To Have and to Hold

by Fern Michaels

  By the middle of August he’d gained another eighteen pounds and was constantly at the refrigerator. He ran and jogged, swam and continued to work out.

  One bright, golden afternoon, Patrick sneaked away from the house while Kate was taking a shower. He drove to the pound, where he turned over his fifty dollars and bought a dog that had been picked up off the freeway. It was a mangy, unkempt, filthy mutt with huge sad eyes and half a tail. He liked Patrick’s hand. “This one. Does he have a name?”

  “We’ve been calling him Jake. Kind of fits him, if you know what I mean.” Patrick didn’t know and wasn’t about to ask.

  Jake smelled so bad, Patrick had to roll down the windows for the drive home. “We’re going to catch hell when we get home, Jake. I’m not supposed to go anywhere on my own.” This last was said with barely a trace of his former Russian accent. “You know what, Jake? You look like I did when I got here. You know what else? My wife is okay. She’s putting her life on hold for me. I want to say something to her, but I don’t think the time is right. She doesn’t like me too much.”

  He rambled on, from time to time looking at the dog as though expecting him to answer.

  “She’s not what I expected. Nothing like I expected. She has opinions. Before I left, she didn’t even know what an opinion was. Now, look at her! I guess I’m jealous. I wanted it all to be the same, and it isn’t. I want to love her. I think she expects me to love her. I think she’s waiting for me to ... do something. You know, get horny or drag her out to the bushes. She’s being so good to me, trying to help and all. She should, she owes it to me. I want to feel something besides gratitude, and even the gratitude eats at me. Why is that, do you suppose, Jake?

  “You know, back then I had to get away from her. She was smothering me, and then when I got captured, she was all I could think about. I care about her. I cared about her back then. She was almost perfect in a ... smothering kind of way. For a wife. You take me, now, I was the perfect pilot, everyone said so. And what did that get me? Twenty fucking years out of my life, that’s what.

  “Kate has a secret. I can see it in her eyes. The girls know what it is, but they aren’t talking about it.” He laughed, a strange sound that made Jake’s ears go flat against his head.

  “The thing of it is, Jake, I’ve intruded in her life. She doesn’t want me around, and she feels guilty for the way she feels. See, I know this woman.

  “If someone came up to me now, this very minute, and said, ‘Come on, Patrick, I’m going to let you fly again,’ I’d be out of here so fast, I’d leave scorch marks on Kate’s fluffy carpet. That’s all I want, Jake, to fly again. Kate and the girls, they have their own lives. I wish I loved her, really loved her. I wish there was a chance for us, but there isn’t. Kate doesn’t know that yet. She’s the world’s best fixer-upper. She thinks she can make me over, make our marriage work. Yesterday is gone, Jake. She keeps saying that all the time. She thinks my brain is gone. Now she’s trying to make me an extension of her. That’s what got us into trouble in the first place. Back then she made herself an extension of me. But I’m smarter; I’m not going to let that happen. No, sir, I’m not going to let that happen.

  “Well, we’re here, Jake. This is where I live these days. It’s temporary. Kate thinks she’s here for the long haul, but I can read her like a book. What she’s doing, Jake, is her duty. Okay, let’s get out so I can show you what a really good life you’re going to have.”

  When he climbed from the Cherokee, Jake stayed in the back and refused to get out. He’s afraid, Patrick thought. “This is freedom, Jake. We’re gonna give you a steak, the biggest one you ever had, and we’re throwing away that bone.” If the dog had been a cat, he would have purred at Patrick’s gentle touch. “Come on, boy, I’m going to clean you up. You can sleep in my room, and if she says anything, we’ll tell her how it is.”

  A minute later he came back outside to Jake, a sheepish expression on his face. He could hear his wife still screeching his name from the deck. “She’s pissed,” he said. “I’ll tell you how I know she’s pissed, Jake. When she calls me Harry, she’s mad. When she calls me Patrick, it’s okay. We are in deep shit this time.”

  Kate burst through the front door, eyes flashing fire. “You know the rules, Patrick. I was worried sick! Why didn’t you at least say something? ... Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” she snapped.

  “Meet Jake. I drove to the pound. I used the fifty dollars and bought him on the spot. He smells a little. Kind of the way I did when I got here. I guess nobody wanted him.”

  “What fifty dollars?” Kate demanded.

  “The fifty dollars you gave me when I got here,” Patrick said patiently. “I have change.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t ready for a dog.”

  “Then, I wasn’t. Now I am. This is my kind of dog. When I spruce him up, he’ll be okay. Don‘tcha think, Kate?”

  It was the first time Patrick had taken the initiative to do anything on his own. She’d forgotten about the fifty dollars. He looked so anxious, and the dog looked . . . petrified. Despite herself, she stooped down and scratched him behind the ears. “He’s going to need a lot of sprucing up.”

  “That’s what I thought. I think we should feed him. I told him we’d give him a steak and throw away the bone. I think that’s good, don’t you?”

  “Yes. On the grill or under the broiler?” she asked.

  “The grill. I’ll do it.”

  “Did you have any trouble finding the pound?”

  “No. I asked for directions. I saw a mailman and he told me. I was . . . very anxious. But I was careful. I wore my seat belt.”

  “I would have taken you. All you had to do was ask.”

  “I needed to do this myself. I think you’re getting tired of me. You need time to be by yourself. Jake can go with me on the walks or when I run. I don’t want you to start to hate me, Kate.” He shuffled his feet at the bottom of the deck stairs. “In a few weeks I’ll be home a year. A year is a very long time.”

  “I don’t mind. Betsy is running the business better than I did. I made a commitment to you and to myself. I could never hate you. I don’t want to hear you talk like that.”

  “Okay, Kate. My motor skills are good now.”

  “Yes, they are. I’m very proud of you.”

  Patrick beamed.

  In the kitchen, Kate sat down at the table. She could see Patrick turn on the grill and flop the steak on it, Jake at his side. “Why do I feel so funny all of a sudden?” she asked Della.

  “Pretty soon he isn’t going to need you. It’s hard to believe he’s the same man I saw when I first got here. The biggest hurdle, at least to me, was when he started sleeping in the bed. I might be wrong, but I think by next year he’s going to be ready to go off on his own. Legally, that leaves you in limbo more or less, but you will be free to go to Gus.”

  “Shhh,” Kate whispered.

  “He wants to fly again,” Della said.

  “I know. I don’t think he’s ready for that yet. On the other hand, maybe that’s the last thing he needs to make him whole again. I’m going to talk to him about it. Just last week he told me the amount of money the government gave him—two hundred thousand. I never asked him how much it was, and he never mentioned it. He seems to be doing a lot of thinking, and he’s not talking about whatever he’s thinking about.” She sighed. “Christ, I have to start getting ready for the Chamber of Commerce meeting tonight. I picked up the videos he asked me to get. I don’t know if it’s good or not for him to watch all those Vietnam movies.”

  “It’s one way for him to find out what went on while he was in Russia. He read all the material you and Betsy gave him. He soaks it up like a sponge and then grows quiet for a day or so. Your husband carries many demons, Kate.”

  “He needs professional help for that. I’m certainly not qualified. Every time I ask him something, he changes the subject. I wish I didn’t get so irritated when he takes so much time
to think and act before he does anything. It’s been almost a year. I think he should have lost some of his fear by now. He hasn’t had a bad dream in a long time.”

  “Perhaps he is afraid of you,” Della said softly.

  “Me! Why in the world would he be afraid of me? All I’ve done is help him.”

  “I think you intimidate him. Perhaps the way he used to intimidate you. The mind is a curious instrument, Kate. He was looking for your approval when he came home with the dog, but I saw the fear in his eyes, too. I was watching from the kitchen window. He did wrong, but he did right too. He wasn’t sure which way you would react. I think you handled it just fine.”

  Kate sniffed as she marched into her room to get dressed. She would not go to the Chamber of Commerce meeting, she decided. She would find a phone booth in a restaurant, call Gus and talk to him for an hour. Then she’d get something to eat and come home. She was being sneaky and devious. In the beginning Patrick had questioned her about the meetings, but he didn’t do that anymore. He was content to settle himself in front of the fifty-six-inch television with a bowl of popcorn for hours on end. Tonight was what Kate called a free evening, which meant no tutoring, no anything, just relaxation.

  She flicked at the hangers in the closet with impatient fingers. She always wore a suit to the Chamber dinner meeting, so she had to play the part. A wave of guilt washed over when she picked out a dove-gray suit and bright crimson blouse with a bow at the throat. It was what she called her neat, tidy look. Her hair, long now, was pulled back into a chignon. She slipped into a pair of Ferragamo heels and stood back to assess her image in the free-standing pier glass. All she needed to do was add the double teardrops to her ears and spritz on some perfume.

  She was ready to talk to Gus. She felt good, looked good.

  It was all she had.

  She was in the hall, wondering where she’d left her car keys, when a whirlwind of soap suds slammed her up against the wall. Stunned, she let out a shriek and saw Patrick stop short, his hands flying into the air.

  “What . . . what happened?”

  Patrick was backing up, his face drained of all color, his hands in the air. From down the hall she could hear Della shouting at the dog. So that was what it was. Some internal instinct warned Kate that this was do-or-die stuff for Patrick.

  “Oh, well,” she said cheerfully, forcing laughter into her voice. “I didn’t want to go to that damn meeting anyway.” I’m sorry, Gus, I’ll have to call you later in the week. How long would he wait at the paper for her call? All night, she answered herself.

  “I think,” she said, kicking off her heels and yanking at her suit jacket, “we should rethink this bath business. Now mind you, I’ve never had a dog, but on television they always jump out of the tub. What you have to do is close the door, and one person stands ready to catch the dog if he bolts while the other person scrubs him down. Now, the way I see it, since we can’t close the door, Della will stand guard at the door and I’ll help you. Between the two of us I think we can get Jake here squeaky clean. I’m ready if you are.” She rolled up the sleeves of her crimson blouse.

  Della led a bedraggled Jake into the bathroom, and between the two of them, they managed to wrestle the dog into the tub. “This was not a good idea, was it, Kate?” Patrick said.

  “It was a great idea,” she replied. “We just didn’t count on Jake being so frisky. He’s a nice-looking dog. I think we can put some cream rinse on him so his coat will be easy to brush when he’s dry. I bet we could blow-dry him, too. That way he can sit on the couch with you while you watch your movie.”

  “He smells like a wet dog. Lord, when did he have a bath last?” Della grumbled.

  “Probably never,” Patrick said with an edge in his voice.

  “That would explain why he’s so afraid. I can feel his heart beating. You remember what that was like, don’t you, Patrick?” Kate met her husband’s gaze.

  “You aren’t upset that you can’t go to the meeting? Your clothes are all wet.”

  Something was brewing here, something she didn’t understand. “That’s trivial, Patrick. You have to learn what’s important and what isn’t. In the scheme of things, this would go down as a big zero.”

  “It’s two mistakes in one day,” Patrick said.

  Kate could sense the tightness in her husband’s shoulders, and the set of his jaw bothered her. Was he going to fly into a rage? “You didn’t make a mistake getting the dog. All I said was you should have told me you were going. I was worried about you, but it wasn’t a mistake. If you don’t want to tell me something, you can leave me a note.”

  “You look sad, Kate.”

  She wanted to say, I am sad, I looked forward all week to calling Gus tonight; I have the right to be sad. But she didn’t. Instead she said, “I’m sad because this poor dog is beside himself at what’s happening to him. We need to rinse him. Della, would you fetch something from the kitchen so we can end his misery? No, no, that . . . it was a poor choice of words, Patrick. What I meant was we have to get him out of the tub and dried so he can go back to being a dog. We agreed you weren’t going to take everything I said so literally.”

  “I’ll try harder,” Patrick said, his shoulders relaxing slightly, but not enough to reassure Kate trouble wasn’t brewing.

  Jake suffered through his blow-drying better than Patrick did. It looked to Kate as though he were relating somehow to the dog. She’d found over the past months that Patrick talked when he wanted to talk and not one minute before. But then he’d always been like that. She was more or less pleased that he’d retained one of his original traits.

  Their evening began the way it usually did. They had dinner, and Jake begged at the table, even though he’d had a three-pound T-bone steak. Patrick’s voice sounded sharp when he told the dog to lie down. Jake’s tail wagged, his sad eyes imploring when he sat up on his haunches, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

  Kate saw it all in slow motion, saw Patrick’s face contort, saw him raise his arm, saw Jake, eyes trusting, trying to lick the hand that was about to strike him, saw Della’s swift movement, saw Patrick literally pulled from his chair onto the floor, Della standing over him, her chest heaving. Jake thought it was a game and proceeded to lick Patrick’s face. Patrick rolled over on the slate floor and beat at it with his clenched fist.

  “I thought you loved Jake? You fed him, bathed him, gave him a name,” Kate said hoarsely. “He trusts you, and you were going to strike him. If you had done that, the dog might have turned on you and gone after you, and it would have been your own fault. What is it, Patrick?”

  “I think I’ll take Jake for a long walk,” Della said. “Don’t worry about the dishes, I’ll clean up later when I make the brownies I promised . . . Harry.”

  “I understand, Patrick,” Kate said, brushing his hair back from his forehead. Her voice was low, soothing, almost a croon. “In your mind it’s all mixed up. You were treated like a dog, and you fed the dog and he was still begging, much the way I imagine you had to beg for food. You’ve come a long way, Patrick. These flashes . . . whatever they are, they’re getting to be fewer and fewer. It’s over now and Jake is okay. He thought it was all a game.”

  Patrick sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. “I could have hurt him, turned him against me. When . . . when I told . . . said something about giving Jake a bath, Della said maybe we should just turn the hose on him, but then she said it was too chilly and he might catch a cold. That . . . that one word, hose, triggered all this. The V.C. turned a hose on me once. Who the hell even thought they knew what a hose was? It was like one of those fire hoses where the water comes out a hundred miles an hour. It drove me against the wall and then into a rack of bamboo spikes. That’s what all those scars on my back are from. I thought I was going to drown. They laughed and laughed, poking sticks at me to force me back into the stream of water when I’d try to crawl away. That was probably the only real bath I ever had. Without soap.” He grim
aced.

  Dear God in heaven. “Come on, Patrick, we don’t sit on the floor in this house. It’s over; everything is okay now.”

  “You’re wrong, Kate, it’s never going to be okay. I can’t ever get those years back. I won’t ever be able to forget. I’m not permitted to talk about this to anyone but you and the girls. How can I put it behind me if I can’t get it out in the open and deal with it? You said writing down everything in those stupid journals would be a start. I did it because you said it would help me. Well, guess what? You were wrong, it’s worse now than it was when I first got back. It’s almost a year—a whole goddamn year—and I was ready to kill that poor dog,” Patrick said miserably.

  “But you didn’t, and that’s what’s important. You won’t ever do anything to Jake. You’ll always be aware, and you have control now,” Kate said quietly.

  “Do you realize it’s been a year and no one has been in touch with us? No one has called to see how I’m doing. No one has checked up on me. Once I signed that paper, I became a nonperson. Patrick Starr doesn’t exist anymore. I’m goddamn sick and tired of being honorable. Honorable should work both ways. All this past year you’ve talked me up when things were bad. You were always there. You never got mad, you never fought with me even when I was at my worst. And you don’t even love me,” he said, his voice full of awe. “I always know when you’re pissed off, though. You call me Harry.”

  Kate laughed. “Yeah, I guess I do. So, now what? I can tell you’ve been doing a lot of thinking. It would be nice if you’d share your thoughts with me.”

  “Well,” Patrick said thoughtfully, “I thought I’d stick around to participate in that one-year anniversary party you and the girls are planning for me. I overheard you talking,” he said sheepishly. “I can hear a pin drop with this hearing aid.” He laughed at the look on Kate’s face. It was a nice laugh, full of amusement at his wife’s embarrassment.

  “And then?” Kate said anxiously.