Every year in Heartland, Florida there was a traveling fair that popped up along the shore of Lake Jesup, and the centerpiece was a large Ferris wheel that temporarily became the tallest structure in the county. For two weeks every winter, the Ferris wheel became the romantic center of town, inspiring the youth with promises of the future, and enchanting the elderly with visions of the past. Cal had a few special memories of his own.
But this was Nice, France—not Heartland, Florida—and the woman sitting across from Cal was not his wife.
"Is it everything you dreamed?"
Cal came back to the present. A blanket of night had settled across the world, pierced by stars above and by a million city lights. A beautiful woman sat across from him, lit softly by golden bulbs surrounding the Ferris wheel gondola. They were falling slowly, rotating downward as the enormous steel spokes of the wheel turned on their axis, a slow-motion whirl of colored lights that blinked and shifted.
Eeva smiled, waiting for his answer. The bench seat next to her was empty except for the turquoise, Navajo purse with the tassels that Eeva always kept at her hip. Cal was still working up the nerve to claim the purse's seat for himself.
"It's beautiful," he said, "And so are you."
She smiled and looked away. "That's the first time you've complimented me like that."
"I've always thought it."
Eeva didn't thank him, but her smile and the hint of a blush on her cheeks was enough. Their gondola continued downward, slowly plunging towards ground level and Place Masséna, where the crowd of carnivalers gathered on the red and white checkboard pavement jostling for a view of the Night Parade, already in full swing with its papier-mâché floats now illuminated from below by spotlights and enhanced with strings of glowing neon. The King of Time and his royal court was currently making their procession from Place Masséna, down to the promenade along the beach, and would eventually come back around the Jarden Albert park in a giant loop, the path lined by tens of thousands of visitors from both France and around the world—more people than everyone who lived in Heartland. As the Ferris wheel turned and their gondola left the crowded plaza behind, the entirety of the parade came into view, a mile-long train of color, lights, and movement, but the sounds of music, whistles, and cheering, of drums and horns and laughter, all fell away as Cal and Eeva were lifted higher and higher, until they were alone like two astronauts looking down at the globe.
"I couldn't get us tickets to sit in the grandstands," Eeva said, "But I think—"
"—This is better," Cal finished her statement and she nodded.
He pivoted in his bench seat to take in the wide view, causing the gondola to rock gently. All of Nice was below them, a web of white headlights and red taillights tracing the hilly contours of the land, illuminated by golden streetlamps and the glow of a million windows rising up the slopes away from the coast, now black as an abyss, like the city was perched at the edge of the world with nothing beyond it except the endless night. And to the east, down by the port, was another void: Castle Hill, rising like a black tower against the city lights around and behind it, where Cal had almost been killed just a few days before. He brushed away the memory, but not completely. As enchanting as the city looked from atop the Ferris wheel, matched by elfish figure of the Estonian woman relaxing against the gondola bench opposite him, the events of that day on the hill—and, really, the weeks before—were like a veil between them, like the hill blocked the city lights beyond it. Cal wanted to move forward, and Lilith's cursory investigation had helped, but he still needed answers.
"Why did you invite me up here, Eeva? With all that's happened, up on that hill—," and Cal pointed to its blackness, "—and since then at the garden with Frank and Niles, I really need to hear it from you."
Eeva frowned. "That I'm not a spy?"
"That you weren't just using me."
She looked away before answering. "But Cal, I think I have been using you."
He knew the truth was coming, but it still hurt.
"But not in the way you are meaning," she continued and then looked right at him. "Cal, look at me. What do you see?"
"I see a beautiful, strong woman. Independent. Athletic. I see a woman who's sure of herself and isn't afraid to move to a foreign country on her own. I see . . . " and he paused to look at her closely.
Her glacier eyes were framed by faint lines at the corners, set in a face still beautiful but not young: a shallow wrinkle here, a sun blemish there—signs not at all ravaged by time, but marked by experience. The corners of her mouth were creased by countless smiles, but Cal also saw the shadow of many frowns. There was sadness beneath her beauty.
"You're lonely," he said at last.
Eeva swallowed hard and turned away, blinking away a sudden swell of tears.
"It's hard to admit," she said at last and laughed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I do feel strong. I do feel independent. You're right about all that, and I've worked hard to get where I am—and look around—I live in this beautiful city now! I am proud of who I am, and I tell myself that I don't need anyone—and I don't."
"I don't need to watch the World Series," Cal said, reaching across to place his hand on top of hers, "but I still watch it every year. And do you know what?"
"What?"
"It's always better to watch it with someone on the couch beside me."
"Cal MacIntyre, are you trying to charm me with a sports metaphor?"
They laughed together.
"I'm a coach, so sue me!" He threw his hands up in surrender and apology. "And I'm a little out of practice trying to charm women."
"But I think you understand."
"I do. Trust me, I do. And because I know all too well, I'd say you're not just lonely."
"No?"
"You're grieving."
Eeva's lips parted and her breath caught in surprise. Cal stayed silent and gave her room to speak. Their gondola had passed through the crowd and noise at its base and was wheeling skyward again, and Eeva caused it to wobble when she moved to Cal's side and squeezed next to him, their thighs and shoulders pressed together. She kept her eyes forward, though, looking into the night sky over Nice and, probably, back into the past.
"I said I've been using you, Cal—not as cover for some crazy spy operation—but for your company. Yes, I am lonely but there are a million men out there and I've had enough attention from more than enough of them. So, really, I think you are asking: why you?"
Cal nodded, afraid to speak and break the spell, the magic of the evening and of her sharing her truth.
"So why you? Cal, when I look at you, I see the real you—I think. I don't see a man trying to impress me to get me into bed. I don't see someone hiding behind a veneer of ego and overconfidence. I don't think you hide behind masks. Do not take this the wrong way, but you wear your emotions. There's an English expression that I can't quite remember."
"My heart on my sleeve?" Cal guessed. Molly had told him the same thing many times, and it both hurt and healed to hear Eeva say the same thing.
"Yes, that's it! Cal, I like your honesty. I like your kindness. Also, you're a hero."
Cal laughed and shook his head, but Eeva gripped his hand in hers.
"You are! Both on that first day we met and then again up on Castle Hill. You stood between me and danger with nothing expected in return. You said your grandfather came to Nice and kicked out the bad guys—the Nazis— and, in a way, you're doing the exact same thing. Standing up for people is in your blood. And your baseball player and his father? You did the same thing, and you'd do it again without hesitating, wouldn't you?"
Cal shrugged. Maybe he wouldn't knock Dr. Manny Springfield's tooth out, but Cal would put himself between Lenny and that bully of a father every time.
"But I see the sadness in your eyes, too: your wife. Grief knows grief. I saw it the moment we met on the tram: a man filled with loss, but one who keeps going because his job isn't done. Like you made a promise."
A sob welled in Cal's chest, and he suppressed it with a shuddering breath, just barely. His throat tightened and if he tried to speak, he'd be unable. He swallowed hard and didn't care if the tears in his eyes threatened to run down his face. It was painful to feel so exposed, but he couldn't pull away. He could only squeeze her hand in return.
"I did not lose my husband in that way. My grief is not romantic, but I have known loss just the same. I haven't told you about my brother.
"Jaan was brave like you, and not afraid to show his laughter. He was much younger than me and, in a way, I was like a second mother to him. Our parents died while he was still in what you call high school, and I took care of him then. He played basketball and had top grades, too—I made sure of it! I was working in the government by then, and married, and my husband did not like that Jaan was around so much. He thought that I should focus on starting a family of our own, not raising a teenager he never asked for.
"We divorced the summer Jaan graduated high school, and Jaan joined the military academy, the same as I did. He was a true patriot and became a helicopter pilot in the Estonian Defense Force. He married and had a family of his own, and even if I was never truly a mother, Jaan made me an aunt! We were close—all of us—and Jaan's oldest son graduated from high school just last year.
"But his father, Jaan, wasn't at the ceremony."
Eeva's grip had tightened as she spoke, faster and faster, through her story. She paused then.
"What happened?" Cal asked, hoping not to pressure her, but to give her something in the present to cling to. Eeva kept one hand pressed into Cal's but wiped tears from her cheeks with the other.
"Two years ago, he was on a routine flight, patrolling our border with Russia. Since the invasion of Ukraine, Estonia has been on high alert, and the Russians are constantly probing our defenses—with jets and with drones—gauging our reaction. It was a night patrol, so he relied on his instruments to navigate over Lake Peipus, the long lake along the border that separates us from Russia. Only . . . he crossed into Russian territory without realizing it. He was a decorated pilot with thousands of flight hours, so I know he was not at fault. Something confused his navigation systems—some Russian trickery! I don't have answers, but I know that Jaan did nothing wrong."
"Eeva—" Cal started to say something to comfort her, to let her know she didn't have to continue, but she ignored him, seemingly trapped in the memory with the only way out of it to push forward and through.
"The Russian forces radioed to him a warning, but only so they could claim innocence. Jaan radioed back his compliance to correct his course, but their missiles were already in the air."
"Jesus, Eeva . . . that's terrible. I—," Cal was at a loss for words. "I'm sorry."
She nodded with tears freely flowing down her cheeks. She took a deep breath. She tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. Cal embraced her and she buried her face into his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his back. In his mind her imagined a fiery explosion against a black night sky, and a rain of burning debris hitting the black lake below. He wondered what happened to Jaan's body and the bodies of his crew, but he knew he'd never be able to ask. Cal tried to summon some magic phrase of his own that would offer comfort, but every attempt died on his lips. In the weeks and months after Molly's funeral, he'd heard them all, all the petty comforts of words, and none of them helped. All he could do was be there and hold her, and so he did, with the Ferris wheel turning and the lights of Nice and the sounds of the carnival slowly coming up to greet them and then fading away.
Eventually, Eeva pulled back but kept her hand in hers. Her eyes were still wet, but she wore a painful smile.
"Everything was painful after that. My home. My job. My country and the constant barrage of fear shooting at us from across the border. I stayed, at first, for Jaan's family—his widow and two teenaged children. We were there for each other, and I think I buried my grief deep so that I could be strong for them. They will never forget Jaan, but two years have passed and that is a lifetime for young people. They're in high school now and they're healing, but that whole time . . . I think I was just treading water."
"So, you came to Nice," Cal said.
"I felt it was time to give them space. Can you understand that? It still feels selfish, leaving them, but . . . I had to try something different. I couldn't stay any longer, driving the same streets, living in the same home, working in the same office. It was Jaan who died, but I was the one who felt like a ghost. Can you understand that?"
"Very much so."
"And I'm still so angry, Cal. The Russians. They killed him and there's nothing I can ever do about it."
Cal nodded. Molly's cancer had been like a hidden enemy; an aggressor he was powerless to fight. When it finally took her, the cancer had gone, too, and Cal was left behind with only anger.
"So, this city," and she spread her arms towards the lights of Nice spread below them like a blanket of stars, "was maybe a way to escape it all; a chance to start over . . . and then I met you: someone else starting over; a hero wearing his heart on his sleeve."
Cal looked at her, looking at him, and it felt like two mirrors facing each other. For the first time in a long while, Cal didn't feel alone. He leaned forward a fraction of an inch, and she leaned in to meet him.
They kissed.