since I’ve been in Seoul. It’ll be fun to go somewhere other than Jessica’s apartment and the medical center.”
The early awkwardness was starting to crack and Luke seemed more at ease. “Really? So, you haven’t had a chance to see much of Seoul?”
“No. I’ve worked nearly every day since I’ve been here. On Sundays I’ve gone to church with Jessica, but it’s a little daunting because she attends a Korean church and almost all of her friends and colleagues are Korean.”
He seemed to take her disclosure as a challenge. “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.”
Claire had to tamp down a twinge of fear as they entered the parking lot. Luke noticed her scouring the area. He didn’t comment, but lightly placed his hand on her arm. He led her to a nondescript beige Kia sedan and opened the passenger door, ushering her in. She couldn’t help a slight giggle as she saw him folding into the driver’s side a moment later. “Is this your car?”
“No, thankfully,” he said wryly. “It’s part of Yongsan’s non-official fleet. Base personnel can check out a car on a first-come-first-serve basis. Believe it or not, this is one of the larger vehicles.” He grinned at her. “The only cars I fit comfortably in are full-size pickups and SUVs—not these mini things. Of necessity I’ve learned to manage.” He started the engine. “Any preference on what you’d like for dinner?”
She smiled at him, realizing that sometime in the past few minutes, she’d lost her nervous edginess. “Actually anything that isn’t kimchi and doesn’t smell like fish sounds great... In other words, I’d love something remotely American.”
He grinned again. “Pizza?”
“Perfect.”
“I know just the place. There’s an Italian restaurant on Itaewon that does a terrific Chicago–style pizza.” He put the Kia into drive and headed toward the exit.
“I’ve not yet been to Itaewon,” Claire said.
Luke chuckled. “Well, there’s a first time for all of us. I’m sure you’ve heard about it. It’s kind of a cross between 5th Avenue in New York City and New Orleans’s Bourbon Street. Plus, it’s only a couple of miles from the Yongsan Army Base, so there are a lot of servicemen and a number of...not particularly reputable people.” He looked a little sheepish. “Well, you’ll see.”
Fifteen minutes later, Luke pulled into a parking spot in a very busy commercial area and Claire was able to take in the street first hand. She saw bustling department stores interspersed with classy restaurants and dives. Coffee shops were adjacent to small stores selling everything from T-shirts to leather goods to gold jewelry to knock-off purses and shoes. Street vendors sold CDs, DVDs and cigarettes, as well as an assortment of food items—most of which Claire didn’t recognize and didn’t find particularly appealing.
During the three-block walk to the Italian restaurant, Luke kept Claire closely at his side, with his hand on the small of her back. Instinctively, she leaned slightly toward him, enjoying the sensation of protection. He didn’t stand out nearly as much here, as at least one-third of the crowd were Westerners. Many of the men and women were obviously military, although only a few were in uniform.
The restaurant they entered could have been located in any city in the U.S. Although it was crowded at the dinner hour, they were quickly ushered into a booth. Settled into her spot, Claire studied her surroundings. The tables were covered in white cloths and graced with small vases of flowers and votive candles. The aroma of garlic, basil and tomatoes permeated the room. The patrons were a decided mix of locals and visitors, mostly dining in pairs and small groups. A waiter handed them each a menu and in passable English asked for drink orders.
“Would you like some wine?” Luke asked.
“No, thanks. I don’t drink much, but go ahead if you wish.”
“Can’t tonight. I’m actually ‘on call.’” Luke requested a soda from the waiter.
“I’ll have the same,” Claire said, and the server nodded, saying he’d be back shortly for their order.
“On call for what?” Claire asked. “Is it for the embassy?”
“No, it’s for my day job. Actually, day, night, whenever job. I don’t exactly keep regular hours. The embassy gig is necessary because I’m Navy and they don’t have enough Marine officers here to do weekend duty—long story—anyway, I’m glad now to have done it because that’s how I met you.” His quick smile was genuine, and Claire felt an odd flutter in her stomach. She blushed and glanced down to her menu.
“So, tell me about your ‘whenever job.’”
He shrugged. “I review surveillance feeds all day and write reports to send up the chain of command. Sometimes I go into the field to verify impressions...pretty routine stuff...”
Claire doubted that anything he did was routine, but he seemed hesitant to go deeper. “How long have you been here doing surveillance?”
“About a year. Before that, I was stationed in several places—mostly the Persian Gulf and the Middle East.” He’d been studying her face and abruptly changed the subject. “You have the most unusual eyes I’ve ever seen.” His voice was quiet, with a pensive quality, almost as if he’d spoken his thoughts out loud.
Claire glanced down at her napkin and then back up to catch his gaze. “Yes, uh...” She shifted awkwardly and pressed her lips together. “It’s called ‘sectoral heterochromia iridis’ if you want the technical name. Basically, it’s just an irregular pigmentation of the iris.” She took a breath. “I’ve had to respond to questions about it all my life...”
He looked sympathetic but didn’t drop the subject. “So you get a lot of people staring when they notice?” It was both question and comment. “I get the same reaction when anyone sees my feet.”
His offhand comment startled a giggle from Claire, and she couldn’t prevent a side glance to the floor to study his shoes. He hadn’t been joking. Luke’s eyes crinkled at the corners at her raised eyebrows.
In seconds, she grew serious again. “When I was a kid it really bothered me when people said something about my eyes. I hated being different from the other kids, and I was really shy.” She looked up again; his gaze had not faltered. “Anyway, when I was old enough I made my parents get me colored contacts, so my eyes would just be brown. That helped a lot, but...” She sighed deeply. “Well, I was so happy with the contacts that I stupidly wore them all the time. After about a year, I ended up with pretty severe corneal ulcerations, and came close to needing a cornea transplant. That was the end of the contacts and so...” She gave him a small frown and motioned to her glasses.
He shook his head and murmured, “Kids can be dumb... I think they’re beautiful.”
The room suddenly seemed to be closing in and Claire felt a little dizzy. That feeling was accompanied by a lightness in her chest and tears threatened. She blinked self-consciously and returned her gaze to her napkin. Her heart rate soared and her stomach quivered. He couldn’t know that with that simple statement—with those four words—Luke had helped salve a wound that was more than twenty years old. In that brief moment, years of distress and embarrassment over her unusual eyes were replaced by a sense of release edging into quiet exultation.
He had called them beautiful.
