The flicker of the fireplace’s yellow flames reflected in her eyes. “It’s not fair of me to bring my problems into your life…but our son…”
“Deserves a mom and a dad.”
Andrea leaned back, looked at the ceiling, closed her eyes; a brief smile on her lips. “Dad was right…” she mumbled without opening her eyes.
“About?”
She sat up straight. “Seth enjoys the way you play with him.”
“I don’t even have a proper bed for him…a child-sized bed and blankets…toys…little guys need toys…and books…always thought little ones need their own libraries…decorations, we’ll have to decorate his room. And this place could use a feminine touch. So much to do…What fun we’ll have.”
“Brian, some conversation about us first.”
He stood and walked to the phone. “I know who to call.”
“Fine but we need to talk…”
He stopped, turned slightly toward her. “Yes, we’ll talk, but meanwhile, he needs a bed, little kid stuff. We’ll go shopping later. Great little book and toy store…not far.”
“But…” Her serious expression maintained, she said, “Can we become friends such that you’ll be comfortable living with Seth?”
He smiled. “We’ll start like we did in Oz. Walks and sunsets.”
“We had disagreements. Country Girl and City Boy.”
“It will happen again.”
“But then how…”
“No clue…” he said with a shrug, staring at the flames. “But we have Seth to motivate us.”
She studied the dancing flames while a satisfied smile appeared on her lips. “Yes. For his sake.”
He turned toward her. “Aussie lady, you look exhausted.” “Drained.”
“Up to the guest room and relax.”
As she plodded up the stairs, Brian was on the phone. “Hello Mrs. Stern. Brian Levin here. Need a child’s bed with mattress, a highchair suitable for a three-year-old, and…yes sheets and blankets, please…one of those Pendleton Arrowhead blankets would be marvelous…deep blue? Excellent. Can you deliver them today? No? I’ll have my pickup there within the hour.”
* * *
That evening, Brain sat across from the fireplace, the sound of hickory logs cracking and popping, a book propped on his belly. A faded, oversized, sweatshirt, proclaiming a Jimi Hendrix concert, matched his faded, torn jeans. His bare feet propped on a wide ottoman which was covered in identical, oxblood colored leather as the couch he occupied. Andrea approached, unfolded a blanket, curled into a wide, thickly padded leather chair to Brian’s left, tucking the blanket around her.
He looked up from his book. “You check on Seth?”
“He is snug as bug. His expression was glowing while he watched you assemble his bed and dresser. Thanks for those.”
“I work four ten-hour days in the Emergency Room of a local hospital and I’m on call for mass casualties.”
“So, three days off each week?”
“Yes, but I’m continuing my study of returning Vietnam Vets. I’ll combine it with my notes from the war. Occupies most of my spare time but I complete most of the work here at home.”
“Most of my fights with Rodney began because I tried to push him to be intellectual.”
“Didn’t become a problem for us.”
“We were a together couple.” She sighed and smiled. “If memory serves, we walked, danced, and worked on each other’s concerns for all six days.”
“Pressure to resolve things in a handful of days…no time to waste.”
She slowly ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m here to find some peace.”
“We’re becoming friends again. We’ll work things out from there.”
She grinned. “I had a six-day love affair whose end was heart-wrenching. But even knowing the outcome, I would do it all over again.”
“I’m glad. As far as Seth, it might be difficult living in the same house if we discover we don’t love each other.”
The wind picked up. His wind chimes began playing.
Andrea appeared warmed by their sound. “Your wind chimes are truly melodic. Sonorous, as you said.” She twisted and turned to him. “But, seems like, I’d say, playing a sad tune right now.”
“Sound full of joy to me…”
“Remember the wind chimes you put up for me in Oz? A constant reminder of us…how well we fit.”
“Their sound must not have helped your relationship with Rodney.”
Andrea folded her arms across her chest. “Their sweet melodies chastised me for settling for him…instead of finding you.”
“Not good.”
“I brought them from Oz.”
“I’ll mount them outside the guest room window,” Brian said.
“I’d prefer if they were adjacent to your wind chimes, please. I want the sonorous tones your chimes create to combine with mine.”
* * *
Six-thirty in the AM, a toddler’s singing woke Brian as the little one greeted a new day. Seth walked up the hall to the master bedroom, stuck his head into the room and said, “Hi?”
“Morning Seth,” Brian replied and jumped out of bed. The little one ran into the room, arms wide. The thirty-three- month-old smiled as he was lifted then tossed into the air. His dad threw on a pair of cut-off shorts, and they proceeded to the kitchen where Brian placed him in a high- chair then peeled and mashed a banana which Seth ate with relish.
“Morning,” Andrea said. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
“Fine,” Brian said. “I made oatmeal before I turned in last night. You sleep okay?”
She nodded and filled the kettle, put it on a flame then watched him help Seth. Andrea seemed pleased as she observed their interaction. She gave the little one a small dish of oatmeal.
“Sunny with pleasant temps today,” he said. “After breakfast, we should head out for a walk. Do some grocery shopping.”
“And talk.”
In town, they let Seth choose two, lifted, toy pickup trucks and a dinosaur, each item around five inches in length.
He held the dinosaur toward his father. Brian enunciated slowly, “Triceratops.”
Seth looked at the figure, then at his father, smiled and said, “Yes.”
Andrea chose two educational toys and a game. On the street again, Brian greeted numerous friends. Most called him Doc, a few Brian, but all of whom appeared shocked when he introduced his son.
After walking two blocks in silence, Andrea appeared anxious, not sure what to do with her hands.
Seth slept in the backpack-style carrier, his head resting on Brian’s shoulder.
She noticed Seth sweating so loosened the blankets around the little one, her hands trembling. “You have friends…a life here. I’ve forced my way into your world. Just trying to be in a position to find some peace and I’m loaded with anxiety.”
“Want to tell me why?”
Andria shook her head. She stared in the store fronts while they walked.
“Life forced you and I apart…now back together,” Brian said.
“At a minimum to provide Seth with a father. Remember Mary Thompkins?”
“Your friend since childhood. I remember dancing with her. She was with that guy from the Cav…Michael, I think.”
“They kept in touch after R&R. Live in Boston. He paid her way over. Married and happy as clams. Have twin girls and another on the way. He used his psych degree to obtain employment at a rehab center which counsels Vets.”
“We should visit,” Brian said. “I’ll make reservations.”
She gave him a brief smile. “I was wondering, pain from the war bother you?”
“I replay certain events in my mind. Things I did, things I should have done. Keeps me awake some nights. The memories hurt, sometimes cause headaches, but not to a point they overwhelm me…not yet anyway.”
Following lunch, they walked through a shopping mall, looking for wall decorations for Seth’s room.
&nbs
p; “Did you,” Andrea asked, “think about me after R&R, when you went back to the war?”
“Had to concentrate on surviving. Little time to consider lost love. Although, I experienced an emotional letdown. I cried during an in-country R&R. Occurred three months after our six days. Sitting by myself on the sand, watching and listening to the surf rolling in from the South China Sea…thinking of you and me in Oz. As you said, it seemed like a dream. I sobbed like a baby. A couple of the guys asked if I was okay. I told them to leave me the hell alone.”
“Why there and then?”
“Staring at the surf, realizing it was the same water which touched the beach at Bondi…I was overwhelmed with loneliness, plus anger and frustration at the damn war…probably sat there blubbering like a kid for a crazy amount of time.”
She shook her head. “After we said goodbye…I was depressed for…don’t remember how long. I was so angry at you.”
“Angry?”
They stopped walking and faced each other. She continued, “For six day, even when we argued, it was like we were wrapped inside each other. The rest of the world be damned. I felt we could overcome anything as a couple. That was immature thinking on my part. Our six days together, so precious, and then you were gone. Angry? I was livid. Felt like you shoved a dagger in my heart.”
“But then Rodney…”
“As time passed and I returned to my everyday existence, the memory of our time fading, our six-day relationship seemed apparitional. Gone like smoke up a chimney. I began convincing myself I’d be happy settling into a life like my mum and dad. Ended up, I was cruel to Rodney. I tried to push him into the person I imagined you were.”
“Not fair.”
“Not in the least. So, we fought…royal battles.” She stopped and stared in the window of a kitchen supply store. “We had this huge argument. Screaming and calling each other terrible names…it was so mean of me…I ultimately screamed that Brian would understand.”
“He knew about me?”
She nodded. “Rodney packed his things…left that night.”
They began walking again. “I was alone again so focused all my energy on Seth for a number of months…signed divorce papers…argued with my father who insisted I contact you, tell you about our son. I ignored my feelings toward you, but, life forced me to agree. Seth needed his father.”
They returned to the house, stored the items purchased, Brian put Seth down for a nap.
“Start a fire, please?” she asked.
He complied then sat on the couch opposite the fireplace, she on a chair to the side.
Staring at the dancing flames, her head resting on an arm of the chair, she asked, “Any chance we can discuss visiting Oz?”
“We can discuss anything.”
“Would you consider it?”
“For a visit? Yes.”
“Would love to have Seth at least see the sheep station.”
“I’d be willing to take him.”
She smiled. “Important item for me, kind of you to say.”
Andrea stared at the fire. Brian read a novel. Only the cracks and pops from the fireplace provided sound for the next couple of hours
“You don’t need me in your life,” she said with a sigh and a smile.
“My decision, no? We still have issues to work out,” Brian said.
“I know, but your willingness to try, lets me know you’ll do the right thing for Seth.”
* * *
After Seth’s nap, Brian and his son took the Olds 442 into town to visit a hardware store. Brian was examining a bright red, monster of a pipe wrench with a thirty-six-inch handle, Brian told his son, “Seth, this is a toy store for big boys.” Along with the monster, he bought a six-incher for his son.
Back at the ranch, Andrea was in the house reading, Seth played with his new wrench inside the detached garage while his father worked nearby. Brian began cutting and threading lengths of four-inch iron pipe. The little one stared at, then pointed at the Motorhome. “Inside that one?”
“Sure buddy,” his father replied then opened the door. The little one scrambled up the stairs, sat in the driver’s seat then headed to the rear to explore.
He returned to his father’s side as Brian completed threading a section of pipe, doping it and adding an elbow.
“We ride that one.” Seth said, pointing at the motorhome.
“After I’m finished threading the pipe,” his father replied. The little one’s face dropped. “Ride now, please.”
Seth’s expression defeated his father’s resistance. “Let me wash my hands and we’ll go.”
The instant the big diesel engine roared to life, Seth’s eyes went wide as a huge grin appeared. Both remained until the thirty-minute ride ended.
Brian returned to pipe work. Seth stayed at the wheel of the parked motorhome, happily making engine noises and regularly checking the mirrors as his father had.
Andrea called them for lunch.
Two days later and early on a cool but sunny day, Brian fired up the water heater for the pool. After lunch, he gave swimming lessons to Seth. His mother watched from the family room, a satisfied smile on her lips.
When a North Texas thunderstorm rattled the house, the frightened little one ran to his father.
Andrea grinned and said, “He feels secure with you. You’ll be a rock for him.”
Chapter 13
Gusty winds played an indeterminate melody on the wind chimes. Bundled in warm clothing on a cold, late December afternoon, Brian and Andrea shared the settee on the front porch. Seth napped in his father’s lap.
“Then the accident was not your fault,” Brian said.
“The woman driving the other vehicle was obviously drunk,” Andrea said. “She reeked of beer…could barely stand. The police blamed her.”
“Again, not…”
“If I was patient, not showing off, there was no damn reason to hurry. I could have made sure she was stopping. I mean, I knew she was coming.”
“There is always something else which might have happened. It wasn’t your fault if the other driver was drunk.”
“I was conscious long enough to see my sister and her son were thrown out. I crawled out of the wreckage, hurt in lots of places. We didn’t believe in seat belts.” She shook her head and sighed. “We had this dumb idea, if we were in a burning car and the seat belt didn’t release, we’d burn alive…not realizing what crap that was. During the crash, I banged around the interior in a way that my feet and legs were injured, my face smashed against the dash more than once.”
“Your sister-in-law and nephew?”
Her eyes tearing, she stared at the floor. “His skull fractured, that precious boy died in my arms soon after the accident…poor Jane run over by the other vehicle. It was crazy that the other driver survived.”
“Your injuries?”
“All healed but left with a twisted face, pain in joints on occasion. I required a number of surgeries to achieve my current state. But still suffer devastating guilt and a brother who no longer talks to me.”
“And you need…?”
“To work out the cruel, overwhelming, at times debilitating, guilt-caused, depression.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “The sleepless nights, my mind in a fog, the difficulty dragging myself out of bed. Ultimately you then Seth’s arrival forced me to accept what happened, and helped me heal to a degree.”
“Ever talk to a professional?”
“I tried. They start with pills. I need a clear head. Not some damn drug induced fog. Dad encouraged me to find you. He was right. More importantly as it turns out, Seth needed to know his father.”
“Finally.” She took two deep breaths and let each out slowly. I’ve told you the story about the car crash.” Andrea left her chair, cuddled against him. “There’s a twist. When the other driver was so drunk she could barely stand, the police didn’t consider I might be impaired.”
Brian gazed into dark eyes. “Andrea…h
ow drunk?”
“One beer, not drunk, but I’ll never know for sure. I believed I could accelerate fast enough to get in front of the other car, when I didn’t have a chance in hell.” She shrugged. “I hit the throttle instead of waiting. The car accelerated maybe ten feet; I’d underestimated her speed. I heard the other car’s tires screeching.” She shivered at the memory and the cold. “Inside, please. I don’t want Seth to catch a cold.”
Seth taking a nap, they sat on a small couch in his office. They clung to each other like lone survivors on a life raft. He kept kissing the top of her head as she cried.
He said, “I made the reservations for the trip to Boston.
We leave in four days.”
“Thank you,” Andrea said and kissed his lips. “Love to sleep with you tonight.”
Slowly, as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, Andrea stood, put a hand on Brian’s shoulder then said, “Going to walk around your property.”
“I’ll come with.”
He moved to stand but she pushed down on his shoulder.
“Something else to tell you. Not sure how. Need time to think…”
“Andrea, tell me…”
“Time alone, please.” She lifted his chin, kissed him then looked outside at a light mist on that cool, late December day. She changed into a rain resistant, insulated, and hooded jacket of his.
“Does the accident still depress you?”
“Among other things…yes.”
Brian worked on his research for an hour then looked out a window.
The jacket’s hood pulled over her head, her face not visible, shoulders drooped, hands in jacket pockets, Andrea plodded along as if her legs were leaden. A hand with a tissue occasionally moving toward her face, wiping away tears, he imagined.
THE SOLDIER: A Vietnam War Era Novel Page 14