Pick Up the Pieces

by Kelly Utt

  My head low with longing now, I leave the bedroom and make my way upstairs. Lady follows.

  These stairs are the scene of the crime that started our family’s downhill tumble.

  I remember racing up these stairs on that fateful night. I remember my sons’ bedroom door being locked. The sound of a man’s voice in their room. My pregnant wife collapsed into a ball on the floor at the top of these stairs, overwhelmed and unable to cope. How could I forget? The memories feel fresh. They’re burned into my subconscious with the stain that only terror makes. We’ve had happy memories since, and I remember those, too. But it takes effort to push away the bad and focus on the good.

  I check little Will’s room first. Empty. His crib and changing table sit unused. He usually sleeps in our room, anyway, so that isn’t so strange. But I’d be happier if he were here.

  I move on to Ethan and Leo’s shared room.

  “Boys? Are you home?”

  Empty.

  My heart races. I try the last room at the end of the hall. The one Marjorie and Roddy stay in when they’re in town.

  Empty.

  Frantic now, I race downstairs and continue through a second set of stairs, making my way to the basement. Lady follows again, keeping pace. She’s as concerned as I am.

  “Ali? Boys? Come on. Anybody here?”

  I reach the basement and search through all of the rooms. Nothing. I race back to the main level to look in the last remaining place they might be. My pulse is pounding as I exit onto the screened porch. They aren’t there either. I’m devastated. I look out into the yard as it touches the lake. It’s empty. Nothing but a few chirping birds.

  No Ali. No boys. No extended family or friends. Lady and I are all alone.

  What in the hell is happening?

  I sit down the cushioned wicker sectional, and pull a gray cable knit blanket over me. Ali placed the blanket out here on the day we moved in. She has such a flair for decorating. Her personal touches make our house feel like a home.

  I lean back as Lady leans hard against my leg again. She knows she isn’t supposed to be on the furniture, so she stays down like a good dog. She’s trying to comfort me though. I appreciate it more than she knows. I pause to wonder why Lady is here if no one else is, but something else is tugging at my mind. Something about this screened porch and the memories of the day we moved in. I feel like I’m forgetting something important.

  Think.

  I let my memories take over in the hopes that they’ll help me remember whatever it is I’m forgetting. I close my eyes. In a flash, I remember being right here in this spot on the snowy January day we moved into this house. The fire was going, and the Bose stereo system wired into the walls was cycling through a playlist Ali had started earlier. Coldplay sang an acoustic version of Fix You. I called my Uncle Liam to let him know we were in the house okay.

  Wait. That’s…

  I struggle to face what my subconscious knows. It’s too much. Too sad.

  Come on, George. Let it out.

  I tell myself to focus. Whatever it is, I can’t avoid it like an ostrich with its head in the sand. I have to be brave.

  It comes in a wash of knowing that swims around me, cold and dark. All of a sudden, I do remember. It’s Liam. My dearest friend and uncle. The raid in Syria took him. Or, at least, that’s what Colonel Becker said, that Liam was missing and presumed dead along with the rest of Bravo Two’s team.

  I yell out loud, a long, guttural sound that practically shakes the rafters. What do I care how loud it is? No one is around to hear it anyway. I’m alone, wasting time wallowing in my sadness when my uncle needs me. The police and Roddy are looking for Ethan. But no one is looking for Liam.

  “I have to go,” I say as I stand.

  Lady looks up at me in anticipation. She’s ready to defend the family again. She wants to go with me. Ignoring her, I bolt through the door and back into my house. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I have to get there right away. I have to get to Liam.

  Inside the house, a crowd has gathered. I’m in total shock. I have no idea what they’re doing here or why. I see a sea of faces-- young, old, male, female, and all races and ethnic backgrounds. They look like a perfect melting pot mix, like the crowds of my childhood in Brooklyn. I don’t recognize anyone. They’re milling around, chatting amongst themselves. The best I can guess, they’re here for an open house. They strike me as home buyers. I wonder if our house has been put up for sale without my knowledge.

  The thought hurts my heart. I can feel my insides squeeze like they’re in a vice. This house is so special. We have so much more life to live here. Ali and I bought the place to raise our family and grow old in. We aren’t ready to sell it. We aren’t ready to give it up. I don’t want these people to be here.

  “Excuse me,” I say, my voice breaking.

  No one pays any attention. Only a few even glance my way.

  “Hello?” I say, louder this time.

  Lady whimpers from her position at my side. She’s sticking by me. I find it odd that she isn’t barking at these people though. Shouldn’t she be barking? They’re intruders in our home. The day of the break-in, Lady barked furiously. And she barked the same way at one of the movers the day we arrived. Now, all she offers is a whimper?

  I’m so confused.

  “People, please!” I shout as loud as I can. “This is my house. Listen to me!”

  Finally, they stop chattering and look my way. They don’t speak, but the crowd parts, opening a path between me and the big farmhouse table that we love so much. It’s the beating heart of our home, where special meals, important discussions, and family celebrations take place. I wonder why these strangers have created a path right to it, of all places. How do they know it’s important to me?

  “What?” I ask no one in particular.

  Lady whines again, almost like she’s urging me on now.

  “You want me to go to the table? Why? And who are you people? What are you doing in my house?”

  No one says a word, they just turn their heads slowly towards the table. It’s clear they want me to go there.

  Reluctantly, I follow. What choice do I have at this point?

  I walk slowly through the parted crowd as three familiar figures come into view in the distance. They’re seated at the table, and they have their backs to me. As I get closer, I think I recognize the one nearest the back of the house. I recognize her profile, the hunched back and puffy, snow white hair.

  “Miss Tessa!” I exclaim. “I’m so happy to see you!”

  “Hello, George,” she says as she gets on her feet to give me a hug. Her grandmotherly vibe is always so comforting. I need comforting right now.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask as she pats my back firmly. I help her return to her seat.

  “I’m here to see you,” she replies. “Is that okay?”

  “Of course, it is,” I reply. “But how did you know where I live?”

  Miss Tessa smiles her knowing smile, then tilts her head towards the other two figures seated at the table. Just beyond her, an old man comes into view. He’s sitting up straight. His face is blurry, but I’m sure I know him.

  “Good to see you, son,” he says with a smile.

  John Wendell. Oh, my God. My grandfather started calling me son around the time my dad died, when I was sixteen. I’d know his voice anywhere.

  Chill bumps cover my entire body in an instant. I feel like I might throw up, like my body is short circuiting from the shock. He’s… dead. Yet, here he is in my house. Sitting at my farm table.

  “John Wendell?” I ask as I step closer to him.

  “That’s right.”

  He reaches out a hand and takes mine, his face coming into full view. He looks just like he did the day of his going away party at Yellow Cob, when he sang The Way You Look Tonight in front of the crowd and danced with an invisible Grandma.

  “John Wendell? How… ? You’re... “

  He chuckl
es. “Dead?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It happens,” he replies. “Not a big deal, really.”

  “But?” I have so many questions.

  John Wendell uses his other hand to pat the top of mine, then stands and grabs hold of my elbow while my arm is bent, just like he’s done ever since I was a kid. It’s familiar and comforting, but I’m a little freaked out right now. I tell myself to be brave.

  He leads me to the far end of the table where the third figure is seated. My grandfather doesn’t have to tell me who it is. I know before I see.

  “Hi, Dad,” I say quietly.

  Alec leans forward, his face emerging from the haze. “Hey, Kid!” he says enthusiastically. He called me Kid.

  Just like it did the night of the break-in when Dad warned me to wake up and be ready, the sound of his voice takes me right back as if no time has passed since he left us. He doesn’t get up out of his chair, but I lean down to hug him. He wraps me tight and hugs me hard. I remember this feeling. It’s one of the best.

  I turn and hug John Wendell, too.

  “You two know Miss Tessa?” I ask.

  That question seems more pressing than the one about why they’re all in my house. Now that I understand Dad and John Wendell’s status as deceased, I’m confused about Miss Tessa’s.

  “Have a seat,” John Wendell instructs. “We’ll explain everything.”

  He glances at the crowd. The strangers are now gazing at us curiously. They seem like they might want to help. Only this makes less and less sense all the time. They can’t be here for an open house. If they were, how would they see Dad and John Wendell?

  Wait. Are they all dead, too?

  Suddenly, I remember the night at the hospital when I was gathering the courage to go out on the ledge after Clive. I had to go to save Ethan, even though I was terrified. Deceased relatives and ancestors gathered around me then in the waiting room. For a minute, it made me afraid that I was going to die. Yet, I survived. I followed Clive and his right-hand man. I saved Ethan. We all made it through okay.

  “Who are all these people?” I ask as I sit down in the chair between Dad and John Wendell. Miss Tess remains on the other side of my grandfather. Dutifully Lady lays down at my feet. She sighs, then closes her eyes to rest, apparently satisfied that I’m in good hands for the moment.

  John Wendell gives a look to the people in the crowd, and they each take a few steps back. They’re giving us space, but they aren’t going away.

  So strange.

  “These people are friends,” John Wendell says. He seems to be leading whatever it is that’s happening here today.

  In a flash, I remember Liam. I’d been distracted by seeing Miss Tessa, John Wendell, and Dad, but I have to find my uncle.

  “Dad,” I say with urgency in my voice. “Liam is missing in Syria. We were on a top-secret mission. We got split up. His team is presumed dead. I have to find him.”

  Dad nods and folds his strong arms across his chest in his signature pose. John Wendell nods, too, while Miss Tessa gives me a sympathetic smile.

  “We know,” Dad says. “We know about Ethan, too. And about Ali having been injured.”

  “We know it all,” John Wendell adds. “That’s why we’re here. We’re here for you.”

  A rush of emotion brings tears to my eyes. I’m incredibly grateful to have these three in my corner.

  “It’s okay,” Miss Tessa says as she puts a hand on my shoulder.

  “I have a lot of questions,” I say through tears. “Miss Tessa, how do you know my father and grandfather? And how are you here with them?”

  “We’re here to look out for you, George. To let you know you’re not alone. That’s all.”

  “That’s all? This is strange, Miss Tessa, you have to understand. Can you explain the other people in my house?”

  She pats my shoulder. If things weren’t such a mess in my life, I’d relax and soak this in. I actually love the fact that Miss Tessa knows Dad and John Wendell. Maybe she has recently died, or maybe she’s an angel. I don’t know. I’m open to those possibilities. After what I’ve seen and experienced recently, I wouldn’t count anything out. Right now, though, I don’t have the luxury of relaxing. Time is of the essence. My family needs me, starting with Liam because no one else is looking for him.

  “Dad,” I try again. “Liam is your brother. I know you want us to find him. I have to go and search. There’s a whole hospital staff looking after Ali. And a whole police department plus Roddy looking for Ethan. Hopefully, they get Taye’s F.B.I. contacts involved again, too. But no one is looking for Liam. He’s been left for dead behind enemy lines. I’m the only one who can save him.”

  “I love my brother deeply,” Dad says. “You know that, Kid.”

  “Then help me get out of here so that I can look for him. I’m not sure how I got here.”

  Dad smiles sympathetically. In fact, all three of them have similar looks on their faces. Like they all know something I don’t. Something big.

  I stand, growing frustrated. “Can I maybe come back and see you later?”

  “Son,” John Wendell says. “Miss Tessa is exactly right. We’re here to let you know you’re not alone.”

  Yeah, I got that. But…

  Before I can say anything else, a car alarm blares outside. It is loud and incessant, causing me to put both hands over my ears. I wince, it’s so loud. The car must belong to one of these people. The alarm beeps and blares in long, startling tones.

  “Is someone going to shut that off?” I ask.

  The group looks around at each other, some shrugging their shoulders and others nodding. They seem to hear the noise. No one moves to stop it.

  “Anyone? Whose car is that?”

  John Wendell pats the top of my hand. “Hang in there, son.”

  Everything goes dark. The sound fades and then stops completely. The next thing I know, I’m back in my bed at Camp Shorabak. I think I’m alone in the room. I sort of sense someone’s presence behind me, but I don’t have the energy to turn and look at them. I close my eyes and drift off. To where, I honestly don’t know.

  2

  Might

  When I was an early twenty-something young adult and Liam and Estella lived on the Potomac, I spent a lot of time at their house. It was before I met Ali, during the period when Liam often worked on his old truck named Ruby and the two of us spent evenings on his dock drinking beer and talking about the meaning of life.

  In those days, life seemed complicated when in reality, it was simple. I had young man problems. I was busy trying to hide the money Dad had left me. I don’t mean that anyone was trying to take the money away from me, just that I didn’t want to seem stuck up or privileged as compared to my friends and colleagues in the Air Force. Most military folks are middle class at best. People don’t tend to choose a career in the armed forces if money is a priority in their lives. So, it seemed better if I kept a low profile to blend in. I was also working hard to learn aerospace engineering back then, which wasn’t a small undertaking.

  Every once in a while, I’d let my thoughts wander to my future wife and kids. I didn’t know exactly what my life would be like, but I had a sense that it would be good. Life did not disappoint. Ali and our boys are everything I’ve ever wished for, and more. Many times, I’ve wondered what I did to deserve them. They’re the best. Family life doesn’t get any better than what we’ve had. I want it to go on and on. And I want Uncle Liam to be an integral part of it. Since he never had kids of his own, I want him to get all the kiddo time he can with Ethan, Leo, and little Will. They love their great uncle dearly. He loves them back just as much.

  Estella still lives at that house on the Potomac, but now that she and Liam are separated, I probably won’t visit. Not without good reason. I’ll have to settle for cherishing the memories. Liam is planning to buy a house near mine in Ithaca as soon as we get back to town. His presence nearby will make family life even better for the Hartmann and Dav
ies clan. Maybe Liam and I will continue the tradition of evening beers on the dock, only this time, we’ll dangle our feet into Cayuga Lake instead of the Potomac River. I smile thinking about it.

  Roddy and Marjorie are planning a move to Ithaca, too. I can’t wait to gather everyone again for another party. Cooler weather will be coming in soon for fall. We’ll have to bundle up. Maybe I’ll order some propane heaters for the back porch and deck. Ali can help me pick them out. She has such an eye for home decorating. I’d probably pick out something functional enough, but I can guarantee that it wouldn’t look nearly as good as what Ali would choose.

  My face is wet when I open my eyes. I’m saddened by the reality that meets me. I raise a hand to wipe the tears from my face when the pain from my shoulder injury cuts into me.

  Damn, it hurts.

  I see the infirmary at Camp Shorabak around me, its stark, white walls and disinfectant smell now familiar. A soft light shines from a lamp on a stand beside my bed. I’m still here. I’m not sure I ever left. Although I’m beginning to seriously doubt my own perception of things. I squint my eyes, trying to determine if what they see is real. It’s harder than it sounds. The sadness lingers and a firm grip on reality evades me, as if I’m stuck in a bad dream that I can never fully wake up from.

  I can’t help but dwell on how unfair this all is. Life was coming together so beautifully. I had everything I’d ever dreamed of. And now… it’s downright heartbreaking to consider the peril my family and I have faced over the course of the past few weeks. I wonder why us? And why now? Yet a part of me still believes we can make it through and live to see the happy life we have planned. That life is worth fighting for.

  I tell myself to rally. I’ll focus on one thing at a time until I get it done, then I’ll move on to the next. Step by step, task by task, I’ll get through this. I have to trust that Roddy is doing the same at Lake Tahoe is his search for Ethan and his duty to keep the rest of the family safe. Just like Roddy told me as we stood talking in the kitchen of the Lake Tahoe rental house the morning after Ali, Marjorie, and the boys went missing, I’ve got to focus, and rely on my training. My father-in-law will do the same.