Chapter Twenty-Nine

I feel absolutely stuffed, but at the same time, I want to keep eating. Everything I taste is better than what I tasted before it and I just want to keep going until I burst.

“I can honestly say, this is the best meal I've ever had in my life,” I say.

Eric drains the last of his wine. “What was normal fare out there on the Ark?” he asks. “Biscuits and gruel?”

I laugh. “Not exactly,” I reply. “The Shepherds would regularly hunt and bring in meat for the community. We had a garden where we grew a lot of our own fruits and vegetables. And we supplemented that with things from town.”

“Sounds very Little House on the Prairie,” he says.

“Little House on the Prairie?” I ask, thoroughly confused. “What's that?”

“I don't suppose you had cable television out there, did you?”

I shake my head. “No, Raymond liked to tell people television was the work of Satan and watching it imperiled their souls.”

“Given some of the crap on TV today, I'm not convinced it's not actually the work of Satan,” he says and laughs.

The waitress drops off a plate with the dessert Eric had ordered and two cappuccinos, departing without another word – or even so much as a glance in my direction.

“This is a chocolate molten cake with a port wine glaze,” Eric announces.

“Let me guess,” I say with a smile. “The best in all of San Diego?”

“You know it.”

I take a spoonful and pop it into my mouth, my eyes almost bursting immediately. I chew it slowly, savoring every flavor that fills my mouth.

“Oh my, God,” I say. “That –”

“Let me guess,” Eric says. “It's the best thing you've ever tasted?”

We laugh together and as I look at him, I feel my heart swelling again. This has been the absolute best night of my life. Of course, given what I lived through, that bar was set pretty low. But still, this whole experience has been amazing.

I look over at the table Eric had pointed out to me earlier. The same couple is still there with the same look of pure love on their faces. I bite back the feeling of jealousy that wells up within me and turn my thoughts to something else. Something Eric had said while we were still in Fort Collins. That, combined with the way he talked about his parents earlier made me curious.

And maybe it was my new experiences making me feel a little bolder than I normally am, but I had the overwhelming need to know more about him. There is a depth to the man that I want to explore. I can see the darkness inside of him and want to know what caused it. There is so much about him that is still so mysterious to me and I want to unravel it all.

“Tell me something,” I say.

“Anything.”

“When we were still back in Colorado,” I start. “You told me that you are an expert in beating yourself up. Why is that?”

I can see the walls around him going up and the curtain coming down over his eyes. It's not hard to see that he's a man who doesn't enjoy talking about himself. A man who doesn't like to open up and let himself feel vulnerable by sharing his emotions or experiences.

Which, for some reason, makes me want to part that veil of darkness inside of him all the more.

“You know all about the horrible things that made up my life,” I say. “It's time for you to start sharing some of yours. It's only fair. What is it that you beat yourself up for so often?”

He sighs and takes a sip of his cappuccino. Setting his cup down he leans forward on the table, resting his chin in his hands.

“I beat myself up for the men I lost overseas,” he says. “I couldn't save them all and there's some small part of me that thinks I should have been able to.”

I sit back in my seat and cock my head, looking at him. “You were in the middle of a war,” I say. “People die in a war. That's not your fault.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn't make seeing so many young guys die over there any easier.”

“Unless you're God, there's no way getting around people dying, Eric.”

A rueful smile touches his lips. “I'm a surgeon,” he says. “Haven't you heard that we're all predisposed to thinking we're God?”

I laugh. “I haven't heard that, no,” I say. “But given your power over life and death, I can see why some might think they are.”

“Exactly,” he replies.

“But it's more than that,” I say. “Even I can see that there's something more burning a hole in your heart. Something you can't seem to forgive yourself for. What is it?”

He sighs again and that dark shadow passes over his face. I see that haunted look in his eyes return and for a moment, he just looks – sad. Reaching out, I take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

“It's okay,” I say. “You can talk to me.”

Eric casts a glance over to that table and the darkness on his face deepens. He turns back to me and there is a grim air about him. He opens his mouth to speak and closes it again. And on his face, I see more emotion than I've ever seen from him.

“The thing I beat myself up for the most is the fact that I am a disappointment to my parents.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because they – my father really – wanted me to follow him into the company,” he says. “Wanted me to succeed him at the top.”

“Why didn't you?”

“It wasn't for me,” he says. “I spent a lot of time there and the medical research side of the company is what really caught my attention. It's what fascinated me and really fired me up. I was young when I knew I wanted to be a doctor, not a corporate CEO. Which, of course, disappointed my father.”

I can see the pain on his face, even now, years after the fact. But I honestly don't see how his parents could be disappointed in him. He's a surgeon. A military veteran. And a good man. And to me, that's what any parent would want the most – for their child to be a good person. But then, maybe I'm just naive.

“Things got really heated when I started to voice my opposition to their military research and weapons development,” he said. “We started to argue more and more often about it. I think in a lot of ways, that was why I enlisted to begin with. As a giant fuck you to my father. I figured that if other people were going to die because of my family, then I should probably put myself in the crosshairs too. They died before we could reconcile. Hell, I don't even know if my father wanted to reconcile with me.”

I squeeze his hand again and give him a small smile with all of the compassion and care I can muster. I can't imagine the burden he must be carrying around with him every day. It has to be painful.

“I obviously don't know them, Eric,” I say. “But I can't imagine a world where they would really be disappointed in you. You're a surgeon. You save lives. You make people's lives better and you're a good man with a good heart.”

I look down at my hand laying protectively over my stomach and smile. I look back up at him and see the emotion still upon his face.

“I know that's all any parent can ask for,” I say. “If my child turns out to be half the person you are, I'll count myself fortunate.”

There's a long moment of silence between us and I can tell that he's doing everything he can to keep his emotions under control. In that way, that need for control, Eric was a little like Raymond. Unlike Raymond though, Eric sought to oppress not others, only himself.

“Thank you, Calee,” he finally says. “That means a lot.”

I cast a quick glance to the loving couple at the table across the way and then look down at our hands, clasped together. Looking back up at him, I smile.

“You're welcome.”