the gouge that made the record unplayable…that was
something else.
“What did you see?” Lehr asked again.
“A woman. Or a man dressed in a woman’s robes. I
turned and she—he—was there.”
“You think it was a man.”
“Yeah. I could just see the eyes above the burqa.” He
tried to zoom in on the picture. “Heavy brows. Too
strong a ridge.”
“Is that how you knew something was wrong?”
He shook his head, then said, “Maybe. Part of it. It
was so fast. The robe didn’t hang right. There was some
bulk around the middle. Not…natural, like a pregnant
belly. And the eyes. They were wild. Like a fanatic, but
scared, too. Maybe he wasn’t that old, either. I don’t
know. Nobody told me.”
“A suicide bomber.”
The pressure in his chest was near unbearable.
“Yeah. I saw him, I opened my mouth… I think I did.
And then…boom.”
“How many died?”
“Six. Six boys. Four were badly hurt. They lost legs
or arms or…” His stomach heaved. “Faces.”
“And the bomber died.”
“He was torn to bits.”
“You were hurt.”
“Enough to get discharged and shipped home.”
“You said there were eleven.”
“One boy wasn’t hurt. He was just far enough away.
I don’t know.”
“A miracle.”
Did one out of eleven qualify as a miracle? John didn’t
think so, although that boy’s parents might disagree.
“That was a tough thing to see.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me. It was my fault.”
His guts were on fire, his heart hammering so hard
he heard it. But this was why he’d come. Not to receive
pity, understanding, but to say these words.
“Your fault?”
“I was their coach. Their friend. The face of America.”
“And you believe the bomb was a message to you.”
“No. To the other Iraqis. Hang out with Americans,
you will suffer.”
“Had it occurred to you that you might be endangering the boys by befriending them?”
“Yes. No.” Once again, he squeezed his eyes shut. “I
thought…they were children. Children. No one would
kill a bunch of boys who just wanted to play better
soccer to make their parents proud.”
“But you found that hate knows no decency.” Lehr’s
voice was soft.
“I found…that I had made a terrible mistake. One
that they paid for.”
He cried again, and scarcely heard the words Brian
Lehr murmured.
“And so the healing begins.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SOMEHOW, after the date with Chad, Fiona felt even
lonelier. It was as if, until then, she’d been able to fool
herself that she could easily move on.
The thing with John? Too bad, but… Big shrug. Win
some, lose some.
Who had she been kidding? she asked herself in despair. She was damaged goods. Heart broken, or at least cracked. Hearts, she had discovered, unlike bones,
didn’t mend in six weeks.
It didn’t help that the kids kept bringing up his name.
Tabitha. “I got an e-mail from Mr. Fallon. He says…”
Dieter. “Dad made reservations for us to go to Thunder
Mountain in July. Is that cool, or what? Willow is talking
to her dad about them maybe going at the same time.”
Willow. “Dad says maybe. My little brother thinks
it would be awesome!”
Oh, good. Fiona was excruciatingly jealous of two
teenagers, because they got to go back to the lodge.
They’d get to see John.
“That’s great,” she managed to say. “Tell Mr. Fallon hi.”
Willow looked shocked, and even accusatory. “How
come you don’t still e-mail with him?”
“I think maybe to maintain a friendship you have to
see each other once in a while.”
She immediately regretted what she’d said when the
girl’s shoulders slumped.
“Yeah. My friends from my old school? It’s like, we
used to IM all the time. Not so much anymore.”
“It happens.” Fiona gave her a quick hug. “Important friendships last, even over time and distance. And fortunately, you make new ones at every phase of life.”