His Other Life

Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

ISLA

Present day

The first few miles after Lilliwaup, Isla was glued to the rearview, tracking the blue sedan as best as she could, while contemplating whether to involve Mav in her misgivings. Each time they drove around a curve, she held her breath waiting for the other car to show up, and when it did, the sight amplified a new, crawling sensation beneath her skin. Despite that, every time she opened her mouth to say something, she stopped herself. I think we’re being followed sounded outrageous enough inside her head, and she didn’t want Mav to think she was losing it. Besides, the car was too far behind them for her to see the driver.

When somewhere around Skokomish the blue sedan finally disappeared from view, Isla congratulated herself on her choice to stay quiet. Complete coincidence, she told herself. Naturally. Who on earth would tail someone like her? It took a few more miles, but slowly she allowed herself to relax into the seat again.

It was almost three thirty in the afternoon when they reached Olympia.

The hotel was of the standard sandy-brick chain variety, but the lobby was clean, and the rooms available even though check-in technically wasn’t for another thirty minutes.

“How about a short lie-down before dinner?” Mav suggested.

He looked a little pale, Isla thought. It had been a wise choice to divide the drive into shorter legs like this. At times she forgot how old he was.

“Sounds good.” She helped him with his door. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m right across the hall.”

Once in the privacy of her room, Isla kicked off her shoes before opening the blinds wide. The concrete parking lot was directly below her, but in the distance, she could glimpse Capitol Lake if she made an effort. The waters lay cold and uninviting beneath the gray skies, but then again, she wasn’t there for recreational purposes. They’d have a meal, go to bed early, and then continue on their way after breakfast.

It was possible she and Jonah had stopped here on their way south, but she had no way of knowing where since the photo roll was devoid of Olympia clues. Her best guess was that they’d filled up on gas and stretched their legs at the outskirts of town, but in case the stay at the Bend hotel that fateful weekend hadn’t been Jonah’s only nostalgic nod to their engagement getaway, Isla had made reservations for her and Mav at Caponi’s, a restaurant she and Jonah had visited several times in the past.

Isla checked the time. She wanted to give Mav at least a couple of hours to rest, which meant she’d have to find a way to pass the time, and there was no way she’d be able to nap. Being out and on her way somewhere for the first time in so long was a shot of caffeine to her system. An espresso with five spoonfuls of sugar and a chaser of Red Bull. If the room wasn’t so small, she’d pace it.

Forcing herself to sit down, she texted Mom that they’d arrived safely at their first stop.

How was his driving? she responded. Any issues?

Other than Isla’s paranoia, which she under no circumstances would tell her mom about? None at all. Isla added a thumbs-up emoji.

They texted back and forth for a minute, then Nancy had to go—a movie to catch with a friend. Isla remained seated on the queen bed, toying with her phone. She opened a solitaire game she’d played a lot when she was on bedrest, but changed her mind and swiped it away instead.

Are you working or can you talk? she texted Louise. Her friend’s workday wouldn’t be over yet, but at times she could sneak away from her desk.

Gimme five , was Louise’s response.

While Isla waited, she browsed her regular auction and antique sites for something to replace the lost figurine with but found nothing good on offer.

“Probably for the best,” she mumbled just before the phone rang.

From the sounds of it, Louise was walking, her voice breathy and ambient sounds of traffic cushioning her greeting. “I got out early,” she said. “Slow day.”

“What are you working on right now?”

When Isla had first learned Louise was a journalist, she’d thought it an exciting and glamorous profession. Being out and about, meeting people, no assignment like the next. But Louise treated it like any other job and didn’t like talking about it much. “I doubt you were looking forward to explaining impressionism over dinner back when you were working,” she’d once said to Isla, and she’d had a point. Still, Isla liked to ask. She’d never been a strong writer, and people with that creative vein fascinated her.

“Oh, um, a local interest piece on the housing market,” Louise said. “Pretty boring if I’m going to be honest. Are you in Olympia now?”

Isla confirmed that she was.

“I’m sorry I dropped the auction news on you like that, by the way. Maybe there’s a way to find out who bought it and contact them?”

“You know there isn’t,” Isla sighed. It’s just a thing, she thought again. “I’m fine. Bummed, but fine. I have more important stuff on my mind right now anyway.”

“Yeah, so about that…” Somewhere on Louise’s end, a door opened and closed. When she spoke again, her voice reverberated like she was in a stairwell. “First, you should be getting a copy of the police report emailed to you in the next few days. I called them again and asked what was up. And second…” The sound of footsteps stopped, replaced by a jingle of keys. “If you think it would be helpful, I might be able to come help talk to people when you’re in Bend. I’m on deadline currently so I’m busy the next couple of days, but I could meet you in Bend this weekend.”

“Wait, what town are you in again?”

“Longview. Only if you want me to come though. No pressure. I just thought there are a lot of stores and places to cover, and an extra body might be good. Plus, I don’t know, it would be fun to meet in person maybe?”

Fun. Isla hadn’t used that word about herself in a long time. And it was definitely not a good descriptor of this trip. But Louise wasn’t wrong; she and Mav could use the help, and it was about time she and Louise met up after spending all this time talking. A few butterflies swirled about her belly at the thought. She wasn’t great with people anymore. What if Louise didn’t like real-life Isla?

“Are you sure you have time?” Isla asked. “Isn’t that still a long drive?”

“I don’t mind. And I have a cousin I can stay with in Redmond, which isn’t too far from Bend. I promise I won’t be in the way.”

That made Isla laugh. Maybe there were nerves on both sides.

But enough hedging—Louise’s field of expertise brought resolve to Isla. “Of course you should come. That would be great. Plus, you’ll get to meet Mav.”

“Oh yay.” Louise’s voice instantly brightened. “Okay, let’s touch base later this week.”

“Sounds good.”

They lapsed into a short silence, Isla clutching her phone to her ear. How odd to have made a friend this way, she thought. Especially when other friends had disappeared. Been shut out, more like it. Finally, she told Louise she should get going, and they hung up with a promise to talk soon.

Thirty minutes later, Isla went across the hall to knock on Mav’s door. It was a little earlier than she’d intended, but hopefully, he wasn’t still asleep. She needed to get on with her evening to see if the restaurant would bring back anything for her.

She raised her hand but paused as Mav’s faint voice seeped through the door. Was someone with him? Her knuckles made contact with the wood. The talking stopped.

A long few seconds passed, then Mav opened the door. He’d undone the top button of his shirt and was in his sock feet, but it didn’t seem like she’d interrupted a slumber.

“Oh hello.” He sounded surprised to see her, but then again, she was early.

“I was getting hungry,” Isla said. “Did you get some rest?”

Mav looked behind him into the room then opened the door wider. “I did, I did. Let me find my shoes here. Come on in.” He left her in the small hallway.

“Were you talking to someone?” Isla called to him. “I thought I heard your voice.”

Mav returned, shoes in hand, and sat down on the chair next to the closet. “Um, no. That must have been…” He forced his heel down. “Sometimes I talk to myself. Habit ever since Lorraine passed. Perhaps that’s what you heard?”

It wasn’t much different from her talking to Ulysses. “Makes sense,” she said. But she also couldn’t help but notice his cell phone sitting out on the desk.

Mav drove them downtown while Isla filled him in on Louise’s plans to meet up with them in Bend.

“An extra pair of feet to pound the pavement can’t hurt,” he agreed.

The closer to the restaurant they came, the sparser the conversation. It was just Italian food, Isla tried to tell herself. Not an execution. Except, what if she and Jonah had eaten there that weekend? What if, in the middle of dinner, she became overwhelmed by memories and caused a scene?

“Everything is fine,” Mav said quietly at her side as they entered. “I’m here.”

He touched her elbow as if sensing how shaky the foundation she was stepping onto was. This was her first real revisiting of the past, and the urge to flee, to return to the safety of home marred Isla’s movements and curbed her stride. To think this was only the beginning…

“Reservation for Gallagher please,” Mav said to the hostess, who was wearing a red vest over a white button-down. “A table near the wall if possible. Thank you.”

Isla felt better once she was holding a glass of house red in her hand. The muted lighting and garlic-infused air helped ease her worries. Her stomach growled, and she allowed herself to browse the menu. Comfort food, comfort drink, comforting company. She picked out a penne alla vodka dish, then sat back in her chair watching Mav dunk a piece of bread in olive oil and parmesan.

He studied her as he chewed. “Better now?” he asked.

She nodded and had another sip of wine. Looked around. Brass wall sconces, red, tasseled drapes, flickering candles.

“Anything coming to mind?” Mav reached for another piece of bread.

It was too soon to tell. As if the space was an old acquaintance she hadn’t seen since childhood, she wasn’t ready to ask the more personal questions of it yet. Not until they’d bridged the time passed.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Food first?”

She nodded, grateful he understood.

Being out in public with Maverick was an interesting experience. He was warm and cordial to everyone they interacted with, but his face made people stare as if someone on a most-wanted list had walked past. Isla didn’t think much of the tattoos anymore, but when she caught a mother on the other side of the room trying to stop her child from pointing, she considered the artsy lines anew.

“Why the face?” she asked after finishing the first few bites of her pasta. She remembered this flavor, had tried to recreate it at home, but the memory went further back than two years.

Mav put his knife and fork down, having finished cutting his tender chicken marsala into smaller pieces.

“Was it a sailor thing? Or did you run out of room?”

Amusement played on Mav’s face. “Room, huh?” He unbuttoned one of his cuffs and rolled it up, baring pristine, paper-pale skin. So that wasn’t it. “And though plenty of other folks on the sea were inked both here and there, I wouldn’t say this”—he gestured to his face—“was very common.”

“Then why? Or should I not ask?” She waited while Mav speared another bite of chicken, chewed, and swallowed.

He picked up his napkin and dabbed it against his lips. “For a long time, I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror,” he said finally.

Isla tilted her head and studied him. He was tall—or had been in his prime—with symmetrical features, broad shoulders, those ice-blue eyes. “You can’t tell me you weren’t handsome.”

“Ha. You flatter me. But it wasn’t about that. It was more…” He put a hand to his chest and repeated himself. “I didn’t like what I saw.”

Isla nodded, falling silent. She waited.

“These dotted lines.” Mav tapped his cheekbone. “A friend in New Zealand offered to make those. That was the first one. He was going to put some on the other side too, but I decided I’d only do it on one to acknowledge I didn’t share his heritage. The asymmetry would be mine. And once he was done, it was…” Mav pressed his lips together as if searching for the word. “Powerful.” He touched two fingers to the spot again. “My reflection changed, the lines distracting from what I didn’t wish to confront, and so I kept on adding to it until I was someone new. Or thought I was.”

“What do you mean?”

Mav lifted his wine glass and held it aloft, a cheeky glint in his eye. “Well, I was young and stupid. Tattoos are only skin-deep. Obviously, they didn’t make me a different person—that was wishful thinking.”

“So you regret getting them?”

“Regret? Not at all. They served a purpose at that time.” He lowered his voice. “Scared off some right shady characters too from time to time. Boy, do I have stories.”

Isla smiled. “I believe it.”

“But as I got older, especially once I met my Lorraine, I found ways to make a sort of peace with my past.” He finally tipped his glass to his lips and savored a mouthful. Then he set it down. “And perhaps it’s best to leave it at that.”

There were so many more questions Isla wanted to ask, but Mav’s expression made it clear this was as far as he’d go. She wouldn’t push it. She knew of his injuries in the war, but maybe there were things he’d left out, and then who was she to force him back there? She should focus on her own past anyway. That’s why they’d come all this way after all.

“Thanks for telling me.” She raised her own glass.

“Thanks for not letting it scare you off.”

After finishing her wine, Isla sat back, her body now pleasantly heavy with food and drink. For the first time since stepping inside the restaurant, she allowed herself to go there, to delve backward, test if the branches would hold.

Mav was watching her as if he knew what she was doing, but it didn’t bother her.

“I remember coming here with Jonah way back,” she said. “At least twice early in our marriage. I think we sat over there between the windows the last time. I had this pasta, and he had lasagna. We split a bottle of Cabernet.” The tables were small, and their legs had tangled beneath the checkered tablecloth, their hands seeking each other out while waiting for the food to be served. They’d bickered about tiramisu or bread pudding then ordered both. Jonah had talked to the server about some indie filmmaker they discovered they both were into. He could talk to anyone. Isla smiled. “I think he’d recently been assigned Portland. We were celebrating because it was a step up.”

“And what about two years ago?”

Isla’s gaze trailed the path of one of the servers who was weaving between the tables, a tray resting against his shoulder. A fresh gust of herby tomato sauce reached her nostrils. She searched the nooks and crannies of her past.

“Don’t ask me why, but I don’t think we were here that weekend,” she said, the words feeling true on more than a rational level. She might be wrong of course. Her mind could be playing tricks, but some deep part of her was certain there were no answers here. None that mattered anyway.

“Intuition is a powerful thing,” Mav said. “More people should trust it.”

A wave of affection welled in Isla’s chest at his words and their lack of judgment and insistence. Somehow, he got her in a way that shouldn’t have been possible after such a short acquaintance.

“To intuition.” Isla raised her empty glass.

“And a good night’s rest.” Mav clinked his glass to hers. “This old man is ready to settle in.” He waved at the server. “May we have the check please?”

It was still early by Isla’s standards, but she didn’t argue. Sleep sounded good after today. She’d made it through the first leg of their journey, and, despite a few ups and downs, she was still in one piece. When they parked back at the hotel next to not one but two blue sedans, she could even laugh a little at herself. She’d tell Mav about the imagined stalker tomorrow, and they’d have a chuckle about it.

Tomorrow, she’d be better. More rational. More determined. They were headed to Portland, where she knew she and Jonah had stopped on their trip south two years ago. To the arboretum where he’d photographed her. And maybe, just maybe, she’d remember something.