A Fallen Hero

by Sharon Kimbra Walsh

  Hurrying around the end of the bed, she made for the door. She wanted to shout out Joe’s name, have him come to her and soothe her, put his arms around her and tell her that there was nothing wrong and that everyone was safe, that she was imagining things.

  Feeling panic-stricken, Katie hurried from the bedroom out into the silent hallway. She made a beeline for the nursery, her bare feet whispering on the thick pile of the carpet, noticing on her approach a faint pool of amber radiance thrown into the hallway by the dim light inside the room. Pushing it open, she moved on tiptoe toward the cot, peering into its depths.

  Josie was lying sound asleep, breathing slowly and deeply. Katie had not realized that she was holding her breath until it came out of her in a rush.

  My baby is safe—completely at peace—so it’s something else.

  She glanced around the nursery, peering into the dark corners where the rays from the night light did not reach. Confirming that the room was indeed empty, she turned and left.

  Pausing on the long, dark landing, she strained her hearing to see if she could detect any strange, unwanted noise but found only silence, night hanging heavy in the house.

  Katie moved back into her bedroom, hesitating on the threshold, searching its shadowy corners. Her gaze came to rest on the bedside table and she saw the white envelope propped against the lamp. She immediately felt her body stiffen and a cold foreboding fill her stomach.

  She dreaded the walk around the bed to take up the envelope that seemed to loom like a huge warning sign. She sensed that once she opened it and read its contents it would change her world forever, bringing with it more pain and heartbreak.

  Katie stood inside the bedroom door—frozen into immobility—her gaze locked on her table, her mind empty of all but one thought. What is in that letter?

  Slowly and reluctantly, she moved toward the opposite side of the room. As she approached the table, her footsteps slowed and she gritted her teeth, clenching her fists. Forcing herself to reach forward, she gripped the envelope between two fingers as though it was contaminated and she picked it up.

  Her name stood out in black relief and on recognizing Joe’s handwriting, a small whimper came from her lips. Sinking down onto the edge of the bed, she clutched the letter in her hand, staring down at it.

  Finally, she took a deep breath, turned it over, and ripped open the envelope with her finger. Extracting the single sheet of paper from inside and gathering her strength, she unfolded it and before her courage failed her, began to read.

  My darling Katie

  By the time you read this, I will be gone, if I can keep my courage and willpower to go.

  First, I want to tell you how much I love you. You and Josie mean the world to me and this has been the most difficult decision that I have had to make in my life. I don’t expect you to believe me. You have every right to be furious and hurt, and knowing you as I do, I don’t expect you to forgive me.

  Something happened to me in Afghanistan. I cannot begin to explain it to you, how it has left me only a shadow of myself. What I do know is that the man you used to love no longer exists and I need to resolve that situation. If I’d stayed, I would only destroy what we have between us. I would make your life a misery. The anger and hate would take over and you would come to hate me if you don’t already.

  I am so sorry to do this to you, Josie and my family. Again, I don’t expect you to understand what I have done but know that I do love you and I am doing this not only for myself but also for us. By now, I will be on my way back to Afghanistan. I know I have deceived you and it will probably be impossible for you to forgive me. So be it. It is down to me to have to live with that for the rest of my life.

  Take care, my love. I love you more than life itself. Please try to forgive me if you can. I already miss you. You and Josie are my life.

  Joe

  Katie’s hand dropped onto her lap, the letter fluttering from her suddenly lifeless fingers and landing on the carpet at her feet.

  Stunned—her mind reeling with disbelief—she remained seated on the bed, gazing almost catatonically at the bedroom wall, Joe’s written words swirling chaotically around in her suddenly disorganized mind.

  Joe is gone—again!

  Back to Afghanistan…to do what? What does he mean by resolving matters? What matters can be so horrible that he would risk his marriage and his own life?

  Katie had always believed that Joe’s memories of what had happened to him during his last deployment had festered deep inside him, plaguing him, haunting and torturing him, the cause of his anger and his nightmares. The hate and anger born from his capture and the death of his men could have grown into an unbearable force and Joe being the man that he was, he would not be able to sit around without seeking some form of retribution. Whatever his plans were, it was the decision of a man who was struggling to deal with a nightmare.

  Katie felt terrified and bewildered. Joe would not only be putting himself in danger but anyone else with him.

  What can I do?

  If she went to the US Marine Corps and told them of her concerns, they would find Joe, drag him back to the States, and possibly lock him up in a psychiatric institute. He would hate that and loathe Katie for doing it to him. On the other hand, if she left the situation as it was who knew what Joe would do to find resolution and peace from his torment?

  Katie bent down and picked the letter up from the carpet. Her hand shook as she held it up to read again. This time the words blurred as tears filled her eyes.

  “Oh, my God, Joe,” she murmured. “What have you done?” She lowered the letter, her hand shaking.

  What should I do now? More to the point, what can I do?

  Hot tears began to trickle down her face and she let them come. The wrenching ache in her heart was unbearable and she doubled over, clutching her arms about herself as though to keep herself from falling apart.

  She sat where she was for long minutes, conscious that she was procrastinating—wasting time—still in denial that Joe could have left without explanation, leaving behind those who might have been able to help him. She knew that she needed to move, shake herself out of the despair into which she was rapidly sinking.

  Getting up from the bed, clutching the crumpled letter in her hand, she grabbed the baby monitor and moved drunkenly to the bedroom door.

  Her mind felt shrouded in a fog of disbelief—she couldn’t think straight—was barely aware of making her way out into the dark hallway. There, she hesitated and listened for any noise coming from the nursery. Again, hearing nothing, she turned and made her way quietly along the hallway to the top of the staircase where she hesitated again.

  The house remained silent throughout and she ran quickly down the stairs and across the hallway to the kitchen. She almost expected Joe to appear from the lounge asking why she was up and wandering about the house in the early hours of the morning but she remained alone and undisturbed.

  Once in the kitchen, she went to the cooker and turned on the small light mounted beneath it, slightly comforted by the small pool of radiance. Silently, she went to the kettle to fill it with water and it was at that point that she discovered a second white envelope propped against the appliance, addressed to Joe’s parents.

  So, he has remembered everyone.

  Katie stared at the letter then went to fill the kettle at the kitchen sink, hoping that a soothing cup of tea would ease her confused thoughts and dissipate some of the apathy that had overtaken her since reading the letter.

  Plugging the cord into the electrical appliance, she turned it on and, feeling like she was on auto-pilot, found herself a mug and proceeded to put in a tea bag and milk from the fridge. While she waited for the water to boil, she moved to the window and looked out onto the dark garden.

  Night, however, pressed against the window and all she could see was her own image super-imposed on the pane of glass. Her eyes filled with tears again.

  She had nearly lost Joe once before and now
she felt physically sick at the idea that she might have lost him again. Hurt and pain that had only just begun to heal had come flooding back, this time a hundred times worse.

  She heard a soft whimper escape her lips and it sounded so forlorn and pathetic in the silence of the kitchen that she pressed her fingers against her mouth.

  Only last night, Joe had assured her that he loved her. She could not believe that he had been planning to leave her and Josie all along. It was not the action of a rational man and among the feelings of confusion, anger, and hurt was a sharp gnawing fear that her husband was heading down the road to mental destruction and he was going to get himself killed.

  A tear trickled down Katie’s face and she uttered another small sob.

  How had she not seen that this was going to happen? How could she not have seen what was wrong and attempt to help the man she loved?

  Wait a minute. If she was honest with herself—and it was about time that she stopped avoiding the truth—she had known all along, from the time that Joe had returned home, that there was something amiss—his distance from his parents and her—his constant denials that there was anything wrong and his anger, agitation and restlessness. Perhaps she should have tried harder but she had glimpsed the anger behind his calm veneer and had not wanted to provoke that anger. She had taken the coward’s way out and now this had happened.

  Katie hated herself with a helpless, tortured anger.

  I knew. I let it happen and now, it’s too late.

  Becoming aware that the water in the kettle was boiling merrily and grateful for the distraction, she began to make herself a mug of tea. A few minutes later, clasping the hot china mug and shivering slightly with shock, Katie sat at the kitchen table. As she sipped at the steaming drink, she hoped desperately that the hot liquid would start to thaw the ball of ice that had formed in the pit of her stomach.

  She closed her eyes, attempting to blot out the most recent image she had of Joe’s face when she had turned to him as he was cuddling her in bed. The memory was too painful to contemplate at that moment and she felt that she would dissolve into a sobbing heap if she couldn’t divert her thoughts to something more mundane and trivial.

  Concentrating on her drink, it was a few moments before Katie sensed someone standing in the kitchen doorway. For a joyous second, she was convinced that when she lifted her eyes she would see Joe standing there but when she did glance up, she saw the pale figure of Maggie in her nightclothes watching her.

  “Katie?”

  Although Maggie’s voice was quiet, her tone was full of concern.

  Katie stayed silent, unable to answer the elderly woman because she would have burst into tears and sobbed like a child.

  Maggie stepped into the shadowy kitchen. “Katie, what’s wrong? Is it Josie?”

  Feeling the tears already close to the surface threatening to spill over, Katie shook her head, swallowed, then replied huskily, “No, Josie’s fine. She’s sleeping.”

  “Then what…?” Maggie prompted and a tone of dread entered her voice.

  Katie sighed. “Maggie. I don’t know how… I’m sorry, but Joe’s gone.”

  For what seemed like an eternity, the words appeared not to register with the older woman. She gazed at Katie, an expression of puzzlement wrinkling her forehead.

  “Gone?” she echoed. “What do you mean…gone? Katie, you’re scaring me.”

  Katie pointed a trembling finger to the second white envelope laying on the counter by the kettle.

  “He’s gone back to Afghanistan,” she finally explained softly, her voice breaking and tears beginning to trickle down her face.

  Maggie Anderson turned to where Katie pointed and moved to pick up the letter. Remaining silent, she slit it open with a long, neatly manicured nail then withdrew the single sheet of paper. She began reading it. Halfway through, she staggered then dragging out a kitchen chair from the table—its legs screeching across the tiles—she slumped down into it.

  Katie watched her, unable to offer a single word of consolation or reassurance.

  The letter that Maggie was reading drifted like a leaf down on to the tabletop and she buried her face in her hands, a soft moan escaping her.

  Katie put her mug down and stood up to boil the kettle again, placing a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder as she passed by.

  After making a second cup of strong tea and handing it to the older woman, she resumed her seat at the table and continued to silently drink her own.

  At last, Maggie raised her face from her hands. “I don’t understand…” she began. “Why has he done this?”

  Katie shook her head. “I don’t know any more than you, Maggie. He left me a letter too,” she explained, feeling defeated and tired. “He talks about what happened to him on his last tour. He said that if he stayed here, he would end up destroying everything around him, including us and make our lives a misery. He said that he had matters that needed resolving and to do that he had to go back to Afghanistan.”

  Maggie nodded. “He said as much in the letter to Jack and me.” She shook her head. “What can have been so terrible to make him leave?”

  Katie sighed, hesitated, then said slowly, “He would never speak about what happened to him. When I brought the subject up, he became angry—more than that—absolutely furious. He suffered terrible nightmares but again, he wouldn’t give any details. The only thing I do know is that on a mission, men from his squad died. I think…”

  Katie paused, glanced down at her hands clenched on the mug with a white-knuckled grip, then glanced up at her mother-in-law.

  “I think he’s ill, Maggie. Whatever happened to him out there changed him. Joe thinks that what he’s doing is the right thing… That he’s protecting himself and us. What scares me the most is that he may be putting not only himself at risk but also the men he’ll have in his charge. I don’t think he’s been thinking straight since he came back. Whatever decisions he makes or is going to make are going to be influenced by whatever is wrong with him.”

  Maggie shook her head again. “I can’t think straight,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “What can we do?”

  Katie ran a hand through her short hair. “I don’t know, Maggie. I really don’t.” She paused again. “I thought of going to the USMC. They could get him back from Afghanistan but then that would almost surely mean he would end up in a psychiatric hospital and that would destroy him. It would be like caging a wild animal, and I can’t do that to him. He would never forgive me.”

  At that moment, there was the sound of slipper-clad footsteps shuffling their way across the tiled hall floor and Jack appeared in the kitchen doorway, tightening the belt of his dressing gown. Katie felt a brief painful jolt at how remarkable the likeness was between Joe and his father.

  “Is this an early morning girl’s chat?” Jack asked. “Or can a man join in?”

  The two women remained silent, gazing down at their respective drinks.

  Jack gazed from his wife to Katie. “Okay,” he said slowly, “are you girls going to let me in on the secret?”

  “Why don’t you sit down, Jack?” Maggie asked quietly.

  “What…?” Jack began, concern now edging into his voice.

  “Sit down!” Maggie reiterated. “Please.”

  Without another word, Jack pulled out a kitchen chair, seating himself beside his wife. Clasping his hands on the surface of the table, he asked, voice devoid of the lightly humorous tone that he had been using, “Now, will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

  Maggie silently slid the letter across the smooth tabletop to her husband.

  Jack looked down at it then sideways at his wife. “What…?” he began.

  “Just read it, Jack,” Maggie urged.

  The kitchen was silent as Jack picked up the sheet of paper and began to read. Katie watched him as he progressed through the letter, the trembling of his hands the only physical sign of his shock at its contents.

  At last
, his hands fell to the tabletop, the letter from Joe still clutched in his fingers, and he sat with head bowed, eyes closed. He finally opened them and looked straight at her.

  “What in God’s name is going on here, Katie?” he asked.

  “Katie knows no more than we do,” Maggie interrupted. “Joe left her a letter as well offering her a basic explanation as he did us.”

  Jack ran his hands across his face, the gesture provoking in her a surge of grief, as it was so reminiscent of an action that Joe did when he was under stress.

  Jack stared at Katie. “You had no idea he was going to do this?” he asked.

  His features had sagged and his voice sounded as though he had suddenly aged.

  Shaking her head, Katie answered softly, “No,” and proceeded to repeat what she had told Maggie just before Jack had arrived in the kitchen.

  “Did something happen between you two at the ball last night?” he asked.

  “No,” Katie replied, remembering with clear-cut clarity how she and Joe had made love in the grounds of the hotel like passionate teenagers.

  Feeling as though her emotional instability was about to spiral into hysteria, she continued, “I thought everything was almost back to normal between us. I had no idea he was planning any of this, but I should have known.” She slapped the table with the palm of her hand.

  Maggie reached for Katie’s hand across the table.

  “Don’t beat yourself up over this, honey,” she began, her voice gentle. “Joe has always been good at keeping his worries and problems to himself—dealing with them alone. He has never asked for help.”

  Katie nodded, noticing that Maggie’s face held a strained expression and that she looked ten years older than her true age.

  “Yes, I know,” she agreed briefly.

  “So, what do we do?” Jack asked. “I take it we can’t get the USMC involved in any of this? As you said, it could get him into serious trouble but how can we leave him out there?”

  Katie remained silent. Her thoughts were scrambled, her emotions in a turmoil. She felt emotionally exhausted and at the end of her strength.