The Lucky One(95)

She smiled and leaned back, pushing the swing into motion with her feet. “That’s okay. I already know about the picture.”

Ben looked over at her, wondering how much she knew.

“You know,” she went on, “for protection?”

His shoulders slumped. “He told you?”

“Of course.”

“Oh,” he said, his disappointment evident. “He told me to keep it between the two of us.”

“Do you have it? I’d like to see it if you do.”

Ben hesitated before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a folded snapshot and handed it over. Beth opened the photo and stared, feeling a surge of memories overtake her: her last weekend with Drake and the conversation they’d had, the sight of the Ferris wheel, the shooting star.

“Did he say anything else when he gave it to you?” she asked, handing the photo back to him. “Aside from it being a secret, I mean?”

“He said his friend Victor called it a lucky charm, and that it kept him safe in Iraq.”

She felt her pulse pick up tempo, and she brought her face close to Ben’s.

“Did you say Victor called it a lucky charm?”

“Uh-huh.” Ben nodded. “That’s what he said.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

Beth stared at her son, feeling at war with herself.





33

Thibault

Thibault loaded his backpack with the few provisions he had in the house. The wind was gusting and the rain still coming down hard, but he’d walked through worse weather before. Still, he couldn’t seem to summon the energy he needed to walk out the door.

It had been one thing to walk here; it was different to walk away. He was different. He’d left Colorado feeling more alone than he’d ever felt before; here, his life seemed full and complete. Or it had until yesterday.

Zeus was finally settled in the corner. He’d spent most of the day pacing, restless because Thibault hadn’t taken him for his walk. Every time Thibault got up to get a glass of water, Zeus scrambled to his feet, anxious to know if it was time to go.

It was midafternoon, but the cloudy, rainy sky made it darker. The storm continued to lash the house, but he sensed it was in its dying stages; like a recently caught fish flopping on the dock, it wasn’t going to go quietly.

He spent most of the day trying not to think about what had happened or how it all could have been avoided: that was a fool’s game. He had messed it up, simple as that, and the past couldn’t be undone. He’d always tried to live his life without dwelling on things that couldn’t be undone, but this was different. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get over it.

At the same time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t yet over, that something remained unfinished. Was it simply closure that he was missing? No, it was more than that; his wartime experience had taught him to trust his instincts, even though he’d never been sure where they’d come from. Inasmuch as he knew he should leave Hampton, if only to get as far away from Keith Clayton as possible—he was under no illusions that Clayton would forgive and forget—he couldn’t bring himself to walk out the door.

Clayton was the center of the wheel. Clayton—and Ben and Elizabeth—was the reason he had come. He just couldn’t figure out why or what he was supposed to do.

In the corner, Zeus rose to his feet and headed toward the window. Thibault turned toward him just as he heard a knock at the door. Instinctively he tensed, but when Zeus peeked through the glass, his tail started to wag.

When Thibault opened the door, he saw Elizabeth standing before him. He froze. For a moment, they simply stared at each other.

“Hi, Logan,” she fnally said.

“Hello, Elizabeth.”

A tentative smile, so quick as to be almost nonexistent, flashed across her features. He wondered whether he’d imagined it.

“May I come in?”

Thibault stepped aside, studying her as she removed her slicker, her blond hair spilling out of the hood. She held it out uncertainly until Thibault took it from her. He hung it on the front-door knob before facing her.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

She nodded. Zeus nosed her hand, and she stroked him behind the ears before turning her attention to Thibault again.

“Can we talk?” she said.

“If you’d like.” He motioned to the couch, and Elizabeth took a seat on one end. He took a seat on the other.

“Why did you give the photo to Ben?” she asked without preamble.

Thibault studied the far wall, trying to figure out how to explain himself without making things even worse. Where to begin?

“Tell me in ten words or less,” she suggested, sensing his reticence. “Then we’ll go from there.”

Thibault massaged his forehead with one hand before sighing, his eyes moving toward her. “Because I thought it would keep him safe.”

“Safe?”

“Out at the tree house. The storm has weakened the whole structure, including the bridge. He shouldn’t go there again. It’s on the verge of collapse.”

Her gaze was intense and unblinking. “Why didn’t you keep it?”

“Because I felt like he needed it more than me.”