“What brings you out this way?” Adam asked.
“I was hoping to get my hands on that little boy of yours. Haven't seen him much lately. I get to missing him.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. He's a real go-getter.” Adam returned to staring at his Belgian, whose nose was buried in a stanchion filled with hay. “William's taking a nap. He'll be up soon.”
“I'll just wait around then.”
Adam breathed deeply and leaned against the fence. “I swear, nothing smells like the Matanuska in fall. Best air on the planet.” He studied a naked tree. Gold and yellow leaves carpeted the ground beneath it.
“Yep. It's real nice this time of year. Before you came we had some snow. Almost looked like winter was here.” Ray leaned on the fence and studied the Belgian. “That's a fine horse you've got. He's a little big for a packhorse though. You plan on doing any hunting this fall?”
“I was thinking I might, then I figured I'd write about it.” Adam eyed Ray. “'Course, I don't know a lot about hunting. I could use a guide and teacher. Maybe a packhorse.” Adam grinned.
“I'd be pleased to take you out. The company would be good.” Ray was quiet for a long while. “Heard you haven't been able to do much writing lately.”
“Laurel been talking to you?”
“She's worried.”
“She's got no reason. I'm fine. It'll take a little while to get back into the swing of writing, but it'll come.”
“Yeah, I figured. It's tough when a man comes home from war.” He cleared his throat. “Sometimes it helps to talk things out with another man.”
Adam studied Ray. “What did Laurel say? She send you here to talk to me?”
“Not exactly.” Ray stuck his hands into his jean pockets. “I told her I'd come ‘round for a visit—see if there was something I could help with.”
“Nothing's wrong.” Adam turned and stared at the house. “I really don't want to talk about the war. It was ugly over there, and I'd rather forget the whole thing.”
“Sure. I understand.” Ray braced his foot on the fence.” 'Course, I thought you were sent over to write about the war. Seems you're having some trouble doing that. If you're going to get it down on paper, you've got to think about it. I s'pect talking about it might help. Figure the paper won't be none too happy with you if you don't send them a story.”
“Yeah.” Adam's mind boiled with memories. He'd hoped it would all just go away—Elisa and his guilt. But it seemed like the more time he spent trying to forget, the worse he felt. He knew things weren't right between him and Laurel, but he didn't know how to fix them. How could he talk about any of it without telling her what happened?
He looked at Ray and took a deep breath. “I did have some trouble over there, and I guess I need to talk about it.”
Ray waited.
“I met a woman who helped me. Her name was Elisa. I probably wouldn't have survived without her.” He paused. “She was Jewish and had a little boy named Adin. We spent a lot of time together traveling. She helped get me out of the country. Elisa's a brave woman.”
“Sounds special,” Ray said.
Adam nodded.
“And?”
Adam picked up a stone and tossed it up the driveway. “We became close. I started caring about her and her son...more than I should.”
“You saying you were unfaithful to Laurel?” Ray asked, his tone cool.
“No...not exactly.” Adam glanced at Ray. “We traveled together, all the way to London. We depended on each other.” He let out his breath. “When you're in that kind of situation, a bond develops.” He stopped and looked at Ray. “Elisa told me she loved me.” He could barely bring himself to say the words out loud. “For a while I wondered if I loved her, but nothing happened. Not really.”
“What does ‘not really’ mean?”
Adam picked up a piece of hay, broke it in half, then tossed it. “I kissed her, but that's all. Then I told her it was a mistake, I loved my wife and son, and there was no future for us.” Even as Adam lay out his defense, he knew he had no excuses.
Ray rested an arm on the fence, then settled an uncompromising gaze on Adam. “I understand how it could happen, but that doesn't excuse it.” He was silent a moment, then said solemnly, “You've got to tell Laurel.”
“I can't.”
“If you don't, the secret's going to fester and set between you two and eventually destroy your love.” He shook his head. “Look at what's happening already. You can't hide it. You've got to tell her, son. You have to.”
Chapter 22
ADAM KNEW RAY WAS RIGHT, BUT THAT DIDN'T DRIVE AWAY THE DEMONS OF fear as he stepped into the house. Laurel was on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor with a wire brush. He watched her. Hair falling into her face, she scoured vigorously, then dipped the brush into a pail of soapy water.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Adam.” Laurel sat back on her heels. “I didn't know you were home.” She blew back wisps of hair and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “What a job. I don't know how we manage to carry in so much of the outside.” She gazed at his feet and smiled. “Well, I suppose maybe I do. Look at the mud on your boots.”
Adam lifted a foot. Black muck clung to the sole. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I guess I ought to be more careful.” He exited and scraped the bottom of his boots on the edge of the porch, then returned. “I'll make sure to wipe the mud off from now on.”
Laurel returned to scrubbing, moving the brush in broad circles over the wooden floor. Adam admired the way her slender body moved in a rhythm, and he liked that she'd taken to wearing denim overalls some of the time. They suited her.
She stopped and looked at him. “Do you need something?”
“No. Uh, well…” He had no reason to delay any longer. “I…I was wondering if we could talk.”
“Is something wrong?”
Adam didn't answer.
