A Hero Comes Home

by Sandra Hill

  But then Mayor Ferguson stepped out on the stage and announced, “We have a new, last-minute addition to our program. Please welcome Sally Dawson, and her sons, Matthew, Mark, and Luke.”

  Whaaat? Jake jerked, his attention riveted to the stage now.

  “This song will be a tribute to Captain Jacob Dawson, our own hometown hero, and all the hometown heroes out there, those who are fortunate enough to come home, and those who have not been.” The mayor bowed back, and Sally came forward.

  Sensing his dismay, Durand and Izzie clamped hands on Jacob’s forearms to prevent him from vaulting from his chair and out of the ballroom.

  When the audience went silent, with no musical accompaniment, Sally belted out the first line of the song that asked some guy if he knew he was her hero. People were surprised when they first heard Sally’s voice, which was so powerful, coming from such a small body, clear toned and sweet. Like Norah Jones. But then, before he could digest her verbal message to him, his sons stepped forward in their scout uniforms and repeated the refrain in voices that cracked and were tone-deaf, more like shouting. Utter heartrending love. Then all four of them, with piped-in background music kicking in, repeated the refrain as one and went on to the lyrics about the wind beneath their wings.

  Jake was stunned and frozen in place. Durand and Izzie no longer held him. He couldn’t move if he’d wanted to.

  Surely Sally knew how humiliated he would feel? He’d told her that he hated being in the parade because it called attention to himself. How much worse was this?

  How could she?

  And she’d been researching a terrorist behind his back?

  How could she?

  And talking to his best friend about her suspicions, also behind his back?

  How could she?

  What other secrets was she keeping from him? Maybe her claims of celibacy had been a lie? Maybe she had been having an affair with Kevin after all? Maybe the affair was still going on? She’d never said that she loved him since his return, even when he’d said those three words himself. Wasn’t that telling?

  What a fool I’ve been!

  “Jake, simmer down,” Izzie whispered to him. “It was the boys’ idea. They wanted to do this for you.”

  And that should make me feel better? “You knew?” The circles of betrayal around him just got wider and wider.

  Durand, on the other hand, shared Jake’s dismay, though for other reasons. “If this debacle lands on TV, your mug is going worldwide. The nightly news will make this their Labor Day color story. Nazim and his cohorts could nail you or your family in a nanosecond then to keep you quiet. I’ve got to go and do some damage control.” On those words, Durand made his way out of the aisle, apologizing here and there for stepping on feet.

  “Oh, my God!” Jake was just beginning to digest the ramifications of this goat fuck.

  “He’s overreacting,” Izzie said.

  The people around them were shhh-ing again.

  And then the song ended, and the crowd was giving them a standing ovation. In the midst of that chaos, Jake saw his cue, and made his way across the aisle. People patted him on the back as he passed, probably thinking he was going up on the stage to join his wife and kids.

  When pigs fly!

  He stumbled up the aisle to the back of the ballroom and then out into the hall and through the door. Because he’d left his cane behind and because he was seeing a red mist in his eyes, he stumbled here and there, almost falling down the wide front steps. He hailed a caterer’s truck which was about to take off and hitched a ride to the town square where he was able to make his way to the car parked behind the bakery. From there, he somehow made his way home before he was able to surrender to the mist.

  Jake was hardly aware of his actions then as the mist took over. In his rage, he threw dishes, broke chairs, banged his own head against the wall till he felt blood running down his face. He punched a cushion on a rocking chair in the living room till the feathers went flying. It was only when he saw the crack in the window, right through the stained glass border that had withstood a century of wind and storms, but not his rage, that Jake began to calm down. But only enough to realize that he needed to get out of here before his children came home and saw what kind of hero their father really was.

  Tears streaming down his face, he went out to the garage to get his go-bag, then made his way upstairs, backward, because his pain was so great, and began to pack. Where he would go, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

  Some heroes shouldn’t come home.

  Chapter 19

  She cried him a river . . . until the damn came, as in dammit! . . .

  Sally had a hard time getting by all the well-wishers once they’d finished their performance. Everyone wanted to tell them what a wonderful, touching job she and the boys had done with their homage to Jake and other heroes.

  Everyone except Jake.

  Where was he?

  But then Izzie approached, and the worried expression on his face told her all she had feared. “Did he leave?”

  Izzie nodded and drew her aside. Her parents, understanding the situation, took the boys in hand, diverting them from their search for their father by promising ice cream cones from a truck that had just pulled up outside.

  “What happened?”

  He shrugged. “He was probably embarrassed.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Well, he found out just before your stage act that you’ve been researching Nazim’s torture record, and talking to me about it . . .” He paused.

  “Behind his back,” she finished for him.

  “He’s feeling betrayed, I suppose. That on top of the fact that Durand told him that his life, and maybe yours and the boys, could be in danger if a video of this performance today went live on national TV and Nazim got it into his head to send someone here to . . .” He let his words trail off again, then added, “Durand was being his usual asshole self, overcautious and premature, but you know Jake would take it seriously.”

  “Anything else?”

  Izzie shifted from foot to foot, avoiding her eyes.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “You have to realize that Jake suffers a double handicap, with both his eye and his leg being damaged. If even one of them could be healed, his overall recovery could be much, much better.”

  “And . . . ?” Getting info out of Izzie was like watching bread rise. Slooow.

  “Something’s been happening with his eye,” Izzie blurted out.

  “Dammit, Izzie! Stop beating around the bush.”

  “There have been changes lately. Little things that might be promising.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “And he couldn’t share that good news with me?”

  “It might not pan out.”

  She breathed in and out for patience. “Where did he go? Home?”

  “I don’t know. Probably.”

  “I’ll go talk to him.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “Actually, it might be.”

  She cocked her head in question. Sometimes a ball of dough needed a good punch to get it to work.

  “The red mist might have taken over, which makes him unpredictable.”

  “The red mist?” More secrets that I don’t know about?

  “Uh-oh! He didn’t tell you about the red mist?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s a kind of rage he goes into where he sees a red mist behind his eyelids.”

  “What triggers it?”

  “Who knows? Stress. Extreme anger. The last one I know about occurred when he learned that you and the public were going to be told about his rescue. I mean, after three months in that hospital with him being in control of when or if the big reveal would happen, suddenly that decision was taken out of his hands.”

  “Wait a minute. Three months?” Sally asked. “Are you saying that Jacob was rescued three months before I was to
ld?”

  “What? Yeah. You didn’t know that?”

  “Actually, I did know, but it didn’t sink in until now. The question is why.”

  “Do you really think that’s important in light of today’s events?” Izzie was clearly squirming now.

  But she wasn’t about to let him off the hook. “I do. It’s all part of a pattern, in my opinion.”

  “How so?”

  “I know Jacob. If he’d wanted to tell me that he was alive from the get-go, he would have found a way to do it, the Army or hospital rules or Uncle Sam be damned. So, it had to be his decision to keep me in the dark. The ass! But worse than that, what I’m beginning to suspect, is that Jacob never wanted to come home at all.”

  The blush that seeped into Izzie’s cheeks told her all.

  For a moment, her heart felt like it was in a vise. She could barely breathe. “So, he was planning to leave from the moment he came back.”

  “Maybe,” Izzie conceded. “But give him a break, Sally. He’s been through hell, worse than anything you and I can imagine. God only knows what’s going through that brain of his. Bottom line, he loves you and the boys. That’s the most important thing.”

  Sally tried to assess the situation, to make some sense of it. Jake had found out that she knew he was hiding the story of his three missing years and that she’d been researching the guy who presumably handed him over to the US government and that she’d discussed her suspicions with his best friend. Then, the major had instilled a fear in him that the terrorist might be a threat to him and his family. Top that off with his unwarranted embarrassment, rather than pride, in the musical performance she and his sons had put on for him.

  On the other hand, she had some legitimate bones to pick with her husband, as well. Like the secrets of his POW, not MIA, experience, that he kept from her. Like the fact that he’d never wanted to come home at all, and he’d been planning to leave even before he got here. Like he didn’t trust her enough to be honest with her. Like he didn’t respect her strength.

  “Can you tell my parents to take care of the kids?” she asked. When he agreed, reluctantly, she added, “Don’t let them think something’s wrong. Just say Jacob and I want a few hours alone together.”

  “You know what they’ll think.”

  “Let them.”

  Before she left, Izzie gave her a hug and advised, “Be careful, and give Jake a chance.”

  She wanted to say that she’d already given him plenty of chances in the past weeks, that if he felt betrayed, imagine how betrayed she felt. But, instead, she just nodded.

  Luck was with her when she saw the local taxi driver outside and she didn’t have to ask someone for a ride. She assumed Jake somehow got to the car parked behind the bakery, leaving her without a vehicle. If he was thinking at all, he would assume there were plenty of family and friends to give her a lift.

  Her first clue of how bad things were was the open driver’s door on her car parked in the driveway. What kind of state must Jake have been in to leave the vehicle like that? In her mind, she pictured him staggering toward the house.

  The kitchen door was open, too.

  She gasped and put a hand to her mouth at what she saw. Broken dishes around the room. A chair smashed to pieces. Water running in the sink from a faucet that had been yanked from its flange. Then in the living room, dismembered pillows making the room look as if a snowstorm had hit. And the precious stained glass border on the front window had a crack in it. Most alarming of all, when she went back in the hall, she noticed blood on the wall.

  “Ja-cob!” she screamed and raced up the stairs. There were drips of blood on some of the steps.

  He wasn’t there, she saw immediately.

  In the bathroom, she saw evidence of blood on a washcloth. He must have cleaned up whatever wound he had. In the bedroom, his blood-spattered uniform was scattered about on the floor, something he would never do. The Army trained its men to be neat. Defiling his uniform was telling, if all the other evidence of his rage was not.

  She didn’t need to go to the window overlooking the driveway to see what she hadn’t noticed before. His truck was missing. She also didn’t need to go into the garage to check if his go-bag was missing.

  He was gone.

  Just like he’d planned all along.

  Maybe sooner than he’d planned.

  But he was gone.

  Should she follow after him?

  But where? What direction?

  And would he want her to follow?

  Did it matter what he wanted?

  Yes. Yes, it did.

  It was then that she saw the note on the dresser. It was written on a program from the Boy Scout banquet. He’d scrawled on the back, “I’m sorry.” That’s all. No salutation. No signature. Just “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, Jacob!” she cried, sinking to the edge of the bed as the tears came like a river.

  What you must be going through at this moment! The anguish you must be suffering to have done this!

  I feel like such a failure. I should have been able to help you.

  Don’t do anything stupid, Jacob.

  Hold on.

  And come back.

  But he didn’t come back.

  She wailed aloud and cried some more, falling back on the bed, then curled into a ball of misery. Eventually, she fell into an exhausted sleep. Which didn’t last long. It was still light outside when she opened her swollen eyes, realizing there was a noise downstairs.

  She jumped up and rushed down the steps, only to find it was Joe, on his knees under the sink, turning off the water valve.

  He stood and looked at her. If he’d been going to ask about Jake’s whereabouts, he stopped at whatever he saw on her face. Instead, he opened his arms to her and they cried on each other’s shoulders.

  “I never even asked him to come into the fishing business with me. I kept waiting for the right moment.”

  “He knew,” she assured him.

  “I didn’t tell him that I love him,” he said. “What kind of father am I, that I couldn’t say those words to a son that’s been missing for three years?”

  “He knew,” Sally assured him again, but thought, I didn’t tell him I loved him, either. I showed him, though, didn’t I? Oh, God, I hope he knows that, at least.

  Izzie came in then. He might have knocked, but they hadn’t heard him. He took one look at the mess, winced at the blood on the wall, then sat down heavily on one of the undamaged kitchen chairs. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  There were tears in Izzie’s eyes, too.

  “Do you have any idea where he went?”

  He shook his head. “I went to the ferry landing, heading north, to see if I might catch him, but he wasn’t in the lot. And with all the tourist influx today, it was impossible to ask anyone if they’d seen him.”

  “Maybe he didn’t leave town at all. Maybe he’s over at my house. I should go check,” Joe said hopefully.

  Sally put up a halting hand. “He took his truck.”

  “Could he have gone out on your boat?” Izzie asked Joe.

  Joe shrugged. “I suppose he could be on the boat, but he didn’t have keys.”

  None of them were inclined to go check, it was that improbable.

  “Dammit!” Sally said finally. “I have things I have to do.”

  “What can I do to help?” Izzie asked.

  “Go. Find out whatever you can about where Jacob might be, but be discreet. I’m just going to tell people . . . to tell the kids, oh, my God, the kids!” She choked on a sob and continued, “I’ll say that Jacob was called away suddenly on some military duty, and that he’ll be back as soon as he can make it.”

  Joe looked at her, questioning. It wasn’t like her to lie.

  “Whatever the hell has happened to him is related to military duty, and he will be back, dammit, if I have any say in the matter,” she insisted defiantly. “You better tell that Major Durand what’s going on, Izzie. But make sure you le
t him know that if he shows his face here, I might just rearrange his nose with a whack from my favorite rolling pin.”

  When Izzie left, she asked Joe to help her clean up while she made a few calls. First off, she called José and Mary Lou to see if they could handle the business for the next day or two. “Jacob had to leave suddenly on some hush-hush Army business, and I need to do some things with the kids.” The first of her little white lies. They, of course, agreed readily, then added compliments on her singing routine that day. Turns out she and her sons won a trophy, according to Mary Lou. That would please the boys to no end.

  After that, she called her parents, who were clearly distressed at both Jake’s and her leaving the Conti mansion so suddenly. She assured them that she was all right, using the same excuse she’d given her employees.

  “I have a big favor to ask of you, though,” she said to them both, as they used their speakerphone. “Would you be willing to take the boys back to Manhattan with you for a week or so? Sort of a mini-vacation.”

  “Now? Won’t they be missing school?” her mother asked.

  “Yes, but they’re only in elementary school, not college. I can get them an educational leave of absence, and I’m sure their teachers would give me their assignments for that period.”

  “Sally, what’s going on?” her father asked. “You know we’re always willing to have the boys, but this is an odd time for them to come. Has something happened?”

  “They’re going to be upset that their father had to leave so suddenly, and so soon after their being reunited with them. I figure this trip with their grandparents and the city itself will distract them enough so they won’t be too sad. By then, Jacob might be home again.” More lies. “By the way, tell them we won a trophy. That should make them happy. Even Binky Jones didn’t win a trophy.”

  “Who’s Binky Jones?” her father asked.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come with the boys? It would be a vacation for you, too,” her mother said.

  “No. Too much going on with the bakery right now. Maybe later.” She had to stay here, in case Jake called, or came back, or there was news about him.