“I love a good salad, but I come from a long line of carnivores. My father would disown me if I ever stopped eating meat. How about you?”
“Salad has its place, but I like a good steak.”
She looked at a platter going by. “Or crab.”
“Surf and turf, they’ve got that. Crab legs or lobster.”
A handsome black guy in a tux appeared out of nowhere and stood at their table, asked what they’d like to drink. Jack ordered the house blush wine, Rachel the same. No appetizers, thank you. Moments later, the waiter reappeared with the wine and a basket of delicious smelling rolls. This was all very pleasant, maybe too pleasant. Gwen had barely made an appearance in his mind. What was the proper length of time to grieve over a betrayal anyway?
They studied the menus. Jack went with the salmon, broiled with a lemon dill glaze, Rachel the surf and turf, with crab. They both took a trip to the salad bar.
While eating the salad, Rachel said rather abruptly. “Can we get something on the table?”
16
Jack looked the table over, wondering what was missing.
“It’s been bothering me since I left your apartment today,” she continued. “You’re no fool, and neither am I. I’m sure by now you’ve figured out I’ve had a crush on you ever since Germany. It slipped out. I don’t know what I was thinking coming over like that. It was anything but subtle. Normally, I don’t chase men—”
Nor should you have to, Jack thought.
“—and I’m not chasing you. It was just too much of a coincidence, you coming to Culpepper like this. I was curious, and I don’t know where I’m going with all this, but I’m glad you told me about you not being in the market, just getting over your Jenn.”
“Gwen.”
“Sorry, Gwen.” She took in a deep breath. “So we’re just talking friendship here, no pressure. I’ve thought about it, and think any reasonable woman would have done the same thing I did, given these circumstances.”
“I agree.”
“Good.” It was settled, she seemed relieved.
“I’m glad you were curious,” he said. “And I’m glad you’re here, and even glad you cleared the air. So now, we can move on. Tell me about your dad, the General.”
“Well, for one thing, he loves your work.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Why? You are a fabulous history writer. And an even better speaker.”
“Were you disappointed?”
“What?”
Jack realized, he’d reverted back to the subject of her curiosity. But he had to know. “When you finally saw me after all these years, were you disappointed?”
She smiled, shaking her head in mock disgust. “I thought we were moving on.”
“We are—we will. I just—”
“No, I was not disappointed. I’m surprised you had to ask. I came over this morning. I’m here now.”
“That could just be curiosity.”
“I thought we were talking about my dad.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. You were saying…”
Rachel started to talk about a conversation she’d had with her father last night but was interrupted by the arrival of the meal. Jack was glad. The conversation was about Jack’s Pearl Harbor conspiracy lecture. She said her father had some interesting questions he wanted her to ask. Jack tried to change the subject as they ate, asking other things about her father, her family, how she had come to take Thornton’s class.
She said she was the baby in the family, had two older brothers, one a doctor, the other— taking after her father—a colonel in the Air Force. She had finished her BA in political science a couple of years ago, had worked on the unsuccessful congressional campaign of a conservative Republican she admired, was offered this teaching assistant post and was now slowly making her way through her master’s as she debated about what to do with her career.
She talked about how much she’d come to appreciate her parents’ relationship in recent years, how they stuck it out through all the ups and downs of a military career, and now enjoyed a great friendship. They still held hands when they walked, still complimented each other, went dancing once a week. Most of her married friends from high school were already divorced, some twice.
Jack had to ask…no, she had never been married, had never really come close. But it was becoming clear, she was holding out for someone like dear old dad. High stakes, Jack thought. But he liked this about her. He liked everything about her, everything she said, even the way she said it.
“You seem to be really taken with the forties, Jack. I mean more than just for a guy who teaches history. The music you listen to, the magazines in your apartment, the gleam you get in your eye during your lectures, almost like a preacher.”
Jack wondered, was that an approving or disapproving tone in her voice? “I guess you could say that.”
“Don’t feel bad. I think it’s…” She fumbled for an adjective. “Well, I’m not sure what it is, but I like it. It was such a romantic time. I love watching movies from that period. That’s what you kinda remind me of. Like you could have stepped right out of one of them. Of course, your hair doesn’t work at all for that time. But other than that….”
“I’m not sure how I became so enamored with the period. It just sucks me in for some reason. Everything about it. It was such a totally different world. So innocent compared to now, even with the craziness of the war. People lived by a code. Right and wrong were clearly defined. Families stayed together. People went to church. The streets were safe. I know that’s all a bit oversimplified, but I think you get what I mean. To me, the only drawback of the period was the racial discrimination issue… which was really bad.”
“And the way they treated women,” Rachel added.
“Right,” Jack said, “Those two things and…the musicals.”
“What?”
“Musicals. I can’t stand the musicals. People breaking forth into song and dance right in the middle of a dramatic scene. Everybody knows the words. Way too hokey.”
She laughed and took a sip of iced tea. “So, I get why you like that time period. How did you wind up as a military history major?”
“Well, in a way Professor Thornton had something to do with it.”
“He did?”
“I was reading his first—I guess his only book on military aviation at a time when I was searching for a career path. I had just come out of the Air Force. Then it dawned on me. I had all these military history books on my shelf, had read every one. I noticed in Thornton’s bio he taught military history at Culpepper. I’d never realized this might be something I could do for a living. One thing led to another and the rest as they say….”
“—is history,” she said.
“All I know is whenever I read history—especially the World War II era—it comes alive to me. I can almost feel what it was like to be there. A part of me wishes I could go back in time somehow, see it all for myself. See what it really—”
He froze.
“What’s the matter?”
“Maybe that’s it.”
“Maybe that’s what?”
“Maybe that’s what caused The Dream.”
“What dream?”
“The dream I had last night.”
“The dream, was it some kind of nightmare? You said you had a rough night.”
“Yeah, it was.” Jack had partially disengaged. Rachel said something else. Jack didn’t hear.
“Jack?” She waved her hand in front of his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. All day I’ve been trying to figure out how I could have had such a crazy dream. I think I might have just said it.”
“What did you say?”
“I don’t know.” He looked back into her eyes. “It’s just this dream was like nothing I ever experienced before. So intense, so real.”
“Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“No
. Let’s don’t talk about this. Here we are at River Bend—”
“Jack, I don’t mind. I really don’t. Tell me about it.”
Jack thought a moment. “All right.”
He relayed the highlights of his visit to Pearl Harbor and Hickam Field. In seconds, the atmosphere at the table was electrified. At times, Rachel shuddered. Several couples within earshot were unconsciously drawn into the story. Playing it all back made Jack realize just how bizarre it was.
When he finished, she sat there for a few seconds in stunned silence. “That’s a tad more exciting than your lectures.”
“That’s what I meant when I said how a part of me wanted to go back to the forties and see it for myself. Maybe that desire was more powerful than I realized. Maybe something kind of snapped in my brain.” Jack immediately regretted saying that.
“Have you had…many of these dreams?”
Look at her face, Jack thought. I shouldn’t have brought this up. “No, only this one. But it’s no big deal. I’m sure it was just some freak thing. Look, your food’s getting cold.” The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was some kind of nutcase.
17
Jack and Rachel stood at the doorway of her apartment.
“Sorry about the moths,” she said, watching Jack flick one from his hair.
“It’s all right. Hey look, I better get going.” He really was in no hurry, but this date wasn’t a date, and he didn’t know what either one would do if he stayed there a moment more.
She turned toward the door, pulling the keys out of her purse. “Thanks again for dinner.” A pause. “I don’t know if you’re interested, but there’s a theater downtown that replays old movies on Sunday nights, big screen, digital sound.”
A good sign. Talking about The Dream mustn’t have done any permanent damage. But why get together again in such a setting? The pretext of getting caught up and returning favors would be gone.
“You don’t have to,” she said.
“No, I want to, and that’s the problem. I’m supposed to be grieving over a broken relationship. And I’m supposed to be burying myself in this book project to help me get over it.” He smiled, then so did she. “Rachel, I…I need a little time to sort this out. Can I get back to you on the movie idea?”
“Sure. And don’t feel strange about saying no.”
They returned smiles again. Jack felt the gravitational pull of a goodnight kiss. But it shouldn’t happen. Not now. “Good night,” he said, pulling back.
“Good night.” The door closed behind her.
As he drove off, the distraction Rachel offered began to fade. His mind soon slipped into the torment he’d moved in and out of all day. From the moment Jack noticed the darkness setting in, a restless feeling had come over him. Now that Rachel was gone, he felt it keenly. He knew what it was.
At night people have to sleep.
His car must have remembered its way home. Jack couldn’t recall making a single traffic decision as he pulled into the driveway. Different scenes from The Dream replayed in his mind. It still felt as if he’d actually spent those hours at Pearl.
He walked up the rickety steps, carefully closing the screen door so the whapping sound wouldn’t wake his landlords. The overhead light in the screen porch was out. He let himself in. The apartment was dark, cold as ice, and silent.
Within the first fifteen minutes, he had the heat on, the lights on, coffee brewing, and the remnants of a store-bought pecan pie heating in the microwave. He sat at his dinette table and started to eat. He was so tired. He tried forcing the dread of sleep out of his mind with thoughts of his first outing with Rachel. Next he tried thinking about the book he was supposed to be writing.
But it was no use.
He finished his pie and walked into the bedroom, flicked on the light. As he emptied his pockets on the dresser, he glared down at the bed.
Where would it take him tonight?
18
Jack awoke the next morning, the only sound a gentle hissing from the radiator. He glanced around the room. Everything was in its proper place. The Norman Rockwell calendar on the far wall, just above it, the floral wallpaper curled and peeled back at the ceiling. Through the window to the right, a sliver of sunlight squeezed through the blinds.
The evidence confirmed; he was at 433 Rambling Road.
He sat up. As he scratched his head, images of a fading dream were quickly disappearing. The only thing he recalled was a woman with big flaming red hair, dressed like a country western singer, bright red rouge on her cheeks and ruby red lipstick. He had no idea who she was.
Just like dreams should be. Stupid, nonsensical.
Maybe she represented Gwen.
By the time he made it to the kitchen, even these images were beginning to fade. The Pearl Harbor dream had been a fluke, not the beginning of a trend. The smell of fresh coffee made the morning complete. He looked at the clock on the microwave as he pulled a mug out of the cabinet.
After finishing off a pop-tart and a cup of coffee, his phone rang. “Hello?”
“Is that you, Jack?”
“Professor?”
“Yes. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No,” Jack said, “just finishing up breakfast. But I’m glad you called. I was going to call you before I headed in.”
“Oh? What about?”
“I just wanted to give a little heads up on my lecture this morning. I’ve decided to cover the controversies surrounding Doolittle’s Raid.”
“Oh? I didn’t think you had finished with Pearl Harbor yet.”
“Well, I almost did. I’d just like to change gears this morning if you don’t mind.”
“That’s fine, Jack. Do you mind if I ask why? I know some of the students will?”
What should he say? I had a bad dream about Pearl Harbor and I’m scared to even think about it? “It’s just I went a little further on Monday than I planned, got a little lost on the time. I don’t have enough material for another full lecture.”
“All right, Doolittle it is. I’m sure it will be wonderful. Are you feeling all right?”
“What?”
“Nothing. I just wondered if everything is all right. I called and left a message on your voicemail. Wanted to know if you were having any second thoughts about staying at the apartment. Have any trouble sleeping? That bed looked like something from another era.”
Have any trouble sleeping? “I’m fine. Class is still at ten, right?”
“Ten, yes.”
“See you there.”
“Say Jack, have any dinner plans tonight?”
How he wished he had. “No, I don’t. But I couldn’t stay late; I really need to get to work on this book.”
“Man’s gotta eat,” Thornton said. “I won’t keep you. There’s a great gourmet Italian place on my way home. Makes incredible take-out. Lasagna, Veal Scaloppini, Crab Alfredo….”
“Okay, you talked me into it.”
“You pick the time.”
They decided on a time and what Jack would order and hung up.
# # #
A few minutes after ten, Professor Thornton looked over the rim of his bifocals at the class. Standing off to the side, Jack noticed Thornton’s eyes scanning each row as though taking roll call in his head. Thornton stopped briefly at a lone empty chair by the door. A frown appeared, then he smiled widely, took a deep breath and said, “We’re honored once again to have Mr. Jack Turner as our guest lecturer. Today I understand he’s going to shift our attention to one of the most dramatic and heroic missions of World War II, our first chance to strike back at Japan after Pearl Harbor. I’ll let Jack explain.”
Jack arose to light applause. As he made his way to the lectern, his eyes scanned the crowd as well. He paused when he saw Rachel’s face. Their eyes met, a quick smile, then he looked down at his notes. He really didn’t need them. He knew every detail about the Doolittle Raid by heart.
“Thank you, Professor. I’m sure as fourth-ye
ar military history students you’re all familiar with Doolittle’s Raid on Tokyo. But I’ve done some checking and, unless you’ve looked into it on your own, it was the Fall of last year since it’s been covered here in class. So I’ve got this excellent little twenty-five-minute video to refresh your memories. When it’s over, we’ll look at some of the things the history books rarely discuss. Someone get the lights?”
Most of the class looked toward the front door, but no one got up to flick the switch. “Looks like Mr. Riesner is absent today,” Thornton said. “He usually gets the lights. Mr. Holton, would you do the honors?”
A well-dressed kid in the front row dutifully obeyed. Jack turned back to the screen as the lights dimmed. Patriotic music began to play, and the deep voice of an excited announcer began to speak:
On April 18, 1942, just four months after Japan’s devastating attack on Pearl Harbor, eighty brave Americans launched sixteen large B-25 bombers off the deck of the USS Hornet. A feat never attempted, before or since. Their destination? Tokyo! Between Pearl Harbor and this fateful day, things could not have gone any worse for the Allies in the Pacific. It seemed nothing could halt the aggression of the Imperial Forces of the Empire of Japan. After Pearl Harbor, there was Corregidor and Bataan, the fall of the Philippines. Then, Wake Island fell and Guam. Malaya, Singapore, and Burma. The Allies seemed powerless to stop the Japanese. Morale was at an all-time low. Something had to be done. That something turned out to be…Doolittle’s Raiders. Colonel James Doolittle was given the top-secret assignment of training a squadron of bombers to take the war right back to the Japanese. To do something the emperor of Japan vowed would never occur—the bombing of Japan’s capital city—Tokyo.
Jack settled back in his chair. He’d seen the video many times but got sucked in again. There was something so magnetic about the courage of these young men. Every moment of their mission must have been filled with non-stop adrenaline and adventure.
He glanced over at Rachel. She was looking at the screen. She actually seemed interested in this. Gwen hated anything in black and white. Jack turned back to the screen. For the moment, unconcerned about Pearl Harbor and bad dreams.
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