Betrayal

"Jesus," he said, "that's unbelievable." But if Nolan's pose was relaxed, he felt far from it-his assumption had all along been that Evan was dead, or at least permanently rendered mentally incompetent. After the RPG hit at Masbah, Onofrio had insisted that they pile Evan into the Humvee. Nolan had field-assessed the damage to Evan's head, and it didn't look like the kind of wound from which people recovered, so he'd let himself be persuaded.

Now Nolan drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch. "But his mother said they expect him to get better?"

"Completely, though maybe not soon."

"Well, that's good news, at least. And she told you all of the other troops were killed?"

"All but one, that's what Eileen said. And then Evan."

Nolan raked his palm down the side of his face. "God, those guys. They were good kids. I can't believe…I mean, they shouldn't have even been there. They should have been fixing big trucks." He looked across at her, so lovely and vulnerable in the dim December night. Her tears had begun again and now glistened on her cheeks. "How are you doing with this, T? You want to go see him?"

"No!" The word came out in a rush. Then, more reflectively, she said, "I don't know what good that would do. I just didn't really expect anything like this, that's all. Maybe I should have, you know, but it just…when it's someone you know, who you loved…" She let out a weary sigh. "I don't know what to do with it. I want him to be okay, but Eileen asked me if I wanted to get back in touch with him, and I couldn't say I did. Although sometimes I think…"

"What?"

"No, it just would sound bad. For us, I mean."

"I can take it."

"I know that, Ron. You can take anything. But maybe sometimes a person doesn't need to say everything. You've just got to get through stuff."

He sipped his drink. "Sometimes you think you would want to go see him, or talk to him, if it wasn't for us. Is that it? Because if it is, I won't stand in your way. I really won't, T." He came forward. "But let me ask you this: Were you thinking a lot about him before you ran into his mother and found out he'd been hurt?"

"Not a lot, no. Sometimes."

"So maybe-just a thought here-maybe it's guilt. Maybe on some level you feel like you need his permission."

"To do what?"

"Move on. Have a life of your own."

She sat on the edge of her big chair, biting her lip, holding her forgotten wineglass in both hands between her knees. Eventually, slowly, she began to shake her head. "No," she said. "I don't think that's it."

"Okay," Nolan said. "I've been wrong before. Twice, I think." A quick smile, trying to break the tension. It didn't work. "What's your theory?"

"It's not a theory so much as it's a change in the facts I was living with. I thought he stopped writing to me because he'd stopped…loving me."

"Maybe he stopped writing to you because you didn't write back."

"Okay, maybe some of that too. But that wasn't really him, I don't think. He's a stubborn guy. I mean, he wrote me ten letters and I didn't answer any of them, so why would he stop at number ten? I think he would have kept on until I told him to stop. Except he got shot and he couldn't."

"So he's still carrying a torch for you?"

"He might be."

"And that would make a difference?"

She blew out the breath she was holding. "I'd gotten comfortable thinking it was over, that's all. Mutually over. Thinking he was okay with it. It made it easier for me."

"With me, you mean?"

She nodded. "Which is really why I didn't write back to him. You know that."

"Yes, I do." He sat back, let out his own long breath, and took a drink. "Do you regret that? Us?"

Tara 's head kept moving slowly from side to side. "I don't know, Ron. I just don't know. You're a good guy and we've had a lot of good times…"

"But?"

She raised her eyes and looked at him, her lovely face drawn with indecision and regret. "But I think I might need some time to sort this out a little." Her eyes widened. "God, I don't even know where those words came from. I'm not saying I want to stop seeing you. I don't know what I'm saying."

Nolan pushed the ice around in his glass with his index finger. Sitting back now, an ankle on its opposite knee, he let the silence hang for a few beats. "Here's the deal," he said at last. "You take all the time you need, do everything you think you need to do. The downside is I might not be around anymore if the deciding goes on too long. That's just reality. I don't want to lose you, but I don't want half of you either. Just so it's clear where I stand."

"It's always clear where you stand. That's one of the great things about you."

He leveled his gaze at her. "You're going to call him?"

"I don't know. I shouldn't, at least not right now. His mother made it sound like he still wasn't all the way back to normal. I don't want to hear him or see him and start to feel sorry for him. That wouldn't be good."

"No, it wouldn't. It's easy to confuse pity and love, but it's bad luck."