leg." He pulled out the chair for her. She glanced down at his leg and then smiled up at him. "And here I thought you were just excited to see me." Luke laughed. "Yeah, that too." More than she would ever know. She sat down and removed the black leather jacket and the soft white scarf. Luke shrugged out of his own leather jacket, hung it over the back of his chair, and asked Rowan what she would like to drink. A few minutes later, he returned with their drinks—decaf for him—and an assortment of warm pastries. She sipped the skinny mocha. "Did you lose your leg in Iraq?" They talked nonstop for the next two hours. Luke talked briefly about his time in Iraq, including the explosion and the year that followed. Rowan mentioned she had a friend who served in Iraq. She looked wistful when she spoke of him, explaining they had simply lost touch. Luke shifted in his seat while she spoke. A stab of guilt pierced his heart.
Tell her. He would tell her, but not here. Not today. They were different people now. Back then, she'd been married. Happily or not, she'd never given any indication that she felt anything more than friendship toward him. As far as she was concerned, he''d simply fallen off the face of the map. Had become someone she'd just lost touch with. He'd been angry, wounded. Someone in need of rescuing. He'd also had both legs then. Before he was willing to risk his heart completely, he needed to make sure there was a real connection between them, based on who they both were now. 129
The Other Side of the World She talked about the house she'd purchased in Sonoma the previous year. How she'd spent six months renovating it. How the year before that had been the hardest of her life, having lost her mother and her marriage. "We just grew apart," she'd explained. "We fell in love in high school, and eventually just realized we wanted different things from life."" She said that rehabbing the house had helped her heal from the losses. A little after noon, Rowan looked at her watch and frowned. "I'm so sorry, Luke, but today is my niece's birthday and I have to go."" Luke stood and held her jacket. She slipped her arms in and wrapped the scarf around her neck. "Can I walk you to your car?" In the parking lot, she stopped at a black Ford Escape, and turned to face him. Their eyes met and held. "I enjoyed meeting you, Luke." A light blush colored her cheeks. His eyes darted toward his boots. His heart beat too quickly. "I enjoyed meeting you, too." He forced his gaze upward. Haley's words pushed their way forward.
No kissing, but a hug is okay. He leaned toward her and drew her into his arms. Her arms went around him. He closed his eyes and swore he could feel her heart pound against his chest. He drew back. "Maybe we can do it again sometime?"
Smooth, Luke. "I'd like that," she said.
Ask her for her number. He opened his mouth to speak but the words piled in his throat. "Maybe I could give you my number?" she asked. 130
The Other Side of the World God, he was making a fool of himself. Heat scorched his cheeks. "I'm sorry. It's been a long time since I've asked a girl for her number. I guess I'm a little rusty." The shy smile made another appearance. "It's been since high school for me. Bet you can't beat that." He grinned. "Maybe not, but I can match it." He'd been with women since Emily, but he had never bothered asking for their phone numbers. She reached into her purse and pulled out a pen. Reaching for his hand, she pulled the cap of the pen off and wrote her number across his palm. "There." She curled his fingers into a fist. He laughed heartily. "I like you, Rowan." The words slipped out before he could stop them. Her cheeks darkened again. "I like you, too, Luke." Luke swiped gravel with his foot. He spread his palm open. "I'll never wash my hand again." He hugged her again and promised to call during the week. Then he waited until she'd backed out and waved as she drove out of the parking lot with his heart in tow.
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Chapter Twenty Seven
Natalie came running from the house, waving her arms frantically. Rowan hadn't even gotten the car in park before her sister pounded on the window. Rowan stepped out of the car. "Well?" her sister asked. Rowan could not contain her smile. "He's pretty great." She'd gone on the date more for her sister, and maybe even her grandmother, than for herself. But Luke had surprised her. The conversation flowed easily, and admittedly, he wasn't hard on the eyes. But it was more than that. There was something...familiar about him. He reminded her somehow of Tanner. It was probably that they'd both served in Iraq. Had both read her books. But Luke possessed a self-confidence Tanner hadn't. Whatever it was, she was drawn to him in a way she hadn't expected. Natalie beamed. "Right? So, are you going to see him again?" Rowan grabbed an armful of gifts from the backseat and pushed past her sister. Natalie followed on her heels, firing one unanswered question after another. Before long, an army of fiveyear-olds arrived and everyone's attention was focused on the birthday girl. *** Haley's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. "You hugged her, twice?"" "Yep." Though technically it was three times, if you counted the awkward greeting. "Way to go, Uncle Luke." She high-fived him. "And you got her number?" Luke opened his palm and showed it to the girl who had, upon their first meeting, insinuated herself into his heart. Luke didn't think he could love Haley more if she were his own daughter. 132
The Other Side of the World Haley rolled her eyes. "That's so 1980s. What you were supposed to do is have her enter her number in your cell phone." "I got the number. That's what matters, right?" She sighed dramatically. "I guess. Did you put it into your phone yet?" "Don't know how." Another dramatic sigh. "Give me your phone." She held out her hand. He handed over the phone. Over the next thirty minutes, Haley showed him how to add a contact, how to make a call using his contacts list, and how to receive and send text messages. "How long do I have to wait before calling her?" he asked, still unable to believe he was taking dating advice from a six-year-old. "Three days," Haley said. "And not a moment sooner. That's Tuesday, in case you were wondering." Later, when he was in bed, Luke replayed the date in his head, from the moment he saw her to the moment she drove off. And every moment in between. He was smitten, there was no denying it. He wondered whether he would feel the same pull to her if he had known nothing about her before today. Somehow, he suspected he would. Maybe not to the same degree at this point, but there was something special about this girl.
Luke wiped his palms on his thighs before dialing the number. His heart flapped like the wings of a hummingbird as the phone rang. She answered on the third ring. "Hello?" She sounded breathless, as though she'd run for the phone. "Hi Rowan, it's Luke Cartwright." 133
The Other Side of the World "And which Luke Cartwright would this be? The one I met for coffee on Saturday, or the one I had dinner with last night?" Luke's smile stretched from ear to ear. "The one with the bionic leg." "Sorry," she said, "that doesn't help narrow it down."" Luke loved that she hadn't looked at him with pity when she first saw his leg. He loved a lot about her. "Yeah, but did the other guy leap into your arms the first moment he saw you?" "Okay, now I know which Luke Cartwright I'm talking to. How are you, Luke?" "I'm good. Did I catch you at an okay time? You sounded a little winded when you answered the phone." "I was watching a movie and my cell phone was in the other room." Luke picked up the remote and clicked on the television, muting it when it came on. "What're you watching?" "The Sound of Music." Her favorite movie. "I can call another time if you want to watch it." "That's okay. I've seen it at least a hundred times. Plus, I played the lead in the high school musical version. I can literally recite the lines by heart. Have you seen it?"" He flipped through the guide until he found it. "Sure, I've seen it. In fact, when I sing 'Edelweiss,' people often mistake me for Christopher Plummer." She laughed into the phone. "Really? I'd like to hear that." So would he. The truth was, he didn't even sing in the shower. "I don't sing until at least the third date," he said. "I see," she said. "But isn't there normally a second date before the third one?" 134
The Other Side of the World Luke had thought this through carefully. He was going to tell her the truth about who he was the next time he saw her. "There is," he said. "And so I was thinking......Sunday is Mother's Day, as I'm sure you know. I know it will be a difficult day for you, and I was wondering if you might like to do something that day." Silence greeted him on the other end of the line. His stomach lurched. Had he overdone it by asking her for a date on Mother's Day? She sniffed. "It was really thoughtful of you to think about me like that, Luke. And you're right, it will be a difficult day...which is why I made plans to spend it with my sister."" Luke's shoulders fell. "Of course." He hoped his disappointment hadn't leaked into his voice. "You should definitely be with your sister." "But you should come for dinner," she said. "Natalie and I are spending the day in Calistoga doing the mud bath thing, but later her husband is making dinner for us. I know they would love it if you came. So...will you come?" Luke fist-pumped his arm. "Are you sure it wouldn't be in imposition?" "Not at all." Her voice was suddenly cheerful again. "But I can't promise it won't be an inquisition."
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Chapter Twenty Eight
Luke arrived at Natalie's house promptly at five. He shifted both bouquets of flowers and the wine into one arm and rang the bell. A boy who looked to be around Haley's age opened the door. "Are you the man with the bionic leg?" the boy asked. Luke laughed. "I am." "Prove it," the boy said. Natalie appeared at the door, her cheeks colored. "Sam, don't be rude. Luke, please come in." Luke stepped inside and offered one of the bouquets and the wine to her. "Thank you," Natalie said. "And I'm sorry about my son. He''s been watching reruns of The
Six Million Dollar Man all weekend and Rowan told him she has a friend with a bionic leg." "Are you kidding? Kids love this stuff." He pulled up his pant leg so Sam could see it. "But I can't leap tall buildings in a single bound," he told the boy. Sam bent down and examined the prosthetic. "That's Superman, not Steve Austin," he explained. "And your leg is pretty cool. What happened to the real one?" Natalie's husband joined them in the foyer and scooped the boy into his arms. "Enough questions for now," he said. "You're going to miss the end of the show unless you hurry." Sam scampered off and the man extended his hand. "Jim Forbes," he said. "Nice to meet you, Luke. Can I get you a beer or something?"" He waved Luke toward the kitchen. Rowan came in from the backyard, her hair tousled from the wind. She brushed it back and 136
Rowan came in from the backyard, her hair tousled from the wind. She brushed it back and The Other Side of the World stopped mid-stride when she saw him. She smiled up at him. "Hi." She took his breath away. "Hi back." She glanced down at the flowers he still held in his arms. "Are those for me?" Suddenly aware that all eyes were on him, Luke cleared his throat and searched for words. Any words would do. "What, these?" He held up the bouquet. "No. I brought them for Jim."" He held them out to her. "But you can have them if you want." Because it was Mother's Day, and because Jim had promised to make dinner for everyone, Luke agreed to help. Sam helped too. While Jim tended to the grill, Luke and Sam made a salad and corn on the cob. Everyone was in a festive mood when they sat down to dinner. The kids argued about who was cooler, the Six Million Dollar Man or the Bionic Woman. Apparently it was 1970s throwback weekend on television. All eyes turned to Luke. "The Bionic Woman," he said emphatically. "She not only has bionic limbs, she has supersonic hearing. Plus, she''s prettier, too." He glanced at Rowan, who nodded her agreement. When the kids finished eating and left the dining room, the conversation turned to more adult topics. "Luke helped organize a local support group for men and women suffering from PTSD," Natalie explained. "We've even seen a number of vets from Viet Nam come to the meetings. Most of these men have been living with untreated PTSD since the seventies." Rowan put her fork down. "I didn't know you did that." Luke's heart skipped. He liked the familiarity with which she spoke. As though they'd known 137
Luke's heart skipped. He liked the familiarity with which she spoke. As though they'd known The Other Side of the World each other for a long time. As though she should've known everything there was to know about him. "I understand you served in Iraq," Jim said. "Where were you stationed?" Luke's heart skipped another beat. He hesitated and stole a glance at Rowan, who twisted her napkin into a thin thread. "I was stationed in Baghdad. At Camp Liberty," he said, his eyes still trained on Rowan. Rowan glanced up sharply. She exchanged a look with her sister. "Rowan had a friend who was stationed at Camp Liberty," Natalie explained. "He was killed in the line of duty." Luke felt as though he'd been struck with a sniper bullet directly in the chest, without the protection of a vest this time. Surely she wasn't talking about him? Talia told him she''d mailed his last letter to Rowan, so she couldn't possibly think he'd been killed. Maybe she had been corresponding with someone in addition to Luke. The thought had never crossed his mind. "I'm very sorry," he said. "Maybe you knew him?" Natalie asked. "His name was Captain Ta—" "I'm sure Luke doesn't want to talk about it." Rowan got up from the table and headed toward the kitchen. Luke's mouth fell open. She was talking about him. He got up and followed her. He had to tell her the truth. He could not let her think the man she'd known was dead. He hoped she would forgive him for the misunderstanding. Rowan stood at the kitchen sink with her back to him. Luke placed his hands on her arms. "You okay?" he whispered. 138
The Other Side of the World She sniffed and nodded. She swiped her eyes with the back of her hand and turned to face him. "Rowan, I need to tell you—" "I'm sorry," she said at the same time. "I think it''s just the day, you know? I mean, yes, I'm sad about my friend. I miss him, but I also miss..." A sob caught in her throat. "Your mom," he finished for her. When she blinked, tears coursed down her cheeks. Luke pulled her into his arms and held her. "I know you do. And you always will. Mothers are special. They love us like no one else." He wiped a tear from her cheek. "One day your memories of her will comfort you rather than cause you pain. I promise." Luke felt a tug at his pant leg. He looked down. "Mommy said it was time for cake," Callie said. Rowan pasted on a smile. "Okay, baby. We'll be right in with the cake." "Don't forget the ice cream," Callie said. It was after nine when the evening began to wind down. After thanking Natalie and Jim for a wonderful evening, Rowan walked Luke to his truck. "They loved you," Rowan said. Her sadness from earlier seemed to be gone. "Especially Callie. She's normally shy around new people." "I'm glad they liked me." The more important question was how Rowan felt about him. There was no denying the connection between them. He just hoped she''d feel the same way when she learned the truth. 139
The Other Side of the World He leaned back against the truck and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans so she wouldn't see them shake. "So, what does your week look like?" He heard the tremor in his voice and wondered whether she did, too. "I'm leaving for a book signing tour tomorrow. First to Portland, then to Seattle. After that I'll spend a couple days with my old college roommate who lives up there."" Weekdays were always long, but somehow knowing she would be out of town made the week ahead feel even longer. He forced a smile. "Sounds like fun. When will you be back?" She tilted her head. A playful smile curled her lips. "I'll be back on Friday. In plenty of time for dinner." The corners of his lips crooked into a smile. "What time will you be home, exactly?" "Depends. What did you have in mind?" He shook his head. "It's a surprise. I'll pick you up at five." The question was, would it be a good surprise?
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Chapter Twenty Nine
Rowan changed outfits three times before deciding on a pair of dark jeans and a soft pink cashmere sweater. All Luke would tell her was to dress casual and that they'd be outside. She hoped it was casual enough. It had been a good week, but a long one. She and Luke talked every night, but by mid-week she found herself wanting to do more than talk to him. She wanted to see him. She wanted to kiss him, too. She'd had to settle for a kiss on the cheek after dinner at her sister's, but today she was hoping for a real kiss. Luke had been a wonderful and unexpected surprise in her life. He was sweet and funny and kind. Not to mention sexy as hell. At first, she wondered what it would be like dating a man with one leg. More to the point, being intimate with a man who only had one leg. But the more she got to know him, the more she realized it didn't matter. She''d told him as much on the phone the other night when he brought it up. She was falling in love with the man he was. He'd been through so much in his life and yet he hadn't shut down emotionally. He reminded her of Tanner in that way. But Tanner had chosen to remain anonymous. He shared so much of himself and yet he hadn''t even shared his name. Luke was an open book. He wanted her to know him. While she waited for him to arrive, she paced the length of the living room. She checked the time on her cell phone twice, and could hardly believe only two minutes had passed since the last check. At one minute before five, she heard his truck on the gravel drive. After showing him the house and discussing the renovations she'd done, they left. A short 141
After showing him the house and discussing the renovations she'dThe done, theySide left.ofAthe short Other World drive later, Luke turned in to the DiLucca Family Vineyards and Winery. "Is this where you work?" she asked. "It is." He drove past the winery. The paved road turned to gravel as they drove farther into the vineyard. They passed a modest house and a few cottages as they drove. "Are you sure the owner doesn't mind us coming back here?" she asked. "I'm good friends with the owner. He doesn't mind." As the truck bumped along, Rowan studied him. He was acting pretty casual. Almost too casual. She was about to ask him what he was up to when he pulled into the driveway of a large ranch style house. He put the truck in gear and rushed over to open her door. She slung her purse over her shoulder and started to climb out. He blocked her way. His mouth quirked into a smile. "I need you to trust me from here. Can you do that?" She cocked her head to the side. "What are you up to?" He took her hand and helped her out of the truck. "Do you trust me?" She nodded. He held up a bandana. "Turn around." She did as he asked. Something soft covered her eyes and she felt Luke tie the scarf behind her head. He tucked her arm in his. "Okay, follow me." They moved slowly and covered a good distance. Finally, he led her off the gravel path onto a patch of grass. 142
The Other Side of the World "Okay, I'm going to remove the blindfold, but I want you to keep your eyes closed. Promise?" She nodded. He removed the scarf and covered her eyes with his hands. "On the count of three, I'm going to move my hands. One...two......three." Rowan opened her eyes. A sea of yellow and brown and green greeted her. Row upon row of the most beautiful sunflowers she had ever seen surrounded her on all four sides. In the middle was a patch of grass, where Luke had set up a picnic. It was the most beautiful place she'd ever seen. And yet, strangely, she felt as though she'd been here before.
Every year my father planted an acre of sunflowers behind the house. Tanner's words echoed through her mind. She took in her surroundings once more. The vineyard, the sunflowers. This could not be coincidence. She bent over, unable to catch her breath. "How...how did you know about this place?" Her breath was a whisper. Luke took her hand and led her to a blanket on the grass. He sat down and tugged on her hand. She sat down, facing him. "I grew up here," he said.
I grew up on a vineyard in northern California. The sunflowers began to rotate around her. Everything became suddenly fuzzy. Luke reached into the picnic basket and withdrew a package. "Rowan, there's something I've been wanting to tell you, but I wasn''t sure how to start, so I thought I'd start here." He handed her the package. Her mouth went dry. She looked down at the gift-wrapped bundle. "What is this?" He met her probing gaze and held it. "Open it. It will explain everything." 143
The Other Side of the World Rowan stared at the package. She looked at him uncertainly. He nodded. She tore the paper off. It was a wooden box, much like the one her father had made for her. The one she kept Tanner's letters in. This one had a sunflower carved on the front. "Did you make this?"" "Yes. Go ahead and open it." Her heart pounded in her chest. She had no idea what to expect. She lifted the lid. Inside was a stack of...letters. Not just any letters. They were the letters she'd written Tanner. Her stomach lurched. "I don't understand. How did you get these?" Luke's face paled. He tried to speak but no words came out. She wanted to shake them out of him. "You sent them to me," he said finally. She shook her head. "The man I sent these to is dead. I got a letter..." "The letter said I was signing up for another tour." She blinked. How did he know that? "Yes but...the picture." She grabbed her purse, extracted her wallet and pulled out the photo that had come with the letter. ""This picture was in the envelope." He took it from her. She leaned over and pointed. "That's blood. My sister confirmed it. And the handwriting on the envelope was different." She sounded frantic, desperate, even to herself. Her thoughts muddled together. He studied the photo and nodded slowly. "After the explosion...the one where I lost my leg...they gathered all my personal effects and gave them to a friend of mine. The letter I''d written you was tucked into one of your books, along with all the letters you wrote me. She put them away 144
you was tucked into one of your books, along with all the letters you wrote me. She put them away The Other Side of the World and forgot about them. When she was packing to leave, she found the letter and decided to mail it." Despite the warmth of the afternoon sun, Rowan's entire body trembled. A parade of emotions marched through her. "And the picture?" Luke placed his hand over his heart. "I kept it in my uniform pocket." Tears pooled in his eyes. "I knew I could never be with you, but I didn''t care. You were my reason to keep fighting. I carried this picture with me everywhere." He ran his finger along the torn edge. "It wasn't cut before the blast." The last scrap of air drained from her lungs. "You...you're...oh my God, you're Tanner?" His head drew back and his brows came together. "Tanner?" She nodded. "The return address on your letters...my mother and I guessed...we decided on Tanner." The confusion on his face suddenly cleared. "Talia," he said. "Captain Talia Fournier. She gave me your book. I used her name the first time I wrote, never expecting you''d write back. When you did," he shrugged, "I guess I liked the anonymity of it. I felt like I could share my feelings with you without exposing myself to ridicule if someone intercepted the letters."" Tears streamed down Rowan's face. No wonder Luke had felt so familiar. She'd tried not to compare him to Tanner, but something in her always did. She'd come to love them both and now...they were the same person. Luke's arms went around her. She clung to him as though he were a life preserver. He wasn't, but he was her destiny. She knew it. Her mother had known it, too. She looped her arms around his neck and rested her forehead against his. ""I love you, Luke." 145
The Other Side of the World He inched closer, until he completely encircled her with his arms and legs. "I love you, too." Rowan closed her eyes and took it all in. She'd been just sixteen when she met Evan and her puppy love had eventually evolved into grownup love, but she had never felt anything like this before. When she opened her eyes, she was met with a sheepish grin. She couldn't help but laugh. ""What?" "I don't mind if you want to call me Tanner." She elbowed him in the ribs. "Shut up and kiss me." And then he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, lowered his lips to hers and kissed her.
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The Other Side of the World
Epilogue
The little girl with blond ringlets wove her way through the stalks of sunflowers, howling with laughter as she ran. Haley chased her, followed closely by the little girl's godmother, who laughed almost as hard as the girls. Rowan lay sideways on the blanket and faced her husband. She took his hand and guided it to her swollen belly. "Feel him kicking?" Luke pulled his wife closer, as close as their son would allow, and kissed her. Since their first time together in the sunflower field, they had not been apart. Before he met Rowan, Luke had never believed in the idea of a soul mate, but when he thought about everything that had happened to bring them together, he could not deny that Rowan was his destiny. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring them together. And who was he to argue? "Children incoming." Talia fell onto the blanket, breathless from the chase. A moment later, Isabella and Haley dove on top of her, still giggling. Isabella, a mini replica of her father, sat tucked between her father's legs and munched on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Haley, now ten, sat between the women and pressed her ear against Rowan's belly. "I can hear his stomach growling." She handed Rowan a sandwich. "I think my godson needs to eat." When Rowan had asked Haley to be co-godmother—along with Haley's mom—Haley had responded by saying, "It's an awfully big responsibility, Aunt Rowan, but I think I will be a good influence on him. I will teach him lots of things, just like I taught Uncle Luke." Since then, Haley had not missed a day of reading to the baby. Right now she was reading The Little Prince to him. 147
The Other Side of the World After serving two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, Talia retired from the Army. With her years of field experience, Talia was a highly sought-after orthopedic surgeon, working in private practice in San Francisco. But lately she'd been complaining about feeling restless. She missed the action, missed the urgency that working in the field provided. At the end of the summer, Talia would be joining Doctors without Borders in South Sudan. Luke would miss Talia. He owed everything to her. If it hadn't been for her, he would never have read his first romance novel. He wouldn't have written a letter to the author. He wouldn't have the chaos that family life had brought. Or the love. As he lay on the blanket with his daughter asleep on his chest, Luke looked heavenward and imagined all the people they'd loved and lost watching over them. Protecting them. His parents, and Rowan's. The child they'd lost shortly after they were married. Even Tom Stack, who had passed on the year before. He more than imagined them. He could feel them, with every beat of his heart. They all had a part in this, he knew. As tears trickled down his temples, he smiled up at them, pursed his lips and mouthed the words thank you.
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The Other Side of the World
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The Other Side of the World
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The Other Side of the World
Copyright ©2015 Suzanne Whitfield Vince 1st Digital Edition, 2015, cover design by Melchelle Designs
All Rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead is coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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