A Song For Lisa

by Clifton La Bree

  Terry was fascinated by the coast guardsmen as they climbed into the tower of the lighthouse high on the ledge. He could see them working around the large lamp at the top. Lisa explained that people stay at the lighthouse all night to make sure that the light always shines. If it went out, there was a danger that passing ships would hit the rocky promontory and sink. They heard the powerful fog horn being tested by the men. It startled Terry and he clung to his mother. She smiled at his instinctive move. He needed her and that need gave meaning to her life.

  They drove around the beaches for a couple of hours and spent some time at the fishing docks at York Harbor watching the boats discharge their daily catch of fish and lobsters. By two o’clock, Terry was beginning to tire, so she headed for home. She wanted to check in on Jon before returning to Durham. They found him sitting on the terrace in a wheelchair.

  “I was expecting to see Faith and your mother,” Lisa told him. Each time she saw him, he looked stronger.

  “I’m glad you dropped in. I was disappointed when you left this morning. Mother and Faith were pleased with your hospitality. That was swell of you Lisa. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” Lisa replied modestly. “Your mom is a wonderful lady. I enjoyed her company. Faith is a bright young lady. Her ear is uncannily well-tuned for music. She asked me to play for her and I saw her follow my fingers with an experienced eye. She’s a lovely girl and you’re a lucky dad to have her.”

  “She has made her dad proud,” Jon agreed. “Mom has always been an angel. I guess that goes for most mothers. They were anxious to get home to Monson before dark. They left mid-afternoon. Mom’s eyesight is not the best after dark.”

  “I wanted to ask if you read the note,” Lisa inquired. “I still can’t believe it, after five years…”

  “I thought your reply was heartfelt and sincere. I believe the gentleman will be pleased to receive it. I’ve already sent it out,” answered Jon, looking at Terry watching the boats on the river from the terrace rail. “He’s a very well-mannered child. Is that because his mom is a schoolmarm?”

  Lisa was surprised and looked into his eyes. He was teasing her! “I think it’s possible,” she smiled.

  “You should smile more often, Lisa,” Jonathon declared unexpectedly and quickly changed the subject. “Tell me, how many students are at the university now?”

  “Maybe 1200,” answered Lisa, blushing under his intense glances. “Over half of the student body are veterans from the war studying under the G.I. Bill. As a group they are the most dedicated students, consequently, the campus is probably more oriented toward academics than when you graduated in 1941. The vets are much more interested in learning than they are in partying or pulling adolescent pranks.”

  “I can believe that. What a wonderful opportunity for the vets. I’m most anxious to get back to work. This inactivity and waiting for wounds to heal are beginning to get me down. I’ve still got to go through therapy sessions for my right arm when the cast is removed.”

  “Patience is a virtue, Jon. Your wounds could have been worse,” Lisa mentioned matter-of-factly.

  A nurse interrupted their conversation. “Here’s your coffee and a piece of apple pie you requested, Colonel. Do you want me to feed you?”

  “No thanks, nurse,” Jonathon answered, embarrassed about his condition. The nurse set the tray on the fold-down shelf on the wheelchair and left. The coffee cup had a long straw so that he could sip it without assistance. When no one was around he could eat some of the pie by eating it like a dog eating out of a bowl.

  “I’d be glad to feed you, Jonathon,” Lisa offered, sensing his discomfort. “It smells like homemade.”

  “So far, the food here has been great. Soon I’ll be able to feed myself. Before you do that, would you mind pushing me to the rail beside Terry? There’s a new sub tied up at the dock and it’s a beauty.”

  “We’re coming up to join you, Terry,” Lisa pushed the chair to the rail. Terry turned to look at them and grinned.

  Lisa fed Jon small pieces of apple pie. He was self-conscious and avoided making eye contact with her. She shared the fact that she was involved in the formation of a symphony orchestra at the university while she fed him. When the pie was finished Lisa asked Terry to place the empty tray on a table near the entrance to the terrace. Always glad to do errands, Terry complied.

  Suddenly, a deep voice cried out, “Get that damned Jap kid out of here.”

  Terry dropped the tray and ran to his mother frightened at the loud outburst. He knew it was directed at him. Jonathon turned his head to see what was going on, and saw a marine sergeant sitting in a wheelchair pointing a menacing finger at Terry.

  “That language won’t accomplish anything, Sergeant. The war is over. If you can’t control your mouth, then leave the terrace,” Jonathon replied indignantly.

  “Oh, so doggie man is a Jap lover…” the marine countered viciously.

  Lisa whispered in Terry’s ear, “You stay here beside Colonel Wright, I’ll be right back.”

  “If I were a man, I’d make you eat those words,” Lisa confronted the marine holding a Dixie paper cup of water and threw it in his face. The marine gasped and turned red with rage. Several patients on the terrace erupted with claps and whistles. Lisa returned to Jonathon and grasped Terry’s hand, trembling, and on the verge of tears. A nurse that had witnessed what took place ran to the angry marine and told him that if he could not control himself around other people, they had ways of insuring that it wouldn’t happen again. She wheeled the marine off the terrace.

  Jonathon felt helpless that he could do nothing about the unfortunate scene. Lisa’s silent tears touched him. “Please, Lisa. Don’t take it to heart and don’t take it personally.”

  “How can it be taken any other way, Jon?” Lisa snapped back.

  “I apologize for the outrage,” Jonathon replied. “That patient has been quite unruly since he was transferred to this hospital.”

  “Terry and I have got to go. I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

  “Will you come again?” Jonathon asked, upset that she was leaving under these circumstances.

  “Do you want me to?” she inquired of him. The question conveyed all the anxieties and doubts that had been a part of her lately.

  Jon saw the uncertainty in her eyes. “You and I have not shared a lot of time together, yet, I feel as if I’ve always known you, Lisa. I don’t know how to say it, but I’d be saddened if you did not want to visit again.”

  Lisa wiped her tears away. “I believe with all my heart that you saved my life, Jonathon. You’ve been in my thoughts every day since the prison raid. If you wish, I’ll be back, possibly next weekend. The week days are busy, but I’ll try my best.”

  “Thanks old friend.”

  Lisa softly kissed him on the lips and left the terrace with Terry in tow.

  Chapter Eighteen

  For the remainder of the fall, Lisa visited Jonathon every weekend. She tried to be cheerful and upbeat, bringing him news and gossip circulating at faculty meetings and on campus. Jonathon was determined to minimize the loss of his left hand. Doctors had removed his body and arm casts early in October and told him that his body wounds were healing satisfactorily. The stub of his left arm extended to within an inch of his elbow, and had healed enough so that the Navy designed and constructed an artificial arm and hand to fit his configuration.

  Jonathon’s mother and Faith visited every two or three weeks and occasionally stayed with Lisa and Terry. By Thanksgiving he was strong enough to take day trips away from the hospital. He did not wear his artificial limb on the trips because what remained of his arm was not strong enough to accept it. He was still undergoing intense physical therapy to build up his shoulder and upper arm muscles so that he would be able to activate the sensitive controls being built into his mechanical arm. He stubbornly refused to wear it in public until he had mastered it completely. On those occasions when he left the hospital, he wore his uniform wit
h an empty sleeve. He preferred that, to the embarrassment of using his new arm in public when he was not fully in control of it.

  One day late in November, Lisa left Terry with a neighbor, and picked Jonathon up at the hospital. His uniform was covered with combat ribbons. The Medal of Honor was his highest award but his all-time favorite was the Combat Infantryman Badge, a rectangular blue badge with an embossed Kentucky rifle in silver. She drove the faithful Studebaker back to the university in and around the campus. Jon had graduated in 1941, eleven years ago. Several changes had taken place since then. More buildings had been built and the lawns and sprawling campus grounds had been extended in every direction.

  Lisa pulled the car to a stop beside the athletic field where ROTC units were going through drill maneuvers. Some were more proficient than others, and Jon smiled at their youthfulness and inexperience. With time, they would improve. Jon was anxious to take on the duties of commanding them. The army was holding him back, because they did not want him to be in the classroom until he was completely ready to assume the full responsibility of the post and use his new mechanical arm with ease. He was able to convince them that those requirements could keep him out of the classroom for months, and a combat veteran, he successfully argued, was fully capable of teaching and carrying out administrative duties with or without both arms. The fact that he had been grievously wounded in combat made his position as a leader and a teacher that much more valid and meaningful.

  “I loved the years I spent on campus,” Jon remarked. “It’s encouraging to note the large number of veterans studying for degrees. I can hardly wait to become a part of the academic world.”

  He turned to Lisa behind the wheel of the Studebaker, finding her in a reflective mood with an allusive air of detachment. He had often thought that she could easily fit into the role of a lovable eccentric, which every institution of higher learning proudly claimed as one of their very own. At times, he saw sadness and disbelief in her eyes. She seemed to be somewhere in another world. Probably the grotesque memories from her imprisonment would never completely leave her. Other than those rare moments he was able to identify, she seemed to be happy and content with life. The past few months he had had a chance to get to know her better, but she continued to be an enigma. He had a feeling that no matter how well he knew and understood the quiet, unassuming auburn-haired lady, there would always be a part of her that was yet to be discovered. His initial admiration and respect had grown as he came to know her better.

  “How about you, Lisa? Do you like teaching at the university as well as you did back home in elementary school?”

  She felt his penetrating study of her. “I like it much better. It gives me more time to sharpen my own skills and I never cease to be amazed at the large pool of talent in the student body. I’m also enthused about the symphony orchestra,” she acknowledged energetically.

  “I read a piece in the paper about the orchestra. You must be proud of it. Are most of its members students?” Jon asked.

  “Half are students and the other half faculty and local musicians. The orchestra reflects their young vibrant talents,” Lisa told him. It was obvious that music was an important part of her life. Jon thought that it very well could have been the single most stabilizing element. “It should offer all the people of the community a common experience of good music, shared at the same time at the same performance. It should reflect the community where it plays and offer a variety or mix of types of music to suit everyone’s taste. At Christmas time, for example, people’s heartstrings resonate with the times and memories of childhood. To be part of an ensemble that is capable of evoking those kinds of feelings is wonderful and a privilege,” she related happily. “I’m sorry if I carried on too much.”

  Jon could not keep from smiling at her sincere enthusiasm. “The University is lucky to have you, Lisa. I always knew there was something special about you.”

  She blushed at his compliment and looked out the window. “I’ve had similar thoughts about you, too. It would be impossible for me to verbalize the influence you had on me when I was on the precipice. I was ready and completely prepared to take that final plunge to oblivion until you uttered those kind words to me.” She turned to face him, her eyes glistening.

  He saw that detached look again and passed her a clean handkerchief. She accepted it and dabbed at her eyes. She was beautiful, mysterious, and unpredictable. Jonathon remained silent until she controlled her emotions, touched by the depth of her sensitivity. He felt privileged because she probably selected her friends very carefully, the way she had done in prison.

  “I haven’t thanked you enough for the kindness and generosity you’ve shown to my mother and daughter. Faith is a great fan of yours. It’s been nice to see that kind of enthusiasm in her. She was very close to her mother. I’m afraid that I haven’t been a very good dad to her.”

  “Did you know that she asked me to give her piano lessons when you start at the university?”

  “Yes,” Jon replied. “I scolded her for being too pushy.”

  “Oh, I’d be glad to give her lessons. She has a natural talent that should be cultivated. She’s the kind of student any teacher would love to have.” Lisa returned the handkerchief. “I was curious about your record at the university, so I looked it up. I didn’t know you had a degree in criminology.”

  “It’s a far cry from being an Army Ranger isn’t it?” answered Jon, amused at her curiosity and candor in admitting it. “I had plans of leaving the army after the war and looking for a job with some police department.”

  “What made you change your mind?” she asked, instantly regretting the question. “I’m sorry, forget that I asked you that. How insensitive of me! I didn’t mean to open old wounds.”

  “You don’t need to apologize for being curious and truthful, Lisa. To be honest, staying in the army was a cowardly act for me. It was a convenient escape, an excuse to evade my responsibility to Faith as a parent. I’ve agonized over that decision a lot while I’ve been idle recovering from my injuries. I guess the good Lord knows best. I would probably have continued to deny Faith if I had not been wounded in Korea. I’m thankful for a chance to think about the things that are important in life, and I’ve been ashamed of my track record so far. That’s when I begged the army to not discharge me until I’ve had a chance to do a tour of duty as a teacher. It’ll be an excellent transitional position so that I can get my life in order. I don’t know what I would have done without Mother.”

  “It sounds to me as if you’ve thought this thing out quite thoroughly. It must have been horrible for Faith to lose her mother at such a vulnerable age. I can’t imagine Terry having to face a future without me.”

  “What about you, Lisa?” Jon curiously inquired. “I recall hearing Madame June say that you were engaged to get married!”

  Lisa knew that at some point she would share that traumatic experience with Jon. She searched for the right words. “Jeff and I were engaged before the war. We were very much in love with each other and grew up as childhood sweethearts. The last time I saw him, just before the war ended, I was pregnant. My pregnancy and what it represented, was too much for him to handle. To make a long story short, I was given two choices, Jeff or the baby I was carrying. There were no possible exceptions. It was a simple and brutal either/or choice.” Lisa watched Jon’s reaction. “I chose to have the baby, and have never regretted the decision. I can honestly tell you that losing Jeff that way and the memories we shared, has been a long and painful process.”

  “I’m sorry, Lisa, I had no right to ask you that. Forgive me,” he pleaded, meeting her deep expressive brown eyes. “Let’s not talk about the past anymore. Let’s just enjoy the day. It’s nice to have a chance to play hooky from the hospital.”

  “Would you like to go somewhere for a bite to eat?”

  “Do you know of a good steak house? The hospital food isn’t bad but I’d like a juicy steak, medium rare!” They smiled at each other.


  “We can go to Yoken’s in Portsmouth. I’ve never been there but my friends at school tell me it’s one of the best,” suggested Lisa, starting the Studebaker.

  “You’re the chauffeur Lisa, but this dinner is on me, I insist.”

  “If you insist,” she replied shifting into high gear.

  “Your Studebaker goes along pretty good. I have a Nash. My mother uses it to travel back and forth to the hospital. I hope I’ll be able to drive soon. I’m getting cabin fever being cooped up for so long,” Jon complained. “I know it’s necessary, but that’s not the same thing as enjoying it.”

  “I went to the Studebaker garage last month for grease and an oil change. While I was there, they let me try out a brand new V/8 model with an automatic transmission. There was no clutch pedal! It was a really nice car. I hated to give it back to them,” she laughed. “Maybe one of those would be suitable for you.”

  Jon was looking out the window and responded in a defensive tone. “You mean for a one-armed man?”

  “No, no I didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it,” exclaimed Lisa. “I’m sorry. I never meant to offend you. Please…”

  “I know what you meant, Lisa,” he replied quickly. “I’ve seen the ads for the new Studebakers and thought the same thing. I didn’t mean to take offense. It’s just that I still haven’t come to grips about having only one arm. I’m adapting to it, but to be truthful, I feel a little like a cripple that will never be whole again.”

  Lisa abruptly pulled the Studebaker off the road and came to a sudden stop. She turned to Jon with her bright eyes glistening. “I’m sorry I brought up the subject, Jon. You completely misread what I intended to say. I understand your concern─even your distaste about losing an arm. It’s only natural. Please, whatever you do, don’t be pulled into that self-pity mode. You’re above that. In many ways you came out of two wars with injuries that were bad enough, but they could have been worse. Some didn’t survive. You know that better than anyone. How dare you call yourself a cripple? Do Faith or your mother think of you as a cripple? Cripples don’t earn the Medal of Honor ribbon you wear.