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Georgia retraced her steps, pulling out three bottles. “I brought extra if Hero wants some.”
“Thanks.” Lena took a long drink and focused on reclaiming her breath. Feeling better, she poured water into the small bowl she’d brought for Hero.
“Did the apartment over the barn work out for you?” Katie asked, returning her water bottle to her daypack.
“Yes, but . . . have you talked to Chad today?”
“My brother?” Katie laughed. “He’s probably still in bed with the woman he me
t at the party. I didn’t catch her name, but she looked ready and willing to keep him up most of the night. I just hope her cousin isn’t the type to defend her misplaced honor when Chad moves on.”
“No,” Lena said. “He’s not.”
Katie’s brow furrowed. “You know her cousin?”
“Chad is not with Amber. He planned to use the apartment too. He had his own key,” Lena explained. “And, well, we ran into each other.”
“Oh my God, Lena, I am so sorry,” Katie said. “I should have known he’d make a copy and ignore the stupid signal even though he was the one to create it. Did he . . . did he frighten you?”
Yes, but I drew a gun on him would only lead to more questions.
“A little, but he was . . . a perfect gentleman.”
Katie snorted. “Chad?”
“Nothing happened,” Lena assured her. “He made sure I felt safe, insisted that I stay, and then he left.”
“OK. Good.” Katie stared at her, long and hard, as if trying to determine if she was telling the truth. “That’s good.”
Lena picked up Hero’s bowl, hoping the conversation would end there. “How much further to the falls?”
“Another mile,” Georgia said. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”
Lena nodded and started moving up the trail. “Did you and Eric pick a date yet?”
“Let’s just say I’m close to convincing him that he wants a Valentine’s Day wedding. But he’s worried I’ll need more time. And he might be right. I want a fancy dress, the kind that needs to be ordered months in advance.”
“Lena, did you have a big wedding?” Katie asked. “With the traditional dress?”
“No.” Lena focused on the dirt path. “My ex and I were married at city hall near West Point. He was a few years ahead of me and graduating.”
“He was in the army too?” Katie said.
“He’s an engineer. I met Malcolm at a West Point football game. He came down from his tiny liberal arts college, and, well, I think the allure of someone not tied to the military drew me in. Five months later, my dad met him and hated him, so I figured it was true love. We got married in a quick ceremony at town hall when he graduated, the year before my junior year.”
“And it wasn’t true love?” Georgia asked.
“It was,” Lena admitted. “I loved him so much.”
But love doesn’t always last, she thought. If she wanted to rebuild her life on solid ground, she needed to concentrate on things that lasted, not the ones destined for failure.
“But he couldn’t handle your PTSD,” Georgia said, slowing the pace. “Could he?”
“No, I guess not,” she said. “He kept expecting it would get better. But for those first six months home, I stepped further and further away from the life he’d imagined for us.”
Hero brushed against her leg and her hand touched his golden fur. Side by side with her dog, she searched for the words, wanting to explain to these women who’d welcomed her into their lives how her day-­to-­day existence had crumbled that first year back.
“Malcolm had built a life in Portland,” she continued. “He had friends. But they were so far removed from my reality while I was deployed. It was like there was a barrier dividing me from them. I felt numb. Sometimes it was as if I could see how his life would go on without me. And I felt horrible for thinking those thoughts because I’d survived a war when others hadn’t . . .”