“Why is everything so secretive with you? Why can’t you tell me?”
“If I involve you any more than you already are, I’ll lose more than you and . . . and Johnny and his family will win. That’s all I can say.”
Chapter Sixty-Nine
The Lincoln sat idling in a dark dirt lane. Sara and I sat in the backseat.
She spoke as if she’d given up on us. I wanted to shake her. How could she give up on us so easily? As I watched her talk, her glassy black hair occasionally swinging across her cheek bone, and her eyes bright with unshed tears, I knew I would never love anyone like I did her. My chest ached with it. And I felt panic at the thought of losing her.
We both had been scarred by different wars, but the difference was I’d learned to survive. I could take care of myself. But Korea had taught me over and over I may not be able to take care of someone else. But, for Sara, I’d die trying.
We were together now and still in love, despite all that had happened. And I wasn’t about to let her out of my life, no matter what she said.
What seemed like hours and a whole bunch of hood-eaten miles later, I stopped at a phone booth on a street corner in Steubenville and called my parents’ phone. I glanced at my watch as the phone rang. It was almost eleven o’clock. Dad answered.
“Dad, I’ve only a minute or two, so please just listen. Sara had to leave your house because her mob-boss husband was threatening to kill you and Mom.”
“What?”
“Please listen. Sara is with me. But I’m afraid that puts you, Mom, and Jeffie in jeopardy. You have to get out of there. Pack light, get all the money you can, and meet us in,” I eyed the map, “Asheville, North Carolina in two days. I’m driving a ’51 black Lincoln. Let’s see . . . I’ll be parked near the intersection of routes 74 and 25. And make sure you’re not followed.”
“Mick, you have to-”
“Just do it, Dad. See you in two days in Asheville, and Dad, I have your pistol.” I hung up and stepped out of the phone booth.
Sara stood by the car under a street lamp just paces away. The long blue dress clung to her, defining her.
I wasn’t sure, had it been seven or eight months since we’d made love? I tried to focus on that moment. However, when I visualized her naked, there were another man’s hands touching her, Johnnie’s.
Fuck!
Was this how I’d always feel?
I shook off the image. This wasn’t the time or place to climb that mountain.
She saw me eying her. I prayed my body language didn’t convey my thoughts. Her expression eased from caring to a look of despair.
“I’m sorry, Mick,” she said softly, in her cigarette voice. “I’m sorry I can’t talk you out of this, the last thing I ever wanted was to cause you or your family any trouble.”
I stepped closer, inches from her inviting lips. “You did what you did to save me and my family. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m indebted to you, and I love you.” I kissed her, a soft kiss that lingered a tad longer than a peck. “Now let’s get some gas and get out of here.”
I offered her my arm, she took it, and we headed for the curbside parked car.
I felt her stiffen as a police car drove past.
If the mob had half the tentacles she claimed, her husband would eventually find us.
My plan was simple. I’d hide Sara and my family and use the medal tour to change Johnnie’s focus from ‘us’ to me.
Chapter Seventy
When the sun came up, I drove into Asheville, North Carolina, a quaint but not so little town nestled in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains. The city limit sign posted a population of over 50,000. I wasn’t sure what supported the town except for tourism from the Biltmore estate and maybe local textile mills.
Sara had slept through the night on the back seat.
My eyelids felt like they weighed five pounds each, and my neck was sore from keeping my head up. I was only blinks away from dozing off.
I found the intersection of Route 74 and 25, and parked in the rear parking lot of a nearby motel. Late tomorrow, I’d pull the Lincoln out front. Dad should have no problem finding the new Lincoln; and I hoped he was the only one who did.
I pivoted my back against the door and swung my cramped legs up onto the bench seat.
Sara stirred, rubbed her eyes, and stretched into a yawn. “Where are we?”
“Asheville, North Carolina,” I said returning her yawn.
“What are we doing here, besides meeting your parents?” Sara asked looking around. Although her hair was tousled, and her eyes puffy from crying off all her make-up last night, I thought she looked pretty.
Sara had been so intent on going back to her husband, I wasn’t sure how to answer her. “We should be safe here. There is no reason for anyone to look for us in this little town. Let’s get a room. Mom and Dad should be here tomorrow.”
She arched her brows and leaned forward. “Your room idea is inviting. But after your parents get here, why don’t you give me the car, and I’ll go back before it’s too late.”
“Sara, we’ve-”
Her forefinger bridged my lips. “You stay here and meet your parents. Johnny is unpredictable. Hiding them here is a good idea. It’s not safe for them to stay home, at least until I can talk to him.”
I sat up. “There is no way I could let you go back to that son-of-a-bitch. If anyone is going back there, it’s me. And I will kill him.” I shook off my anger. “My parents and you will be free and safe here. When I get back from my tour, we can-”
“Tour?” she asked.
“Ah, yes. The reason the Marines brought me home was to tour and raise support for the war.”
“What is it?” she asked lighting a cigarette. “What do you do?”
“I’m scheduled to be on several radio shows, including Bob Hope and Jack Benny. Pretty cool, huh?” Though the thought excited me, I still yawned.
“Holy mackerel!” she said emitting puffs of smoke with each word. “You’ll have to let me know when so I can listen. Do your parents know about this?”
“Yeah. Dad thought the coolest part is when I’ll be throwing out the first pitch at some selected baseball games around the country.”
“You’re going to stand in the middle of a baseball field surrounded by thousands of people and throw a pitch?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “But what I’m most proud and the most nervous about is talking at all of the military academies.”
Sara looked away as she blew smoke out her lowered window. “You’re going to become quite the celebrity.”
“It gets better. Hollywood wants me to make a small film for their short subject news segment that will be shown in every movie theatre across the country for at least a month. Can you imagine that? Millions of people will either see me or hear me; a kid from Bluffton, South Carolina.”
“That sounds like you’ll be gone forever.”
“Six weeks. But don’t worry, I’ve got enough back pay to support you and my parents until then.”
“So that’s it. You want me to stay here with your parents for six weeks, while you go gallivanting around the country with a target on your chest. You’re right. Everyone in the country will know you. And if Johnny doesn’t have you killed on this tour, he’ll be able to find you whenever he wants to; because everyone will know you.”
“I’m a Marine. It’s my duty.”
“It’s your duty to be insane?”
“I’m not going to crawl into a hole and hide from your husband.”
“You won’t need to if you just let me go back, now. I can talk him out of coming after you.” She flipped the stub of her smoke out the window.
“I want him to come after me.”
She nodded and sighed. “And he will.” Then she bowed her head and raised her arms as if surrendering. “I could use a shower.”
Chapter Seventy-One
The Forrest Manor Motel room was small but efficient; a small round table
with two chairs, ugly wall paper, and a large double-bed, facing a radio seated on top of a low dresser. There was also a kitchenette and a tiled bathroom with a shower over the tub.
After snatching Sara, I hadn’t risked going back to my room in Youngstown. So we were wearing all we had with us.
“I’m going to shower before breakfast,” Sara said.
“Fine,” I said, flopping onto the bed. “I’ll catch a few winks.”
Sara disappeared into the bathroom, and the last thing I heard was the water running.
When I awoke, the room was quiet with sunshine slashing through the gaps in the curtains. Too quiet. “Sara?”
I sat up.
Nothing.
I pushed off the bed and was peering into an empty bathroom before I could even think about moving.
I jabbed my hands into my pants pockets, and the car keys and my wallet were missing.
A tingling of dread ran up my spine as I ran to the door and yanked it open.
Sara was walking up with paper bags clutched to her chest with both arms. “Great timing,” she said with a smile. “I wasn’t sure how I’d get that door open. I figured you were too popular to be going out to breakfast, so I bought it; along with some casual clothes for us, including underwear. Hope you don’t mind me spending your money.”
“I thought, ah . . . no,” I said scratching my head. “I don’t mind. Breakfast, here, was good thinking.”
Eggs, bacon, biscuits, and coffee later, it was my turn to shower.
Halfway through my verse of Frankie Laine’s “That Lucky Old Sun”, the plastic shower curtain slid open, and Sara stepped in, naked.
Chapter Seventy-Two
With the wall-mounted fan whirring on high, Sara and I lay on the bed naked with rivulets of sweat streaking our faces and bodies.
When my breathing rate lowered to the point I could talk, I pulled her next to me, sliding my arm under her shoulders. “You are unbelievable. I can’t tell you how many times I fantasized about us making love when I was in Korea. But this was way beyond any and all of those fantasies put together.” I turned and kissed the top of her head. “God, I love you. And I want to marry you, Sara Wiggs.”
She pushed up on an elbow with a surprised look on her face.
“Yeah, I proposed a second time, and to Sarah Wiggs,” I added. “Because you and I will make a new life together. A life that will bury your Sara Venturini past.”
“You’re a dreamer, Mick,” she said and kissed my cheek. “And that’s one of the thousands of things I love about you. But we have too many unmovable obstacles between us and marriage. Realistically, I’m not sure it’s possible.”
“Sara, after what we have both been through, anything is possible.” I rolled over and faced her, pressing her warm body into mine. “This is how I want to wake up every morning for the rest of my life.”
She kissed me, softly, tasting me. “I do love you, Mick. And I want that too. But-”
I bridged her lips with my forefinger. “Please, no more ‘buts’ until I return from my tour, okay?”
She nodded.
But I mentally questioned her sincerity. She had left before even though she was pregnant with our child; another one of her untold secrets that ate at me.
Someway, somehow I had to get Sara to tell me everything. And probably the only way that would happen was to get John Venturini out of our lives forever.
Chapter Seventy-Three
Mom and Sara were tucked away in Asheville, North Carolina. Jeffie was with my mother’s sister in Bluffton. And Dad, with their life-savings, my once-upon-a-time college money, had been relegated to guard duty in Asheville.
As for me, a day later, I was in my dress blues standing on the mound of Griffith Stadium, home of the Washington Senators. And that very findable Lincoln sat in the huge stadium’s parking lot amongst thousands of other cars.
The national anthem had been sung, and me and my medal had been announced. Thirty-plus thousand people had cheered me on my way to the center of the diamond.
The fears that clung to me every day in Korea returned as I eyed the mass of humanity. Johnny Venturini’s chauffeur had to have recognized me. I assumed Johnny had done his homework long ago and had shared a picture of me with his ‘boys’. And Johnny would have no problem finding me. He could easily have someone hiding in the ballpark crowd who had me in his gun sights.
I needed to make quick work of this honor.
I had been a pitcher on the high school team; not so long ago, back when innocence still had meaning. I had warmed up under the stadium and was prepared enough not to make a fool of myself. The catcher squatted, and I threw him a bullet. The crowd roared, I saluted and headed for cover.
I stayed for a hot dog washed down with a beer, an eye-scanning inning or two in a private box, and then left to catch a plane for Los Angeles. Once there, I had a day to prepare for my interview on the “Bob Hope Show”.
The war wasn’t even a year old, and Bob Hope had already been to Korea twice with the USO to entertain the troops. The theaters frequently showed a snippet of Bob entertaining in Korea, “At the Chosin Reservoir, it was so cold the Marines used refrigerators for heaters.”
In Los Angeles, having just left “The Life of Riley Show”, I couldn’t wait to get to my hotel and have my nightly call with Sara. It had been two weeks since I last saw her, and I missed her something fierce.
In my hotel room, I kicked off my shoes and tucked the handset between my ear and shoulder as I unbuttoned my tunic. It was late. Ten their time. I hoped she was still awake.
“Hello,” a male voice said.
“I’m sorry they must’ve connected me to the wrong room,” I said.
“Is this Mick?”
All the blood in my body had to have rushed to my head. “Who is this?”
“Is this Mick?” he repeated in a calm voice.
“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth.
“You’ll find a note in your suitcase, in a side panel.” He hung up.
I jumped off the bed, flung open the closet door, and tore into the suitcase.
A white envelope with my name on it was right where the man had said.
Mick Mackenzie,
Consider this an early, one time only, Christmas present.
Your mother and father are safe and sound on a train going back to Bluffton.
Sara is also well and where she belongs, with her husband.
Don’t ever try to contact Sara again.
We can find you. And there will be no more presents.
Chapter Seventy-Four
Sitting on my hotel bed, note in hand, it was like the room had no walls and everyone and anyone could see me.
Someone had been in my room. The same eerie, hair-raising tingling I used to get on outpost night duty in Korea returned.
My first instinct was to call my commander and tell him I had an emergency at home.
But what would I do when I got there? Mom and Dad would just repeat themselves by telling me to leave Sara, a married woman, alone.
If I went back to Youngstown, Venturini’s thugs would be more than ready for me. I was lucky last time. Another visit could be terminal, maybe for both Sara and me.
But I couldn’t give up. I wouldn’t quit. Those two months Sara and I had spent living together in Savannah had defined happiness for me. I wanted that back, I wanted Sara back.
Sara wasn’t behaving like the Savannah Sara; she was trapped. Protecting me and my family had become her unselfish focus. If the threat of Johnny Venturini was removed, I was sure we would be a happy couple again.
Someway we would be together again, like Savannah.
The only thing I had on my side was time. I’d finish the tour and then go back home and figure out how I could reach Sara.
I read the note again.
I’d keep this paper. And one day, after all the heat dissipated, I’d return it to the sender, preferably by stuffing it in his death-frozen mouth.
A month later
Parris Island, South Carolina
Per the brass, my Medal of Honor tour had been successful; raising more money for the war than forecasted. I didn’t understand how that could’ve happened. It certainly wasn’t because of my efforts. I met every commitment like a robot. My body was there but my mind was shot.
After receiving Venturini’s note informing me he had Sara again, my fears for my personal safety had been replaced with anxiety for her. The man was a mob boss. Who could predict what he’d do to Sara?
During the last month of the tour, I had diminished into a Pavlov dog, reacting to stimuli. Externally I was numb, while my insides churned with my concerns for Sara.
During the final two weeks, each day I slipped a little further into depression. The Marines owned my time, and Venturini owned Sara, my life.
And even if I had the time, I didn’t know how to rescue her.
I was ordered to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot at Parris Island to work as a firing range instructor for the remaining period of my enlistment. The good news was I’d be close to home; though at this point, I didn’t care. Also, during my tour, Mom had written and informed me Bob Bresnahan’s mom had told her Bob was walking and stationed at Parris Island.
By the time I got to the base, I was a shell of my former self. Between lack of sleep, weight loss, and my I-don’t-give-shit attitude, I was reduced to an order-following zombie.
My first day at Parris Island was spent in a mandatory orientation class. I couldn’t wait for the session to end so I could find Bob.
Mickey's Wars Page 22
