“A lot happens in the years you serve your country,” he started. “Some of it is good—very good. Like the men and women you serve with. They become like a second family.”
He chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bacon. Sadie had slowed her own bites, as if her initial hunger had been eased somewhat.
“Some of it is bad—very bad.”
“I’m sure.” Her soothing voice coated his nerves like a balm. It was the very thing that had drawn him to her five years ago, that voice.
“One particular day was beyond bad.” He blinked, questioning for a moment whether he could actually do this. With a deep breath, he forced himself to continue. “I thought we were all gonna die. My platoon. My brothers.” Without warning his throat tightened, closing off his voice, his breath. The memory of that day could still tear him up even now. “But a friend, my best friend, actually, saved us all by throwing himself over an IED.”
Unable to handle whatever sympathy he might see in her face, he stared down at his plate. “He died instantly.”
Abstractly, he noticed the tight grip his fingers now had on his fork and forced them to loosen one by one. This mere exercise in concentration helped get him back on track.
“The nightmare is always the same,” he said. “I go back through the entire day, but I’m only observing it. I can’t stop anything from happening. I see all of the things I missed, everything I could have done to stop it.”
He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I yell at myself until I’m hoarse, but it does no good. I watch helplessly, unable to prevent his death like I should.”
Her gentle voice intervened. “Why should you?”
“It’s my job,” he said, handing over the rote answer, the least complicated one.
“You’re right,” she answered. “You are responsible.”
That had him looking up, misery snaking through his heart. But she reached out to cover his hand with her own. “Because you’ve made yourself responsible. But your friend would not want you to spend your life beating yourself up.
“Just like my sister doesn’t want me to stay home—” she pulled back from him “—to stop living, just for her. Their wishes don’t ease the sense of obligation or guilt, but ultimately, they want us to live, even though they can’t.”
Sadie dropped her fork onto her plate. He thought about her sister and how hard it must have been for her to encourage Sadie to leave her. He thought about his own mother and the many times she’d told him to go out and have fun.
Yet the only way he could do that was at an isolated cabin in the woods, because everywhere else he went there were things to do and people to take care of.
“Is that why you left the military?” Sadie asked.
Zach sat for long moments, unable to answer. The turmoil and confusion of that time complicated his thoughts. He finally said, “No. I really did want to come home to take care of my family. I hadn’t planned to re-up for another tour. After the inquiry, I didn’t have the heart for another go-round anyway.”
He glanced over at Sadie, surprised to find her eyes had widened as she stared at him. But her expression quickly melted into a compassion he hadn’t even known he was hoping for.
“Your family needs you,” she said, then waved her hand through the air. “You need this. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
Taking the few short steps around the table, Zach knelt next to Sadie’s chair and buried his face in her lap. His eyes were squeezed tight. He stayed there for a few minutes, taking comfort from her wisdom and willingness to share.
His grip tightened for a moment, unwilling to let go, and for the first time in over five years, he started to believe.
* * *
Sadie knew what she had to do the minute she got back to Black Hills, but still put it off for a few days. Every phone call from her mom increased her procrastination instead of spurring her to finish this farce. Every angry email, text and phone call from Victor increased her guilt.
The excuses were growing slim.
It hadn’t helped that she’d been completely out of contact for four days. Rather than risk a call while she was with Zach, she’d simply shut her phone down, turning it on only to call her mother each night. She’d sent her pictures of the gorgeous scenery covered in snow, including some she took when they went hiking in the dense woods.