“Tell me how you got home,” she insisted. “This is unbelievable.”
“I imagine we moved around undetected for the better part of three years when we inevitably met up with another American convoy. We were almost attacked as they believed us to be insurgents. I managed to explain in halting English that we were no threat to them and that’s when everything got very interesting.”
A sense of dread filled Marseille as she listened.
“What did they do?” she whispered, putting the sandwich on a plate and sliding it toward him.
He took a bite immediately, and Marseille could see she had been right all along; he was starving. She went to work making another sandwich instantly and dug a beer out of the fridge.
River arched an eyebrow.
“Since when do you drink German beer? Since when do you drink any beer?”
“Forget about the beer,” she sighed. “Tell me.”
He nodded and took a long sip before continuing his story.
“This platoon thought it would be a good idea to use us as spies for the insurgency and despite our arguments. The group was angry with me, believing I had something to do with this plan, but again, Anwar kept the peace. He convinced the others not to tell the Americans I was one of them. When we were alone, I told Anwar that we should go along with their plan, so we were able to leave unscathed but that I would take them out to safety. We had traveled so far without being caught; I was sure we could get further. It was almost impossible to find a place of safety for us to settle and it looked like we were headed into Turkmenistan.”
“Why didn’t you just tell the soldiers you were one of them?” Marseille asked, not understanding. “They would have sent you home years ago!”
River put the sandwich down and wiped his mouth.
“I don’t expect you to understand this, Marce but I couldn’t abandon the men I had traveled with for so long. They called me Askar, a Pashto word for soldier. They had protected me when they could have done terrible things to me, killed me, left me to die, but they didn’t, and I was not about to abandon them. Especially not after what the soldiers took great pleasure in doing to the men.”
Marseille swallowed the lump in her throat and waited for River to compose himself.
What did they do to each other out there?
She dared not ask for details, but she had heard awful stories of what rogue soldiers had done to the Afghans.
She refocused her attention on the food preparation, putting another sandwich on his plate as he polished off the first one.
Again, their eyes met, and he offered her a kind smile.
“I’m glad to see we’re still in sync with one another, baby,” he told her tenderly, and Marseille lowered her eyes guiltily.
“Finish telling me how you came to be here,” she urged. “I need to know where you’ve been all this time, River.”
He exhaled slowly.
“In a nutshell, I got the Afghans to go along with the plan, and we ran…and I made it back to you…”
The story ended abruptly and made no sense whatsoever.
“How? I don’t understand,” Marseille insisted. “How did you make it back?”
“I’m tired now, Marce. I will tell you the rest of the story another time,” he said quickly, and Marseille stared at him, her mouth agape.
“What?” she cried. “No! I want to know now, River! You can’t just walk back into my life after six years and give me some fairy tale –“
A car door slammed outside, and River jumped to his feet, his face white.
“Who is that?” he hissed, looking about. “Who is here?”
Marseille looked at him, shaking her head in sadness.
“A lot has changed in six years,” she whispered. The front door opened and Jude’s voice rang out.
“Hey babe, I’m home.”
River’s face exploded into myriad expressions; shock, anger and finally, devastation.
“No one can see me,” he whispered, his face contorted in fear. “You have to hide me.”
She did not question him; hearing Jude’s footfalls grow closer, and she pointed toward the pantry.
River slipped inside the closet as Jude entered the kitchen, dressed in his work uniform.
His brow creased and he looked at the half-eaten sandwich on the plate.
“You’re eating sandwiches for dinner?”
Marseille tried not to look at the pantry, but she could feel River’s blue eyes fixated on her through the wood slats.
“I didn’t know what time you’d be home,” she replied quickly. “I just needed to eat something quickly.”
“And you’re drinking beer?”
His eyes widened in surprise.
“Rough day,” she lied, taking a sip of the bitter liquid and trying not to wince.
“We have wine, Mars.”
She shrugged indifferently.
“It was closer.”
“Come on,” Jude said. “I’ll take you out for dinner.”
“That is a great idea!” Marseille almost yelled. “Let’s go right now. I’m starving.”
“You’re acting weird, Marseille. Are you okay?”
She forced herself to maintain a semblance of normalcy, flashing her husband a taut smile.
“Just hungry. Like I said, long day. I’ll tell you all about it at Applebee’s.”
Jude nodded, but his bright blue eyes reflected doubt as they turned from the kitchen.
“Oh, wait. Marcus is in the backyard,” Jude said.
“Just leave him!” Marseille yelled, causing him to jump.
“Babe, we can’t leave –“
“He has the runs. Leave him outside.”
Marcus stared at them from the glass, his tongue hanging from his mouth and Jude could sense something he did not understand.
“Okay,” he finally agreed, eyeing the plate and dog again but he did not comment further.
Marseille waited for Jude to exit the kitchen first before turning to look at River through the slits of the pantry doors.
She gestured to the floor, hoping he would understand, but just in case she called out to Jude.
“Hey, Jude? I’m going to donate the sofa in the basement to the Salvation Army.”
There was a slight pause.
“Okay, babe.”
She could hear the confusion in his voice, but she didn’t care. She wanted River to know he had a place to stay safe, at least temporarily.
Why can’t anyone know he’s here? What did he do in Afghanistan and how did he make it back here?
Marseille knew the answers would terrify her.
Chapter Five
River’s sharply intuitive ears listened for the sound of a car driving off before cautiously stepping from the kitchen closet.
His heart is hammering wildly; he glanced at the dog who no longer howled but looked at him as if debating what to do with him.
He reached forward and grabbed the rest of the bread and meat concoction, inhaling it in one bite.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten a proper meal, and he could not help but relish every morsel of what Marseille had laid out for him.
She has remarried. And she has remarried Jude Galvin. Why did I not see this coming? I should have known…
But in his heart, he knew he had foreseen it that Marseille had moved on with her life.
How could he not have sensed it? There was no doubt that everyone had believed him dead and he had not done anything to counter their beliefs.
Yet River knew the thing which had kept him alive through unimaginable circumstances was the thought of his beautiful wife, dutifully waiting for him when he finally made it home.
And now I am home, and she is not waiting for me. She is married to Jude.
For a moment, he clung to the hope that they were not married.
Maybe they are just living together, he thought, but as he slowly made his way through the small house, it became clear they were w
ed and had been for several years.
He stared at a wedding picture on the dresser, his mouth becoming a fine line.
Marseille had married him soon after he had gone missing in action. He recognized the youth in her face, but he could also see the pain in her eyes.
Why did you forget about me so soon? I promised you I would come back for you. If only you had been a little bit more patient.
The story he had told Marseille was true, but it was what he hadn’t told her which he wasn’t sure she’d understand.
He tried to bury the memory of what he had done to his psyche, but he knew it was only quick fix.
The images would resurface.
They always did.
He cleaned himself up the best he could, removing any traces of his presence from the small basement bathroom and he dug through boxes of old clothes for a fresh outfit, his grief mounting as he recognized his own clothing put aside.
Just like my memory, he thought.
He had been back in the United States for over a year, looking for his wife but it was difficult to do when he was nobody, a walking corpse whom would be killed if anyone knew he still existed.
River had not thought beyond where he would go or what he would do when he found Marseille. In his fantasies, he had envisioned them starting their lives exactly where they had left them; in love and together.
Jude Galvin was going to put a damper on those plans, but as River sat on the worn couch in the dank basement, he knew Jude was only an obstacle to overcome.
That bastard. That predatory bastard. I should just kill him.
It was not an option, of course, but the idea gave River a certain spark of adrenaline.
He closed his blue-green eyes and thought of the last time he had seen Jude.
It was the day I was buried in the rubble, he recalled.
The platoon had made their way outside the Qalla, but something had stopped Jude.
“What is that?” Jude asked, whirling, grabbing River’s arm in the process. Both men froze, looking back at the structure inside the walls.
“Did you see that?” Jude demanded, but River shook his head. Jude pointed at the upper floor, and River’s eyes trained upward.
“Someone is in there,” he told his best friend. “We have to go look.”
“How could they have gotten in?” River demanded, unconvinced. “There’s only one point of entry.”
“I’m telling you, someone is there!” Jude exploded. “If you don’t want to come with me, fine but I have to check it out before we get ambushed.”
Suddenly, there was a rash of screaming outside the walls and both men spun, Jude at the gate, River toward the house.
“Run!” Jude screamed. “Run toward the house, River and hide!”
River turned to flee, assuming Jude was at his back but as he approached the structure, a series of explosions erupted, bright sparks against the rain.
“Jude!” he screamed as the house crumbled on his head, but he couldn’t see Jude. He couldn’t see anything anymore.
He was unconscious.
A dog’s intense bark woke him and River bolted up on the sofa. He had fallen asleep on the lumpy sofa in Marseille’s basement.
They’re home, he realized, hearing the dog pacing excitedly on the floor above his head. Marcus woofed again as if trying to warn Jude.
Shut it, mutt! He thought. You’re going to give my location away.
He slipped off the couch and padded toward the stairs, listening to the conversation above.
“…and I knew you were going to back out of it anyway!” Jude was yelling. “You’ve gotta tell me what we’re doing here, Mars.”
River cringed. He loathed hearing her being called Mars knowing Marseille hated it too.
He doesn’t even know her well enough to know that, he thought with grim amusement.
River wondered how well he knew Marseille anymore.
Maybe she does like being called Mars now. After all, she married another man after swearing to wait for you.
River knew he could not be bitter logically, but it didn’t stop him from being hurt by the revelation.
“I am suggesting we wait for a little”
“Yeah yeah yeah, Marseille, I know. Wait longer until both of us are so old, neither one of us will be able to bear children.”
“Jude, I need you to listen to me,” she urged quietly, and River could tell she was trying to keep her voice low so he wouldn’t hear. It didn’t matter – he had become highly adept in the art of listening.
“Something has happened and –“
“Did you eat the rest of the sandwich?”
There was an almost deafening silence.
“Are you paying attention to anything I’m saying?” she finally shouted, but River could detect the slight panic in her voice.
I shouldn’t have eaten the rest of that sandwich. Who knew he could pay attention to detail. He wasn’t like that in the army.
“But…there was half a sandwich here when I got home.”
“You’re an ass, Jude. Don’t start an argument with me and then change the subject.”
Jude laughed mirthlessly.
“It’s not an argument, Mars. It’s the same shit all the time. We’re not having kids. I get it. You have been pining for River all these years, and you don’t want babies with me.”
“Jude!” There was a shock in her voice, and River felt a fission of unexpected glee.
She has been pining for me. She won’t have children with him.
He thought about how many times they had discussed having babies.
“We’ll have a soccer team,” Marseille joked. “But you have to do all the diaper changes. I do that at work all day.”
“Deal!” River had agreed.
“What?” Jude challenged. “I can’t talk about River? Why don’t you just admit that he’s always in the room, looming over us like a plague? If you can’t let him go after all this time, I don’t know if you ever will.”
“This isn’t the time to talk about it, Jude,” she whispered, and River knew she was sensitive to his listening.
“It’s never the time to talk about it,” he snapped. “I’m going to take Marcus out for a walk and then I’m going to bed.”
A moment later, River heard a door slam unnecessarily loud above his head.
He stood, waiting for a long minute until the light appeared from the top of the stairs.
Marseille stood, staring down at him, her face a mask of consternation.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Sorry, you had to hear that.”
“Is it true?” he asked. “You won’t have kids with him?”
“I don’t want to talk about Jude, River,” she sighed. Her amber eyes traveled down his body appreciatively, and she smiled softly.
“You found your clothes,” she breathed. “You’re wearing my favorite shirt.”
River glanced down at the blue button down and grinned.
“I found them rotting away in a box. I needed to change into something a little cleaner before I mess up your entire house. If he can notice a sandwich missing, he’s going to notice dirt tracked all over the place.”
Marseille’s lower lip quivered, and she shook her head.
“They weren’t rotting away,” she murmured, starting down the steps slowly. “I kept them there so I could come and inhale your scent whenever I had a chance. When the smell of you began to disappear, I felt my heart begin to break all over again. Most of your things are here. Jude never comes down here because he knows that. He claimed the garage for himself.”
Their eyes met, and River could not resist reaching out for her, stroking her smooth cheek as she landed beside him.
“What are you going to do?” she asked him, closing her palm over his longhand. “Where are you going to go?”
River shook his head.
“My entire plan has been being with you again, Marce. Or should I say, Mars?”
She grimaced sligh
tly, and he laughed quietly.
“I have to get back upstairs. You can stay down here for tonight, but we’re going to have to figure out what to do with you, River.”
River grabbed her and drew her back, pulling her to him for a kiss.
She started to resist but her resolve dissolved in seconds as she eagerly returned his embrace.
When they parted, River could see the tears in her eyes.
“It’s okay, baby,” he told her softly. “We will figure this out.”
She did not look convinced, and they heard the front door open.
“I have to go!” she whispered, bolting back up the stairs.
River watched her retreat up the steps quickly, his mind whirling with confusion.
She is still my wife. I am not dead. She can’t just walk away from the way we feel about one another.
He thought of Jude, his thoughts conflicted. On the one hand, he was sure that Jude had helped his wife through a difficult time but on the other, he could not help but feel that River had taken advantage of the situation.
Given our history, it’s very coincidental that he is here…isn’t it?
Slowly, River returned to the sofa.
More memories were resurfacing, memories of tours with Jude. Scenes shot through his mind fast and furiously until they were like a blur of fast forward on a DVD player.
A sickening realization hit River full force as he sank into the plaid cushions.
He saw an opportunity, and he seized it. They didn’t just fall in love, Jude planned this as soon as he knew I was dead.
Again, River had drifted off. The events of his life seemed to have caught up to him in one fell swoop, and he found it almost impossible to keep his eyes open.
He had nothing else to keep him awake and afraid. There was nothing driving him forward as he had finally found the end of his harrowing journey.
His body had finally given out, and River gave himself permission to succumb to the exhaustion in his bones.
He dreamt the same dream, the one with Marseille and the moon. It was the dream he clung to while roaming the tundra, his wife ever smiling at him on the horizon, the moonbeams illuminating her dark hair.
But this time Jude was standing between them, blocking him from touching his wife and staring at the sky.
The Lost Seal: A Seal Romance Page 5
