In a last ditch attempt to refill his empty coffers, Carter had signed on for one final expedition—a dig to locate the lost tomb of an ancient Ethiopian king that he’d sworn would be his last. Either he hit the jackpot and came back to Lula a rich man or came crawling back with nothing but his heart in his hands. One way or another, he planned to be in Lonesome Point before that summer. But only days into the excursion, his team had been captured by Somali warlords and held captive for eight months.
Carter told Lula about their escape one cloudless night when their captors were celebrating victory over opposing forces. Carter’s team ran through the desert under a full moon, certain they were going to step on a mine and be blown to pieces any second. He told her about the long journey on foot to Mogadishu, only to find there was no U.S. Embassy in the capital city and no way for the American members of their team to get replacement passports for the ones the warlords had stolen. The following eighteen months were an exercise in survival and hope against all odds, as he and two friends survived selling black market moonshine, made with stolen potatoes, as they waited for their appeals to the U.S. government to bear fruit.
They finally got help from one of their old treasure hunting buddies who had family in the New Zealand government. They were granted visas to New Zealand and began to appeal to the U.S. Embassy there. This time they only had to wait six months before they were granted passports and permission to reenter the U.S. By the time the request came through, Carter had saved up enough money working the docks in Auckland to pay for his plane ticket, but on the day he and his friends were due to fly home, he came down with the flu. He spent nearly a month in a New Zealand hospital, and when he was finally well enough to be discharged, his job and his friends were gone.
For years, he’d been writing and calling his father with no response. He was pretty certain Dad was dead, but on the day he left the hospital, Carter tried calling Alaska again. He was out of money, barely strong enough to shuffle down the street from the supermarket to his apartment, and losing hope that he would ever see home. Finally, his dad—who had just returned home after one last treasure hunt with his old team—had answered. His father bought Carter a ticket to Anchorage; he arrived on the day his dad was diagnosed with cancer.
“So the next year and a half was spent taking care of Dad,” Carter said, taking a sip of his wine, knowing he’d never take luxuries like this for granted again. “I still had money in a U.S. account I hadn’t been able to access while I was abroad, but it was barely enough to pay the medical bills. If Dad had lived much longer, I don’t know what we would have done.” Carter looked up at Lula with a smile. “Talk about a tale of woe, huh?”
She shook her head, a stunned expression on her face. “I don’t see how you can still smile after all that. That sounds like hell, Carter.”
“It was, but maybe it’s what I deserved.” He set down his wine glass and met Lula’s searching look. “I’m just glad I’m finally back here, having a drink with you. But I think we’d better get to the meal, or I’ll end up falling asleep on the table. I’m more of a light weight than I used to be.”
“Me too,” Lula said. “I hardly ever drink anymore.”
“We’re so old,” he teased. “What would our younger selves think of us?”
Lula smiled. “Oh please, you look exactly the same. The ladies at the party couldn’t stop talking about how handsome you were. You nearly broke my poor cousin’s brain. She didn’t remember meeting you and couldn’t seem to wrap her head around the idea of a mouse like me having a history with someone like you.”
“You’re no mouse,” he said, indignant on her behalf. “You’re beautiful without even trying. Anyone who can’t see that doesn’t have a brain to break.”
“Well, Mia never was the sharpest knife in the drawer.” Lula giggled but immediately covered her mouth with her hand. “I shouldn’t have said that. I love Mia, I’ve just been mad at her since she put panties on my gnomes.”
Carter laughed. “What?”
“She pantied my gnomes,” Lula said, still giggling. “Gave them all these horrible neon green thong hats, covered downtown with underwear, and put bras up the flag pole. It was awful.”
“This sounds like the next story that needs to be told,” he said, grinning. “But first I’m grabbing the meat and cheese from the fridge.”