Zack finds a restaurant that looks good, The Red Lion, and takes a table on the deck. He gets a bowl of water for Kat from the curly-haired ski-bum server, a Guinness for himself, and sits, arms on the metal table, face turned up to the late winter sun for a few moments, before settling in to people watch. He is only thirty yards from the gondola, facing a steep set of moguls. Skiers coming down the hills are black specks in controlled turns, swooping back and forth until they slam to a stop with a rooster-tail splash of white.
It is unseasonably warm, and the skiers who’ve taken a break around him are dressed in light layers, jackets off, boots unsnapped. Others clump through the narrow streets heel-to-toe in their bulky boots, skis over shoulders, some intent on the parking garage, some looking for a place to relax for a while, happy to sit and have a drink, unwind, reward themselves for their heroics on the mountain. They shoulder their own loads, which surprises him. For such an expensive sport, he’d expect more Sherpas to run the heavy gear from the cars to the slopes and back.
Moving among the rust-colored awnings are women who aren’t skiing but are here to shop, hair perfectly done and wide sunglasses on. Trophies. Children in designer clothes trail in their wake, looking longingly at the mountain.
The constant flow soothes him, makes him feel normal for the first time in days. All these people without a care in the world outside of where and when the next adrenaline high comes from. He is jealous of their carefree lives. And on this bright, warm day, the general atmosphere is jovial.
“Did you see that last run? My hair was on fire.”
“I almost slammed into that pole.”
“Gosh, it is such a gorgeous day.”
It is. The sun gleams off last night’s fresh white snow; the evergreens are tipped in blue. Christmas decorations are still up, though he wonders, since this is an alpine town, if it’s like this all the time. The winter wonderland motif works. He imagines it’s quite beautiful at night, the fairy lights tucked into the green swags, highlighting the red ribbons and bows.
The sky is sapphire blue, broken only by a few puffy white clouds and several hawks riding the thermals. He wonders what the birds think of the people swooping down the slopes—do they see them as prey?
Cream-colored buildings with dark timbers, brick-cobbled walkways, dogs—tons of dogs, Kat is quivering by his feet watching them stroll by.
The women next to him are on their second margaritas, the men sitting with them in their ski boots and sunglasses are cool and funny.
In his observations, he sees himself, sitting at the table, a beer in his hand, a dog at his feet. His clothes are Nashville North Face, but for the rest... He has one of those strange moments of dislocation—Could I live here? Could I fit in? Would the people next to me be my friends, or would I find them, and they me, tedious and boring?
With Mindy here, this is more than a rhetorical question. He will be near her no matter what, and that means moving to Colorado. This will be his new life.
Will he and Jasper find a way to be friends, or will they dance around one another, pretending to be civil for Mindy’s sake? He thinks they could be friends; quiet and smart, Jasper seems like a good man. At least he did until he started protecting Lauren. And protecting he is, desperately.
As for that, would Lauren welcome him?
A small shudder goes through him, and he pushes it away. And finally, his mind lands on the one thing he’s been desperately trying to avoid.
Vivian.
70
Vivian appears to him as if conjured from smoke. The curl of her dark hair. The violet of her eyes in the darkness of their bedroom. The curve of her stomach. Her assurances she will be fine if he goes to visit his mother, the last words he ever hears from her. I’ll be fine. I promise. The baby won’t be here for two more weeks.
Though he is no longer hungry, out of habit, he eats a plate of brisket and French fries, washes it down with beer, hands tidbits to Kat. The sun is warm, and he puts his head back to catch a few rays, trying to turn off his mind. Remembering Viv is like poking a sore tooth, something to be avoided, yet somehow, feeling for the pain is grounding.
There you are. You are not forgotten.
Her ghost has sidled through life with him, always there, always present. The scent of her hitting him unawares when he takes a walk with Kat; in his monkish bedroom, waking him from his dreams of her warm, soft body yielding beneath him. Her laugh, almost forgotten now, a whisper on the breeze.
Why wouldn’t she tell him of her past? Was it simply because they didn’t have enough time? When he met her, she was working at his favorite restaurant. She was a terrible waitress. Even now, remembering how flustered she got the first time he saw her, a smile cracks his face. She dropped his coffee cup practically in his lap. If he hadn’t moved quickly, he’d have been scalded. Her apologies, her mortification, so sure he wouldn’t leave a tip—when instead he left her twenty bucks and his phone number. He fell for her hard and fast, and let himself. A pretty girl, a kind woman, someone to try to keep himself alive for. Did they rush into living together, and marriage? Sure. But he adored her. All of her. He’d been over the moon when she got pregnant.
He never saw her depressed, though maybe he, the great intelligencer, simply didn’t know the signs to look for. Yes, she got quiet every once in a while, but he was also gone so much that it was entirely possible she simply didn’t tell him. She wouldn’t have wanted to add to his burden.
They’d chosen to live in Nashville because she didn’t like the scrutiny of being on base. He was deployed often enough the hour-long drive to Ft. Campbell was no big deal. Now he wonders if perhaps there was more to this than he originally thought. That she wanted to be in Nashville so she could get treatment outside of the prying eyes of his superiors, who didn’t look kindly on such things.
“Oh, Viv. You could have told me. I could have helped.”
His minds drifts to Lauren again. Being suspicious of her isn’t helping matters. He’s spent all his time with her dissecting her words and actions, looking, picking, trying to find the thing that makes him say, Oh, that’s why you give me the willies. And now Jasper is acting weird, too.
He hasn’t discovered why so far, but he knows the answer is there, lurking under the surface. All the people around Lauren can’t be expected to see the strain in her; they are with her every day, this is their normal. But Zack, new on the scene, can feel it. The tension comes off her like sweat, and he can sense she’s ready to spring.
What is up with that?
He finishes his lunch, tips his waiter well, and is just stepping off the restaurant’s deck when his cell rings. Juliet’s number shows on the screen.
“Hey, what’s up?”
He can hear tears in her voice.
“We have a problem.”
His heart begins to race immediately, his muscles tense. “Is it Mindy? What’s wrong? Is she rejecting the transplant?”
“No. It’s...oh God, Zack, I don’t know what to do. I’ve been trying to track you down. I didn’t realize you left the hospital.”
“I needed some air. Take a breath. What’s wrong?”
“Jasper let slip to the media you used to be a government assassin.”
Zack feels a calm steal over him. So this is the play. “He let that slip, did he?”
“Were you?”
“Would it matter if I was?”
“I’d say so, especially considering Jasper is planning to use it to mount a court battle against you. At the very least, he’s trying to turn the tide against you as far as the media is concerned. Public opinion can be very influential in these high-profile cases, you know that.”
He blows out a breath. “Well, he can try to ruin me all he wants. I was not an assassin. Did I kill people? Yes. I was a soldier in an active war zone. But I never killed someone who wasn’t trying to kill me or my troops. And the Army will confirm that.”
“He claims...”
“Juliet, he’s desperate. He’s going to say anything right now.”
“You’re being too nice about this, Zack. He’s trying to ruin your reputation.”
“I think it’s something else. I think he’s trying to draw attention away from him and Lauren.”
“What do you mean?” He hears the wariness in her voice. Wariness, but not surprise.
“I just mean... I don’t know what I mean. I’m getting a weird vibe off your sister, that’s all.”