No, she decided. It was no different from carrying a St. Christopher medal or a rabbit’s foot. It didn’t matter that there was nothing logical about it—logic didn’t matter. Nor did an absolute belief in magic powers. If it made someone feel safer, it simply did.
But tracking her down? Stalking her?
That’s where her understanding broke down. As skeptical as she was about Keith’s intentions—or even his attempt to appear genuinely concerned for her well-being —she had to admit that the situation made her feel acutely vulnerable.
What had Logan said? Something about owing her? For his life, she assumed, but how?
She shook her head, drained by the thoughts chasing endlessly through her mind. She looked up when she heard the door creak open.
“Hey, Mom?”
“Yeah, sweetie.”
Ben came over and took a seat beside her. “Where’s Thibault? I haven’t seen him yet.”
“He’s not coming in,” she said.
“Because of the storm?”
She hadn’t told him yet, nor was she ready to. “He had some things to do,” she improvised.
“Okay,” Ben said. He looked out into the yard. “You can’t even see the grass anymore.”
“I know. But the rain’s supposed to stop soon.”
“Has it ever been like this before? When you were little?”
“A couple of times. But always with a hurricane.”
He nodded before pushing his glasses up. She ran a hand through his hair.
“I heard Logan gave you something.”
“I’m not supposed to talk about it,” he said, his voice serious. “It’s a secret.”
“You can tell your mom. I’m good at keeping secrets.”
“Nice try,” he teased. “I’m not falling for that one.”
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