by Alison Ryan
“Let us help you. Let Momma and me help you,” I pleaded with him.
“That’s just it, baby. You chose not to. When I needed you most, you left for California. And you never came back. So, instead of just burying Kevin, rather than just losing one of my children, I lost you both.”
I felt gutted. My hands slipped from his.
“Your mother is a saint. She’s a wonderful woman. But she was left to pick up the pieces. And she pushed me to get past it. She tried to tell me that you were chasing your dream, and I resented her for it. For being right. For being stronger than I was. Than I am.
All I wanted to do was climb into that hole in the ground with Kevin. But the morning after we got the news, you know what happened? Not a damn thing. That rooster crowed and let us know the sun was coming up. The hogs needed to be slopped. The chickens still lay their eggs, Mr. Copenhaver brought the mail like any other day.
“This whole big mudball we live on kept spinning. Even though Whitmer’s hero was gone, the bacon kept right on sizzling down at The Waffle Hut, you know? Everything changed, but nothing did. Kevin was the best. The best man I ever knew.”
He was crying again, but softer this time.
I was still trying to process how to explain myself or defend myself, but anything I’d said at that moment wouldn’t have helped. He didn’t need to hear how scared or torn apart I was, how the reason I hadn’t returned to Whitmer in a decade was because of Kevin’s ghost.
This wasn’t about me, it had to be about him. If my father was to recognize what he was doing to my mother, and to himself, it wasn’t my place to compare my grief to his.
“Kevin was a hero,” I reminded him. “Is a hero. I know you and Momma don’t do Facebook, but I’m friends with some of his buddies from over there. I keep in touch with some of them. Hang on a minute. I want to show you something.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and said a silent prayer for a signal.
Two bars.
I brought up Facebook and scrolled through my friends, then searched for a particular picture.
When I found it, the image of two smiling, toe-headed little twin boys with their big sister came up. They were at the beach, splashing in the surf. I showed it to my father.
“This little girl is Leah, and the twins Matthew and James. Or James and Matthew. I can’t tell them apart. Anyway, these are Raymond Harrison’s kids. Do you remember Raymond, from Kevin’s funeral? He was over there…with Kevin.
“If not for Kevin, chances are Raymond never would have made it back. Raymond had gotten married right before he was deployed. He and his wife live in Boise. They came to Disneyland last summer and went to the beach. I had lunch with them.”
Daddy took my iPhone in his hands and marveled at the picture. I showed him how to swipe through the pictures as he choked back a fresh wave of tears.
He handed it back to me and put his hat on, pulling it down low to conceal as much of his face, and his crying, as he could.
I searched through my friends again and found another person I was looking for.
“This is Scott Lester. Kevin called him Scottie. He wasn’t at the funeral, he was in the hospital in Germany. He lost a leg when that grenade went off.
“He lives in Pennsylvania now. He graduated from Villanova University after he was discharged and he’s doing his residency. He’s going to be a pediatrician.”
My father wiped his face again and I saw the hint of a smile.
“Kevin saved him, too…”
“He did,” I replied. “I have one more, the best of all.”
I scrolled through until I found her. “Annalise Brittan was in Kevin’s unit, too. I think Kevin had a crush on her.”
“I bet she had a crush on him,” my father insisted.
“Probably so.” I showed him her picture, long dark hair and big, brown eyes.
“She’s pretty.”
“Yep,” I answered, opening her pictures. I found the set I wanted.
I handed Daddy the phone with a picture of a skinny boy of six or seven, a basketball jersey draped over his bony frame, sweat flying off him, running up the court, eyes wildly looking for a ball that wasn’t in the picture. He swiped right and the next shot showed the same boy, holding a basketball that seemed twice the size of his own head tight against his side like a gunslinger ready to draw. The next few images showed the boy hoisting the ball toward the basket and then pumping his fist as it dropped through the net.
“That little basketball star is Annalise Brittan’s son. She named him Kevin.”
He looked at me, wide-eyed, then back down at the screen.
“Daddy, if Kevin didn’t do what he did, none of those people would be here today. None of their kids. Now, I’ll be honest, I struggled with that for a long time. I resented Kevin. For having to be so good. For having to do the right thing. Make the right choice Be the-”
Daddy interrupted me.
“What choice?”
I was perplexed.
“The choice to jump on that grenade.”
“That wasn’t no choice. That was Kevin being Kevin. That was the Whitmer in him.”
The pride on my father’s face was unmistakable.
“Where do these folks live?” he asked, referring to Annalise and her son.
“In Kentucky, I believe. Near Louisville.”
“I wonder if we could visit them. I haven’t been to a ball game since…well, it’s been a long time.”
“That’s why I want you to get some help. You’ve got too much life left to live to give up, Daddy. And, more than that, Momma needs you, more than ever. She’s hurting. This MS is hard enough without having to do everything around here by herself and then wondering where you are and when you’re coming home.”
“It’s not like that. I just have a drink with my friends. It helps me forget. I can slow down some.” He looked at me but we both knew it wasn’t true. It wasn’t about slowing down.
It was about letting go.
“No, it’s past time to ‘slow down some.’ It has to stop. You have to stop. You have to want to stop. For her. For me. But, most of all, for yourself.”
“And for Kevin,” he said.
I took his hands in mine and squeezed. It felt like a breakthrough.
He cocked his head at me and stared a while, like he was trying to read something he couldn’t quite make out. I continued.
“Daddy, one day I’m going to get married. I need you to walk me down the aisle. And once I do get married, I’ll start a family. I’m going to have kids. And I want to bring them here. I want them to look forward to coming to visit grandma and grandpa in Montana. On the farm. I know it’s a ranch, but to them, to L.A. kids, it’ll seem like a farm. Like a different world, really. I want them to be so excited to come visit you two. And you’ll take them out to the tree over there and tell them stories about their uncle. And show them his trophies and his medals. I can see it all in my head, clear as day. But without your help, I don’t know how much longer Momma can make it. And if you keep drinking, I don’t know how much longer you’re going to be here.
“This is too big to face by yourself. There are places you can go where people can help you. They can walk you through everything and get you better. You can’t let your pride get in the way of this. You know? But they can’t help you unless you want the help. It won’t be easy, but I know how strong you are. I know you can do it. Momma needs you.”
He nodded his head solemnly. He stared out at the tree under which Kevin was buried, lost in a daydream.
“I just saw him run across the field, Sarah. Chasing after Casey, that old coon dog. He was laughing. He was little. He was so happy. I just saw that. Like it was yesterday.”
I hugged him again.
The time for tears was past. We were both smiling.
“I still have a paper he wrote for school when he was in fourth or fifth grade,” he said, softly. “About his hero. He said I was his hero. But the truth is, he’s
my hero.”
“Mine, too. I miss him so much. Want to walk over and talk to him?” I asked, standing up and offering my hand to pull him to his feet.
“I never go over there,” Daddy replied, looking past me toward the tree. “But, your momma does. She goes out there all the time. Takes him flowers. And cookies. She leaves cookies out there. The critters out in the woods must get so excited when they see her on her way out to visit him.”
“Come on, Daddy.” I helped him up. “We’ve both been running away from him for too long.”
We held hands as we walked, but he stopped ten yards shy of the stone marker, next to which lay a bundle of fresh-cut wildflowers.
“I don’t know if…” he whispered.
“Take your time. I’m going to say hello,” I answered, and rubbed his shoulder before walking the rest of the way and sitting down in the grass.
I picked up the flowers and inhaled their fragrance with my eyes closed. They smelled like my childhood.
“Hey, Kevin,” I said, placing my hand on the granite, tracing his name with my fingertips. “Sorry I’ve been away so long. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
I felt my father’s presence next to me as he settled onto the ground.
“Tell me where to go. What to do. I’ll do it.”
I looked at him, shocked. I’d figured it would take me a long time to convince him to go.
“I’ll make all the arrangements, I’ll find you the perfect place, Daddy. I love you so much. Thank you.”
“No, Sarah. Thank you. You’re my daughter. And even though I’m doing this for me, I’m doing it for you too. You deserve the best part of me. And so does your momma.”
We sat under that tree for what seemed like hours, telling stories, laughing, talking to and about Kevin.
“You know, if you two want cookies, you should just ask. You can’t have the ones I put out here, anyway. They’re just for Kevin.”
We hadn’t even heard my mother return home, let alone sneak up on us with a basket of cookies.
Daddy rose to his feet and embraced Momma, a hug that looked like it had been a long time coming. I eased the basket from her hand and she wrapped her arms around him. They both cried, he harder than she.
I wiped my eyes for the umpteenth time, the shirt I wore saltier than if I’d jumped into the ocean wearing it.
When they broke the hug, Momma made eye contact with me, and I nodded my head. She looked at Daddy with surprise and kissed him.
The relief I felt was unprecedented. My phone buzzed away and I looked down to see I’d missed several calls from Aspen Rivers. Not from my assistant, who was supposed to be handling my clients while I was away, but from Aspen, herself.
Sigh.
Momma took the basket and set a small stack of cookies down in front of Kevin’s marker.
“I’m going to get dinner started. Hayes will be joining us tonight.”
“Momma…”
“I’ll hear none of that. Sarah, you can help me in the kitchen. Thad, I’ve got a headlight out in my truck. Can you look at that for me? It’s unseemly.”
“Yes, dear,” he answered, and the three of us shuffled back to the house. I snuck a nibble of a cookie I’d smuggled from the basket and turned to stick my tongue out at Kevin.
I swear he winked back.
8
Hayes showed up for dinner two hours early.
I was sitting on the porch with Daddy, playing cards, when his truck pulled up the drive. I sighed.
“I thought he was coming for dinner,” I said out loud.
Daddy looked at me and smirked. “Looks like he didn’t want to wait.”
I put my cards down on the table and stood up as Hayes slammed his door shut, bounding over to the front steps.
“Hey, Mr. Acres!” Hayes called to my father.
“Hello, Hayes,” Daddy said. “Good to see you. Again.”
Hayes nodded and then looked at me. “I know I’m early. Thought we might go riding. I’ve been itching to ever since you got home.”
I was speechless for a moment. The last time I’d ridden horses with Hayes had been the night… of the storm. The one in the loft and the one at home.
I was taken aback.
“It’s been so long,” I said. “Not sure if I’m up for it.”
“Sure you are,” Hayes said. “Let’s do it, city girl.”
“I’ll go in and help your momma,” Daddy said, grinning. “You two have some fun.
I looked at Hayes and rolled my eyes.
“Fine,” I said. “This way. The horses are where they’ve always been.”
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa!” I yanked hard on the reins, and Jezebel, the gray mare I was riding, finally responded.
I looked back to see Hayes, doubled over with laughter.
It had been embarrassing enough that I’d needed his help getting up onto the saddle, but now I couldn’t even get my horse to stop when I gave the command?
“You almost had yourself a bath, Sarah,” he joked. Jezebel had taken off at a gallop, straight for Big Antler River. She’d have been fine, the current and depth there would pose no threat to her, but I almost certainly would have wound up in the water if she hit it at that speed.
She snorted and paced back and forth, eyeing the water as if she hadn’t made up her mind one way or the other.
Hayes hopped down off his horse, a beautiful roan stallion named Johnny Rocket. He patted J.R.’s neck and produced an apple from one of his saddlebags, cutting off a chunk for his mount and one for mine. Jezebel calmed down after the snack and some quiet words from Hayes. He caressed her neck lovingly and extended a hand to me, which I begrudgingly accepted.
“How long has it been? Do you ever get to ride out in California?” Hayes asked me.
“I rode on the set of a movie a few years ago, but it was just trotting.” We’d taken Jezebel and J.R., two of our horses, on a gallop from my property across two other ranches and wound up on a slow, quiet stretch of the river. The day was perfect, just the faintest hint of a chill in the air, and only the fluffiest of white clouds in the sky.
Hayes tied the horses off to a tree, and we found a tree of our own fifty yards downstream. It was a thick oak, and the tips of her leaves were just starting to lose their green in places. In another few weeks, all the trees would be showing off their Autumn finery. I’d be gone soon, but I almost wished I could stick around to see the colors change.
We sat down beneath the tree, with our backs to the trunk, facing the water. Hayes picked up a small handful of rocks and tossed them, one by one, into the water.
“I still can’t get used to you talking about ‘movie sets’ and all those famous people. To me, you’ll always be just Sarah, you know?” Hayes said, as one of the bigger rocks he’s picked up hit the water with a plop.
“Just Sarah…” I pondered. “That doesn’t sound so bad, actually. Just Sarah might not be able to get a table at KALE, but wherever she ate, she could probably do it without being bothered by paparazzi or waiters looking for a part in the next big comic book movie.”
“KALE?” Hayes asked.
“It’s one of the most popular restaurants in LA. Lots of stars go there when they want the paparazzi to notice them. Or at least it was when I left to come here. By now it’s probably closed or it’s no longer ‘cool’. I ate there with Aspen Rivers a couple days ago.”
The truth was I ate there and she watched me. I think the only thing she ate was the olive in her martini. I didn’t normally name drop, but ever since I’d been home, I had the feeling people thought I wasn’t actually in the entertainment business. They were curious about me living in California, but like many people from Middle America, it seemed like they figured actors, actresses, and other pop culture icons were just roaming the streets of L.A. and that I’d bumped into them from time to time. Not that some of the biggest stars in the entertainment industry had Sarah Acres on speed dial.
“Aspen Rivers, huh? Hunt would b
e jealous. She’s just his type.”
“Aspen is everybody’s type,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“She’s pretty, sure, but she’s no Sarah Acres.” Hayes had run out of rocks to throw, and he turned to face me, his left leg bent so that the foot was tucked up below his right knee, which was fully bent. His right wrist rested atop that knee. His left hand brushed the hair on my face behind my ear.
“I’m ‘Just Sarah’, remember?” I joked.
He stared hard at me and let his hand linger on my face.
“You’re not just anything, Sarah. You’re every damn thing.”
He was staring at me, and the rest of the world faded into black. I’d met each of People Magazine’s last nine “Sexiest Men Alive,” and I’d worked with guys who were considered heartthrobs all around the world; but there was something about a Montana man that was different. Boys in L.A. were in the gym all the time, ate special diets, and did everything they could to act tough and look rugged. In my home state, guys came by it naturally. None of it was an act. Hands were rough, jaws were square, shoulders broad, and nobody was faking it. Hollywood was a constant masquerade, desperately trying to be everything Hayes Calloway would always effortlessly be.
I missed not having to read between the lines or guess at the intentions of the person next to me.
It would be downright impossible to mistake what Hayes did next. He cradled my face in his hand, leaned in close, and kissed me.
I didn’t return it right away; in fact, I was taken by surprise and pulled away. Hayes looked mortified. Or, at least as mortified as Hayes could ever look.
“I’m…Hayes I go back to L.A. in a few days. I didn’t come here to…” I stumbled through an apology. Hayes raised his hand to cut me off.
“Sarah, I’ve been thinking about kissing you again for ten years. Nothing but that. The way you told it, you don’t have a husband or a boyfriend or anything waiting for you back in California, right?”
I shook my head.
“Then I’m not sorry. For yesterday or today. I’m fixin’ to kiss you again, and do it every chance I get until you head back to L.A.”