The Other Side of Life

by Andy Kutler

  “What do you mean?”

  “I explained to you why I deviated you from your original path. But I need you to return and complete that path. That is a rule that even I cannot break. And this time, Mr. Kelsey, you really will have no memory of all of this. Or the last four years, as you know it.”

  “What about where I just came from?”

  “Your disappearance from that time will have no consequence, just as your introduction four years ago.”

  “What if I accept your offer to stay here? I can’t be in two places at once.”

  “Actually, Commander, in this case, you can. We’ll—”

  “I know. We’ll discuss that later.”

  Wozniak smiled and they continued their walk along the lake, Kelsey still deep in thought.

  “Ethan Royston—what happens to him?”

  “He’ll be dead before you were born.”

  “You’re not going to tell me.”

  “Someday.”

  “So when I go back, we’ll be at war with the Japs. I might die in that war.”

  “Or you could live to be a hundred years old.”

  “Okay, so ice cream and Hawaii. I’ve heard worse offers.”

  Wozniak’s eyes gleamed. “It gets better.”

  “I can’t wait to hear this. All the potato chips I can eat?”

  There were quite a few others outside enjoying the afternoon sunshine, and Wozniak kept quiet as a cluster of children ran by and began scaling the playground equipment in the adjacent park. The two men were nearing the water and Kelsey could see a small pier, maybe forty feet in length, jutting into the lake. A small boy was dangling his legs over the edge while watching his father retrieve a toy boat from the water.

  Wozniak slowed his pace. “When I was a young boy, Russian Cossacks swept through my village. They murdered all of the men and women and took the children away to orphanages in the Urals. I vowed vengeance on each and every one of those ruthless butchers. The man whose cutlass struck down my father, mother and grandmother, I memorized his face. I went to bed every night determined to get bigger and stronger so I could find this man and kill him. But as I grew a few years older, I only thought of this man every other night. A few years after that, I thought of him maybe once a week. And then later, only on occasion. I eventually married, had children of my own, and found work as a teacher in the community I was raised in. And one day it occurred to me, I could no longer remember the face of the man who had taken my family so long ago.”

  “Are you saying that one day I’ll forget the men I have killed? Leonard Edmunds, the man whose head I crushed with a rock? And all the rest? That’s one of the benefits if I stay here?”

  Wozniak stopped and turned to him. “You know, Commander, our rewards here are not very…visible. The good that we do here is mostly manifest elsewhere. Still, on rare occasions, I’m able to witness something that makes everything we endure as part of our responsibilities here more than worthwhile.”

  Wozniak turned to the water and Kelsey followed the man’s eyes. They were close now, near the foot of the pier, and Kelsey’s attention was drawn to the father and son at the far end, on their knees and hunched over the toy boat, each attacking the inboard motor with a screwdriver. The man must have sensed Kelsey watching. He lifted his head and met Kelsey’s eyes. He rose to his feet, a towering figure, and recognition flashed through Kelsey even though he had not seen the man in years. But he knew that square jaw. The muscled arms. The Brylcreemed hair.

  “Middleton,” Kelsey whispered, under his breath.

  Kelsey had never seen the veteran sailor out of uniform. The bos’n wore khaki pants and a short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt. He was smiling, a rarity as Kelsey recalled, which quickly widened into a grin as he tapped the child, still working on the boat intently, on the shoulder.

  “Yes,” replied Wozniak. “Frances has been very protective of her since he arrived.”

  Her?

  Kelsey’s eyes quickly shifted to the child, standing now, and he was close enough to now discern what he could not see earlier from a distance. A chestnut ponytail, sticking out from the back of a ball cap. She was staring at him, cradling the boat that she and her father once played with endlessly during their Sunday picnics at the lagoon in Hanauma Bay.

  He held his breath, feeling his heart pounding against his chest.

  “Mr. Kelsey,” Wozniak said quietly. “Meet Sam Leavitt’s replacement.”

  The boat slipped from her hands, falling noisily to the wood decking. She began walking toward him, brushing past Middleton, an uncharacteristic grin spreading across the face of the former bos’n. Kelsey could see she was taller now, barely a teenager, but the round face, chocolate eyes and small, upturned nose remained the same. Her strides became faster, and as she leapt from the pier to the gravel path, he could see the tears swimming down her face, and then he realized they were falling from his eyes as well. He dropped to one knee as Lucy crashed into his arms, and the two fell over, embracing each other with such force and emotion that a cyclone could not have separated them.

  “Yes, my friend,” said Wozniak to himself, smiling, as he watched the two from a distance. “You will be surprised at how quickly you will forget all of them.”

  EPILOGUE

  December 23, 1941

  Honolulu, Hawaii

  “Doctor Richetti! He’s waking up!”

  “Doctor Richetti! He’s waking up!”

  Kelsey blinked his eyes, wincing at the radiant sunshine pouring through the oversized window near his bed. He tried to raise his arm to shield his eyes, but a sharp pain rippled through his shoulder, causing him to gasp. He looked down and saw his arm resting in a sling. His temples ached, and he used his fingertips to gently explore the heavy dressing wrapped around his head.

  As Kelsey’s vision adjusted, a figure in a white coat entered the room and approached his bed, a nurse following close behind. The doctor lifted one of his eyelids, then pressed a stethoscope to his chest and abdomen.

  The man smiled as he listened to the pulsing of Kelsey’s heart. “It’s good to have you back, Commander.”

  He knew that accent. New England. Rhode Island perhaps. Bryce Daniels had one just like it.

  He licked his lips. “Where am I?”

  “Honolulu Memorial Hospital,” the doctor replied, removing the stethoscope from his ears. He held Kelsey’s wrist, feeling the pulse while studying his watch. “The military medical facilities around Pearl are all over capacity right now, so those who could be transported are now under civilian care.”

  The doctor released his wrist and grinned. “Look at the bright side; we gave you the Presidential Suite here.” He extended a hand. “Joe Richetti.”

  Kelsey shook it using his good arm. “Mac Kelsey.”

  The heavily-perfumed nurse handed Richetti a clipboard. He examined it for a moment than scribbled some words down.

  “Let Dr. Hamilton know that Commander Kelsey is awake now.”

  The nurse took the clipboard and left the room. Richetti put his stethoscope in his coat pocket and poured a cup of water from a nearby pitcher.

  Kelsey accepted the cup and drank it all, dribbling some on the front of his gown. “How long have I been here?”

  Richetti pulled Kelsey’s chart from a hook at the end of the bed and skimmed the pages through his thick glasses. He was on the shorter side and looked young for a doctor. There were dark circles under his eyes, and Kelsey could smell the cigarettes and coffee on his breath.

  “About two weeks now.”

  “Two weeks?”

  “You’ve been in a coma. Looks like Nurse Fushimi checked you in.”

  Richetti turned to the open door. “Kelly!” he called.

  Another nurse appeared. Her light brown complexion and chubby face was familiar, reminding Kelsey of Leina’ala, their former nanny.

  She smiled at him brightly. “Commander Kelsey! The hero of the Nevada. It’s good to finally see you with your eyes open. You
are looking much better than when they brought you in here.”

  “My head feels like there’s an ice pick in it.”

  “I bet,” said Richetti. He produced a small penlight and looked at each of Kelsey’s eyes.

  “Pupils normal,” he said, mostly to himself. The doctor eyed his chart again and spoke to Kelsey as he made a few notations. “You’re still recovering from a skull fracture. Burst eardrum, facial lacerations, and three bruised ribs. The ribs should be mostly healed now. To top things off, your shoulder was dislocated and we had to reset it. Be glad you weren’t awake for that. My guess is you fell, cracked your noggin, and popped the shoulder when you landed. All in all, could have been much worse. That headache may be with you for a bit. We’ll give you as much aspirin as you can take and keep you here a few more days for observation. We have a neurosurgeon here, he’ll be up in a bit to check your oil and brakes. All in all, you’re luckier than most.”

  Kelsey immediately understood. “How many?”

  Richetti became somber. “They’re still pulling bodies from the harbor. More than there thousand dead they say. And they sank five of our battleships.”

  “Three thousand?” he asked, astonished at the number. “My ship was one of the five?”

  Richetti seated himself on the edge of the bed and pulled off his glasses. “No. She ran aground near the harbor entrance. Not sure if she’s still there, but word is they’ll save her. The Oklahoma capsized, and the Arizona…” Price paused. “The Arizona went down with most of her crew aboard.”

  “My shipmates, I need to tell them—”

  “Quite a few of them have been by to check on you, and your captain wanted me to notify him the second you woke up. I think the Navy brass wants to give you a ticker tape parade.”

  A nurse approached the two men. “Doctor, you’re needed in the burn ward.”

  Richetti stood. “Well, Mac Kelsey, duty calls. If you have an appetite I’d like to get some food in you. I’ve sent for the neurosurgeon, I’m sure he’ll be by to chat with you as soon as he can.” He shook Kelsey’s hand and left the room.

  Kelsey passed the next couple of hours leafing through a recent edition of the Honolulu Star-Bulletin that Nurse Fushimi had provided. A plate of mostly untouched spaghetti sat on a tray nearby. Even though he had witnessed so much of the attack, he was stunned at the magnitude of damage the Japs had inflicted. Those poor bastards on the Arizona. At least his ship had a fighting chance, thanks to Ensign Daniels and that extra boiler he lit off.

  Daniels.

  He knew the young man was dead. Who else? Pete Brown, Chief Middleton, so many others—had they survived?

  They had their silver lining, of course. The aircraft carriers had been spared, a stroke of luck leaving them hundreds of miles from Hawaii when the attack began. Kelsey had already sent a note over to Pacific Fleet headquarters requesting a transfer to the Enterprise or Lexington. He didn’t want to leave the Nevada, but he knew she would be laid up for weeks, if not months, and he was anxious to get in the fight. He was trained in surface warfare, but the carriers would now clearly spearhead any counteroffensive. And he wanted in.

  He lowered the newspaper and looked up, hearing footsteps as the door to his room was pushed open. It was Nurse Fushimi, with a young lady in tow.

  “Commander, you have a visitor.”

  Fushimi stood to the side as the young woman approached the bed, her high heels clicking on the tile floor. She was slender, quite pretty, somewhere in her early twenties. Her high cheekbones accentuated the dimples that had formed from the warm smile she offered Kelsey. Her shoulder-length, sandy brown hair was cut in a soft bob, and she was wearing a turquoise, knee-length skirt and white cotton blouse.

  “How do you do, Commander? You are a difficult man to find.”

  “I didn’t know anyone was looking for me.” He tried to sit up straighter. “I apologize for not getting—”

  “Oh please, Commander, stay right there. There is a war on, you know, and sometimes we must make allowances. I will forgive you this one time for slouching in the hospital bed you have been confined to as a result of your heroism.”

  Kelsey’s head still hurt but he could not hold back a grin. “That’s gracious of you.”

  “Think nothing of it. But with all seriousness, I must apologize for my unannounced appearance here.”

  “She’s been waiting two days to see you, Commander,” called Fushimi over her shoulder as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

  “Two days?”

  “Yes.”

  He studied her closely, puzzled. “Have we met?”

  She smiled, shaking her head. “This will take some explanation. You see, my grandmother passed away earlier this year, and her estate was transferred to my parents. Included in the estate was a small parcel that belonged to her mother—my great-grandmother. Do you follow?”

  “I think so. You inherited some land?”

  “No,” she said with a giggle. “Not that sort of parcel. An actual parcel—a package. It was sealed and included strict instructions that it was not to be opened until my great-grandmother’s death. She died in thirty-one, and it should have been opened then, but Grandmama has been ill for many years, and, well, I think she just plumb forgot about it.”

  “Miss, maybe you have me mixed up with—”

  “Really, Commander,” she said, in mock annoyance at the interruption. “This is a good story, just bear with me one more minute.”

  “Miss…”

  “Garrity. Rachel Garrity.”

  “Garrity?” The name sounded familiar.

  “Yes. As I was saying, we did not discover this parcel until this past summer.” She reached down into her purse and pulled out a faded, letter-sized envelope and held it up for his inspection. It was addressed to Mac Kelsey, UNITED STATES NAVY.

  “What was her name?”

  “Emily Garrity,” Rachel offered. “She lived in Virginia most of her life. Our family has raised horses there for three generations.”

  “I’ve never even been to Virginia,” he said, as she handed him the envelope. “Other than a few port calls in Norfolk.”

  “It’s a bit trickier than that, Commander.”

  Kelsey looked at the envelope carefully, touching his name with his fingers. “The Navy is pretty big, Miss Garrity. How did you find me?”

  “Rachel, please. It wasn’t easy. I’m training as a surgical nurse at Durham Community Hospital. In North Carolina. Our administrator is a retired Army officer. I went to him for advice, and he helped me contact the right people in Washington.” She paused, her eyes cast downward, uncomfortable now. “That is when I learned of your daughter. I’m so very sorry, Commander.”

  Kelsey gave her a nod. “Please, go on.”

  “Well, that was in October, not long after the accident, and I knew it wasn’t the time to get in touch with you. So I waited, and then I saw this.” She reached into her purse again and pulled out a folded newspaper. It was the front page of the Charlotte Post, dated December 9, 1941. HEROIC OFFICER SAVES BATTLESHIP, FIGHTS BACK AGAINST THE JAPS blared the headline. Kelsey was familiar with the article; Nurse Fushimi had shown him the Star-Bulletin version of it. The public affairs corps had moved with lightening efficiency to promote his story. A morale booster back home, they called it.

  Just below the fold was his photograph, taken when he first arrived on the Nevada last year.

  “And that solved our little mystery,” continued Rachel. “The article said you had been hospitalized and were recovering from your wounds. I thought now was as good a time as any to find you. So I hopped on a train in Wilmington, managed to talk my way onto a Pan American Clipper in San Francisco, and here I am.”

  He continued to stare at the envelope. Garrity.

  “Your last name seems familiar to me.”

  “Really? As I said, this is where things get a bit tricky. She had to have addressed that before she died in thirty-one. According to that article,
you joined the Navy in 1932.”

  He stared at her. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I agree,” Rachel replied, rising to her feet. “And I decided it was certainly worth the price of a ticket on the clipper to see if we could solve this little riddle. Perhaps that letter will shed some light. I can give you some privacy while—”

  Kelsey held up a hand. “Please,” he said gesturing for her to sit again. “I’d like you to stay while I open this.”

  She did so, lowering herself into a nearby chair. He opened the parcel to find a neatly folded letter inside. He carefully unfolded it. The parchment was worn, but the script was crisp and vibrant.

  Dear Mac,

  I do not know where or when this letter will find you. Every time I consider our final words, I think about the torment you have been through and realize I could never understand the enormity of the pain you must bear.

  After hearing of your daughter, I have tried to place myself in your shoes, and realized, for a short time at least, I was once there. Twice actually. Once I was certain I had lost Cal; the second time I feared so. I cannot imagine any worse anguish, however, than the loss of a child.

  Even after our discussion that last night, I have decided not to tell Cal the truth. This has been the most difficult decision I have ever faced. Rationally, I believe you are right; Cal would eventually forgive me knowing what my intentions were. And yet somehow I fear our marriage would be forever changed. That he would no longer look at me the same. And that is something I simply could not bear.

  With more soldiers returning home to the valley every day, we find ourselves surrounded by grim reminders of the devastation caused by this senseless war. So many fathers and sons who are never coming home. Others who have, but are beset with scars, physical and otherwise. We have reunited with many old friends and neighbors, and, despite appearances, there is no question that those who went off to fight are different men. Cal and Ethan included.

  We have made much progress here since you left. Thanks to Ethan’s money, we have acquired a number of horses and have begun building the facilities we will need to support a breeding operation. Cal and Ethan are partners, though they both seem to defer to Caldwell on business matters. I have known that man since before I could walk and he is still full of surprises. Sarah remains invaluable—she can read and write now—and Charlie is still, well, Charlie. Wonderful!