taunted.
Madonna interrupted Tess’s thoughts, more specifically, Madonna’s “Vogue.” Odd choice for a man’s ring tone.
“Excuse me,” Louie turned away from Tess, whispering into the phone. “Is she coherent?” Louie ran his hand through his hair and said with a sigh, “Okay, I’ll be there soon.” Louie turned toward Tess, a concerned look in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” Without further explanation, he excused himself from the table, paying the bill on the way out the door.
Tess slipped into her car and replayed the evening in her mind. She wondered who had called Louie. A wife? Babysitter? He hadn’t mentioned a wife or a child, but then again, Tess had never asked. She had been too caught up in enjoying the diversion from her grief. What was she doing? How could she have pushed Beau aside in her mind like that? Guilt wooed her. She wanted to feel stricken—lost even—by Beau’s absence, as she had in the weeks prior. She knew she should feel those emotions, and yet, somehow, each day, she was becoming stronger. Her faith that Beau was not gone forever extinguished her fear that he might have been. It was almost as if he were on a business trip, and she knew he’d be coming home—only she didn’t know when.
Iraq
Beau stared at the photo of Tess, remembering fondly the afternoon it had been taken. They’d been dating for about a month, and Beau was head over heels in love with Tess. They were fishing on Kevin’s father’s boat, joking about one of them falling in the water. Tess was deathly afraid of any body of water larger than a swimming pool, and she wasn’t too keen on those, either. She’d clung tightly to Beau’s arm. Suddenly, the wind kicked up and the small boat rocked from side to side. Beau had to pry himself away to help bring down the sail, and somehow, at the very moment that Beau had turned his back, the boat had tipped. Tess had gone flailing into the water, shrieking and petrified. Kevin and Beau had pulled her out seconds later.
He ran his hand over the picture. Tess hated everything about that photo, from her soaking wet hair to the frightening memory it held. Beau’s love for the photo was equal to her hatred, for the simple fact that five minutes after it was taken, Tess had held onto Beau like a lifeline, soaking wet and shivering. Through chattering teeth, she’d told Beau what he’d been waiting to hear—that she loved him.
He was not ashamed of his tears as they streamed down his cheeks. He could not have stopped them if he had tried. Flashes of memory flooded his mind, the sounds of explosions echoed in his ears. He lay on the strangely-printed blankets, wondering how and why he had survived the helicopter crash. Whatever the reasons, his life had been handed back to him, and for that he was grateful. His mind ran in circles. He had to come up with a plan. He had to get back to Tess.
Suha wiped his tears, speaking in her broken but understandable English. “She is yours, yes?”
Beau nodded slightly. His cheeks hurt, but he could no better hide his pushing smile than walk away from his makeshift bed. “Tess,” he whispered.
“Tess. She is beautiful, yes? Your wife?” Suha asked.
Beau nodded.
“She will be worried. You will, come back to me ,” Suha said, and placed the shiny, dented, pocket watch in his right hand, curling his fingers around it with a gentle squeeze.
Beau closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of his watch, their watch. Yes, I will , he thought. I will come back to you .
“Sleep,” Suha said, and for the first time in many weeks, Beau closed his eyes without anxiety.
Chapter Seven
Tess lay on the table in her obstetrician’s office, her belly covered with warm, gooey gel. She stared at the black screen of the ultrasound monitor, tapping her fingers on the paper sheet below her.
“Excited?” Dr. Roberts asked.
My husband’s missing, I had dinner with another man, and I’m lying
Madonna interrupted Tess’s thoughts, more specifically, Madonna’s “Vogue.” Odd choice for a man’s ring tone.
“Excuse me,” Louie turned away from Tess, whispering into the phone. “Is she coherent?” Louie ran his hand through his hair and said with a sigh, “Okay, I’ll be there soon.” Louie turned toward Tess, a concerned look in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” Without further explanation, he excused himself from the table, paying the bill on the way out the door.
Tess slipped into her car and replayed the evening in her mind. She wondered who had called Louie. A wife? Babysitter? He hadn’t mentioned a wife or a child, but then again, Tess had never asked. She had been too caught up in enjoying the diversion from her grief. What was she doing? How could she have pushed Beau aside in her mind like that? Guilt wooed her. She wanted to feel stricken—lost even—by Beau’s absence, as she had in the weeks prior. She knew she should feel those emotions, and yet, somehow, each day, she was becoming stronger. Her faith that Beau was not gone forever extinguished her fear that he might have been. It was almost as if he were on a business trip, and she knew he’d be coming home—only she didn’t know when.
Iraq
Beau stared at the photo of Tess, remembering fondly the afternoon it had been taken. They’d been dating for about a month, and Beau was head over heels in love with Tess. They were fishing on Kevin’s father’s boat, joking about one of them falling in the water. Tess was deathly afraid of any body of water larger than a swimming pool, and she wasn’t too keen on those, either. She’d clung tightly to Beau’s arm. Suddenly, the wind kicked up and the small boat rocked from side to side. Beau had to pry himself away to help bring down the sail, and somehow, at the very moment that Beau had turned his back, the boat had tipped. Tess had gone flailing into the water, shrieking and petrified. Kevin and Beau had pulled her out seconds later.
He ran his hand over the picture. Tess hated everything about that photo, from her soaking wet hair to the frightening memory it held. Beau’s love for the photo was equal to her hatred, for the simple fact that five minutes after it was taken, Tess had held onto Beau like a lifeline, soaking wet and shivering. Through chattering teeth, she’d told Beau what he’d been waiting to hear—that she loved him.
He was not ashamed of his tears as they streamed down his cheeks. He could not have stopped them if he had tried. Flashes of memory flooded his mind, the sounds of explosions echoed in his ears. He lay on the strangely-printed blankets, wondering how and why he had survived the helicopter crash. Whatever the reasons, his life had been handed back to him, and for that he was grateful. His mind ran in circles. He had to come up with a plan. He had to get back to Tess.
Suha wiped his tears, speaking in her broken but understandable English. “She is yours, yes?”
Beau nodded slightly. His cheeks hurt, but he could no better hide his pushing smile than walk away from his makeshift bed. “Tess,” he whispered.
“Tess. She is beautiful, yes? Your wife?” Suha asked.
Beau nodded.
“She will be worried. You will, come back to me ,” Suha said, and placed the shiny, dented, pocket watch in his right hand, curling his fingers around it with a gentle squeeze.
Beau closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of his watch, their watch. Yes, I will , he thought. I will come back to you .
“Sleep,” Suha said, and for the first time in many weeks, Beau closed his eyes without anxiety.
Chapter Seven
Tess lay on the table in her obstetrician’s office, her belly covered with warm, gooey gel. She stared at the black screen of the ultrasound monitor, tapping her fingers on the paper sheet below her.
“Excited?” Dr. Roberts asked.
My husband’s missing, I had dinner with another man, and I’m lying
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