9. CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER NINE
The deal ended with a plan for Emil to meet me at the bus station at 6:00 a.m., hiking shoes on, swimsuit at the ready in my bag. My nights were still fitful, though the calls to prayer weren’t the problem. Nightmares plagued me, one never quite the same as the other, but all ending with ominous, twisty streets, the press of hands along my skin, and the flash of a pair of dark eyes.
After waking just before 3:00 a.m. with a start, I’d scribbled off a two-page note to Gail when I couldn’t fall back to sleep immediately. I did my best to not gush about Emil and failed entirely. There was a pitifully short section near the end about the city before highlighting the mystery of my outing the next day. Eventually, I fell asleep somewhere in the wee hours before dawn.
Despite my lack of rest, excitement still had me out of bed before my alarm sounded, so I was early and munching on a granola bar when a compact red car pulled up to the station.
Emil bent to see me through the passenger-side window.
I bounced forward, getting in. “Morning!”
“Good morning.”
I strapped myself in as we set off. The radio was playing electronica softly in the background. The car's interior was worn, but clean, smelling of faded peppermint. We sat in comfortable silence, taking in the landscape blurring past the windows as the little villages began to wake.
“So are you going to tell me where we’re headed?”
“You already know that. The most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”
I crossed my arms, shooting him a pointed look. “That tells me nothing.”
He hid a smile. “Exactly. Don’t you like surprises?”
I used to.
I swatted the errant thought away. “I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m not curious.”
The radio faded to static as we lost our station.
“Pick something,” he said. I fiddled with it until pop music blared through, crystal clear. I waited for him to tease me, but his fingers tapped the rhythm out across the steering wheel.
“Tell me about when you first found this mystery spot.”
He scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “I think I was about ten? My family went there to camp. It was the hottest summer I can remember, so it was busy, but it didn’t matter.” He was quiet for a moment. “I’d never seen anything like it.” His eyes darted to me before returning to the road.
“Sounds amazing.” I bit the inside of my cheek, questions about his family burning in my throat. It would be natural, where I was from, to ask more about them, but I wasn’t sure if it would be impolite here. That and my few questions so far had been met with vague responses at best.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I can sense you chewing.” His eyebrow raised.
“I don’t want to be rude.”
He didn’t say anything, so I continued hesitantly.
“I was curious about your family? I know you said Dr. Tanovi? and Luka were family and that you were close to your mom, but…” I left it open-ended, allowing him take the lead on whatever he cared to share.
He stared out the window quietly for a beat. “Luka is my cousin—somehow—I don’t know exactly. My mother still lives in Mostar. My sisters, Mia and Asja, too. Dr. Tanovi? is my stepfather.”
The weight of his missing family member hung between us.
“Younger or older sisters?” I asked instead of the obvious follow-up question.
His smile returned. “Mia is thirty-eight, six years older than me. Asja is nineteen and my half sister.”
“So you’re the in-betweener,” I teased. “How is that?”
His shoulder raised. “I manage. Too many women.” His tone was affectionate.
“I’m the youngest,” I offered. “Just me and my sister, Sydney.”
“Are you two alike?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Not really. She’s very serious. I’m more like my mom, I guess.”
“In what way?”
“All over the place?” I chuckled at my own expense.
“And your father? Is he more like your sister?”
“Not at all,” I said quickly, a surprisingly strong, angry twinge blazing in my stomach. I tamped it down, continuing, “I love Sydney. She’s just more reserved. She’s not easy to get to know and keeps a lot locked up, but she’s a good person. My dad wasn’t around much when I was little, so she grew up too fast, I think. It was mostly only us girls.”
“Do you see him now?”
I shifted lower into my seat. “Occasionally.” Very occasionally .
I’d always felt guilty being the only one that didn’t automatically bristle at the idea of him being around. I’d been too young to really remember the bad days firsthand. The mental and, near the end, physical abuse, the abandonment, his many vices that cleft our family apart. The hurt—and fury in Sydney’s case—upset me, certainly. But living vicariously hadn’t endowed me with the same automatic rage as it had them. So when my temper flared suddenly at Emil’s mention of my father, it was surprising in its intensity. That was new.
When I glanced his way, his face was tight.
“How was that?”
“Complicated.” I didn’t look away until he did.
“I’m sorry.”
I gave a weak smile. “Life, right?”
His mouth quirked, but that was all I got in response.
The drive lasted under an hour. Every once in a while, we’d pick up a thread of conversation, but mostly we sat silently in each other’s company. It should’ve been awkward, but it was relaxing. I daydreamed as I watched the tiny towns and vast expanses of nothingness pass by.
We pulled off the main road and ended in an unpaved parking lot with a ticket window. Above it read Kravica Nature Park. We paid the fee, and I followed Emil down a twisting footpath. The foliage had overgrown pieces of the walkway, while little outlets curved for a place to stop if you needed a breather from all the steps. The park had just opened when we’d arrived, so there were only a few other people along the steep, dusty, dry path with us. Curiosity burned through my brain, still wondering what lay ahead that had kept Emil so enamored after all these years.
Then I turned a corner and stopped in my tracks.
Sunlight twinkled down on the vast shelf of water spilling into an emerald pool below. It didn’t look real, the waterfall too gorgeous. Only Emil’s chuckle tore my eyes away from the view.
“So, did I fulfill my side of our bargain?”
Mouth hanging open, I nodded numbly.
We hiked the last bit of the path, which ended at the brilliant pool. Picnic benches, a restaurant, and cleared spaces bordered the shore, but I only noticed them in passing. I could barely look away from the spectacular sight of the falls.
The water pounded over the ledge, sending a fine mist through the air. The day was already starting to warm, so the spray was refreshing, settling beads of water across my arms and clinging in my hair .
“Thank you,” I whispered, reaching for his hand and giving it a small squeeze.
Emil didn’t answer, but remained close by my side, and squeezed right back.
Eventually, the promise of coffee and breakfast persuaded me away. I changed so my swimsuit was under my clothes before we filled up in preparation for our hike, which Emil told me would take us up above and around the falls. I followed him through the trees and meadows of grass, the Trebi?at River that fed the waterfalls our steadfast guide. It flooded the path in places, even some benches sitting in its stream. Emil explained that they’d had a good year of rain, so the river was full to the brim, making for an unusually spectacular sight.
When the sun hit noon, we made our way down to the pool. Surprisingly, it was still relatively quiet. A few families here and there had set up camp, but otherwise there were only a couple of swimmers. We found a shaded spot and claimed it with our towels.
“Want to go in?” Emil asked, already pulling off his shirt.
My jaw clicked and stuck around my answer at the sight of him shirtless.
His skin was smooth and tanned. His muscles were well-defined, and he was built athletically like a swimmer, his shoulders prominent, as was the small trail of hair leading from his belly button and disappearing into his shorts.
I forced myself to look up as I felt my cheeks redden, which only made them blaze more. “Yes,” I managed. I definitely needed to cool off.
He didn’t wait for me, tossing his shirt onto the ground and wading into the water.
I shuffled out of my clothes and followed, but quickly skirted back to the shore.
It was freezing!
“Hey!”
Emil turned halfway, already waist-deep. His gaze skated over me, the hooded darkness disappearing from his eyes as he watched the little I’m cold dance I was performing.
“Come in!” he yelled.
“Was this your plan all along? To turn the tourist into a human popsicle?”
He grinned and closed a third of the distance. “Come in and I’ll warm you up.”
Butterflies took flight in my stomach.
Holy hell, had he really just said that?
“Promise?” I called back, calling his bluff.
Some of the heat returned to his gaze as he nodded.
I bit my lip. My toes broke the surface, and I hustled in up to my knees before the shock could take hold.
“Cold, cold, cold!” I puffed under my breath.
He was laughing at me by the time we were even. I shoved my way into his arms, desperation winning over politeness. The relief of contact lasted only for a second. He pulled me into deeper water until it kissed the bottoms of my shoulder blades. I yelped, clinging closer so our chests were pressed together, my arms wrapped around his neck.
I breathed a curse, clamping my eyes closed as all the sensations clashed. His heart pounded against my skin as I spread my legs to circle his hips in my panic to escape the cold.
“Sorry,” I mumbled against his neck. Not sorry enough to let go.
“It’s fine.” His voice was a half step higher than normal.
It took a few minutes before my body grew acclimated to the temperature. It probably would’ve happened quicker if I’d sucked it up and swam around, but I was reluctant to release him.
“Mallory?”
“Hmm?”
“Are your eyes open?”
My head rose from his shoulder as I looked up and pushed away from him at last .
We were face to face with the falls, just shy of where the water pounded an impressive beat against the surface. The clear, jade hues surrounded us, the slippery rocks visible below. Above, the mist billowed into the sky, a rainbow stretching from the top of the falls arcing down toward the rippling pool. I treaded the crystal water, my hands swirling in front of me, as Emil did the same by my side.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I repeated his words from earlier. The same feeling of awe he’d sensed in childhood was the exact one I imagined was coursing through me now.
“I hope it makes up for my broken promise.”
“It does. Thank you for bringing me,” I said to him sincerely. “This is stunning.”
He nodded before moving behind me, gently grasping the curve of my shoulders. I tensed, but he was pulling me backward, far enough away so we could once again touch the bottom. He let me go, but his hand floated on the surface nearby. I licked my lips, looked at the falls, and reached out to hold it once more. His fingers threaded through mine, but his thumb stroked feather-light against my palm. Tingles traveled in shivers across my body. His wordless caress spoke to a carnal part of me that desperately wanted to break free.
When my fingertips were pruny and the sun was dipping closer toward the horizon, we packed up and followed the path to the parking lot. The dry grass glowed golden beneath the late-day sun as we traveled, the warmth fanning through the car making me grow lazy. I propped my elbow on the car door, my head leaning against my fist.
“What a perfect day,” I sighed.
Emil nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yes, it was.”
My mind wandered, perusing the figurative road that had brought me here, as I let my tired eyes drift closed. I couldn’t have imagined such a place existed all the way back in my room at home. My fantasy had been filled with exotic, beachfront destinations and iconic cities, ones I’d dreamed about since I was little. The idea of me sitting in a car rattling down a pockmarked road with a man I barely knew hadn’t even been on the edges of that picture frame.
But if I had to explain it to old Mallory, what would I say? It would be too obvious to declare that life doesn’t always go as planned, because of course it didn’t. But how would I spell out to her that this place spoke to my soul in a way the clean, spotless streets of Paris hadn’t quite touched? Or that the people here, for all their different customs or circumstances, already felt more like friends than some acquaintances I’d known for years?
I shook my head lightly. It was an impossible task. Old Mallory wouldn’t understand.
“What is it?” Emil sounded worried, but I waved him off as I opened my eyes again.
“Nothing. Just thinking about how glad I am to be here.”
He turned back to the road. “I am, too.”
We were quiet for a bit before he asked, “What brought you to Mostar?”
I searched for a simple answer in lieu of the real reason. “Convenience,” I said matter-of-factly.
Emil laughed.
“A friend actually suggested Bosnia, so when I…was leaving Marseille, I did some research and read about Mostar. It seemed interesting, plus it looked pretty.”
He jerked his chin. “And did it meet your expectations?”
A knot formed in my throat. “Above and beyond.”
Above, because I’d had no expectations to speak of, and beyond, because, the more I sat with the knowledge, the heavier the realization grew. Mostar was small and predictable for its now peaceful community, a blessing after so much turmoil. And where they must consider it a hard-won gift, I had looked down on my own home for the exact same things they embraced with grace. I’d endured no bloody road to earn that, hadn’t fought for it, but I’d resented it at every opportunity.
Guilt flipped my stomach. Blind. I’d been so arrogant.
He shifted in his seat as the mood in the car changed.
I chose my words carefully. “I think there are probably very few places where both the people and the setting combine into something beautifully, wholly special.” I let out a slow breath. “This place, its people? Together…they’re paradise.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed his head turn slightly, studying my face. Then he nodded. “It’s home,” he said simply with a hint of reverence.
I chewed my lower lip, thinking of Blackthorn with a fondness I’d never felt while living smack-dab in the middle of it. And it was without sarcasm or resentment that I admitted, “You’re lucky.”
“That’s not always been said about living here.”
I considered for a moment. “But I think that’s what makes it even more special. It’s not just the location. It’s what the people here have made it into.”
I told him about my visit to the Stari Most museum. Surely my outsider’s perspective was overly simplified. Yet he listened quietly, focused. I glossed over some of the most heart-wrenching bits that had stood out to me, wary of hitting any raw nerves or unintentionally resurfacing bad memories.
Finally, I concluded, “From what I’ve gathered, for those who stayed, it’s always been home, even during extraordinarily dark circumstances. It was the love that people poured into it. And they’ve stood by it, worked for it. That’s part of what makes it beautiful, bullet holes and all.”
Each of us grew lost in our own thoughts. When he did finally speak, his voice was lighter. “Still, I would love to see it as you do. Fresh eyes. When you’re so close to it…” His words caught, and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I want to see places like that, too. I’ve never ventured as far from home as you.” He smiled regretfully.
“Where would you go? What would be the first place you’d check off your list? ”
He didn’t even think about it. “London.”
It seemed an odd choice for this nature-loving, quiet man. “Why?”
“My grandfather was a journalist, and he kept personal diaries. He wrote in them every day, even if it was a single sentence, an event, or a list—anything. My mother showed them to me, and I couldn’t stop reading them. My favorite part was a trip he took with colleagues to London.” He paused, his eyes growing distant as if they were his own memories.
“He wrote about how strange it was there,” he continued. “Clean, precise. The size of the buildings and the heavy traffic. How odd the people sounded, and their food, too. But you could tell he loved it. He saw the Tower of London, walked along the gates of Buckingham Palace and through the gardens, tried afternoon tea, explored Trafalgar Square, browsed the National Gallery. Visited the markets, everything. I was about twelve when I read them. Around that same time, there was this TV show that was set in the UK that we’d get on the few channels we had. I remember feeling this connection, but through him. I never met him, but I feel like I knew him.” He half smiled. “Does that sound silly?”
I shook my head. “Not at all. It’s sweet.”
We were reentering the boundaries of Mostar, and I stared around at the dilapidated buildings with fondness instead of fear, though a new worry had begun to take root. Leaving. I didn’t want to. Moreover, I didn’t want to leave him , which was disconcerting. I sneaked a look at him as he parked, an idea worming into place as we walked the narrow streets to the town center.
Was it crazy? Would he think I was crazy? Did I actually want this or was I just wanting a sense of security? I’d started all this to see what I was capable of. Had I proven it? I was alive and whole, at least physically, but at what cost? What did I really want out of my time on this trip—an experiment or an adventure?
My jaw locked.
I was done with the experiment. I wanted this experience. I wanted someone to share it with, someone who would look at this wide world in a way I couldn’t see it. To use his words, I wanted fresh eyes. I wanted companionship. I wanted my dreams to come true still, but I didn’t want to do it alone anymore.
Maybe that was the fear in me talking. But would that same fear hold me back, too afraid to go out and experience things now on my own? I could live with an altered version of my dreams, but not with never experiencing them at all. An image of me cowering alone from one hotel room to the next, never going out, not exploring, sent a stubborn, decisive stone settling in my gut.
When we reached my apartment, twilight had begun to fall. The now-familiar hustle and bustle of people heading home or out with their friends filled the air with hopeful promise. It was catching and, before my brain could stop my mouth, the words were bursting into the open.
“Come with me.”
“Hmm?”
“My last stop is London. Come with me.”
At first, he laughed a little. But then he quieted, staring intently at my face with a frown. “You’re serious.”
I nodded.
“Why?”
I wasn’t about to delve into my jumbled reasoning or the root cause, but the more I thought about it, the more certain I became. Plus, every moment that we spent together seemed heightened somehow. Everything with him was just better.
Is it true, or are you only working to convince yourself? that voice doubted in my ear.
I chewed my lip, waiting for the negative thought to collapse, which it did with striking speed.
“I told you how special I think this place is, how rare the combination is between it and the people?” I said steadily.
“Yes. ”
“If you were with me, I’d always have the best of both.” My heartbeat quickened, the raw truth in my own words surprising me. “If the places are beautiful, but the people aren’t, then I have you. The balance still checks.” I jerked my chin toward him. “You said you wanted to see the world. It’s a win-win for us both.”
That same curious expression contorted his face as he stared. It was as though he couldn’t quite figure out what I was. He seemed to be reading me, barely blinking. It made me nervous, the intensity, but I met it with a level gaze.
His sigh broke the spell, and he gave one of his characteristic half smiles.
“Thank you,” he said, and my heart dropped before he even said it, “but I’m needed here. Besides, my budget is quite small.”
“I’ll bet mine would out-skimp yours,” I countered. “I used to think I’d go to all these big cities and those typical, once-in-a-lifetime tourist spots, but…” My lips pressed into a hard line. They didn’t seem so important anymore. “But the only thing I have set in stone is my flight back. Everything else is pretty negotiable.”
“Why not all those places?” He didn’t blink as he waited.
I hesitated again. Then I shrugged, arranging my face with a grin and raising my arms above my head with a flourish. “Spontaneity, baby.”
His slight smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I like that.”
“So join me.” I was nearly begging, so I switched my tactic. “You choose a spot first, then me, and we keep going until June 28th.”
“Why then?”
“It’s three days before my flight out of London. That way, we can do that afternoon tea, see the crown jewels, stroll through the palace gardens, and give the royal wave!” I giggled imagining Emil doing a princess wave. “We’ll make a bucket list. All the places you always wanted to see. Buckingham Palace, the National Gallery, the works. Yours and mine. What do you say?”
He finally let out a genuine chuckle at that. I could see the yearning and hope flicker on his face, but he remained quietly pensive.
I gave a shrug, looking down at my feet. “Take some time. Think about it.”
Time.
One more night before my booking in Venice.
There was no time.