"Well old boy this probably is the best it’s going to get," he thought. Resting his hands on his lap he again tried to straighten himself to find his left hand brushing his left leg, or more accurately where his left leg should be under the jacket. Instead of finding the strong leg that Joe always would expect to be there; there was nothing, just air. Air filled with phantoms of memories to a time before the accident, the doctors, or the weeks in the infirmary. A time before his left leg ended at his knee. "Yep...this is the best it's going to get..."
“What has she been saying about me lately Patsy?” Joe asked. “I mean I've tried to write as much as I could but you know…things happened…” Joe leaned forward, eyes down as he spoke to Patsy. “I really couldn’t believe half the stuff she wrote me about her school and work ,” Joe remembered back to the feelings of loneliness he had during his deployment. “Honestly… those letters were the only thing that kept me sane over there, but they also scared the life out of me every time the mail got called out. We had more of those “Dear John” letters in my unit than we had bullets. I mean who would blame a doll like her? To wait all this time for a bum like me. I bet she had every handsome rich guy pounding on her door the minute I shipped out.”
“Oh, there were a few of those mooks,” Patsy replied. “There had to be a new one at least every other weekend..." Even though Patsy wanted to milk it for all he could the worried look on Joe's face was too much for him to stand. "I'm just kidding bud. You know her. She's a real good tomato. She's so excited about you coming back; it's been driving everyone nuts."
“I know, I know...but after this...” Joe brooded looking at the jacket covering his missing leg. “I mean really, what could a girl like her see in a guy with one leg? What has she been thinking since reading that letter explaining why I or at least part of me wasn’t coming home?”
“She…thought that finally for the first time in his whole life, Joe Bevine doesn’t have two left feet…because to befair honey, you always were a pretty terrible dancer.”
The voice came from right behind Joe’s head. Its abruptness startled Joe, but the voice itself was one he knew all too well. In his pack is a worn copy of Homer's Odyssey, the owner of this voice had given it him the last time they had seen each other. He remembered that sweet voice saying he would come back home from war just as the hero Ulysses did. Over the span of their separation, like Ulysses was called by the mystical Sirens, that voice, this voice ringing behind him had echoed in his memory across the sea. Constantly, it steadied his resolve to fight on, to live, so that one day he could return to the embrace of its owner. This angelic voice was both the ambition of his war and his reason for surviving it.
Joe turned his head around as far as he could manage to find Patsy standing off to the side with a sly grin, no longer pushing his wheelchair. In his place stood the pictured sight every soldier coming home from war should be privy to, his girl; Kathryn. Her dark auburn hair surrounding a face as pretty as a rose and dressed to the nines in her bright blue dress and heels; Kathryn, or better known to her friends as Kate, looked back at Joe with a smile more welcoming than a ticker-tape parade. Kate bent down to Joe and enveloped him in the strongest hug she could produce.
“Welcome home soldier,” Kate whispered in Joe’s ear as she released her embrace. When she looked back down at Joe she almost laughed at the shocked look on his face.
“I can’t believe she’s really here,” Joe thought, looking back at Kate. “She’s even more beautiful than I remembered.”
“Ah…I…you look…Ah…” Joe bumbled. Joe had envisioned this moment a thousand times since he left, but the moment always entailed him picking her up and hugging her with all his might. Circumstances notwithstanding, that was out of the picture, which left Joe sitting there fumbling desperately for something perfect to reply with. Straining he begged his mind to open up and produce the words that he so wanted to tell this beautiful creature in front of him. To somehow explain to her how he had missed her and how much he loved her. Yet try as he might, Joe simply sat there dumbfounded, happily lost in the beautiful hazel eyes looking down at him.
“You always knew how to swoon a lady with that silver tongue of yours,” Kate smirked back at Joe’s lack of speech after a few moments. “And don’t you worry sweetie; never in a million years would I mean to insinuate that a soldier in the United States military was a bad dancer.”
Kate continued coming around to face Joe and leaned down to eye level. “I was simply reminding him that…” And with that she grabbed the coat covering Joe’s chair and flung it free. Taking a quick glance at Joe’s missing leg she continued. “…Losing his leg defending our country, saving those men and in the end being the bravest, most wonderful man I will ever know will not make a ‘terrible’ dancer any worse than he already was.”
“I…I…thought I’d just ease you into my new look,” Joe said jolted back to the situation as the coat was removed. Slowly looking down at his leg and back at Kate, he scanned her face to see that look of fear or revulsion he had so dreaded, but happily found neither.
“Well dear, you know what I always say; the quickest way from a problem to a solution is a straight path. No need to hide anything from me. I’m a big girl you know,” Kate intently told him giving him a look that elated most of Joe’s initial fears.
“Oh, I know,” Joe laughed as he looked up and down the beauty standing before him. With the weight of her reaction to his missing leg gone, Joe’s feelings finally started to manifest in audible words.
“You know I really missed you Kate. You have no idea how much I…”
“OK, OK you two…” Patsy said rolling his eyes grabbing the back of Joe’s wheelchair and starting to push him toward the exit. “We don’t need to have this get all ‘roman-ti-call-y’ out here in public. Let’s at least get him to the car.”
“The timing of a broken clock as usual,” Joe thought shooting a glare at his friend.
Kate walked next to Joe holding his hand the entire way to the waiting patrol car parked next to the entranceway. Being a Capstone City police officer did come with its advantages, especially when it came to parking at the airport. Patsy helped Joe slide into the back seat in which Kate jumped in after him. Patsy could hear the two talking as he wheeled the empty chair back to the airport attendants at the entranceway.
Walking back to the car, Patsy jumped into the driver’s seat and asked, “So Joe, we had a small shindig planned for you back at the house if you’re up it.”
Joe leaned up to the front looking at him with a renewed spirit that surprised Patsy. “Bud, if the planning committee is who I think they are, do I honestly have any choice in the matter?!” he laughed slightly out of breath at his friend.
Patsy looked at his friend’s face and only then noticed Kate’s bright red lipstick smeared all over Joe’s mouth and cheeks. Kate’s hand then reached forward and slid around Joe’s collar pulling him back into the back seat.
“And he thought the war was dangerous. I hope he survives the trip home,” Pasty mused averting his eyes forward as he pulled away from the curb into morning traffic headed back to Capstone City.
With the two sweethearts in his back seat, Patsy had avoided looking into his rear-view mirror when he pulled away from the curb. Even if he had, it would be doubtful he would have noticed three small crates being loaded into a tiny blue van behind his patrol car. Three small crates, soon to become the first domino to fall in a chain reaction of adventure, mystery, and sacrifice in which none of the three friends would ever have dreamed possible.
CHAPTER TWO
"That's the last of them," Jason grunted as he lifted the third small crate into the university van.
"Finally that's done. Wow, it’s good to be home again. For a little while, I thought I might not see this dirty city again, ugly as it is. It’s a beautiful sight... one poor Rog won't get to see again," he thought, feeling exhausted.
Jason was tired, tired of traveling, tired of bad Gree
k food, and especially tired of lugging the three crates laying in front of him around half of the civilized world. They contained the unearthed marvels that he, the Professor, and Roger had pulled from the Binding of the Spirit Halls. The artifacts wrapped in packing paper were quite small; but as the three had found out when trying to extract their treasure from Greece, costly as gold.
"I was sort of hoping the Professor might be here to meet me. Has there been any news from him?" Jason questioned the assistant helping him load the crates and luggage. "I haven't heard any news from him since we were separated at the airfield in Hellenikon. I really wasn't sure if he was going to make it back here before me, or who would get my telegram back at the university explaining what happened," Jason continued.
"Oh yeah, yeah, he got it," the assistant responded. "Yeah, he told me to tell ya he's REALLY sorry for not gettin here for ya, but he's real busy see, you know them doc's."
Jason eyed the assistant. To Jason that didn't sound right at all and it wasn't the first time since he departed the plane that his suspicions had been raised. Jason had expected someone from the university to meet him since he had telegraphed his return to the department earlier in the week. So as tired as he was exiting the plane, he hadn't a second thought when the duo had flashed what looked like university papers stating they were there to transport both him and his cargo back to the school. However, as the assistant, an almost unhealthily skinny man with a crooked nose and matted brown hair sniveled on, he sounded more and more like a man who couldn't spell the word "artifact" let alone work in the Archaeology Department of Capstone State. He definitely did not seem like someone Jason could believe the Professor would send in his stead to either meet him or pick up artifacts of this importance.
His cohort, the driver, was to Jason by all accounts...simply scary. The man, if he could be called that because of his immense size, had simply sat in the driver's seat upon their return to the van. Without a word he sat there scanning the crowd exiting the airport. Even out-weighting his assistant by 100 pounds, the man seemed perfectly content to have the scrawny man load the cargo and luggage while he simply sat there staring.
Even when they had arrived at a university-marked van at the loading area, Jason kept scanning the transport forms order again and again, feeling something just wasn't right.
"It must just be my nerves from the whole trip. I know Roger really unnerved me, is that it?" Jason thought. "I've been looking over my shoulder for weeks now, am I just...wait a minute!"
"Hey, why did the Professor fill out the paperwork for the cargo, luggage, and TWO graduate students with the last names Paloski and Freeze? Why would the Professor think Roger would be here?" Jason demanded of the assistant.
Jason knew that the assistant couldn't have known that Roger had been killed back at Hellenikon by an overzealous German soldier claiming the trio's papers had been forged; he had never mentioned that in the telegram. And he also knew there was no way the lanky man could have known that with the area becoming increasingly dangerous as the German occupation gained a firmer hold, Professor Stone, not entertaining the idea of leaving Roger behind, had demanded that Jason leave immediately without him.
“But the Professor knew all of this…” Jason reasoned silently. The war had followed Jason during his escape from Europe, constantly delaying any plans for his return to the States. Stranded in the outskirts of London for weeks, he was finally able to arrange passage on a military flight returning casualties home. In the hope that the Professor had made it back safely before him, he had telegraphed the university about his arrival. “Possibly they were just from the university and the Professor hadn’t made it back yet….no wait he just said the Professor was really busy…something smells here…”
"Well see, bud, see we were..." the assistant stammered. “Maybe we got the wrong order...Right Mr. Vega? Did you grab the wrong sheet?"
At the mention of the name "Vega," the driver's head spun and glared at the assistant, causing the smaller man to step back from the van door.
"How about we just call Vivian at Bursers Hall? She's an old friend of mine. She can clear this up," Jason pressed the assistant.
"Sure, Viv, she's a swell gal..." the assistant stammered.
"There is no "Vivian" at the office, and the office at the university is in JONES Hall not Bursers," Jason yelled at the assistant. "Who are you guys...?”
Jason's last words and breath were cut off when a hand the size of a bear claw reached out from the back of the open van and clamped over the grad student's throat. The driver had silently moved from the front of the van to seize Jason in the split second that he had taken his eyes off him to press his advantage on the smaller assistant who he had caught in a lie. Jason, trying to pry off the iron grip of the driver, was pulled quickly into the back of the van. Both van doors were slammed shut by the small helper who scanned the remaining crowd.
Quickly walking to the front of the van, the small assistant jumped into the driver's seat and put the vehicle in gear with a grind of metal. The van slowly pulled away from the curb, blending into the traffic heading toward Capstone City. The attack happened so fast that no one noticed Jason's journey home had ended so violently on the dirty streets of Capstone City.
CHAPTER THREE
“Be it ever so humble…” Joe thought as Patsy pulled the car into the brick driveway of the three-story colonial. Towering above the rest of the neighborhood because of its extra level and half stone facade, 1145 Franklin Street rose as a castle in the middle of its kingdom. As soon as the car pulled into view of the house, the explosion of cheering Joe heard had enveloped the whole neighborhood. Surrounding the drive was a maelstrom of family and friends waving cardboard signs and hailing the return of their favorite soldier.
“Hope you cleaned up his face for this crowd Katie,” Patsy jeered back at the couple noticing Kate touching up her lipstick in a small compact.
“Oh he’s perfectly presentable; I do have a reputation to uphold,” Kate laughed peering carefully at Joe’s face.
“Katie? You used to hate that,” Joe pointed out noticing the use of a once banned nickname.
“Oh I still do, but he kept calling me Katheryn, which made me feel like an old lady so I had to compromise with the big lug a little,” Kate replied rolling her eyes.
Shrugging at the explanation, Joe returned his view back to the side window, where a familiar face was now beaming back at him from amongst the crowd. Joe’s father, Stanley Bevine, pulled the back door open to welcome his son.
“Hey there!” Joe’s father yelled over the cheers. “Welcome home bud!”
Reaching in, Stanley started shaking his son’s hand until it felt like it was going to come right off. The balding man in his late fifties sporting a groomed salt and pepper mustache seemed to not have missed a beat since Joe had last seen him.
“Wow, nothing like shaking the hand of steel worker,” Joe thought looking back at his dad. “Hey Pop, you look great!” Joe exclaimed returning the smile.
“Ha! Me? I’m just too old to complain but not old enough for anyone to care yet,” Stanley said laughing.
This was a common saying in the Bevine house, a saying Joe had heard plenty of times but now after returning from the nightmare he had just experienced; its familiarity enveloped Joe as a comforting blanket. Similar feelings had engulfed him at every sight and smell of his hometown since they had departed the airport.
“Don’t let him fool you Joe. Your dad’s just as strong and healthy as the day I first met him,” Kate called out from the passenger seat.
“That’s only because I have such great girls to take care of poor old me, like Kate and your mother,” Stanley laughed.
Stanley helped Joe out of the car onto a pair of crutches Patsy had taken out of the trunk.
“I borrowed these from Old Doc Segal. He told me to tell you he expects to see you hop over there for some checkers soon,” Patsy said shrugging. Standing up from the low car wasn’t a simple f
eat. However, with both Patsy and his father’s help, Joe was finally eye level with his guests.
“Thanks guys. Hey everyone! Hi!” Joe called to the crowd to more cheering. “You know Dad, there’s a pretty face I don’t see here,” he said back to his father after scanning the crowd.
“Oh you know where she is. She just beat you back about ten minutes ago,” Stanley answered.
“Well how about we head over there and say hi to the old girl. Wouldn’t be polite to keep her waiting,” Joe chuckled.
Joe slowly parted the sea of cheering guests, all the while adjusting to the two-step dance of walking on the crutches. Along the way he tried to welcome as many as he could while still keeping his balance.
“Hi cousin Patty... Genie, how are you doing? Little Timmy, Wow you are getting big!”
The greetings and cheering slowly dimmed as Joe reached the front porch of the Bevine family home. Up on the porch, sitting on a wicker chair slowly rocking was a short woman nearing her mid-fifties. A large smile beamed from the soft loving face of the woman to her son. Vera Bevine, unlike her husband Stanley, hadn’t seemed at first to have escaped the hand of father time since last Joe had seen her. Whispers of gray were now intertwined in those curls of brown hair and wrinkles now creased the area under her eyes. However, Joe could see the age somewhat lifting off her as she looked at him. As if the years of worry she had experienced were just a veil now being thrown aside, she rose and began to descend the steps to meet Joe when he shot a quick look back up at her.
“Don’t you even think about it! I’ve waited two years for this. You just wait there,” Joe called up to her.
With help from his father, Joe slowly traversed the six steps he once would make in two strides. Finally, standing firmly on the porch, Joe smiled at his mom and said, “Well, how did your day go?”
“Oh, same old, same old…” Vera softly chuckled as she stood up to meet him halfway on the porch. Vera was holding a light blue plate covered with a white linen napkin when she came over. Taking the napkin off the plate Joe looked upon a small circular confection he knew was made especially for him; a homemade chocolate chip cookie. Smiling at his mother, Joe took the cookie, held it up to the crowd so they could see, and then took a huge bite of the dessert. The explosion of cheering echoed from the yard as Joe looked back to his mother who had failed in every effort not to cry at the sight.
The Grey Ghost Page 2