by Anthony Tata
Was it worth the death of his brother?
Matt decided that was a rhetorical question, because in his gut he knew Zach was not dead.
And he also knew that he had not told General Rampert the entire plan.
CHAPTER 35
Spartanburg, SOUTH CAROLINA
Sunday Evening (Eastern Time Zone)
Melanie Garrett nosed her Mercedes into the garage, stopping just in front of the riding lawn mower. Walking into the kitchen through the connecting door from the garage, she punched the dimly lit button to lower the garage door.
She hooked her car keys on a wooden plaque shaped like a lighthouse and dropped her purse on the barstool near the kitchen island. Retrieving her cell phone, she listened to the message again.
“Hey, Mom, it’s me. Guess you figured out I was in North Carolina. Sorry about not telling you, but it’s something I have to do to get the money, so I figured it was okay. Better to beg forgiveness, right? I’m doing it for us, though, so don’t worry. I texted you all of this but just in case you are techno illiterate still, Bree picked me up from the airport and I’ve just needed some time to myself so have been hanging at her place this weekend. Love, Amanda.”
Bree picked me up? What the hell was she thinking? And didn’t Amanda sound a bit too controlled? Not her usual spontaneous self, that was for sure.
She walked absently into the family room, with its Hancock and Moore burgundy leather tufted sofa and matching love seat. She had opted for handmade furniture from North Carolina instead of something more exotic, say DeSede from Europe, but who was to say that she might not go more modern in the new house? But would that really fit, she wondered? A Jeffersonian mansion with chic, hip furniture? She wrinkled her lips in disapproval, but did not totally dismiss the thought. There would be a need to have something unique, she considered, because everyone who lived up there had an angle, a distinction that set them apart.
Her mind wandered in the direction of her house-warming party at the mansion on Lake Keowee, visualizing who might attend and what they might expect to see. Bank of America’s CEO walking through her house assessing her possessions, nodding in approval. Senior executives from Lowe’s and Clemson standing in the backyard smoking cigars and drinking scotch, wondering if they might be able to clandestinely secure her affections. Perhaps, she didn’t know. It depended on what they had to offer.
Maybe local television personalities would attend. People had always told her she should be on TV. For a moment Melanie actually saw one of the top news anchors running a gracious hand along the exposed wood of the hand-carved chair that sat across from the love seat. She could see her noticing the chunk of oddly shaped South Carolina granite fashioned as a coffee table in the center of the rectangular array of furniture.
“Beautiful,” she would say.
“And let me tell you about it. . . .” Melanie actually did say.
She walked to the entertainment center, a handcrafted piece of rich cherry wood with shelves and sliding doors that retracted to allow full access to the plasma-screen television with built-in Internet, DVD, and stereo. She petted the piece as if she were caressing a loved pet.
She eventually wandered into the hallway and up the stairs that emptied onto the landing directly in front of Amanda’s room. Without hesitation, as if pulled, her momentum carried her into her daughter’s room. The sleigh bed to her right had been a stretch for a young girl, but it was so beautiful with its oak wood and hand carvings. The veneer of the room had all the trappings of a high school teenager getting ready to graduate. There were books scattered atop the oak desk with some loose papers next to the computer monitor. A few clothes were tossed clumsily atop the overstuffed mauve fabric chair. That had been a good find, she remembered. It was a $2,000 handcrafted chair that they purchased for $400.
Melanie smiled, as she always knew the asking price and the purchase price. That was the key, she had always said. The bigger the gap you could drive between the two prices, well, that was success.
Absently pulling open a drawer on the far side nightstand next to the bed, she looked down and saw a variety of knick-knacks. There were a few pens, some loose papers with random notes and doodles, as if Amanda would be scribbling while talking on the phone.
The edge of a picture frame at the bottom of the drawer caught her eye. She lifted it from beneath the pile of debris and gasped as she recognized the photo.
It was a picture of her and Zachary on their honeymoon. They had rented a beach house in Litchfield Beach, South Carolina for a week. Zach was wearing swim trunks and she had on a bikini. They were standing in the golden sand of the South Carolina Low Country with the deep blue aura of the Atlantic Ocean behind them.
She remembered the photo as if it had just been snapped by the tourist couple that had been passing them on a beach walk. She was hugging Zach around his waist, his muscles cut and chiseled even back then. His well-toned arm was pulling her into his side. They fit together nicely and no one would have ever predicted the sad course of their lives based upon the broad and loving smiles radiating from the photo.
Her hand came to her mouth quickly, as if to suppress something, as she sat on the edge of Amanda’s bed. She remembered meeting Zachary at the beach of Lake Murray. He was there with some Army buddies and she was just out of University. He was headed to Fort Jackson for some military training and she was just chilling out with some girl friends. Their conversation had fallen into a natural rhythm quickly, reflecting their many commonalities.
She had been a cheerleader for the Gamecocks. He had been a star athlete and leader in scholastics. The surface connections were certainly there. Their courtship had been both quick and passionate, enduring a year of heart-wrenching breakups and equally emotional reunions. Zach’s orders to be reassigned to Fort Lewis, Washington, had created an artificial catalyst of sorts, demanding that they determine what they were going to do with their relationship.
They’d decided on marriage and this honeymoon. Honestly, she told herself in this private moment, she had been happy and wishful. They were moving to Fort Lewis, Washington, and while living on the West Coast was part of the allure, she thought the distance might . . . help her. She remembered struggling to view Zach, though, through any prism but the one chiseled by her youth, where people in the military were those that could not find jobs elsewhere.
She had dated wealthy college students, for crying out loud, most of whom were lawyers and doctors. What was she doing with an Army guy? She was married to a second lieutenant making one-tenth the salary of . . . any doctor.
But there was that twinge in her heart as she looked at the picture. Maybe you only get one shot, she figured. Or maybe there’s no shot to be had, as her mother had trained her. There is only what you can take in this world.
Their life, though, had been polarized until Amanda came along while they were stationed in Fort Lewis. She had been their unifying force until Zach’s deployments increased, and his missions became more dangerous. And Nina’s long reach began to exert that gravitational pull.
“Why should you stay out there if he’s just going to leave you all by yourself? He can decide which deployment he goes on, and it seems to me he’s deciding to go on all of them.”
Ultimately, the stress and tension had become too much, and she began searching for the negatives. Instead of a unifying force now, Amanda had become the reason she needed to move back “home.”
Turning the photo in her hands, she began to wonder why Amanda would keep this in her drawer and where she had found it. She carefully placed it beneath the papers, their disorganization assuredly masking the fact that it was not precisely returned.
Melanie looked up, her eyes searching the darkness beyond the bay window. In the nook, she noticed the oak trunk she had found at an antique store and loved because it matched the furniture in Amanda’s room. She stood and walked to the antique, kneeling before it, and rubbing its rough-hewn finish with her hand.
She leaned over and hugged it, placing her head atop the lid that was ribbed with flat wrought-iron runners from front to back.
Lightly stroking the wood, she coddled the chest as if it were alive.
CHAPTER 36
Charlotte, North Carolina
Sunday Evening
“I’m wiped out,” Amanda said, sitting in a tiger-striped chaise lounge that was surrounded by spider and rubber plants along the back and sides. She swiveled her head, taking in the leafy environs, and settled her gaze on a small plant on the cherry Elizabethan coffee table with knobby feet.
Riley smiled, sitting across from her in a green leather chair with brass rivets. She had long ago given up on the idea of running. This was a major breakthrough if she could help sustain it, like pulling Amanda up over a ledge. Help her to higher ground where the view was better.
“Your dad gave that to me. It’s called a ponytail bonsai tree.”
“Cute.”
They had moved from the bedroom into the living room after a brief stop in the kitchen for some water. Amanda had toyed with departing, but realized she didn’t have a car. Miss Dwyer had promised her a ride if she would just talk for a short while, like two friends staying up late on a school night.
“All I’m asking is that we just talk, Amanda.” Riley paused a moment and then said, “You’re young. You probably know something about this.” She shifted on the chair and used her hands to animate her speaking. “You know how when you delete something from your computer, you don’t actually delete the file or the photo or the whatever?”
Amanda shrugged, “Sure. Everyone knows that. You’re really just writing over the old file with the new one. The old one’s still on the hard drive. Everything’s still there, but there’s only so much space.”
Riley winked and pointed at her. “Think about that one. You’ve talked about these memories, and why some you can remember and others you can’t.”
Amanda, clearly uncomfortable with the topic, looked down at the tiger striping on the chaise. She ran her hand along the smooth fabric. “So, what’s with the safari theme?”
“I change it about every two years. Your dad had been deployed to the Philippines, so I went native with him.” Riley decided not to push the computer point. She thought it registered with Amanda and saw no purpose in pursuing it for now.
Amanda paused. “You really loved him, didn’t you?”
“I really loved him.”
A long moment of silence passed between them.
“Why?”
“There was a lot to love about him, Amanda.” Riley looked into the distance, not so much within her physical space, but into a world which she had developed. It was that special province of someone who loved a soldier, a place where she could go with safely stored memories, just in case. Amanda nodded, ceding something to Riley; she wasn’t sure what.
“The computer thing. Is that why I can’t remember anything?”
“But you do remember. Sometimes.”
“Sometimes, but then it goes away.”
“Okay, then do this. Tell me about your mother.”
Amanda paused and ran her hand through her hair, noticing it was becoming a bit greasy from all of the activity of the day. Did she really have the mental energy for all of this? Was it really worth it to go through all of these gyrations to get a half a million dollars? Did she really care about that anymore?
She figured that she could answer no to at least two of those questions, but pressed ahead anyway.
“My mother? What’s she got to do with this?”
“I don’t know, but you’ve got to have memories of her, right? Or is your entire mind, like, so totally blacked out, man, you know?” Riley waved her arms around as if she were a windmill.
“Don’t go getting all goofy on me again, okay?”
“Okayyy, man,” she said, getting goofy anyway. “Answer the question.”
After a significant pause, Amanda sat up and said, “Okay. You just want me to free associate, right? Think out loud?”
“Oooh, free associate. I like it. But you know, dear, I’m a shrink . . . and nothing’s free.”
“Trust me, I know.” Amanda raised her hands as if she were pushing away.
“So free associate away.”
Amanda leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, then pushed back and laid her head against the arm of the chaise, the proverbial client to psychiatrist pose.
“My mom and grandmother raised me. They were always there. You name it, school, sports, cheerleading. Driving me to swim meets. Paying for absolutely everything. My dad just wasn’t a factor.”
“Let me interrupt you for just a sec, hon’. You’re not giving me memories. You’re giving me the party line, talking points. Give me a memory.”
Amanda turned her head and looked at Riley. Then she turned away and looked up at the ceiling. She noticed the swirling patterns that the craftsman must have carved in the plaster using his trowel. She rested her mind and felt it swirling a bit, as if she might fall asleep. She was bone tired from the stress and the few hours of true sleep she had experienced since the day the Army officers had appeared on her doorstep. As she closed her eyes, she went to her own special place, a trapdoor in the back of her mind. Opening it slowly, she sensed something escaping; a butterfly taking flight from its cocoon. Then she started talking.
“We used to always go driving around Lake Keowee, looking at homes. Mama wanted to buy one of those big houses, you know? She always said, ‘If your daddy would just pay child support, maybe we could be in one of these.’ I remember one weekend when I was about nine or ten, my mother said he was supposed to be picking me up, but he never showed. So to make me feel better, we went out with some friends on Lake Keowee Jet Skiing, that kind of thing. There were lots of weekends like that. You know, when he wouldn’t show up. I can remember when I was younger we’d play hide and seek sometimes when he was supposed to come over. He’d be knocking on the door and my mama or grandma, you know Nina, she would hold her finger up to her mouth for everyone to be quiet, and then we’d be real still. All the lights would be off in the house, and he would just be knocking away. It was the funniest thing. Then of course sometimes we would travel away when he was supposed to come over. I remember one time he drove over to Spartanburg, and we had gone to Myrtle Beach for the weekend. I got bit by a crab. Made me scared to go into the ocean anymore. Then there were all the times when Mama would say, ‘If you don’t do what I tell you, you’re going to have to go live with your dad.’ That scared the shit out of me. She might as well have been telling me I was going straight to hell, you know? And then there was that time when I was fourteen, and he was trying to make me come up to Fort Bragg for some stupid ceremony. My mom always made him come and pick me up. She wouldn’t even let me fly alone, at least not to go see him. She’d tell him that I was too scared to fly. Of course, it was all bullshit, you know, but she was doing it to protect me. She’s a really good person. Anyway, we couldn’t escape this time, and he comes to get me at the house. So I’m like on my cell phone the entire way up to North Carolina, and he gets all mad at me, saying I should be talking to him, you know? So when we get to Fort Bragg I tell him I need to go into the ladies room at a gas station there. So I call my mama, but Nina picks up. I tell Nina what’s going on, you know, and she tells me she’s really worried about me, and so I should just call 911 as fast as I can. So I did. The cops came and it was only because he had some pull that he got out of it.”
Riley had seen borderline personality disorder and even a few multiple personality disorders in her practice. However, she had never before witnessed a client go into such a trancelike stream of consciousness. Clearly Amanda did not intend to reveal these secrets so openly, but a combination of her depleted mental state, fatigue, and her most recent experience at her father’s house perhaps had opened a seam in her psyche. Like water through a burst dam, the thoughts continued flowing.
“Anyway, I only lied about
sexual abuse once or twice. I’ve got friends who have done that far more times than me. So that’s not so bad, you know? But the times we got him best were when he was going overseas, you know, to fight, or something like that. I think it was two times he called to ask Mama if he could see me before he left. Initially she was, like, no way, but she never said that to him. Then, this was the first time, she and Nina had talked, and suddenly she was all bright and cheery with him on the phone, saying stuff like, ‘Of course you can see her if you’re going to be away for a while.’ So, get this, she still makes him come all the way to the house and pick me up, but you know we live in a gated community, of course, and so she has a cop waiting for him at the front gate to serve him with a summons for an increase in child support. He doesn’t have an attorney or any of that, so he has to spend all his time getting an attorney instead of being with me. Then, you know . . .” Amanda paused briefly, something catching in her voice.
“Go ahead, dear.”
She spoke much slower now. “Then you know there was the second time when he got there late at night and Mama refused to let me go with him, but she said he could come in and read me a bedtime story. I was maybe ten. So he starts telling me one of his stories. I’m lying in bed, and he’s sort of lying on the covers at the foot of the bed looking up at me. He told the best stories, you know. All of a sudden there’s a cop in the house, and they pull him out of the bedroom. I go running out into the kitchen and see they’ve got him handcuffed and are taking him into the front yard. I remember . . .”
“You remember what, Amanda?”
“I remember seeing the front door had been damaged, like someone used a crowbar to open it. Then I heard Nina and Mama talking afterward, saying stuff like, “I can’t believe he’d just break in like that.”