Brian suggested chopping wood as a tension reliever.
The Corvette owner shook his head. “Describing my athletic ability would require orders of magnitude in the negative direction.”
Brian laughed.
“Therefore,” Scott continued, “swinging an ax? I’m sure I’d lose toes or worse.”
“I’ll teach you.”
“Wouldn’t work,” he said with a grin. “In gym class during High School, we had to dribble a basketball half the distance of a basketball court. Every other bounce, the ball hit one of my feet. I’d retrieve the darn thing and kept trying. I’m so uncoordinated, it took me six-months and two clutches to achieve smooth shifting in my Vette.”
They both chuckled.
“I have one of the bedrooms converted to a weight room,” Brian said. “Or before that we can hike around the property. I have a number of trails cleared. That should kill some tension.”
“Trails then weights. Sounds great,” Scott said.
“Any romantic involvement?” Brian asked as they walked past the garage and entered a trail that followed the small creek which flowed through the acreage. Seth skipped and walked ahead of them, occasionally stopping to look for small fish in the stream.
“Minnows!” the little one yelled while pointing.
The two men praised his find.
“No relationships that lasted.” The professor shrugged. “I’m surrounded by bright people at the University, been on numerous dates, but just haven’t clicked with anyone.”
A Great Blue Heron took off from the far bank of the stream.
Seth, eyes wide, pointed and said, “Bigger than me.” The buddies laughed and Brian ruffled his son’s hair.
“You’ll find someone,” Brian said, trying to reassure Scott.
“Or not,” Scott said with a wipe of his hand on the front of his jacket. “How about you?”
“Remember Arnie Zalman?”
“Sure. Great guy. Soon as you met him, you were his best friend.”
“He invited me to his cousin’s home in Dallas over Thanksgiving weekend. Rachel. Pretty lady. Perceptive, huge intellect, and great with Seth. Coming up here for a few days.”
“Rachel come this house?” Seth asked.
“Two weeks, buddy,” Brian replied.
* * *
Rachel arrived in Celina on a Friday at lunchtime, three weeks after Thanksgiving while her school was on break. Brian opened the front door, welcomed her then yelled to Seth. The little one ran into the room, saw their visitor then stopped next to Brian. Seth, wearing a shy smile, grabbed his father’s leg.
His Dad gave him a little push and, arms open he ran to Rachel.
She picked him up, gave him a warm embrace. Seth wrapped his arms around her neck for a few moments while she spun around. He said, “Hi Rachel.”
“Hi Seth. Thank you for remembering my name.”
Brian asked, “Long ride across town?” He stored her luggage in the front closet.
“Not much traffic.”
“Would you like a drink?”
“Tea, please.”
They proceeded to the kitchen. Seth pushed out of Rachel’s arms, ran to his shelves of toys, removed a toy jeep then returned to Rachel.
“New Jeep,” Seth said, holding up the five-inch toy.
“A new Jeep? How precious. Thank you for showing it to me.” Seth glowed.
Brian nodded to Seth. “I have his lunch ready.”
She put him in his chair, broke a hamburger into small pieces then served him cubed beets and corn plus a small glass of apple juice. “How’s your research coming?”
He shook his head. “Still not much time between my surgical duties and being his only parent.”
“Perhaps while I’m here…”
“That would be a blessing.”
The adults ate spinach salad, tossed with red-wine vinaigrette and sliced almonds, plus chopped hard-boiled egg.
Rachel wiped the little one’s chin. “Tonight is Tot- Shabbat at your synagogue. A special night for preschoolers. Going?”
“Hadn’t planned on it, but if you’d enjoy that…”
She nodded. “One thing makes me nervous about living in Texas. Tornados.”
“Not this time of year but we do get them. When we’re done with lunch, I’ll introduce our safe room.”
His office was a high-ceilinged room with built-in bookshelves lining three walls, his desk centered in the room and piled with papers, books, and notebooks.
Proceeding to the shelves directly behind his desk, Brian removed three books exposing a keypad. Punching in a number, resulted in a deep metallic clunk. He pushed on a section of shelves. They pivoted into a small room with bunk beds attached to one wall and half a picnic table attached to the other. Directly opposite the opening, shelves of survival supplies and, painted on the wall above the radio gear, the call sign KI5CPC.
He waved a hand around the room. “My…tornado- proof, safe room and survival shelter.”
A rack of firearms on the back of the door caught her attention. “I’ve never fired a gun.”
“If you need to, you grab the shotgun.” He put his hand on it. “Just aim in the general direction of a bad guy and the noise alone may frighten him to death.”
A chill went down her spine. “Don’t want to think about that,” she said then mumbled, “Don’t think I could kill again.”
Ignoring her last remark, he said, “If you’re going to visit us any amount of time, with all these weapons in the house, you should learn to shoot.”
Her eyes perused the variety of arms on display. “You’ll teach me?”
“Beginner stuff only. I’ll find a certified instructor. Too easy for me to leave out an important detail.”
“I see survival supplies.”
“Enough for one week over here,” he said as he opened cupboards containing food and water. “Cabinet in back with supplies for an additional four weeks.”
“Should I know the code to enter?”
“Within the next ten minutes, I’ll change it to the number of your street address, a pound sign, followed by the number of this street address, followed by another pound sign and 1204.”
“1204?”
“The date Maimonides, the famous philosopher, died.”
His last words caused Rachel to smile. “We’re going to have a delightful time. Would you take me grocery shopping?”
“Love to.”
* * *
At synagogue that evening, Brian noted Rachel was shy when introduced to adults but her Pied-Piper ability with small children was most apparent. When the Rabbi asked children to join him at the front of the synagogue during the prayer over wine, Seth, urged by his father, refused as usual until Rachel held out her hand and said, “Let’s go.” She turned to another reluctant little one and held out her other hand. The shy little girl, looked at her mother who nodded then took Rachel’s hand and the trio raced to the front with the other children.
Following dinner in the social hall, a number of preschoolers, many who knew her from the Jewish Community Center, gathered around Rachel then joined she and Seth in Sabbath oriented games and songs; all to the joy of the little ones and their parents.
On the ride home, he mentioned how she attracted the preschoolers.
Rachel laughed. “The head of primary education asked if I was available to teach pre-school.”
“You replied?”
“Already employed.”
Back at the ranch, Brian smiled as Rachel read a book to Seth then put him in bed. She sat with Brian on the couch in front of the fireplace. Yellow flames from the crackling fire bathed them in a golden light; long shadows on the wall behind them made random leaps, guided by the flickering flames. The logs’ cracks and pops echoed around the high- ceilinged room; providing a romantic soundtrack to the evening’s mood.
“Wine?” he asked.
She smiled and nodded. “White please.”
Brian half-filled t
wo wine goblets, handed one to her then joined her on the couch. Brian noticed she seemed to avoid looking at him. She kept running a hand through her hair. He sipped his wine then studied the flames through his wine goblet. “You took a chance coming out here. We’re little more than strangers.”
“We’ll be fine,” she said, still not looking at him.
Staring at the flames, he said, “Rachel, we barely know each other.”
“If half of what Arnie told me about you is true, we need each other and belong together.”
“Because?”
While staring at the crackling fire, she twisted right and left, rolled her shoulders a few times, took a sip of her wine. Rachel brought the wine goblet to her lips for another small sip then a longer one. She sighed. “You have demons from the war…and I have ghosts from my past which torment me.”
He marveled at the fire’s dancing flames as they reflected in her deep brown eyes. “Want to discuss the ghosts?”
Rachel shook her head. “Not tonight.”
“You seem anxious.”
“A bit,” blushing Rachel said without looking at him. She rubbed her hand on the top of her thigh. She cleared her throat, put a lock of hair behind her ear. “As I try not to drive on the Sabbath, would you mind if I stayed here tonight?”
“Your things?”
“Still in the front closet,” she said, rolling her shoulders again.
“I’ll put them in the guest room.”
“Not yet. First I’d like to try something.” She kept rubbing her hand on the top of her thigh.
“Rachel, you’ve seemed on edge since we left synagogue.” The slim lady stood, took his wine, placed both goblets on an end table then sat on his lap, facing him. Rachel wrapped her arms around the veteran, leaned against him resting her head on his shoulder. She engaged in a deep sigh as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Anxiety?” she said then tightened her embrace. “What anxiety?” She kissed his lips.
The phone rang. Brian reached to the end table and picked up the receiver. “This is Dr. Levin.” A pause to listen then, “Multiple injuries? State Trooper hurt? Be there in twenty minutes.” She slid off his lap. He turned to Rachel after replacing the phone, “I’m sorry to run out on such a lovely evening, pretty lady.” He walked to a dining room chair then slipped into his camo wind breaker.
“Please, not to worry.” She reached for her wine, took a sip then said in a soft voice, “Little could make me happier than the man who thinks I’m a pretty lady, running off to heal someone.”
“If he wakes, Seth might expect me…”
“We’ll be fine.”
He turned to leave then returned to her, put his hands on either side of her face. “Pretty lady…so special,” and kissed her lips.
“Go,” she whispered.
Brian ran out the door. The deep rumble of a loud, large displacement engine rumbled to life then tire squeal down the quarter-mile-long driveway, followed by the sound of a siren.
* * *
When Brian arrived home, Seth and Rachel were eating breakfast.
“How was it?” Rachel asked.
“Exhausting but everyone is at least stable.” He sat at the counter next to Seth.
“Good news to start the day. Would you like to eat something?”
“Grabbed a snack around five this morning so all I need is a shower and sleep but would love a decaf coffee first. I’ll be going back later today to check on my patients.”
“Whatever you need to do. Seth and I have many Sabbath projects to accomplish today.”
Seth stared at her. “Projects,” the three-year-old said slowly, as if savoring the word then smiled at Rachel. “Do Sabbath projects.”
“Havdalah, the end of Sabbath ceremony, at seven-thirty tonight if you can make it.”
“I’ll try…” Brow furrowed and lips tight, he worried she’d be disappointed if he wasn’t there.
Likely sensing his emotion, she crossed the kitchen. Bending forward, Rachel placed a hand under his chin, tilted his head back and briefly kissed his lips. “Patients need you. I understand.”
She served him a steaming mug of coffee. He added cream and sipped the contents a few times.
“When you left last night, I heard the roar of a big engine then a siren?”
In as deep a voice as his almost four-year-old throat could manage, Seth rumbled an engine sound then said, “Four-Four-Two.”
Brian laughed while giving his son’s shoulder a squeeze. “I raced down the drive where a police car met my Olds then led me to the Hospital.”
“You always get a police escort?”
“If there is a car near the ranch, I do. I put a blue light on my dash and they clear the way. I’m going to grab some sleep then return to the hospital.”
Seth met his father at the front door late that afternoon. He held up a four-inch by four-inch box made from Popsicle sticks and balsa wood. The little one sniffed it then handed the box to his father who also sniffed it. “Spice box,” Brian said. “For Havdalah, the end of Sabbath celebration tonight.”
Seth smiled and nodded.
As she approached from the kitchen, Rachel, flour up to her elbows, wiped her hands on her apron.
“The house smells wonderful.”
“Italian dinner in two hours.”
“Italian?”
Hands on hips, she said, “Why not? I grew up in New York. The menu for tonight is antipasto, eggplant, tomato, and egg tort, plus dill-poached salmon over linguini with Alfredo sauce, cannoli for dessert.”
“Wow. Do I smell bread?”
“Seth and I made baguettes. The last batch went in the oven a few minutes ago. Your son helped me mix the dough, then mixed the butter, parsley, garlic and chive mixture. He put your initials on the baguette he made for you. I made a dozen so I’ll freeze most.”
His eyes roamed the family room, his grin increasing. He noted the shelves were organized, books straightened, the rug vacuumed, the table in the dining room set. Not only had she cooked but she cleaned.
“Rachel,” he said, taking his jacket off and about to place it on a chair.
She raised her eyebrows, nodded to the entry. Rachel found the cedar-wood coat rack he’d put in his office and didn’t use; now moved to the entry.
He began to say something, stopped, then giggled while hanging his coat. “Sabbath today. You didn’t have to clean…I’d have been glad to help.”
“The Lord will forgive me for a little work and shopping on Sabbath. How are the patients?”
“Stable. Although one, an older man, is having chest pains so I may be called back depending on the results of his tests.”
She walked up to him, kissed his lips then said, “I’m going to wash up then I’d appreciate a glass of white wine please.”
“Yes, right away,” he said. Leaving his emergency medical kit in the front closet, he hurried to comply.
Brian carried two wine goblets into the kitchen, handed one to her then sat on one of the tall chairs at the prep counter.
“I wanted to mention before dinner,” Rachel said while slicing cheese for the antipasto. “You may want to give Arnie a call. Shira left him.”
“What happened?” He sat on one of the tall chairs at the edge of the prep counter.
“According to Arnie, she was sick of arguing with him. She needed her own space.”
“Arguing? About what? Doesn’t sound like Arnie.” He stared out a window briefly then shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Maybe she’s got someone else in her life.” Brian sighed and shrugged. “Poor Arnie. Wonder how he’s managing?”
She spent a minute placing pickled peppers in a small serving dish. “He cried. Arnie was certain she was his life partner. I would describe him as…crushed.”
“Something else must be going on,” Brian said.
“I’m going to wait a couple of weeks then call Shira. Get her side of things.”
“Rachel, I know you’re only here f
or one week, but any chance you could stay longer. We love having you here and I’m getting research done nearly every day.”
She was quiet for a while, then tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and said, “You’ll have to drive me to my condo tomorrow so I can get a few things.”
“Perfect,” he said.
Following dinner and after Seth was in bed, Brian completed a few hours’ worth of notes on research he was exploring then approached Rachel. She was laying on the floor in front of the fireplace, reading a novel. He said, “Due to the emergency last night we missed an opportunity to perform the Sabbath good-deed.”
“Ah yes, the Shabbat mitzvah.” She became pensive then grinned and replied in a playful voice, “So we should do it twice tonight.”
He laughed. Brian took her hands, pulled her to standing, kissed her lips and led her upstairs.
* * *
Three weeks later, early Sunday morning, Rachel was kneading bread. She asked, “How did last night’s visit to the veteran’s group go?”
“Disaster,” Brian replied. He sat with elbows on the kitchen table, his head in his hands. “Mostly WWII and Korean era vets. Wanted nothing to do with Vietnam vets. I swear they think we’re nothing but a bunch of hippies.”
“Did you explain how they could help Vietnam vets?”
He shook his head his expression one of anger. “I tried. They didn’t fucking listen. I swear they wished I hadn’t shown up.”
Brian stood and headed for the kitchen door. “Where you going?”
“For a drive,” he said.
“Your anger…”
“I know everyone wants to forget the war but we have to remember for the sake of the vets who are still suffering.” His anger so intense, his body was shaking, his voice getting louder. “My work could help thousands and they didn’t even want to hear what I had to say. I’ve no idea how to make them change their thinking. They didn’t come home to the same environment.”
“Change takes time,” Rachel said as she crossed the room then moved between Brian and the door.
THE SOLDIER: A Vietnam War Era Novel Page 18
