in the home where Drake had been raised, spending time with the sister he’d left behind.
On the surface, it was all so improbable, but as he fought the sudden dryness in his mouth, he concentrated on those things he knew to be true. The photograph was simply that: a picture of Elizabeth that her brother had taken. There were no such things as lucky charms. Thibault had survived his time in Iraq, but so had the vast majority of marines who’d been posted there. So, in fact, had most of his platoon, including Victor. But some marines had died, Drake among them, and though it was tragic, it had nothing to do with the photograph. It was war. As for him, he was here because he’d made a decision to search for the woman in the picture. It had nothing to do with destiny or magic.
But he’d searched because of Victor. . . .
He blinked and reminded himself that he didn’t believe anything Victor had told him.
What Victor believed was just superstition. It couldn’t be true. At least not all of it.
Zeus seemed to sense his struggle and lifted his head to stare. With his ears raised, he gave a soft whine and wandered up the stairs to lick Thibault’s hand. Thibault raised Zeus’s head, and the dog nuzzled his face.
“What am I doing here?” Thibault whispered. “Why did I come?”
As he waited for an answer that would never come, he heard the screen door slam behind him.
“Are you talking to yourself or to your dog?” Elizabeth asked.
“Both,” he said.
She sat next to him and handed him his spoon. “What were you saying?”
“Nothing important,” he said. He motioned for Zeus to lie down, and the dog squished himself onto the step in an attempt to remain close to both of them.
Elizabeth opened the ice-cream maker and scooped some ice cream into each of the bowls. “I hope you like it,” she said, handing him a bowl.
She dipped her spoon in and had a taste before turning toward him, her expression earnest. “I want to apologize,” she said.
“For what?”
“For what I said before . . . When I asked why you made it and my brother didn’t.”
“It’s a fair question.” He nodded, uncomfortable under her scrutiny.
“No, it isn’t,” she said. “And it was wrong to ask you. So I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said.
She ate another spoonful, hesitating before going on. “Do you remember when I told you that I didn’t want to hire you because you were in the marines?”
He nodded.
“It’s not what you probably think. It wasn’t because you reminded me of Drake. It’s because of the way Drake died.” She tapped her spoon against the bowl. “Drake was killed by friendly fire.”
Thibault turned away as she went on.
“Of course, I didn’t know that at first. We kept getting the runaround. ‘The investigation is continuing’ or ‘We’re looking into the matter,’ things like that. It took months to find out how he was killed, and even then, we never really learned who was responsible.”
She groped for the right words. “It just . . . didn’t seem right, you know? I mean, I know it was an accident, I know whoever did it didn’t mean to kill him, but if something like that happened here in the States, someone would be charged with manslaughter. But if it happens in Iraq, no one wants the truth to come out. And it never will.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Thibault said, his voice quiet.
“Because,” she said, “that’s the real reason I didn’t want to hire you. After I found out what happened, it seemed like every time I saw a marine, I’d be asking myself, Was he the one who killed Drake? Or is he covering up for someone who killed him? I knew it wasn’t fair, I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help it. And after a while, the anger I felt just sort of became part of me, like it was the only way I knew how to handle the grief. I didn’t like who I’d become, but I was stuck in this horrible cycle of questions and blame. And then, out of the blue, you walked into the office and applied for a job. And Nana, even though she knew exactly how I was feeling—maybe because of the way I was feeling—decided to hire you.”
She set her bowl aside. “That’s why I didn’t have much to say to you the first couple of weeks. I didn’t know what