by Mari Beck
“I found Betty of course and we were married for 57 wonderful years. No regrets. But there sure were lots of problems when I first came home. Not just the dances but the dreams that came at me during the night. Back then we didn’t talk about things the way you young folks do now. And if we did no one wanted to be they guy to admit it. They called it shell shock.” He sighed. “The things I saw I don’t know if you ever forget. I sure haven’t. Nowadays they play those days back in black in white on those History Channel programs. Have you seen them?”
“Not many, no.” Riley admitted.
“Believe you me, Riley, it’s a different kettle of fish when you see it all in technicolor. You remember the smells the most. Blood has a smell, you know. And the sounds,especially of the guys that died not more than a few feet away from you. Their eyes were the worst,all empty and dark. You remember the smell of the cigarette smoke from the last pack of Lucky Strikes your buddy was smoking right before he took a bullet to the head and the choking smell of the smoke coming from a building that’s been bombed after you passed it not more than 10 minutes previous. Everything was about staying one step ahead of the Angel of Death. It was bad but I was proud to serve, proud to be there fighting for what was right along with all the others who were standing by me. Everybody did their part back home and kicked Hitler’s ass all the way back the bunker.” Don Gelding slapped his knee again and laughed.
Riley smiled and that’s when Renae came out with a tray with a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses.
“I’m so sorry that took so long! I thought I knew where the tea was but I had to search everywhere!”
“That’s all right.” Don Gelding said taking a shaky sip of his tea, the ice tinkling in the glass a he put it up to his wrinkled lips. “It’s delicious!” He gave Renae a brilliant smile and she smiled back. Since there was only room enough for two on the swing she excused herself to go inside and catch up on some household chores. The two men were alone again.
“She’s a very pretty gal.” Don Gelding said to Riley.
“Yes, she is.” Riley said without hesitation and found himself perplexed at having made that confession to the older man.
“You known her long?”
“No, not long.”
“How long you two been shacking up?” The older man teased. Riley cocked an eyebrow unsure of what to say next that might not feed the already spinning gossip mill.
“Come on now, you know everyone’s talking about it. You two young people out here on your own. Neither one attached for the moment. Of course, in my day it would’ve been scandalous, now it makes for interesting conversation over at the café during my toast and coffee in the morning.”
“I’m sure it does. Again, the lady’s my boss. She needed some help with the house and I needed a place to stay for a while.”
The old man’s eyes filled up with tears again.
“It sure was a shame about your grandfather and the farm, Riley. If there was anything we could’ve done, I assure you we would have.”
“I know.”
“Look, about this dinner. What do you say? We gave you a pass on the 4th of July. We didn’t ask you to march in the parade with us or make any speeches. The good Lord knows the havoc fireworks play on a soldier’s nerves when he first gets home. But this is different, Riley.” Riley hated to disappoint his grandfather’s old friend but he couldn’t bring himself to agree to go to an event that wanted to honor his heroic deeds. If only they knew what he’d done!
“Mr. Gelding, I really appreciate you driving all the way out and sitting with me. But I can’t.” Don Gelding gathered himself up, handed Riley his glass and stood. He patted Riley on the shoulder.
“I understand. More than you probably know. I just want you to consider one thing.”
“What’s that?” Riley asked.
“Maybe you’re convinced that because you’re a bonafide hero that we’re the ones that need you. Couldn’t be further from the truth, son. War is war. Doesn’t matter how many medals you got pinned to your chest. I got a few of them at home myself. You know what the truth is?”
“What is that, sir?”
“The truth is we’re the only ones who know what you know now. You may not realize it yet but you’re the one who needs us.” He said and with that he gave Riley a nod before making his way down the porch stairs and back to the red Oldsmobile.
“Give my regards to your lady. Tell her I enjoyed the tea!” The old man called and waved before backing his way out of the drive and back onto the main road. Riley sat on the swing contemplating Don Gelding’s final words.The truth is we’re the only ones who know what you know now. No, they didn’t and he would make sure it stayed that way.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The Community Dinner
He caught her spying right as old Mr. Gelding made it down the drive. Riley opened the door and almost ran into her. Brenda hadn’t had enough time or sense it seemed to hide before he decided to come inside the house with the glasses and the pitcher of ice tea.
“How much did you hear?” he asked as he passed her on his way to the kitchen. She followed him trying to figure out how to answer the question without seeming too pushy or too eager on the subject.
“He really wants you to go to that dinner, doesn’t he.”
“Yeah. But I’m not going.”
“Why not?” she asked. Riley frowned.
“I’m not much for social gatherings if you hadn’t noticed.”
“But it sounds like it’s going to be something really special.”
“I’m sure it will be but they don’t need me to make it special.”
“Of course they do!” she said a little too quickly. He gave her a look of impatience as he headed back outside.
“Let’s get back to work.” He said putting on the work gloves and going back to the spot on the porch where he’d pulled the last board.
“Riley, don’t you think Mr. Gelding seemed sincere?”
“What does that have to do with it?” Riley said yanking another board.
“I mean that he has your best interests at heart. He said they weren’t trying to exploit you they just want to share a meal with you.”
“Exploit? I don’t remember him saying anything about exploiting me.”
“You know what I mean. He’s not out to take advantage of you or . . .what happened. It might help to be around people who understand.”
“You mean it might help me remember?” he said and for the first time in a long time she felt a surge of hope.
“Something like that.” She said and he stopped working, looked up at her and shook his head.
“It’s not something I want to remember.” He said and she felt her heart sink all the way down to her feet again.
“Okay. Okay. I understand that. What if we were to go-“ She needed to salvage this somehow. Think quickly!
“We?”
“He did say to invite your lady friend.”
“If you’d spied on me the entire conversation you would have heard me say that you’re aren’t my lady friend. I don’t know what it means back where you come from but here that means an entirely different thing.”
“I wasn’t spying and I know he asked if I was your lady. I’m the one adding friend to the equation.”
“Nope. Still going cause trouble. All the widowers in town have lady friends. I’m not old enough.” He teased.
“Fine. I’ll just go as your boss.”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“So you want to go by yourself?” She asked feeling frustrated. He shook his head again and then wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. Because I need you to remember what happened!
“Because they want to help and even if it doesn’t help a bit you’d still be doing something nice for the veterans of your hometown. If you won’t let them honor you than at least go and honor them.” Their eyes met.
“Is this really that important to you?”
&nb
sp; “Yes.” She was telling the absolute truth.
“Is it because of your friend and what happened to her husband?” He asked and she had to swallow hard to get past the lump that was forming in her throat.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. But I’m not wearing a uniform.” He said and went back to work. She opened her mouth to say something else but decided it was better if she didn’t. She figured she had pushed him far enough. Brenda went back to picking up the discarding planks of rotten wood and started to put them in a pile. It was a small victory she decided but a victory nonetheless.
***
They attended the VFW Community Dinner a week later and true to his word Riley was not wearing a uniform. He wore what passed for a sport coat and an old tie she was sure had once belonged to his grandfather. When they arrived the Community Center where the dinner was being held was full. It seemed like the whole town had turned out. Brenda could tell that Riley was nervous. She could tell by the way his eyes darted from person to person in the room and the way he loosened his tie almost immediately after they got there as if it were suffocating him and he couldn’t breathe. He kept a close eye on the door as if he wanted to make sure he knew where all the exits were in case he wanted to escape. There were tons of casseroles, salads and desserts all made by the different women’s organizations and churches in the community. The rows and rows of 6 foot tables arranged end to end were bursting with people most of them elderly visiting with friends and relatives and all clamoring for a chance to get a moment or two of Riley’s attention. He humored them for the most part shaking hands and even posing for pictures with some of the younger kids, who pulled out their cell phones and snapped the photo before Riley had a chance to protest or pull away. At one point the crowds became so thick that Brenda lost him in the crowd until she felt a hand grab onto hers and pull her forward. It was Riley and once he had a hold of her hand he didn’t let go the rest of the time until they sat down and the event formally began.
“Could I have your attention please!” Don Gelding dressed to the nines in a suit and his VFW hat called over the roar of the crowd. Very few heard his wavering voice until somebody in the back of the room whistled loudly to get everyone to quiet down.
“Well, now, that’s better.” He said looking around the room and grinning. Behind him was another 6 foot table set horizontally where members of the local VFW chapter were seated. Riley had refused to be seated with them not out of disrespect but because he had absolutely no desire to be the center of attention. However, every person in attendance was well aware that the dinner was being held in his honor. The tragic accident and passing of his grandfather along with the betrayal of his former fiancée and best friend may have been at the back of their minds but tonight it was his service and heroism that was at the forefront. Sitting with Riley she could sense his unease at being there with so many people. Every few minutes he took a napkin to his forehead and wiped the droplets of sweat that were forming and more than once he went to take a drink from a styrofoam cup that he had drained more than 20 minutes before and not yet refilled. She reached out to take his hand under the table. He squeezed her hand and she felt an inexplicable sense of peace at they sat together listening to Don Gelding go through the reasons for the evening’s gathering.
“As you all know me and these other old buzzards,” He pointed to the other men at the table behind him as everyone laughed. “We’ve been trying to figure out how to properly welcome our native son Riley Favreau back home. Unfortunately, circumstances have not been kind to the family and for a while we thought this dinner would never happen. But after much prayer and begging,” The old veteran pointed straight at Riley, who looked down at the remnants of his dinner on the paper plate in front of him, and everyone laughed again. “We convinced the boy to let us do this.” There was a thunderous round of applause. Don Gelding held up his hands to quiet the crowd.
“I want to thank each and every one of you donated a little something to make this dinner possible. But now I’d like to welcome the next gentleman up here to talk a bit about a surprise gift that’s come from a long way away.” Don Gelding gave up the microphone to a younger man wearing a much fancier suit and tie but no VFW hat.
“Thanks for having me, Don. It’s a pleasure to be here. My name is Stan Miller and I represent Gordon Garfield.” There were a series of gasps and murmurs from the crowd.
“Who’s Gordon Garfield?” She asked Riley but he didn’t answer. He was staring at Stan Miller.
“For those of you who are old enough to remember and for those of you who are not, Gordon Garfield is one of this nation’s premier sculptors and a native of Bess. While he’s been away from this community many years and now resides in New York, he still has very fond memories of his childhood on the Nebraska prairie and when he learned of this dinner from distant relatives he couldn’t help but jump at the chance to be part of this fine celebration. Boys, if you please.” Stan Miller motioned to someone in the back and soon a pair of Boy Scouts rolled a small table up to the front carrying an object covered by a heavy blue cloth.
“Having worked with Gordon for more than 20 years this may be the fastest I’ve ever seen him finish a project. But inspiration came easy this time and he’s proud to present you with the prototype of the statue that he will be donating to the town of Bess for placement near the Memorial Wall in your business district. May I present to you- The Rescue!” With that Stan Miller pulled the cloth off to reveal a smaller sculpture depicting a soldier carrying a fallen comrade and a little girl. It was accurate down to the last detail of Steve Rappaport’s photograph. Brenda felt Riley’s hand tighten around her own like a vice. His eyes were like frozen steel and there was a look of sheer terror in them. She could hear his breath get faster and faster. Looking at the fallen soldier that was part of the sculpture Brenda felt her own heart pounding in her ears. She felt numb and as if she were floating underwater. Everything sounded so muffled and far away. The rest of the room was on its feet, clapping and exclaiming how wonderful and how generous Gordon Garfield was to the town of Bess while Brenda and Riley sat dumbstruck and unmoving. Suddenly, she felt Riley let go of her hand and watched as he stood up, knocked over the folding chair and stormed outside into the darkness, leaving her alone with a room full of strangers and their common wound on display for all to see.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The News
Riley pushed his way through the throng of people standing and clapping for the horrific reminder of that night on a road outside of Baghdad that was represented by that sculpture. It wasn’t until he loosened his tie to the point that he could take it off in one yank that he felt he could breathe again.
“Hey, stranger.” A familiar voice called out to him in the dark. It startled him but he tried to make out the figure walking toward him.
“Who is it?” Riley asked and soon he saw the face of Louis Montgomery staring back at him. Riley let out a sigh of relief.
“What’s going on? Why are you out here instead of in there?” Louis asked patting him on the shoulder. “Aren’t you the guest of honor?”
“How did you know about that?”
“They invited me, well at least Don Gelding invited me. Quite the fellow.” He said and then frowned as he watched Riley bend over trying to catch his breath.
“What’s wrong? Why do you look like you’re about to be sick all over my shoes?”
“They’re putting up a statue.”
“You don’t like art?” Louis teased but Riley wasn’t laughing. He felt like he was going to be sick after all.
“It’s a statue of me from that picture.”
“Oh. Did you know?” Louis asked him and Riley shook his head.
“It was a surprise gift to the town from Gordon Garfield.”
“The famous artist guy in New York?” Louis asked confused. “Why would he do that?”
“He’s from here. His relatives told him about the dinner tonight and about. . .me.”<
br />
“Is it that bad?”
“They want to put it in the middle of town by the Memorial Wall.”
“Life size for all to see.” Louis murmured sympathetically. “Well, I can’t imagine that the VFW fellas knew about it if it was a surprise. Soldiers come home from war don’t usually like surprises. Had plenty of those overseas.”
“Louis, I can’t go back in there. I can’t. I don’t want to see that statue and I sure as hell don’t want to take any more pictures or shake any more hands.”
“All right. I’ll go in and cover for you. In the meantime, what are you going to do? And where’s Renae?”
“I’m going to walk and Renae’s still in there. I didn’t mean to just walk out on her. Will you tell her I’m sorry?”
“Sure. See you back at the house later? You know we need to catch up on some things especially after a night like this.”
“Ok. I gotta get out of here.” Riley said and started to walk away from the Community Center and down toward Main Street. The farther away he got the more he was able to breathe until he came closer to the Memorial Wall. It stood about 7 feet tall next to an American flag, which flapped quietly under the gaze of the specially placed spotlight near its base and a street lamp on the corner. The wall itself was made up of individual bricks with the names of those who served and the dates of when they served or when they perished. The newest brick of the bunch was already up and he didn’t have to get any closer to know whose name had been carved on it. It was his grandfather’s name and the dates when he served with the date of his death carved neatly beneath. Riley moved toward the brick and ran his hand over it letting his fingers trace the letters and numbers slowly from beginning to end. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. If only things had worked out differently. If only. . .
There was someone behind him, he could feel it and when he turned around he saw that Brandon Cole was standing there.