The Middle of Somewhere(42)

“You can expect all you want,” Woody said, “but choirboys are outnumbered by ordinary louts five to one.”

“Ten to one,” Brensen said.

“I already counted you twice, Brensen.”

“I think Dante is a romantic,” Katarina said.

“Maybe I am, but that’s not the point. After all, people choose to get married. No one forces them to. Then they behave immorally and everyone shrugs. It’s the same as athletes taking performance-enhancing drugs.”

Liz said, “Although if everyone takes them, the playing field is level.”

“And if everyone bonks everyone else,” Brensen said, “then everyone’s a cheat and it doesn’t matter.”

“We’re almost there,” Woody said, “because I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter who the general screws. Except to the networks. They’re having a field day.”

“I believe his wife would disagree with you,” Dante said. “And so would God.”

“You speak for God?” Katarina asked, as if it were fine with her if he did.

“No, but Petraeus will be asking for forgiveness. I can’t speak for his wife, but I wouldn’t be surprised if God was getting extremely tired of people standing in his house and taking vows they don’t have the will to keep.”

The group was silent for an awkward moment before conversation turned to lighter subjects. Liz and Dante had their second helpings, and excused themselves to go back to their cabin.

They’d forgotten to bring a flashlight to dinner, and the moon had yet to rise, so when they stepped beyond the light emanating from the kitchen windows, darkness encircled them. Liz placed her feet deliberately and tried to remember if there were any ruts or large stones in the dirt road winding through the ranch. In the corral to their left, a horse nickered and snorted, then another joined in. She was about to ask Dante whether he thought the horses could see them, when he spoke.

“You might have stood up for me in that discussion.”

“You seemed to be making your point just fine on your own.”

“Maybe, but aside from jokes, you were pretty quiet on the subject.”

She did not want to get into this now. Or ever. “Look, Dante. You’re absolutely right. People should take their vows seriously.”

“So why couldn’t you have said that?”

“Because everyone believes it already. The problem is that what people should do and what they actually do don’t line up very well. The road to hell . . .” She stopped short. “We go right here, don’t we?”

“I think so. Isn’t the light over there the bathroom?” They walked on in silence for a few moments. “I think couples should try harder not to act in ways that will destroy their relationship. And having sex with other people is bound to do exactly that.”

She was tempted to remind him he had never been married. Had, in fact, never lived with a woman before her. She wanted to point out that people did stupid things, rash things—even calculated, deliberate, horrible things—to the ones they’ve promised to love until death. But he knew all that. Everyone did. He was willing to risk sanctimoniousness to drive home the point that lovers should remain true. Who was she to argue?

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

He slowed. “Liz, shouldn’t the cabin be here already?”

Indeed it should have. She could make out where the trees met the sky and, faintly, a low building on her right, but she had no clue where the Tenthouse might be.

“Let’s go back to the last place we recognized.”

Dante tripped on something and swore. They retraced their route with halting steps, then went straight where they previously had veered to the right, away from what they thought was the bathroom light. The outline of a tented cabin appeared. Up ahead was the Tenthouse, crouched in the shadow of a wall of trees.

“Naughty of you, Tenthouse, hiding from us.” Liz found the railing and ascended the stairs to the deck. She pushed aside the curtain and picked her way to the opposite wall where the light hung.

Dante moved close behind her. “We need to remember to not go anywhere without a flashlight.”

She knocked her hand into the pull string and tugged it. The naked bulb blinded her. She blinked several times and noticed one of their sleeping bags had fallen to the floor. She picked it up, tossed it on the bed, and bent to arrange it. The bag on the far side was bunched. Reaching across, she pulled the other bag toward the foot of the bed.