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“You sought legal advice today?”
“Yes.”
“So...you already have an attorney?”
“No.” But perhaps he should have acquired one before having this discussion. He only now saw how it would have strengthened his position to have done so.
She was frowning. “I’m confused,” she said. “Why would a legal advocate advise you to get a divorce? You’ve been home less than two days. I called Chaplain Blaine today. She said that we can’t know anything just yet, in terms of what our future will look like. She said right now the only thing we can give ourselves is time. And counseling, too, of course.”
Expecting patience to settle over him—an emotion he knew and trusted—Winston was surprised by the instant flood of exactly the opposite coursing through him. He was antsy.
Emily was going to be hurt worse the longer this continued. What right did anyone have to hurt this beautiful, giving woman any more than was necessary?
What right did he have to come barreling in without sensitivity enough to give her time to accept the inevitable?
“She’s right, of course,” he said, as patience finally settled over him.
Emily’s frown grew. “I don’t get it...why would a legal adviser tell you you need a divorce?” And with a shake of her head, added, “Why did you even seek out his advice?”
It was all one and the same, wasn’t it? He was obligated to give her the most honest answer. Thinking back over his day, he had to admit... “He didn’t tell me I needed a divorce,” he said slowly, remembering the man’s exact words. “He said I needed to talk to you. Really talk.”
Face clearing, Emily sat back. “Okay, so talk.”
He pushed his plate aside, leaned forward, his arms on the table now. Would have liked to loosen his collar, his tie. But knew that when everything was spinning out of control, whatever protocol he could hold on to kept him sane.
He didn’t know for sure how much she knew. How much they’d told her. But suddenly saw how important it was that she hear it from him.
She’d see the change in him, given the time they’d both now been advised to take, but she might see it sooner if she knew how it had come about. Why.
She had a right to know.
Someday, that child would need to know.
“We were ambushed by a small community of militants not far from where we’d set up camp.” He didn’t have to give minute details. The bodies falling. All guys he knew. Every single one of them. The blood spurts.
Closing his eyes, he shut out the picture. This was an exercise he had down pat. A challenge he’d met and conquered.
“There were seven of us left, including my sergeant.”
“Sergeant Dane Somersby?”
Taken aback, he stared at her. “Yes, how did you know?”
“He sent me a letter, after you’d been declared...dead...” Her voice caught and she stopped. But didn’t take her gaze from his. She looked him right in the eye. That’s how they’d been since the first day they’d met. A lifetime ago.
Hard to believe he’d ever been fourteen.
“He said you saved his life...”
So she did know. At least some of it.
“Did he tell you how?”
She shook her head, her gaze almost pleading. She needed this.
Something he could actually give her.
“I turned traitor.”
