One moment she’d been celebrating. The next, trailing off with Stephen, his hand gripping hers.
“Where are we going?”
“Just come.” Stephen strode ahead of her toward one of the motor carts. When she slipped in next to him, he started down the lawn, away from the family, leaving behind comfort and driving toward the unknown.
Corina peered at him. An end-of-day beard shadowed his jaw, and from under his dark lashes his blue eyes glowed with a reflection she did not recognize.
A dozen questions fired through her mind as Stephen steered the cart over the grounds, creating a path in the thick grass, but she kept them to herself. He’d talk when he was ready.
For now, it was enough to be with him, to hear the song of the night birds on the breeze.
Up a slight incline, Stephen urged the cart to the top of a knoll, through a stand of trees, and popped into a small clearing where a cultivated, low stone garden sat under six royal oaks.
He parked next to the wall and cut the motor, resting his hand on the steering wheel. “Besides me, the gardener is the only person who ever comes to this place.”
“Stephen, it’s beautiful.” Corina stepped out her side of the cart. Heather and a deep pink foxglove grew near the wall, along with purple and yellow blooms she did not know. Between two of the trees, toward the back, sat an iron-and-wood-slat bench.
“I come here on Remembrance Day.” Stephen stood beside her. “And December twentieth.”
“W–what is this place? A memorial?” She glanced at him, hand to her heart, noticing the granite stones under each tree.
“Mine. Yes.” Stephen reached into the cart for a torch and motioned for her to walk through the gate. “One year the team was playing in Australia, and I flew home to lay a wreath at these markers for Remembrance Day. I’m off the pitch that day. Don’t care what’s at stake.”
Corina started down the path between a row of hedges. “You built this?”
“I needed a place to go, to remember what the lads did without the world watching.” He aimed the torch beam over one grave marker, then another. “The bodies aren’t here, but . . .” His voice faded as a slight shudder moved over his shoulders. “Their spirits are. At least to me. When I come here, the voices, the explosions, the turmoil stops. Peace. This place, along with rugby, keeps me going.”
“A peace you couldn’t find with me?” Why couldn’t he just say it? He didn’t love her enough to find peace with her.
He aimed the flashlight on her face. “It’s not as straightforward as all that, Corina.” Then he moved on, the torch shining on a brass plate attached to the bench. “Memento semper. Always remember.” His voice was husky and deep. “Here lie my brothers. The six men on my crew.”
She looked at him with an eye of revelation. “They died saving you, didn’t they?”
“Yes.” He took her by the arm and led her to the first granite stone on the right-hand side of the bench. “Here’s what lies between us, Corina.”
She bent to read a very familiar name.
LIEUTENANTCARLOSDELREY
JOINTCOALITION, INTELLIGENCESECURITY
SON, BROTHER, FRIEND
“Carlos.” She dropped to her knees, flattening her palm over her brother’s cold name. “W–why is he here? I don’t understand.”
“The garden is a monument to the lads who died because someone else wanted me dead.” Stephen walked to the next stone. “Carlos and Bird actually saved my life.”
She jumped up, weary of this game. “These drips and drabs are killing me. Carlos saved your life?”
Stephen lowered the flashlight until it created a spot at his feet. Overhead, the blue edge of twilight covered them.
“The joint security forces faced some intense fighting in Torkham a few months after we were deployed. We lost our tactical specialist, so I recommended Carlos. He was one of the best. That’s how he ended up in Torkham.”
“We never heard.”
“His transfer was still being processed when he was killed. He’d only been on base two days, Corina.”
“He wasn’t killed in a firefight was he?” Corina’s heart drew pictures with Stephen’s words, filling in the dark, sketchy shadows of her brother’s death, of Stephen’s radical change, and the end of it all.
