Page 79 of Elusive Promise

"These two appreciate rest." He led her toward a pile of large rocks. As they sat down on the boulders, he said, "This is one of my favorite spots. When I was a teenager, I used to come out here and think for hours on end."

"It's beautiful. Although, I have to admit I don't see you as a thinking-for-hours-on-end kind of guy."

"Maybe not hours. Let's call it minutes."

"Did you used to think about your mom when you came here?"

"I did. I also thought about my future, what I wanted to do, where I wanted to go. When my dad first bought the house and took my brother and me out of the city, we were both unhappy. We liked being away from the tragedy, but we didn’t care for the fact that we weren't with our friends anymore. We had to start at a new high school where everyone knew each other. We were not just sad—we were city kids, completely out of place."

"I doubt you had any trouble making friends. You have the kind of personality that allows you to fit in anywhere."

"I suppose. But I had a lot of anger in me back then. Gradually, over time, and after a lot of horseback rides, and some extra nurturing from Carl and Pam, who have been a second family to me, I started to let go of some of that anger. I came to love this place. And whenever I had a break, I found myself coming home."

"So, someday you want to live here permanently? Is that why you bought the house?"

"I don't know if I'm a permanent kind of guy, Parisa. But I just knew I couldn't let the house go. What the future holds, I don't know." He cocked his head to the right, giving her a thoughtful look. "What about you? Where is home?"

She had to think about that. "I don't really have one. My mother and stepfather have a townhouse in DC now. They bought it a few years ago. I've never lived there, so while it's where they are, it doesn't feel like my home. The photos on their walls are from their recent travels. I'm sure my mom has a photo album somewhere with photos from my childhood, but I haven't seen it in years. I have an apartment in San Francisco, but the assignment I had there is over, and I'm not sure where I'll go next." She let out a breath. "It's weird. I've never thought about how rootless I am. I'm glad you bought your family home, Jared. I think someday you'll be really glad you have it."

"It's not like my mom was ever here. The memories are limited to after her death, but it does represent…peace. It's where we came to terms with our new normal."

She held out her hand to him, and he wrapped his fingers around hers. "I've always thought normal is overrated," she said.

He smiled back at her. "Me, too. Good thing—since my life isn't normal now."

"Mine isn't, either. I have to admit that lately I've been feeling a little restless. The night of the engagement party, I was thinking to myself that it was the first event I'd gone to in as long as I can remember where I was actually myself. And being there, talking to Neil and Anika and Jasmine, made me feel like the girl I used to be." She shook her head, feeling a little foolish by the admission. "It's hard to explain."

"But easy to understand," he told her, tightening his hand around hers. "I know what it's like to live in the shadows, but you can come into the light, can't you? The FBI operates out in the open far more than the CIA does."

"I know, and I've thought about it. I just haven't made any decisions. I'm good out in the field. I may not blend into situations as easily as you do, but my language skills have given me opportunities to get close to people no one else can access."

He looked out over the pond, then glanced back at her. "Is that really why you do it?"

"You think I have another motivation?" she asked warily, not sure she liked him digging into her psyche.

"I'm just wondering, in light of your gypsy background, and your lack of a real home, if you're not sure who you are if you're not undercover—if you can't be someone else."

"That's an insightful comment."

"Is it true?"

"I don't know. Maybe a little. It can be easier being someone else."

"I agree. When you're undercover, the only expectations are for the job performance. If you fail, it was your character who failed, not you. If people don't like you, it's not the real you. At the end of the day, if you achieve your objective, that's your victory. The fake persona takes all the failures. The real person takes all the wins."

"I never thought of it that way, but you're right." She paused. "You know what's really weird, Jared?"

"What?"

"I never thought I'd have this much in common with a spook."

"Or I with a fed."

They exchanged a warm smile that sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't know where things were going between them, but she sensed they were heading into reckless territory. "We should probably go back. It will be dark soon."

"Okay." He stood up, then pulled her to her feet, and against his chest.

She caught her breath at the purposeful look in his eyes. "What are you doing?"

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