She removed her uniform jacket and hung it neatly on the back of a dining room chair. It had been a long, emotional day. She was surprised to see Lauren Shelton at the funeral, but years of military training had taught her to suppress her feelings. It had been twenty years, but Lauren was no longer the skinny girl Athon remembered. Today she was a beautiful, sexy woman, her mocha skin still flawless and temptingly touchable. Lauren’s cinnamon-colored eyes had flickered slightly, but had been unable to break away from the magnetic hold of Athon’s eyes. Now Athon didn’t want to remember what had happened between them. In the end Lauren had left her and she’d never heard from her again.
“Smells better in here already,” Bridget said from behind Athon.
Athon turned and smiled. “It doesn’t take long for a good breeze to make everything fresh again.”
Athon walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She was thankful when she found a bottle of water.
“Why don’t you change out of that uniform and into something more comfortable?” Bridget asked.
Athon shrugged and went into the old guest bedroom she had slept in when Pudge first found her, bloody and beaten and soaking wet. She left the guest room a few minutes later dressed in slightly baggy, faded jeans, a white t-shirt, and a pair of comfortable-looking sneakers.
“Now that’s the Athon Dailey I remember,” Bridget said with a laugh. “Still don’t have a lick of fashion sense.”
“Probably never will,” Athon said. “Don’t need much when Uncle Sam tells you what to wear every day.”
“Well, you’re a fine-looking woman in uniform, Athon. A real pistol.”
Athon sat on the edge of the couch and finished tying the laces on her sneakers.
“I thought, if you weren’t too tired, that you might help me go through some of the crap Daddy couldn’t seem to part with.”
“Where do you want to start?” Athon asked as she stood.
“Upstairs,” Bridget said. “In the attic.”
“Jesus, Bridge, it’s probably over a hundred degrees up there.”
Bridget flipped a switch on the hall wall. “Daddy installed an exhaust fan up there a couple of years back. Might only be ninety.”
“Sounds balmy,” Athon quipped.
Bridget reached up and pulled on a rope hanging from a hidden stairway into the attic. Athon grabbed the rope and pulled the folding steps down, making sure they were locked into place. Since the attic had once been a home for stray cats and squirrels that sneaked in, Athon turned on the lights in the attic and looked around before Bridget followed her up.
“Don’t be staring at my ass, Bridget,” Athon teased.
“Like I’d be interested in your scrawny butt,” Bridget huffed.
“You never know until you try it.”
Athon stepped onto the loose planks that had been placed across the attic support beams and turned to offer a hand to Bridget.
“Lotta crap up here,” Athon said as she looked around and brushed her hands on the seat of her jeans. “Where do you want to start?”
“How about I take the left and you take the right?” Bridget answered with a shrug. “If we can get it downstairs, I can go through it and get Marty to haul most of it to the dump. Daddy kept some stuff up here that belonged to my Mama. I might want to keep some of that.”
Bridget and Athon pushed dusty boxes closer to the folding steps and stopped periodically to lower them to the floor. Under a heavy duckcloth tarp, Athon uncovered an old camelback trunk. She got on her knees and tugged it across the planking. It was about three feet long and two feet wide. The humped lid was made of embossed metal of some type. As she pulled on one of the old leather handles, it snapped in two sending her backwards onto her butt. Bridget rushed to her side to help her up.
“Sorry about that, Bridget. I’ll get the handles replaced,” Athon said.
“Don’t worry none about that, Athon,” Bridget said as they pushed it to the edge of the attic opening.
“You go on down,” Bridget said, “and catch it when I slide it over the edge.”
Athon scrambled down the folding steps far enough to grab the sides of the small trunk and ease it down to the hall floor. She paused as the dust from the attic finally got to her sinuses, causing her to sneeze several times. She shoved the trunk out of the way and helped Bridget down the ladder. After the last items were removed, they closed the opening and began hauling boxes into the front room to go through them. Athon picked up the trunk and ran her hand over the intricate design on the lid. Might as well start with the trunk, she thought, but noticed it was padlocked.
“You got a key for this?” she asked.
“Just get a hammer and bust it off,” Bridget said as she rummaged through a large box that contained old quilt tops her mother had made.
“I don’t want to ruin it,” Athon said.
“Daddy had a thousand keys stashed in one of the kitchen drawers. If you want to mess with them, that’s up to you.” Bridget shrugged and turned to open another box.
Athon walked into the kitchen and went through the drawers, finally lifting out the biggest key ring she’d ever seen. There looked to be over a hundred keys of various shapes and sizes on the ring, some old and rusty, others looked brand new. It reminded Athon of one of those old jailor’s key rings she’d seen in movies. She plopped on the couch and tried the first key without success.
Bridget laughed when she saw the number of keys on the ring. “We probably won’t find a lock on this whole place those will fit,” she said.
Athon grinned at Bridget. “That hammer is sounding pretty good right about now,” she said as she tried another key. She was able to eliminate several keys because of their size or shape. She had worked her way through half the keys when she tilted the old lock up and inserted another. Her eyes widened when she turned the key and the mechanism snapped open. She removed the padlock and said loudly, “Hoo-rah!”
Bridget moved to sit on the couch next to Athon. “Maybe it’s a pirate treasure,” Bridget said in a hushed voice.
Athon took a deep breath and carefully opened the lid, revealing a half dozen small and medium-sized boxes still wrapped in brown postal paper. Mixed in with the boxes were envelopes tied in small bundles. Athon picked up a stack and examined it. All the packages and envelopes were addressed to her at Pudge’s address. She looked at the return address and her eyes flew up to meet Bridget’s.
“They’re from Lauren,” Athon said. “I don’t understand. Did you know about these?” she asked, waving them in front of Bridget.
Bridget leaned back on the couch. “I didn’t know, Athon. I swear. But when Daddy was dying he said something I didn’t get until now.”
“What?”
“He said he hoped you’d forgive an old man for doing what he thought was the right thing at the time.”
Athon picked up the rest of the bundles and looked through them. “There’s five years’ worth of letters in here. He didn’t have any right to keep them from me. He knew I was looking for her.” Athon swallowed hard. “He let me believe she just up and left me without a word.”
Bridget patted Athon’s arm. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“She gave up because she never heard anything back. She thought I didn’t care.”
They sat in silence for a while as Athon stacked the letters and packages by their postal date and stared at them. Five years was a long time to keep trying.
“Maybe Daddy thought, with you both still being kids, that eventually you’d forget each other and find someone special after you was grown up.”
“That should have been our decision.” Athon patted Bridget’s hand. “Thanks, Bridge. I really want to be alone right now, okay? This is kind of a shock.”
“I understand, darlin’. Call me after you’ve read them if you want to talk about it. The past is about to rise up and bite you in the ass, girl,” Bridget said.
ATHON DIDN’T KNOW how long the sun had been up when she carefully
folded the last letter and slipped it back into its envelope. Lying before her was a chronicle of Lauren’s life. At least through her graduation from college The first few letters begged Athon to call her or write so Lauren would know she was all right. She loved Athon and her writing told of a deep depression. Lauren apologized for the actions of her parents and wanted Athon to know that she had no part in their separation. Lauren wrote about her loneliness and her fear she would never see Athon again or hold her in her arms. She would never feel the solidness of Athon’s body or the softness of her lips. By the time Athon finished she was emotionally drained and had never felt so exhausted. She remembered the last Christmas she had been with Lauren and the simple heart-shaped necklace she had given her. Athon fingered the gold link bracelet on her wrist as she wondered what had become of the necklace after Lauren gave up on her.
Athon cut open the first package Lauren had sent. It would have been Athon’s gift the Christmas after Lauren disappeared. Tears filled her eyes as she lifted the lid. Inside, resting on a thick bed of downy cotton was a gold ring, similar to a wedding band. It was inscribed on the inside with both their names. Ornate scrollwork covered the outside. A note inside the box said that Lauren had one identical to it. She promised to wear it...forever and always. Athon picked the ring up carefully and slid it onto the ring finger of her left hand. “Forever and always,” she murmured as she clenched her fingers together. The remainder of the boxes contained small trinkets. Some were from events during Lauren’s college years that she wished Athon could share with her. There were wallet-sized photographs, pictures of Lauren with friends or a dog. And finally there was a picture of Lauren at her college graduation. So much had happened.
Athon flopped back on the couch and stared at a photograph of Lauren. She looked exactly the way she had the last time Athon saw her. Athon twisted the ring on her finger and finally stood. She took a hot shower and collapsed onto her bed. Within seconds sleep overtook her.
Chapter Eighteen
Duvalle, Texas October 2006
MAKING HER WAY to lunch duty two days later, Lauren took a deep breath and let her eyes travel slowly around the cafeteria lobby. They lingered for a moment on the courtyard outside the lobby area. Floor-to-ceiling windows allowed a relatively clear view of the students lounging on the benches surrounding the once beautiful fountain. The fountain had been a gift from a past graduating class, but had become the site of too many practical jokes involving bubbles and food coloring over the years until the school administration closed it down, filled it with soil, and tried vainly each year to grow flowering plants.
As she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet she noticed a cluster of students gathered near the center of the courtyard. They weren’t loud enough to indicate a fight in progress or a potential fight, but such a gathering was definitely not normal. Gradually the students, many of them girls, moved to create a corridor. Kneeling inside the cluster of students, Lauren saw an individual dressed in military camouflage and wearing a maroon beret that sat jauntily on the center-left of the head covering short blonde hair, holding what looked like a large remote-control device. The beret was slightly forward on the person’s head and Lauren wasn’t able to fully see their face. As the students widened the path, a medium-sized olive green helicopter began to lift off the sidewalk, gaining momentum until it lifted into the air. Lauren watched as the front of the remote-controlled helicopter dipped and the copter moved forward, barely missing the plate-glass windows into the cafeteria. Lauren had been holding her breath as she watched the object approach and suddenly let the air explode from her lungs. She would definitely have to speak to the ROTC people about safety issues. One at a time, students came forward and were allowed to maneuver the helicopter. Lauren could see the alertness and excitement in their eyes. The adult in charge only stepped in if it appeared a student was having a difficult time or losing control. Finally, a few minutes before the bell ending lunch, two ROTC instructors moved the students back and cleared a space large enough for the helicopter to land. The adult with blonde hair stepped forward and looked up as the copter was brought down to land softly in the semi-circle. There was no doubt that the remote control pilot was a female. She spoke to the students while she waited for the rotary blades to come to a stop. Then she approached and knelt down next to the helicopter. She picked it up and pointed to parts of the machine, apparently explaining the function of each.
Lauren carefully observed the expressions of the students as they listened to her. The speaker was tall for a woman and quite slender. The sleeves of her camouflage top were rolled up to just below her elbows and Lauren saw a gold bracelet dangling from her right wrist. A large, black wristwatch with a webbed band, its face covered by a strip of olive green material encircled her left wrist. Everything about the woman’s uniform was...perfect. Lauren smiled when she remembered hearing other women talk about how hot someone they knew looked in their uniform, whether it was police, fire, or any other kind of uniform. She had to admit that the woman in the courtyard filled out her military uniform extremely well. The way in which she stood and moved was the picture of pride, confidence, and sex appeal. Lauren looked away and cleared her throat, hoping she wasn’t blushing.
“She’s turned out rather impressively, hasn’t she?” a voice behind Lauren said.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw the officer in charge of the ROTC program at Carver High School, Colonel Wilson Fruge.
“I’m sorry?” Lauren responded.
Colonel Fruge took a step forward to stand beside Lauren. “When she was a student here everyone was positive she would wind up in prison,” he said with a smile.
“You were here when she was a student?”
“It was my first year here. I remember her, but don’t think she was ever in ROTC.”
Lauren turned her head and stared at the striking figure. There was something very familiar about her. The bell rang and students began making their way to the next class, some shuffling and others walking rapidly into the hallways surrounding the cafeteria lobby. The door from the center patio opened and Lauren glanced toward it in time to see the woman shaking hands with a few students, a brilliant smile lighting up her face. Athon Dailey.
Athon handed the helicopter and remote to the two ROTC instructors with her and said something. The two men came to attention and saluted her before she turned and strode toward the cafeteria door. As she stepped inside, she removed her beret and sunglasses and turned slightly to catch the glass door before it slammed shut. She saluted Colonel Fruge and Lauren would have sworn Athon’s face froze when she saw her standing next to the colonel.
“Excellent presentation today, Major,” Fruge said as he returned the salute.
“Thank you, sir,” Athon said crisply. “It was my honor, sir.”
“Ms. Shelton, let me introduce Major Athon Dailey. Major Dailey is in town on personal business and was gracious enough to speak to our cadets today. Major, this is Ms. Lauren Shelton, the Dean of Students at Carver.”
“A pleasure, ma’am,” Athon said, shaking Lauren’s hand as if they’d never met. Lauren was surprised at the electric feeling she used to feel when she touched Athon. It was still there. She could see in Athon’s eyes that she felt it as well. The twenty years that had passed changed nothing.
“Welcome home, Major,” Lauren said with a smile.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, when school ended for the day, Lauren looked out the window of her office and saw Athon standing on the sidewalk in front of the building talking to Colonel Fruge. A few minutes later the colonel walked away leaving Athon standing alone on the sidewalk, glancing at her wristwatch. Lauren left her office and exited the building. She needed to say something to Athon and this would probably be the last time she’d ever see her.
“Major Dailey,” Lauren said. “Could I speak to you before you leave?”
“Of course, Ms. Shelton. What can I do for you?” Athon said as she adjusted her sun glasses.
> “Are you staying at Pudge’s house?” Lauren asked as she stopped in front of Athon.
“Yeah. In fact, Bridget is supposed to pick me up in a few minutes.” Athon smiled. “The house seems strange after all these years. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Pudge left that little chunk of property to me in his will.” Athlon laughed. “I don’t know what he was thinking.”
“What about Bridget?”
“She’s got her own place with her husband now. She didn’t really want the old place.”
“How have you been, Athon?”
“I’m doing fine. As you can see I have a career that lets me see some pretty interesting places. I like what I do.”
“What is it that you do?”
“I’m an army aviator, specifically a helicopter pilot. Mostly my crew and I do rescue work. In fact, I’ll be preparing to deploy again not too long after I report back to my unit in Georgia.”
“Where will you be going?”
“Germany. Probably Afghanistan from there. There’s some talk that our permanent base will move to Germany and then go on a rotating schedule with other helicopter units doing medevac missions.” Athon cleared her throat and looked up and down the street. “I...uh...think about you sometimes, Lauren.”
“Would you consider having dinner with me this evening?” Lauren asked, looking down at her hands.
“I’d like that,” Athon said with a smile. “Where are you living now?”
“I have a place here. My parents passed away a couple of years ago.”
Picking Up The Pieces Page 11
