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“Where is that?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Afghanistan.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding. His expression was troubled, and she knew he wasn’t seeing Echo Lake, he was seeing a mountainous, largely arid, war-torn country, a battleground for millennia. “You fought there,” she guessed. She started to tell him her brother had fought there, too, but changed her mind, not wanting to distract Trace from anything he might share with her about his own experiences.
“Yeah.” He looked at her, and she could see the scars on his soul reflected in the shadows in his eyes. “There’s no real winning in Afghanistan. Alexander the Great fought there. So did Genghis Khan, the Soviets, and the US under the United Nations banner. But even if we all left tomorrow, war would continue, innocent civilians would still suffer and children would still die. The tribal leaders fight among themselves, and nothing will ever change that.” He breathed deeply. “There are some breathtakingly beautiful places in Afghanistan, but few people will ever know about them. All they know is war and devastation and death.”
“How long were you there?”
“Two years. The Corps wanted me to re-up—that means reenlist,” he explained in an aside, “because I was able to sp—” He stopped abruptly, and Mara wondered what he had been going to say. “But I’d had enough. I’d already served four years by that time, two of them in Afghanistan. Two years in hell.”
He was silent for another minute, and Mara didn’t say anything. Couldn’t think of anything to say to take away the pain his memories invoked. But she wanted to. More than anything she wanted to erase that desolate expression from his eyes.
Finally he gave himself a shake. “How did we get on that subject?”
“I asked,” she said in a small voice. “I am sorry—I did not wish to make you sad.”
“It’s okay, Princess,” he said, but she could tell his lighthearted tone was forced. “It was a long time ago. A lifetime ago.” He smiled briefly. “Shall we go on? Or did you want to turn back?”
“I want to go to the end,” she answered. “I do not like half measures.”
He laughed softly. “No, you wouldn’t,” he said, and Mara could tell something had distracted him from his sadness. “Let’s do it, then.”
They walked to the end in silence, passing several other couples along the way. Just as before, Special Agent McKinnon unconsciously interposed his body between those other people and Mara. He didn’t make a big deal out of it, but his protective air was as unmistakable as it was unshakeable.
Mara glanced at the people they passed, realizing the marked difference between those people and Special Agent McKinnon and her. They are lovers, she told herself, watching the way the other couples walked arm in arm or hand in hand. Echo Lake was romantic and quietly beautiful, the ideal place for lovers.
Her throat ached as she cast covert looks at the tall man beside her, wishing he would hold her hand. Or put his arm around her. Or look at her with tenderness. But that was wishing for the moon. You should just be glad he does not look at you with dislike, she reminded herself, realizing with a little start of acknowledgment that not once today had he done so. She hugged that knowledge to herself with a tiny smile. Even when she had made him remember a place he wanted to forget, he had forgotten to dislike her.
Chapter 5
When they finally made it back to the SUV Special Agent McKinnon checked his watch and told her, “We should probably just go up to the top now—not stop at Summit Lake. We can stop there on the way down if you want.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a good idea to visit the top of the mountain in the morning, and be gone by noon. Thunderstorms are common in the afternoon, so unless you want to take a chance on missing the view...”
“But the view is what the other professors told me I should not miss.”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
They drove straight to the top, with Mara exclaiming the entire way. There were several places she was tempted to cry out “Stop!” so she could take in some particularly scenic view, but she didn’t say anything, trusting Special Agent McKinnon’s advice to visit the top first, then stop on the way down.
The road twisted and turned sharply, almost bending back on itself in places, and the incline was steep, so the going was slow. And as he’d told her that morning, there was no guard rail and very little margin for error. Mara wasn’t afraid—not exactly—but at one point she admitted, “I am glad you would not let me drive.”
