The Adored

by Tom Connolly

  Chapter 49

  Traynor Johnson was the athlete of the boys from Brunswick. He played baseball with abandon and football without fear. He was salutorian of Brunswick, behind his best friend and valedictorian Winston Trout.

  Traynor was not of the wealth that existed at Brunswick. His father was a rear admiral, who when he retired from the Navy, he settled in Greenwich, CT. When the admiral applied to Brunswick for Traynor, tuition was waived and every year for the fourteen years Traynor spent there with the friends of his life. A grateful and loyal Brunswick School valued service to America, and for the Board of Overseers at Brunswick, there could be no greater loyalty than to spend one’s working life in military service. Those same board members also were aware their sons could benefit from association with a child reared by an admiral. And they were correct in that regard. The friends of Traynor Johnson were stronger because of his fire for life, and they were smarter because of the depth of knowledge he pursued. In their activities he was direct. He would not veer off course. If a friend was moved to misdirection, it was always Traynor who could be depended upon to guide them back on course. He was straight and respectful. He never lied.

  But Traynor Johnson also benefited from his friendship with the six members of the Brunswick School Investment Fund, never more so than from Winston Trout. If Parker Barnes was off with his father learning the construction business in a summer, it was Trout who was readily available to be with Johnson. When Sebastian Ball spent part of his winter vacation skiing in Utah, Johnson and Trout made it their business to be together. They were there for each other, not that Sebastian, Kish, Parker, Edward, or Gideon would not give up anything for each other, but of the seven, the two closest friends were Winston and Traynor.

  And while they were not planning to sit with one another on the trip home from Puerto Rico, Winston convinced Sebastian to swap first class seats and sit with Parker so he could sit with Traynor. “I’ve got business to talk over with Tray, really important business.”

  When Winston plopped into the heavy leather seat, which sat two abreast in the front of the Boeing 767, Johnson saw a worried look on his friends face.

  “Getting nervous now, huh, Winny?” Johnson asked.

  “Not about the wedding, if that’s what you mean, Tray,” Winston Trout replied.

  “Then what, you don’t seem yourself?” Johnson persisted.

  “Then what? I’ve been watching you for the past four days, Tray. You’re in some kind of fog. What’s wrong?” Winston, ever the concerned friend, asked.

  “Ha, Winny, I think I’m in love,” a jubilant Johnson blurted out, surprising himself with the words.

  “That would be with Silvana, Santa’s friend, I’d presume.”

  “You would presume correctly.”

  “Sebastian told me that it may be more serious than love,” Trout continued probing. “I can’t imagine what could be more serious than love. What do you think he meant by that?”

  “Sebastian should not worry too much about my affairs; after all, I think he may have gone further than he should have last night,” Johnson confided.

  “Why do you say that, Tray?” Trout asked.

  “After Santa and Sebastian left, Eddie came looking for Santa when he finished with the casino. We told him that we thought she had gone up to her room. Eddie came back a half hour later and said she wasn’t in her room,” Johnson finished.

  “Oh, oh,” Trout said, a look of surprise coming over his face.

  “And,” Johnson began.

  “There’s an ‘and,’” Trout smiled.

  “Isn’t there always,” Johnson smiled also, “but this is not funny. AND, this morning when I went to say goodbye to Silvana, Santa was just coming in at 4:30.”

  “What’s that mean,” a now confused Trout asked his friend.

  “Well, you probably went up to your room around 1 a.m., and Santa left before you. When Eddie finished up, it was around two thirty; when he came back down after looking for Santa, it was around four. So where was Santa from say twelve thirty till after four?”

  “OK, I get it. I have a better question. Where was Sebastian till after three,” Trout posited.

  “You should have asked him before you gave up your seat to come inquiring about my love life,” Tray said to his friend.

  Winston rose as if to go ask Sebastian.

  Johnson grabbed his arm laughing, “Sit your ass down, Winny.”

  And they both got silly for a moment thinking of the complications about to set in among their friends.

  “Alright, enough of that,” Trout finished with a smile, “Back to you. So tell me about Silvana. We haven’t seen enough of you these few days to know what’s going on there. But Sebastian says it’s more than just puppy love.”

  Tray almost laughed now, “How in the heck does Sebastian Ball know so much about Silvana and me?” and Johnson paused for a moment, “Unless,” and he stopped.

  “Unless,” Trout continued Johnson’s train of thought, “he heard it from Santa who got it from Silvana.”

  “When did he let on how much he knew about Silvana and me?” Tray asked.

  “This morning before you came down for the ride over to the airport,” Trout reported.

  “Then that confirms a lot more than you were looking for. Yes, I’m in love, but yes, Sebastian was spending time with Santa,” Johnson analyzed.

  “Tray, my boy, I am not interested one bit in what Sebastian and Santa were up to last night. If Eddie loses her, it will be his own fault. He doesn’t pay enough attention to the girl and last night she was crying out for it. So let’s get back to you. How bad is it?”

  Trout persisted.

  “As bad as it can get. I love her, and I’m going to marry her,” Tray confessed.

  “Ah, Tray, four days. Just a bit in a hurry are we.”

  “As much in a hurry as I’ve ever been. I knew it the second I saw her, Winny. I don’t know how that’s possible but that’s what happened.”

  “Are you sure it’s not being on leave, being here in this country with all these beautiful women. You know what Gideon says.”

  “Yes, I know. “In Puerto Rico, even the men are beautiful,” and the two friends laughed loudly, enough so that it annoyed a passenger in the row ahead who was trying to nap.

  From behind them they heard the loud voice of Sebastian Ball call out, “Can you people up front hold it down,” a rather large laugh followed.

  “Well, the one thing I notice,” Trout said, “is that you’re looking a little weak in the knees. So what’s next?”

  “I’m coming back in three days.” Johnson said assuredly.

  “What? There’s a thing called my wedding on Saturday,” Trout said incredulously.

  “I know. I’ll be there, you know that. I’ve got a lot to take care of in a short period of time.”

  “Tray, like what? What can’t wait?”

  “Well, I’ve got to talk with my father. I want Silvana and her daughter to move into the guesthouse while I’m gone,” as Johnson said this Trout just shook his head. “Then I’ve got to plan the next year to get assigned back here as quick as possible.”

  “You start thinking like that and you’ll get your head blown off when you go back to Kabul. You keep focused. If she’s still here when you come home, then go see her. But after four days Tray, to upset your whole life, it’s not good.”

  “Look, Winny, don’t say anything to the other guys.”

  “Don’t say anything? That’s all they’re talking about. ‘Who’s cast a spell on Tray? Who’s this mysterious spirit who knocked Tray senseless?’ Seriously, none of us have ever seen you like this.”

  “Me neither,” Johnson concluded.

  Chapter 50

  On his return from San Juan, Tray Johnson was met at Kennedy Airport by his father, the Admiral. Tray had taken a speaking engagement for the Greenwich Veterans of Foreign Wars, and his father drove him to the Burning Tree Country Club to give the talk.

/>   He was introduced warmly to the audience of roughly two hundred men as one of Greenwich’s own. Tray Johnson was Brunswick School alum, the son of a Rear Admiral, a US Naval Academy graduate, and currently a Lieutenant and Navy Seal serving in Afghanistan. The applause for each life stage Johnson passed through was long and well meant. His speech had been prepared more than two months before as he agreed to speak at the request of his father, who was a member of both the Veterans group and the Country Club.

  “Finally,” Lt. Traynor Johnson spoke to the rapt attention of those who had served before him, and while listening to him, realized they were being well represented now, “territorialism is one of life’s most primitive manifestations. Trees battle adjacent trees for light in a silent overhead war. Ant colonies destroy one another over the invasion of a tunnel system. The Native American Indian fought to the death for what was part of his existence: land, more than that, the earth. And the Arabs will never let Israel live in peace as they view that land as theirs.

  “The British, who invented the rule of law, tried to clarify things legally in the Middle East. At the end of World War I, they accepted an outsized leadership role in carving up and codifying the remnants of the Ottoman Empire. Where those states exist today is much the same as Winston Churchill, as Britain’s Colonial Secretary, and his colleagues defined them from 1917 to about 1922 in a series of declarations, agreements, correspondences, and papers. The problem is that they conflict and shift commitments regarding the division and governance of the Middle East. And as Britain exited the empire business totally, some of these same problems occurred as they partitioned India and Pakistan.

  “Since that time nothing has worked well. All of the wars in Europe and the Middle East after the Peace of 1919 resulted from the mistakes and arrogance of the victors. World War II, Iraq, Iran, the six-day war, Afghanistan, India versus Pakistan I, II and III, and the War on Terror all spring from that period in time.

  “What America is working for now is to bring the peace process along. General Curtis Lemay, former Air Force Chief of Staff, stamped the slogan; Peace is Our Profession, on the Strategic Air Command, the wing of the Air Force at the time that had all of America’s nuclear bombers under its mandate. Teddy Roosevelt said ‘America should walk softly and carry a big stick.’ Both of those concepts are embodied in our efforts in Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan. We must be strong but humble among the people we are trying to help. The past hatred must end; war must end.

  “We must realize that territorialism is instinctive and one of nature’s first inclinations. We must help the world find solutions peacefully and fairly. That is not what has happened to date.

  “Thank you for having me here today. It is great to be back in Greenwich, to be with you once again.”

  There was sustained applause, but none more than from Admiral Johnson.

  Later after the hand shaking and one-on-one chats, while walking out to the car, Admiral Johnson said: “Tray, that was an excellent talk, well-thought-out and well received. Now this other news you shared with me on the ride from the airport we need to spend more time on.” And the discussion began in the car on the way to their home, not ten minutes from the Club, and continued at home.

  “I want you knowing what you are doing. I want it so well-thought-out that you are asking me in advance for what help you’ll need from me,” the Admiral Johnson told his son.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Tray Johnson told his father.

  “What does your friend Silvana think of coming here so quickly? Has she told her family?”

  “No, sir. And she doesn’t think much of it herself.”

  “Tray,” the Admiral said, somewhat frustrated, “what are you thinking? And when would you expect her to come here?”

  “Soon.”

  “Tray. This is, and I don’t want to be judgmental, but it is rash.”

  “I agree. I know. It goes against all my development. I know it’s not like me. But I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before,” the younger Johnson said to his father.

  “It doesn’t sound like it to me,” his father said.

  The circular nature of this discussion lasted almost thirty minutes: question, answer, question, answer. And with each question posed, Tray Johnson was more convinced how right his feelings for Silvana DeLuna were. And with each question answered, Admiral Johnson grew more worried about his son’s decision making in this process.

  “Son,” the exasperated Admiral said, “you and I both know this is not like you. It is not well-thought-out. So you still have some more thinking to do. I am here, however you need me, for whatever counsel you want. In the end, Tray, it is your life. Whatever you decide, whether you think I’m on board or not, I will support you and do what you ask me to.”

  “Thank you, sir,” the grateful son said.

  “One more important thing, Tray. In the Navy men are addicted to two things—their ship and her crew. That’s somewhat true in life.”

  “How do you mean, sir?”

  “The men I’ve known in and out of the Navy all seem to have two addictions—to a thing and a person. Usually they’re aligned; when they’re not, problems can occur.”

  “You’re trying to tell me something, and I’m missing it,” Tray stated.

  “I see you so committed to your mission with the Seals it is an addiction. That’s good. Navy men thrive on their mission; it is addictive.”

  “And my other addiction?”

  “It was your men, is your men. But this new romance, all you are trying to do here in such a short time span, it will be in conflict with your devotion to your men.”

  “I’m sorry, sir; I don’t see it that way at all.”

  “No, you wouldn’t, Tray. That early step of romance, when infatuation occurs, is blinding.”

  “But you were in love once.”

  “Yes, I still am, but when I went off to sea, it was done. I knew your mother was here, waiting for me. It was not a distraction.”

  “Exactly, and Silvana will be here for me.”

  “It is not done. Your heart is not settled.”

  “Can we talk about something else?” Tray pleaded.

  The Admiral rattled off in quick succession: “Parker Barnes—drugs and Lenny Crane; Winston Trout—solar energy and Emily Albright.”

  “No Dad, not even close, something else.”

  “Those two examples are in harmony.”

  “Alright, I give. How are they in harmony?”

  “Take Parker, unfortunately his addiction is to drugs, almost unbreakable. His friendship with Crane supersedes his relationship with the other six of you because of his addiction and which I’m sure Crane assists him in.”

  “Well we’ve talked about that before, Lenny probably is a person who supports Parker’s drug habit.”

  “And therefore, Parker has his two addictions in harmony.”

  The Navy Seal shook his head. There was logic to his father’s thinking, but he felt it was forced.

  “And Winston,” the Admiral began.

  “Forget Winston, that’s an easy one. I get that.”

  “OK, let’s talk about Sebastian or Eddie Wheelwright.”

  “Why all my friends?”

  “These are examples we can both relate to. I’ve known them as long as you have, if not as well.”

  “What’s your theory with Sebastian?”

  “The thing is power. The person is you seven brothers. He uses power all the time. He does a good deal of exercising it through the seven of you.”

  “He’s being helpful.”

  “That’s a way to look at it. But he would be in conflict if you boys rejected his power.”

  Tray laughed, “Have you always had these ideas.”

  “Frames.”

  “Frames?”

  “They’re frames to help you see things about people. You can break them down further to view courage or fear. I gave you an approach a while back to think about, that would help you see those characteristics
in your men.”

  “Yes. But have you always thought of my friends in those terms too?”

  “This is how I’ve taught myself in life. It’s a helpful way to see people and what they’re up to, what they’re capable of.”

  “And Eddie?”

  “Ah. Conflicted.”

  “How so?”

  “He’s driven. Committed to playing the game and succeeding. He lives it and breathes it. Consistently. And while he was with Valerie McGuire, she fed that. She had the same desires he had.”

  Tray looked at his father. “Where are you getting this stuff? You’re scaring me.”

  “Now I hear from you and your friends he’s got this new hot number.”

  “Santa?”

  “That’s what I hear. And I imagine his focus had been quite divided.”

  “Why? Santa can’t be his addiction; can’t she get him in harmony?”

  “Not that. But Valerie is undone.”

  “What. You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do know that. You don’t spend half your life loving someone and just end it over a wild fling.”

  “So all these talks we had and all this time.”

  “And the time you bring the boys by and you would all catch me up on your adventures, I paid attention. It’s what I do. A sailor is always alert.”

  “I see some application.”

  “You need to think about it. Being unsettled, unresolved in your two addictions in life is not good. Get in harmony with yourself.”

  “I will think about it.”

  “The last thing I’ll say on the subject is that this seems more one-sided than it should be.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, Dad.”

  “I don’t mean me, dummy.”

  “You mean Silvana,” Tray replied.

  “Yes, it seems your impetuousness will override her judgment of what is best for her and her daughter. It almost sounds as if you are the solution to her problems.”

  “Dad, what do you mean?”

  “Tray, think about it. She’s a single mother. You say she runs a small laundry by herself. She lives in a small town. Obviously she is not well-to-do.”