by Sally John
Lowering her window, Rosie drew up alongside the tall elderly man and braked. “Mr. Beaumont.”
“Officer.” He wore a heavy jacket. His hands were stuffed into its pockets. Shadows played across his face.
“Are you going to be all right, sir?”
“Depends what you mean by all right.”
“‘All right’ as in you’re not going to do something you’ll regret? Something that will require the sheriff to pay a visit here?”
“No.”
“Glad to hear that. Sir, I really am sorry for the loss of your son. I cannot imagine the hell you’ve lived through all these years or the shock that just hit you today.”
He mumbled something indecipherable.
“Anyway, I hope things turn out for you all.”
“I wish the kids hadn’t brought her here.”
“They had little choice.”
“It’s a cock-and-bull story. I can’t believe they fell for it. ’Course, they never knew BJ. He was long gone before they were even born.” He shook his head. “I tell you, BJ would have gotten out of there if he had to crawl on his belly the whole entire way.”
Rosie had no words to empathize with the depth of his pain.
“He was nothing like Erik. That kid is a basket case. BJ was the star student, star athlete, star navy pilot. He had character, you know? Integrity. They just don’t make ’em like that anymore.”
“I’m sorry.” She paused. “What will you do about Tuyen?”
“Stay out of her way. Max and Claire can track down her information if they want. Indio can fawn all over her however much she wants. But nothing’s going to change my mind.”
“Not even the facts?”
“There’s only one fact that matters, and her name is Beth Russell. BJ’s fiancée. He never would have done this to her. Never. Not in a million years.”
Rosie watched the old man shuffle away, his shoulders hunched. Her heart ached for him and for all the Beaumonts and for Tuyen and now for someone named Beth Russell.
“Lord, don’t You think this prayer list is getting a little long?”
Twenty
And then there’s Beth Russell,” Max said. “How do we deal with her?”
“Who’s Beth Russell?” The question exploded from Danny, Jenna, Erik, and Lexi all at once.
Claire looked over at Max. He looked back at her, his fork midair, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead.
Approximately four hours earlier, Tuyen Beaumont had entered their lives. The situation still felt a bit awkward. A stranger was in their midst. BJ’s fate had finally been revealed. Was it a time to cry or celebrate?
Life went on. They got hungry and tired. With her daughters’ help, Claire prepared a light supper. Indio cloistered herself and Tuyen in the lone refurbished guest room to eat by themselves. Ben never returned to the house.
Claire and Max ate dinner with the kids in the kitchen. They sat at a long table in a corner near the fireplace. Against the walls were built-in benches, down one side of the table and one end, making it a snug family spot. The fire crackled and popped.
Max said, “Sweetheart, you know the story. Why don’t you tell it?”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Technically, Mom did.” Earlier, out of everyone’s earshot, Indio had told Max they would think about Beth tomorrow. “I’m only repeating what she said because I think the kids should know what’s going on.”
“I never even met BJ. He’d been missing for ten months when I met you.”
“Please?”
She traced her fork around the half-eaten omelet on her plate. Since Tuyen’s arrival, Max had withdrawn more and more into himself. Although they hadn’t yet had a chance to talk alone, she understood that the news about BJ pained him and his parents beyond measure. They flailed about, searching for ways to cope. Max became uncharacteristically silent while his parents hid away.
Claire suspected that once they got used to the fact of BJ’s death, they might find a joy in the existence of his daughter.
Seeing Max’s tired demeanor, Claire felt a sense of being set apart. A realization swept through her: The mantle had been passed, the mantle of being matriarch. Its heavy weight and its suddenness caught her by surprise. Shouldn’t such a thing be passed on gradually? The closest thing she had to a wise response was to make tea.
Beyond Max’s shoulder, Indio’s wall of crosses came into focus. There were about sixty of them, in every style, size, material, and color imaginable. Framed sketches of Jesus also filled the space, from floor to ceiling. When the fire had torn through the house, it didn’t touch one cross or one picture.
Claire had told her mother-in-law to take her things into her new home, but Indio insisted they belonged in the hacienda itself, on the wall that had once been part of the early Beaumonts’ chapel.
Now Claire caught a glimpse of the power they represented, the one that Indio always called upon.
Claire smiled to herself.
Dear Father, Indio would say that You are here and that You are good and that You love us and want the best for us. All right. I say that too. And I ask that You help us. Thank You.
Erik cleared his throat loudly. “Will somebody clue us in sometime tonight?”
Claire looked up and became aware of tears seeping from her eyes. She wiped them away with her napkin, nodding at Max. He mouthed a thank-you.
She gazed at her children, one at a time. Her vision seemed different somehow. She wasn’t afraid to see what was there.
Erik’s pupils were too large, too glassy. Although he was not overtly drunk, yes, he had been drinking. And yes, that often was the case.
Jenna appeared much older with new crow’s feet and a worry crease between her brows. The wear and tear of Kevin’s absence was taking its toll. The fears for him at war chewed away at her self-sufficiency.
Danny’s eyes darted too much. He was hiding something from his dad, something he might acknowledge to Claire if she pressed the issue.
Lexi pretended to eat. An unopened half-gallon carton of mocha fudge ice cream was missing from the freezer. It wasn’t the first time two such circumstances collided.
Claire turned to her husband. “Max, fill in the blanks, okay?”
“Sure.”
She took a deep breath. “Beth Russell was engaged to Uncle BJ.”
“Oh, man,” Danny said.
Claire went on. “I met her a few times. She used to come and sit with us at that memorial Nana and Papa made for him, when we’d remember his birthday. The last time she came, you two, Erik and Jenna, were very small. Beth eventually got married and moved to the Northwest. Seattle, I believe. Anyway, she and Uncle BJ had been inseparable since they were five years old. He proposed the day after they graduated high school. From what I’ve heard, she was the female version of him: beautiful, popular, homecoming queen, valedictorian.”
Erik scoffed. “Engaged? How big a deal is that?”
Max said, “For them it was huge. They were seriously committed to God.”
“Yes.” Claire agreed. “Their faith was important to both of them.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he said.
She smiled. “They were over-the-top committed, right?”
“Borderline perfect. For real.” Max rolled his eyes. “Jesus in blue jeans.”
“They held Bible studies right here in this kitchen, all through high school and college. They planned to be missionaries in Latin America. They both got degrees in Spanish and Portuguese.”
Jenna blurted, “Then why did he join the navy?”
Claire hesitated and turned to Max.
His face went hard. “The war news did him in. He couldn’t reconcile his life with the suffering. Being a missionary in the jungles of Latin America didn’t seem sacrificial enough. Even marrying Beth was out of the question until he settled the issue. He chose the war. He thought he could put an end to it, all by himself.”
Danny huff
ed a noise of disbelief. “That makes perfect sense. Go bomb North Vietnam and win souls for Jesus?”
Claire said, “It was more complicated than that. He had his pilot’s license by the time he was sixteen. Part of his missionary dream was to be a bush pilot. He was always fascinated with jets and the navy. Two of his best friends joined the navy right after high school. He met others in college who had already fought in the war. He felt he should serve his country before getting on with the rest of his life.”
Jenna leaned across the table, her features scrunched in earnest. “Did he tell Beth he was going?”
“Oh, honey.” Claire grasped her hand. Jenna was talking more about her own husband. Last year, Kevin had rejoined the military without telling Jenna until after the fact. “Kevin apologized for not telling you.”
“That doesn’t exactly help at the moment while he’s over there getting shot at!”
“I know.” She squeezed her hand and let go. “According to Nana, BJ and Beth made the decision together.”
Max said, “He promised her he would come home.” His voice cracked. His dark eyes shone. “That’s what she told me. He was such a purest, I know he never broke a promise in his life.”
Claire watched him blink back tears. “And that’s why Papa can’t accept Tuyen’s story. Uncle BJ always kept his word. Even if he couldn’t make it home, he wouldn’t have cheated on Beth. Their commitment was old-fashioned, like in ancient days when people were betrothed. It meant the same as being married.”
Danny fidgeted in his seat. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know war does strange things to a man’s mind. Would he have wanted her to see him burned and maimed? Would he have wanted to dump that horror on her? Saddled her with that kind of future?”
Claire stared at him.
Danny kept talking. “Not to mention the psychological scars. I mean, he flew Phantoms, right? It’s no secret he bombed and killed people. Add to that getting shot down and not being rescued by your own country. Imagine the number that would play on your psyche. Who knows what was going on in the poor guy’s head?”
No one said a word.
Danny shrugged. “I vote for Tuyen. It doesn’t subtract anything from Uncle BJ’s reputation. Not for me anyway.”
Of course Danny had heard the same stories Claire had. BJ attacked life with a zealousness that both charmed and annoyed others. If he got into trouble, it was only because of his great big heart.
Odd. She’d never noticed before how that description sounded an awful lot like his nephew Danny.
Danny’s summary ended the conversation about Uncle BJ and Tuyen and Beth Russell. There seemed to be nothing to add.
Abruptly, Erik stood. “Well, I vote for going home. Jen? You’re the one with the car.”
“We should help Mom clean up first.”
Wordlessly Erik began to collect plates. The other three followed suit. Carrying things to the counter, they all appeared to be in a hurry. Claire didn’t blame them for wanting to get away from the difficult talk as soon as possible.
The thought crossed her mind to tell them they needn’t bother with the dishes, but then she saw Max massaging his fingertips against his forehead. Was he getting a migraine? He hadn’t had one in several months. She felt a twinge of panic. Had they even unpacked his medication since moving to the hacienda? Where would it be?
The panic tied itself into an anxious knot in her stomach.
And what of the kids? They needed her. She should stay with them, help in the kitchen that was still unfamiliar to them. She should comfort and hug them, walk them outside to the car.
She should check on Indio and Tuyen. And Ben! She should call. Had he made supper for himself? The dog and the cat usually hung out with him. Surely he’d fed them?
Max rose slowly to his feet and moved across the room toward the door.
The matriarchal weight pressed in upon her again.
“God is good.” She echoed her mother-in-law’s old phrase. The words slipped out with no conscious thought.
Scattered about the kitchen, her family turned as one and looked at her.
The heaviness lifted. The knot untwisted.
She shrugged. “Well, He is good. What else can I say? We will get through this.”
Swiftly, she went to her children and, in turn, planted a kiss on four cheeks and said four times, “Love you. Thanks for cleaning up. Good night.”
Then she went to Max by the door, kissed him, and whispered, “Let’s go tuck you into bed, honey.”
His eyes mere slits, he said hoarsely, “You just quoted my mom.”
“You have a problem with that?”
“If you start dressing like her, we will have a huge problem.”
She laughed.
Twenty-One
The morning after delivering the bombshell to the hacienda, Lexi, Danny, Erik, and Jenna met at a restaurant for breakfast. The previous day still hovered over them like a dark cloud.
“Hey.” Danny whispered in Lexi’s ear.
She ignored him. Like that would stop him from speaking.
“I thought you swore to never, ever, ever meet with all your siblings at the same time again?”
She wrinkled her nose and took another bite of waffle.
“Does this mean sib socializing has been promoted? Oh wow. No way! Is it true?”
Danny could recite Hamlet’s soliloquy in a hoarse whisper and not miss one dramatic nuance.
He continued at her ear. “Sakes alive! It might be true! Sib socializing is now officially”—he inhaled sharply—“an acceptable activity?”
“Danny!” The exasperated complaint burst from Jenna.
Erik said, “Dan, can you pay attention and not mouth off for just two minutes? Huh?”
“Sure.” He leaned back against the booth, one arm stretched behind Lexi. “I didn’t think I was interrupting. I mean, we’ve rehashed this scenario for the past forty-five minutes. Do any of you have anything new to add to the conversation?”
Glares went round the table.
Lexi noticed a busboy hovering nearby and wondered if he wanted to clear their table. “Jen.” She lifted her fork. “You want that pancake?”
“How can you eat at a time like this?”
Erik set down his water glass. “Give us a break, Jen, and drop the huff. We’re all getting through this in our own way. I drink, Lexi eats, you turn shrew, Danny does an incredible imitation of two magpies yapping at once.”
Danny said, “I’m praying too.”
“Uh-oh. Now he’s going into his Nana routine.”
“Make fun all you want, Erik. But God knows what’s what. He works something good out of even the messes we make, if we let Him.”
“Aye, there’s the rub.”
“What have you got to lose except your false sense of being cool?”
“Whatever.” Erik seldom rose to the bait when Danny challenged him on faith. “So what do you and God propose we do with this new cousin of ours? Besides drink, eat, yap, and be shrewish?”
Lexi swallowed a bite of pancake and resisted an urge to scoop bacon from her twin’s plate. When had Erik noticed her eating habits?
Danny said, “I think—”
“God and I aren’t on speaking terms.” Jenna interrupted. “Kevin is running around in a blazing-hot foreign desert wearing a flak jacket and a helmet and carrying a loaded rifle, all of which will do so much good if a bomb blows his truck to kingdom come.”
As usual, Jenna positioned herself as the center of attention. Lexi snagged bacon from Danny’s plate—he’d never minded sharing with her—and popped it into her mouth. She could always skip lunch.
Danny said, “Jenna, joining up was Kevin’s choice. God didn’t make him go.”
“He could have stopped him.”
“He doesn’t make us do or not do anything. We get to choose. Kevin did what he thought he was supposed to do. Just like Uncle BJ did.”
“Don’t you dare compare him to Uncle
BJ!” Jenna wailed. “Uncle BJ got shot down! And now, come to find out, he wasn’t all that missing, was he? And we’re stuck with some stranger invading our family! And of all times! With Mom and Dad’s life in an upheaval. Selling their house. Selling the business. Moving up to the hacienda, of all places. Getting remarried. What a royal mess!”
“Hold on, Jen,” Danny said. “It’s not exactly a mess, royal or otherwise. We have to admit, Mom and Dad are doing better than ever. Why not let them do their thing? Whining about a re-wedding isn’t going to help. And what is Tuyen to us? We may never know her full story or even if half of it’s true. Maybe she’ll show up for Christmas dinner. I vote we all just calm down and give the poor girl a chance. At least welcome her to America.”
Erik laid money on the table and slid from the booth. “I vote for getting on with my life. I think I need a job.”
Jenna said, “I vote for moping and grading papers.”
Lexi set down her fork. “You okay?” She made eye contact and felt a brief connection with her sister.
“Moping alone does wonders for shrews.” She twisted her mouth into a crooked smile. “What’s your vote?”
“Um, to paint, I guess. It’s Saturday. It’s raining.”
Danny said, “I’m going up to the house, see how everyone’s doing. You want to come, Lex?”
Suddenly she’d had enough of Danny’s opinions. Maybe it was lack of sleep. Maybe it was a stranger from Vietnam. Whatever.
“No, I don’t want to go,” she said.
“Papa could probably use your company,” Danny urged. “The gardens always need attention these days.”
“Danny, I don’t want to go. I don’t think I ever want to go there again.”
He stared at her.
Erik let out a low whistle. “She speaks.”
And she continued to speak. “Papa’s a grown man, and it’s too rainy to work outdoors. Tuyen may be a long-lost cousin, but I don’t care to see her today or tomorrow. I’ll think about Christmas. Excuse me.” She pushed at Danny’s arm until he moved off the bench seat.
With her heart in her throat as well as breakfast, Lexi hurried from the restaurant.
