A Hero's Homecoming

by Havel, Carlene;

  “So did I,” Charlotte answered. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

  “Maybe if I get promoted to Staff Sergeant.” Belinda grinned.

  “She’s a nice kid,” Lottie said as they drove away.

  Charlotte agreed. She wondered what a sophisticated man of the world like Rich had in common with this twenty-year old farm girl. Maybe it wasn’t love. Love and lust—those two four-letter words beginning with a “l”—were easily confused.

  “He’d better not break her heart.” Charlotte was startled to realize she had said her last thought aloud.

  “He won’t,” Anita said confidently.

  “Charlotte, my garbage disposal has been acting strange,” Lottie said suddenly. “Would you take a look at it when we get to my house? I only bought that thing two years ago and now it’s malfunctioning. They don’t make anything to last anymore.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Anita balanced the telephone on her shoulder as she scheduled an appointment. Meanwhile, her hands sorted through a neat stack of mail and her eyes followed Rich. He fidgeted, flipped through a magazine, paced back and forth in the patient waiting area. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked as she put down the phone.

  “Yes, I would, thank you,” Rich said.

  “Kitchen’s right through there, on the left.” She motioned with one hand as she deftly placed file folders into a drawer with the other.

  Rich chose the largest mug from the cabinet and filled it with coffee, avoiding the dispenser marked “Decaf.” He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake by becoming Charlotte’s patient. None of his old confidantes understood his new life. He didn’t believe he needed professional counseling, but he desperately wanted someone honest and compassionate to talk to. Someone he could trust. Not someone, Rich thought. Charlotte. He wanted to be alone with her. He wanted to share his most intimate thoughts with her. More than anything, he wanted her to love him as he loved her.

  “The Redskins are going to kill the Cowboys Sunday,” Rich announced to Anita as he emerged from the kitchen.

  “Really.” She motioned toward the door. “Dr. Phillips will see you now.”

  “Good morning.” Charlotte smiled. The pink suit she wore heightened the ivory and rose tones of her face.

  What would she do if he took her in his arms and kissed her? Would she push him away, or would she respond, allowing him to tap into that fountain of sweetness he found so alluring?

  “Good morning,” he said. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.” But that’s no obstacle. You could take them off. Or I could do that for you.

  “Only in the office.” Her tone was brisk, businesslike. “Ordinarily we would introduce ourselves. I would be Dr. Phillips to you, at least in the beginning. You would choose how you want me to address you. For us, that seems somewhat artificial, since we already know each other as Charlotte and Rich. If you’re comfortable being on a first-name basis, we’ll establish our other ground rules.”

  “No, let’s do it by the book. I’ll call you Dr. Phillips. Colonel Martino works for me.” Or we could dispense with the formalities and I’ll call you ‘darling.’ You can call me Rich. Or would you use some pet name that shows how much you care about me? You do care for me, don’t you, Charlotte, darling?

  “Of course. Colonel Martino it is.” She took a breath. “Let’s talk about the rules of engagement, to use the military term.”

  “Whatever you say.” Just tell me what you want, sweetheart, and I’ll take care of it. Do you like to be kissed on the back of your neck?

  “Exactly. In this room I make the requests and I ask the questions. Your job is to be honest with me and more importantly with yourself. Deception is your enemy and mine. If you feel a topic should be declared off-limits, we can discuss that possibility. Are we in agreement?” She looked at him expectantly.

  “Certainly, Dr. Phillips.” How’s this for the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? I’m afraid the first time I so much as try to hold your hand, you’ll cut and run, and I’ll never have another chance to get near you.

  Charlotte broke into his reverie. “We will start by going over the results of the standard battery of personality assessments each new patient takes.” She opened a manila folder. “It says here you’re an extrovert and enjoy interacting with others. Yet you have a deeply private core you are reluctant to reveal to anyone who has not earned your trust.” Charlotte looked over her glasses. “Stop me if you disagree with anything. You thrive on solving challenging problems, the more difficult the better. Intensely loyal. Your approach to life is intellectual and you trust facts and logic over intuition. You have great confidence in your own abilities. What some would call failure you tend to view as a learning experience.” She closed the folder. “Does that sound like you, Colonel Martino?”

  “It’s a pretty good thumbnail sketch,” Rich admitted. Could a sweet, kind, God-fearing woman like you live happily ever after with this kind of man?

  “Yes, people with your profile typically consider themselves more than capable of handling their problems with no outside help.” Charlotte removed her glasses and looked Rich in the eye. “What do you want us to talk about?”

  “Relationships,” Rich said slowly. “First, now that I’m in touch with my daughters, I don’t want to lose the chance to be part of their lives.” He paused. When Charlotte said nothing, he went on. “Second, I have to let go of my dad, who’s the only human being left on this earth who loves me. And third, with four broken marriages behind me, I want to understand what went wrong time after time.” I want to make sure I don’t mess up when and if I get my chance with you.

  Charlotte put the glasses back on. “Excellent job of problem definition. Shall we take the issues in that order?”

  “You’re the boss,” he responded.

  “I was asking for your preference,” Charlotte said mildly.

  Rich smiled at her. “Oh. Sorry. Yes, the one-two-three order is perfect as far as I’m concerned, Dr. Phillips.”

  Charlotte started to write on a lined tablet. “What makes you think you won’t be able to reconnect with your daughters?”

  Rich sighed. “When I ask for something and I almost know the response will be negative, I say something like ‘Don’t answer right now. Think it over and get back to me.’ It’s an old habit, one I probably picked up from my dad. It’s a device, really, a way to keep from getting hit in the face with rejection. That’s how I asked Karen and Kathy if we could start getting to know each other again. There’s been no further communication.”

  Charlotte was writing. “Does that mean the next move is up to them?”

  “Of course it does.” Rich strained to see the words on Charlotte’s writing pad. “Isn’t that obvious?”

  “Do you think your daughters are familiar with your way of speaking?”

  “You already know. Excuse me. No, they aren’t acquainted with me at all,” Rich replied impatiently.

  “Did you make your ‘let me know’ statement at the beginning or the end of your meeting with your daughters?” she asked

  “Somewhere in the middle I think. I’m not sure. Everything was all jumbled together. It was a very emotional experience.” Rich thought for a moment. “Do you think the girls could have missed their signal?”

  “Do you?” Charlotte continued writing.

  “Maybe. Probably. So they may be waiting for me to call and initiate something.” His voice grew stronger. “While I’m sitting here paralyzed by my fear of rejection and playing right into a self-fulfilling prophesy. What an idiot I am.”

  “You could be right,” Charlotte said without looking up. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Well, the minute I leave here, I’ll get on the phone with Joanne and invite the girls to spend a weekend at my house.” He paused. “Maybe Brent will answer the phone and I can ask him. Brent’s an okay guy. Joanne’s still mad at me. I can’t blame her.”

  Charlotte put down her pen.
“Then what?”

  Rich took his chin in his hand. “I’ll treat establishing this relationship like a military operation—set my objective, establish my plan, and execute with precision. If Plan A fizzles out, I’ll go to Plan B. I won’t give up until the mission is accomplished. Char, uh, Dr. Phillips, you’re a genius.” He looked at his watch. “I’m out of here.”

  “We still have plenty of time to move on to problem number two,” Charlotte said.

  “Next time. And thanks.” Rich was already halfway out the door. “You don’t know how much you’ve helped me.”

  Anita looked up from a set of insurance forms as Charlotte sat near her with a fresh cup of tea.

  “I’ll know the story when I put your notes into the computer.” Anita looked at the door Rich had just exited. “But how would you summarize your first session with Mr. Hunk?”

  “It was your typical run-of-the-mill initial get-acquainted meeting. He said he was an idiot. I told him he could be right and he called me a genius.”

  “I thought he was charming on the phone.” Anita sighed. “In person he’s plain s-e-x-y. If you ever have other plans, I’d be delighted to give him the benefit of some motherly advice for an hour.”

  “Some women might find him attractive.” Charlotte sipped her tea. “He’s officially ‘Colonel Martino’ as my patient.”

  Anita eyed Charlotte skeptically. “So you’re saying you sat alone in your office with Colonel Martino and never happened to notice that he’s drop dead gorgeous and exudes testosterone? Did you wear a blindfold and earplugs?”

  “Looks aren’t everything,” Charlotte said. “Who’s my next patient?”

  “Mr. Jamison, just like every week at this time for the last year.” Anita smiled. “Since your last appointment ended early, you still have some time before Mr. Jamison arrives. Did you have to throw Colonel Martino out for getting fresh, I hope?”

  “Really, Anita,” Charlotte said. Then she smiled. “No, Rich is a doer. Once he sees how to solve a problem, he has to get busy. He has no time for further discussion.”

  “Oh. Not your type at all.” Anita’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “You like those indecisive fellows who take a year to decide what the problem is, another year to figure out how to attack it, and the rest of their lives to work up the courage to do something about it.”

  “I work with each of my patients individually,” Charlotte said primly. “Whether I like or dislike them personally makes no difference.”

  Anita turned to her computer screen. “And I am the Queen of England.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Dick Martino’s funeral took place on a Saturday morning in late November. The unpredictable San Antonio weather had turned bitterly cold after a mild Thanksgiving. Despite the dazzling sunshine, mourners were bundled in winter coats. Charlotte was surprised when Chris came home, since he had warned her he would be confined to the computer lab most Saturdays during the fall semester.

  Charlotte spotted Rich standing in the foyer of the funeral chapel. She hugged him and offered her heartfelt sympathy. “I know how difficult it is to lose someone you love,” she whispered.

  “Thank you.” He held her for a moment and released her slowly. “Please come by the house later. I want you to meet my daughters.”

  Business associates, church friends, people Dick or Rich knew from the Air Force, and neighbors came to pay their last respects. Although Rich had requested charitable donations in lieu of floral tributes, banks of flowers filled the front of the chapel and overflowed into an anteroom. During the service, Rich read an excerpt from the letter Dick left for him. It was an invitation to join Dick in Heaven. Rich’s voice quivered once, but he quickly regained control and completed the reading. Chris sat solemnly between Lottie and Charlotte, one arm draped around his weeping mother.

  Parking was at a premium at the Martino home. Obviously Rich hadn’t wanted to be alone after the funeral. No doubt when he started inviting people over, he didn’t know where to draw the line. Vintage Rich, Charlotte thought, weaving through the crowd to the family room. As she suspected, Lottie had settled into her favorite easy chair. She was engaged in conversation with Belinda Wilkes and a woman Charlotte didn’t recognize.

  “This is my daughter, Charlotte,” Lottie chirped. “I’m sorry.” She turned to the nondescript woman. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Joanne Campbell,” the woman answered.

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” Charlotte said politely. She was struck by the irony of Rich’s first wife chatting easily with the beautifully oblivious Belinda, who would no doubt soon be number five. Belinda excused herself and drifted away. Like ships in the night, Charlotte thought.

  “Can you believe this cold weather?” Lottie ventured.

  “No,” Joanne said genially. “We had fresh tomatoes from our garden at Thanksgiving dinner. Yesterday morning the plants were frozen stiff.”

  “We seem to have some of our worst weather around Thanksgiving,” Lottie observed.

  “The worst weather,” Charlotte said, “is that steam bath we get in August.”

  Joanne nodded. “You’re so right. We plan our vacations in August to get away from the heat. I love the mountains, but last year our girls talked us into going to Cancun. It was absolutely sweltering. Never again. Speaking of my daughters,” Joanne continued, “if there’s a young man in this crowd, they probably have him cornered. Maybe I’d better go and see if I need to rescue someone. It was so nice to meet you. Please excuse me.”

  Charlotte chatted with Lottie’s group for several minutes. When Jerry came wheezing into the room, she gave him her chair and wandered through the crowd, ending up in the kitchen. Rich was there, talking with the woman who had catered the Philippine feast. The woman looked up at Charlotte, laughed quickly and spoke to Rich in that unfamiliar language they spoke. He smiled and shook his head to indicate “no.” The woman laughed again. “Charlotte, this is Pacita. Pacita, Charlotte.” The women nodded to each other as Rich quickly dragged Charlotte toward the door. “Let’s go to the library,” he said. “I’ll introduce you to the girls.”

  The twins were in a small group that included Chris. Rich invaded their space with complete aplomb. “Charlotte, my daughters, Kathy and Karen.” Rich nodded to each girl as he said her name. “This is my good friend, Dr. Phillips.”

  “Hello,” they said in unison, then giggled.

  “You’re getting a lot better at telling us apart,” one twin said to Rich.

  “I’m Chris’s mother,” Charlotte said, putting an affectionate arm around her son.

  “Mom, do you realize you are in the presence of the Dunking Duo of Scrappit High? Every double A high school in south Texas trembles at the mention of their names.” Chris rolled his eyes. “My mother thinks football is the only sport on the map.”

  Kathy giggled. “Unk,” Karen said to Kathy under her breath.

  Both twin’s eyes flew to the library door where Joanne Campbell stood, her face contorted with fury. “Girls, we have to be home to pick up your brother,” she said shortly. “Let’s go.” Joanne fixed a long, hostile look directly on Charlotte.

  Rich stepped in front of Charlotte, blocking the line of sight between her and Joanne. “I’ll see you to your car,” he said smoothly.

  “No need,” Joanne replied as she swept out the door. Rich followed anyway.

  “Unk?” Chris said

  Charlotte shrugged. “Sometimes twins share a secret language. My guess is ‘unk’ is a private alert or a warning.”

  “Looks like it means ‘Mom’s on the warpath’. I bet the dog ate their homework, like used to happen to me,” Chris sobered. “What did you do to get the look?”

  Charlotte had almost convinced herself she was imagining Joanne Campbell’s stare until Chris asked his question. “I have no idea,” she said, trying to recall if she had said something offensive.

  “Karen and Kathy Martino absolutely rule girls’ high school basketball.
I didn’t know they were Rich’s daughters. I can’t believe you never heard of them. The guys at school are going to be so impressed I’ve met the Scrappit Dunking Duo. I should have asked for their autographs for proof.” Chris shook his head. “Mom, you’ve got to get out more.”

  Charlotte returned to the family room to check on her mother, still wondering about the sudden change in Joanne Campbell. Lottie was happily munching chicken wings while railing against the evils of dove hunting. Charlotte considered exploring the logic of killing chickens for food, but not doves. No, it wasn’t worth the convoluted lecture that would ensue. Once her mother got an idea entrenched in her head, there was no room for debate.

  She gravitated toward the living room, hoping for some quiet time. Charlotte instantly regretted her decision. Rich sat facing the living room doorway, engaged in earnest conversation with Belinda.

  Charlotte tried to retreat, but Rich motioned to her. “Please don’t leave.”

  As she came further into the room, Charlotte could see Belinda had been crying. With a furtive look at Charlotte, Belinda wiped her eyes and handed the stained handkerchief to Rich.

  “Everything’s going to work out fine,” Rich assured her. “You’ll see.”

  Belinda left the room still sniffling.

  “Why do you women wear that eye stuff?” Rich asked as he held his black-streaked handkerchief at arm’s length. “It makes a terrible mess when you cry. Which—” he cocked an eyebrow—“you always seem to get around to doing.”

  Charlotte didn’t want Rich to know how uncomfortable she found it to be alone with him. “Our tears often follow on the heels of an encounter with a male of the species,” she observed. She wondered what Rich had done to Belinda.

  “Bingo!” Rich said as he tossed his soiled handkerchief onto the coffee table. “Belinda has boyfriend trouble.”

  How cavalier he was. Boyfriend trouble indeed. Did he intend to pretend the girl’s tears were not his fault? Could they already have had a fling he was now ending?