A Hero's Homecoming

by Havel, Carlene;

  “I wish I could fly to Houston tomorrow and sleep on the plane. I’ll have to turn the air conditioner full in my face to keep from dozing off on that long drive.” She checked her watch. “I’ve got five whole minutes before I have to leave for the hospital,” she said, leaning back and closing her eyes. “I don’t know if I can handle that much leisure.”

  “No chance,” Anita said. “We have some last minute business. Maybe this is good news. Rich Martino is going to Houston with you. He said he would drive.”

  “What?” Charlotte said, eyes open, suddenly alert. “Are you saying I’m going to be in the car with that man for eight hours?”

  “Maybe not,” Anita purred. “He probably drives faster than you. Charlotte, I couldn’t squeeze even a half hour out of your schedule for the next three weeks. He said he couldn’t wait and started asking me about what you were doing this time and that day. Ordinarily I resist that approach, but Mr. Martino has a slick way of getting what he wants and making you think it’s your idea. Bottom line, he’s picking you up at your house at seven-thirty tomorrow morning and driving you to Houston in his car.”

  “He doesn’t have a car,” Charlotte said calmly. “And he doesn’t know where I live.”

  “He must think he has a car, because he told me to go ahead and cancel the rental car reservation,” Anita responded. “He also thinks he’ll be able to find your place from the directions I gave him.”

  Charlotte put her head in her hands.

  “Not to change the subject, but you know, I really like your hair,” Anita said. “I had forgotten how curly it is, you lucky dog. What did people say when they saw you this afternoon?”

  “They said never put yourself under the control of a man who can con Anita,” Charlotte moaned.

  Two of his retired golfing buddies were with Dick when Charlotte arrived at the hospital. After they left, Charlotte read the newspaper aloud. At ten minutes to eight, Dick’s nurse told Charlotte Dr. Stephens had an emergency situation and would not come by until after midnight. Before leaving for the night, Charlotte said a prayer for Dick, Rich, Dr. Stephens, and the unknown emergency case. She kissed Dick’s cheek and brushed wisps of hair from his forehead. “What I would give to have one more conversation with you,” she said. “I hope you know your son Rich is alive and well. The Bible tells us no human being is perfect, Dick. You have always done what you thought was best for him. Your son loves you very much. Good night.”

  * * *

  Charlotte made a pot of tea and settled into the spare bedroom that served as her home office. Dick’s files were open to the spot where she had stopped reading the night before. She had prayed and thought about Rich’s request to share everything Dick had told her in his counseling sessions. Her conclusion was she could not ignore Dick’s privacy, the ethics of her profession, and her own integrity by revealing information told to her in confidence. She would disclose only information which she could verify that Dick had given to someone other than herself, his minister or his attorney.

  By two o’clock Wednesday morning, Charlotte had combed through the files and her memory. She regretted that she would not be able to divulge some critical pieces of information, but hoped what she could share would help. It wasn’t going to take long to tell Rich what she had for him. Charlotte wondered what they would talk about the rest of the time. They had so little in common.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Charlotte was delighted with the amount of time her new hairdo cut from her morning routine. One minute to shampoo during her shower, one minute to rinse, three minutes to apply mousse and scrunch a few curls. Total—five minutes, instead of thirty. What a relief!

  She slipped on the black, red, and tan shell, then the skirt to her favorite black suit. The waist was noticeably looser than it had been a few weeks ago. Hectic schedule, she thought. Too many missed meals.

  She was both amused and reassured by Lottie’s advice to wear something nice. I’ll always be a little girl to my mom, Charlotte thought. Years ago that realization frustrated her. Now, she found comfort in it. Unconditional love—what a wonderful gift, Charlotte reflected as she took out her best shoes. They were soft leather, with a thin red cord dividing the black back from a creamy tan toe. The heels were a little higher than she normally wore, but they flattered her shapely calves. She had paid more than she should’ve for these shoes. Nevertheless, as soon as she saw them in the boutique window, she simply had to have them.

  The suit jacket and a black purse completed her outfit. She methodically packed a tote bag with a spiral notebook, pens, a paperback New Testament, and notes she’d extracted from Dick Martino’s file. She checked the mirror and smiled at the realization she could add a hairbrush to her tote.

  “Well look at you!” Rich exclaimed as Charlotte opened her door. “Your hair, I mean. It looks great. Wow.”

  Wow yourself, she thought. Rich wore a sky-blue shirt, the same shade as his eyes. Paul Newman eyes, Lottie called them the other night. He had on dark slacks. The knit fabric of his short-sleeved shirt emphasized his well-muscled chest and arms. A pair of sunglasses hung on his shirt’s open neck, revealing a thick tangle of blond chest hair that contrasted sharply with his deep tan. His shoulders filled up the door frame. The morning sun behind him seemed to radiate from his golden hair, creating a blazing halo around his ruggedly handsome face. It was no mystery why four women had married this man.

  Charlotte realized she was staring. “Good morning,” she said, stepping outside. “It’s very nice of you to make this long drive with me. I don’t have much information for you. I hope you won’t feel like you’ve wasted your time.” Get a grip, Charlotte! You’re fawning over this heel worse than Mother and Martha ever dared.

  “I’ve been looking forward to taking a road trip. It’s been a while,” he replied.

  Charlotte expected to see Dick’s luxury car. Instead, a sleek silver auto sat in the driveway, regally reflecting the morning sun. “Nice car,” she murmured. “I've never seen one like it.”

  “It’s a Chat Noire. Belongs to Johnny Lopez,” Rich said, opening the door for her. “The Swiss custom make twenty or so a year. Fine little machine. Want that in the trunk?” He nodded toward her tote bag.

  “No, I’ll hang on to it. Thanks,” she said. Charlotte wondered what it must be like to have a spare sports car to loan to a friend. Since Johnny Lopez was a partner in Martino-Lopez Enterprises, he must be as wealthy as Dick. In that case, Mr. Lopez could easily have several extra houses in addition to a fleet of automobiles.

  Rich put on his sunglasses as he eased onto the eastbound lane of the interstate highway. “Sun in our faces all the way over and all the way back,” he commented.

  The traffic lessened as they passed out of the San Antonio metropolitan area. Charlotte retrieved her notes. “Are you ready to tackle the information I have on your dad?”

  “Ready when you are,” he responded. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Charlotte took a deep breath. “As you can imagine, your father was devastated when he heard of your death last November. In the normal course of things, we expect to lose our parents, perhaps even a spouse, but we never imagine outliving our children.”

  Charlotte paused long enough to fish a tissue from her purse. She dabbed at her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. After a struggling moment she continued speaking normally. “In a talk to a support group for fathers who had lost sons or daughters, Dick described the months of November and December as ‘one long, unbroken scream of pain’. He said he felt as if he was ‘in a dark snake pit, with no idea of how to climb out and eventually no desire to try.’ In January, your father attended a church service and accepted Christ.”

  She waited for some response, some reaction. When there was none, she continued talking. “He searched for a church he liked, joined it, and became extremely active. Some people become Christians with little visible impact. Maybe they start going to church or give up a vice or two. That’s not how it was wit
h your dad. Everything about him changed. God was never limited to a Sunday morning phenomenon for him. Dick incorporated his belief system into every aspect of his life, including business tactics, relationships with other people, money, time, priorities. His entire approach to living underwent a complete, sudden, and dramatic change.”

  “There was one great sorrow that nagged at Dick,” Charlotte continued. “He spoke to a Sunday school class of young fathers about it not long ago. He told them his greatest regret was that he had neglected to teach his only child to know the love of Jesus Christ.” Charlotte glanced at Rich. He was watching the road ahead intently, silently. “Dick said he would give anything he had or ever would have, including his life in this world or even the next, if he could change that one thing. He loved his son that much. But, sadly, his child had been taken from him so the opportunity did not exist. He urged the young fathers not to make the same mistake, warning them there might not be a second chance.”

  Charlotte wiped her eyes again and continued softly. “There is more to the story, but that’s the essence of it. What I’ve told you is everything I know and could find in statements Dick made publicly, rather than in confidence to me, Jerry, or his pastor, Dr. Sparkman. Those two may be able to fill in more details for you. I’m sure Dr. Sparkman or someone on his staff could locate people who heard one of your father’s numerous talks and put you in touch with them. There’s an outside chance someone could have made a voice recording or even a videotape of Dick.” Charlotte waited for a reaction from Rich, but he stared straight ahead. She added, “It would also be worth looking through the house. If Dick keeps a diary or journal, there would probably be entries that would help you understand what he experienced in this last year. I’m hoping and praying every day that he’s going to wake up and tell you himself everything that he has been through.”

  Rich continued to train his eyes on the highway. After a few minutes, he asked, “What made him go to that church service in January?”

  “I can’t tell you that, Rich.”

  “Do you know?” he insisted.

  “Yes,” Charlotte replied quietly. “I know, but it’s confidential. Please believe me, Rich, more information would clarify the picture, not change it. Losing you started Dick on a quest. He found Christ and his life changed. He wanted to share what he had found with others, especially you, Rich. And now, in a way, he has accomplished that objective. It was something he wanted so very much.”

  Rich seemed lost in thought. Undaunted, Charlotte continued, “I didn’t know Dick very well previously, so I can’t offer any before and after comparison. I can only say I know him to be happy, caring, well-adjusted and easy-going. He’s a man at peace with himself, his God, and the world. He still grieves over your death. I mean, what he thought was your death, but because of his strong faith he has been able to accept his loss as God’s will and therefore, by definition, the right thing.”

  Rich spoke softly. “Someone you love dies and the answer is right there on a silver platter. Have faith, trust God, the sun will come up tomorrow and we’ll all go on a picnic. You shed a few tears and a higher power will kiss your broken heart and make it all well again.” He glanced at her. “It’s all so easy.”

  “I never used the word ‘easy’, Rich.”

  “It’s implied,” he said calmly.

  “For a moment, dispense with your disbelief in God and a life after this one. Leaving this earth to move on to an infinitely better place would be an improvement, like moving out of a cramped shack into a castle. Death, in itself, is not tragic. Dying unprepared would be the problem.”

  “Charlotte,” Rich said patiently, “I don’t doubt your sincerity, not anymore. You have no idea how much I would like to buy into everything you’re saying, turn it all over to the Man in the Sky, and get on board the train bound for Glory. You’ve obviously had a sheltered life where evil and misery were merely words or fuzzy concepts. In that context, pat answers and platitudes work. I envy people like you.”

  “I seem to recall your mother died of breast cancer. As far as Dick knew, his only child was gone. You can’t deny your father had his share of troubles,” Charlotte said. “Yet he became a believer. Life is going to pancake every one of us sooner or later. We can try to handle everything on our own or we can turn to God for help.”

  Rich set the cruise control. Charlotte turned in her seat to face him. “Do you know why I work specifically with clients who have lost a child?”

  “Didn’t know you did,” he said.

  Charlotte took the packet of tissues from her purse and set them in her lap. She straightened in her seat to face the road. “When my son was three years old, my daughter Sarah was born. She was a beautiful baby, a little redhead, with a dimple in her left cheek, just like mine. My husband and I and both our families were walking on air. Mark, my husband, had two brothers, both of whom had sons, no daughters. Sarah was the first little girl born into his family for fifty years. No baby was ever more loved. One morning, when Sarah was three weeks and three days old, I found her lifeless and blue in her crib.” Even now, Charlotte could remember lifting Sarah from her crib and screaming. “I don’t know how we got to the emergency room. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome was the diagnosis. My baby was dead and nobody could tell me why. I thought if there was a benevolent God, he would never have let this happen. The day of the funeral was a blur, as were a great many after it.”

  Charlotte wiped her tears. “After that I didn’t care about anything and that included my husband and my innocent little boy. Mark was patient for a while. Eventually he got tired of living with someone he couldn’t reach. One day he told me he had found someone else. I said ‘Good’ and turned on the TV. I never considered that breaking up our marriage meant my son would be raised without a father. I’ll never know if we could have patched things up. I didn’t try.” She dabbed at another escaping tear.

  “All of my pity was reserved for myself. I lost my baby, then my husband. My son Chris could have been a piece of furniture for all the attention I gave him. One day my mom and dad came and sat at my kitchen table. Mom said, ‘Charlotte, here are your choices. Either you and Christopher move in with us tonight or tomorrow your father and I start the process to take him away from you.’ That got my attention.”

  Rich’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he asked, “Would they have gone through with it?”

  “You met Lottie.” Charlotte laughed through her tears. “She would fight the devil himself for Chris. In a way, that’s exactly what she did. I could get around Daddy, but not Mom. Obviously, I went with them. House rule number one—everybody goes to church on Sunday morning. Eventually, I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior. I still had a long, hard road ahead of me. I had so much anger, resentment, and self-pity to overcome. The day I found the strength I needed to forgive Chris for not being Sarah I started to love him again. Thank God my parents intervened.”

  Rich glanced briefly in her direction. His expression was unreadable. “If this is too personal, tell me to shut up, and I won’t be offended. Why didn’t you find your husband and ask him to let you try again?”

  “I wanted to,” Charlotte said. “But Mark remarried soon after our divorce was final. In Texas a divorce doesn’t take more than a few months. He fathered another child, a daughter. I’ve done a lot of wrong things my life, but I’ve never been a home wrecker.”

  “I know about divorces,” Rich said lightly. “I’m on the verge of number four, probably next week. There’s no point dragging them out. When it’s over, it’s over.”

  “I only had the one,” she said. “It was enough to last a lifetime.”

  They rode a short distance without speaking. Charlotte looked out the passenger window, lost in thought. “You have no idea all I’ve found out in the last couple of days,” Rich said. “I’ll fill you in when we get back on the road. There’s something we have to do first.”

  He slowed to exit from the interstate.

  “Gasolin
e?” Charlotte said.

  “We may fill the tank,” Rich said. “But that’s not why we’re stopping. You’re a native Texan. You’ve been on Interstate 10 to Houston before. What’s in Schwartzenburg?”

  Charlotte said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Glenn’s. For pie.”

  Rich grinned and said, “Bingo!”

  “Daddy couldn’t drive past this place without stopping. He sent mother and me all the way to Schwartzenburg to buy pies once.”

  “Selling pie probably kept Glenn from being run out of business by the big fast food chains,” Rich commented as they pulled into the graveled parking lot.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Rich asked for two pieces of pecan pie, with a scoop of dulce de leche ice cream. Charlotte ordered cherry. “Schwartzenburg. Home of the Armadillos,” he read from a poster behind Charlotte’s head.

  “Weren’t they Double-A state champs a few years ago?” Charlotte asked.

  “I think so, now that you mention it.” Rich took a huge bite of his pie. “You wouldn’t be a football fan?”

  “Only the pros,” she replied. “I enjoyed Chris’s games when he was in high school, mostly because I knew the kids. But you don’t see crisp execution below the professional level.”

  Rich studied Charlotte for a moment before asking, “Texans or Cowboys?”

  “Dallas Cowboys,” she said. “Past, present, and future. I bleed silver and blue. You?”

  Rich looked a little sheepish. “I was born in the District of Columbia and graduated from college there. So you have to understand, the Washington Redskins are my hometown team.”

  “I don’t have to understand anything,” she said mischievously. “You’re going to have to adjust your loyalties, Martino, if you’re going to live in Texas. That horrible year the Cowboys were one and fifteen? You do know the Skins were that one?”