“I’m going to take a walk. I need some fresh air. Look, Kris, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just as antsy as you are. Believe it or not, this whole thing is just as traumatic for me as it is for you.”
“I love you,” Kris whispered again.
“I know, Kris, I know. I won’t be long. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”
“Is that what the book says, sleep? How can I sleep, Logan? Something is wrong here. I can sense it. It’s not my imagination.”
“Yes, Kris, it is your imagination. This separation is just a little rocky bump. We’ve had rocky bumps before. Thirty days is just thirty days. I expected more from you, Kris.”
Kristine sighed. She was about to throw off the sheet and swing her legs over the side of the bed until she remembered the two rolls of fat. “Go for your walk. When you get back, I’ll make some coffee.”
Logan blew his wife a kiss before he left the house. Kristine’s heart fluttered in her chest when she heard the front door close.
She headed for the shower, her shoulders shaking with unhappiness. Under the tepid spray she allowed her mind to conjure up the early days of her marriage to Logan Kelly. They were so happy when they said their vows and walked under the crossed swords at West Point. The twins came first, then Tyler came along shortly afterward. Logan had been delirious with joy just the way she had been. It was wonderful living all over the world. Her children spoke four languages, as she did, thanks to their multifaceted education. She was one of the rare wives who loved life in the military, but she didn’t love the stupid rule book Logan insisted they live by. He could recite chapter and verse at the drop of a hat. She also knew the book by heart, which was all the more reason to hate it, and her children hated it even more than she did. Logan lived by it, page by page, word by word. Would he discard it when he got back to the States or would they continue to live by it? hogan’s rationale would be that the book had served them well for twenty years and to tamper with it in the private sector would be sacrilegious.
As Kris stepped from the shower, towel in hand, her thoughts stayed with her. She wrapped her body in one of the few remaining towels, then dabbed at eyes that were now red-rimmed. Early on, Logan had sworn he would make general, go all the way, maybe even become a five-star. They’d played a game in those early years about the things they would do, how they would act when the fifth star was pinned on his shoulder. How sad for Logan that it could never come to pass. He had said he accepted being felled by a rare kidney disease in his seventeenth year in the military, knowing he would get passed over because his medical condition would be a blight on his record. He’d slapped her once, shouting to be left alone when she’d tried to console him. She needed to give him space now to come to terms with what Logan considered betrayal on the army’s part in giving him a medical discharge, something he fought against and lost. He had a right to be bitter, but he didn’t have the right to take his bitterness out on her. She’d wanted tonight to be perfect so that Logan would remember their last night and look forward to the time when they’d all be together again back in the States. Now it was all spoiled. Here she was taking a shower in the middle of the night while her husband was out walking alone. She crossed her fingers and offered up a little prayer that Logan’s attitude wasn’t a harbinger of things to come.
Thirty minutes later, Kristine was in the kitchen, fully dressed and making coffee. She looked in dismay at the small amount of coffee left in the can. Logan liked his coffee black and strong, the way most of his colleagues liked it. There was barely enough left to make two full cups, and at best it was going to be weak. She’d cleaned out everything from the ancient refrigerator because Logan was going to stay at the barracks until it was time for him to leave. The new tenants would move in the moment their belongings were unloaded from the truck. The army did not sit around sucking its thumb when it came to the comfort of one of its officers.
When the coffee finished perking, Kris poured a small amount into a cup, leaving the rest for her husband. She sipped at the coffee, her eyes on the blackness outside the kitchen window. She shouldn’t be sitting here alone. Her husband should be with her, holding her hand, telling her things would be okay. The kids hadn’t wanted to stay home with her either, preferring to spend their last night with their friends. She’d begged them to stay home with her and Logan, but the three of them had kicked up a fuss. In the end she’d given in rather than stare at their miserable faces all evening. She looked at the clock. Ten minutes past four. Tom Zepack would drive them. Logan would say his good-byes at the door because he had to report for duty at six o’clock. And she still didn’t have the bankbooks from Virginia. Logan had said everything was in the glove compartment of the car.
Her coffee finished, Kris meandered out to the car parked at the side of the house. She withdrew the small packet with her name on it, carrying it back to the house. Relieved that she hadn’t forgotten, she slipped the envelope into her purse. She wished she knew more about their finances, but Logan had always handled them. It would be nice, though, to know how much her husband’s pension would be once they were home. She knew they would be more than comfortable, thanks to the check that came every month from her parents’ estate. Logan was going to do some consulting work, and she’d given serious thought to starting up her parents’ business again. She could breed the world-class dogs her parents had bred for decades prior to their deaths. She was actually excited about working at her own business. With the monthly check from her parents’ estate, Logan’s pension, and whatever she was able to bring in, the kids would be able to go to the best colleges in the country.
Life was going to be wonderful, she told herself, once they settled in and adjusted to farm life in Leesburg, Virginia. They could renew old friendships, join clubs, get involved in community affairs. When the twins went off to college next year, and Tyler the following year, they would have the house to themselves and a twenty-four-hour-a-day marriage, the way it had been before the kids came along. Yes, life would be good, very good, provided that Logan threw away the damn rule book. She poured another inch of coffee into her cup. It tasted like colored water. Logan would surely have something to say about it.
She heard her children before she saw them as they bounded into the house, snapping and snarling at one another. It was obvious to Kris they hadn’t slept.
Tom Zepack held the door for Logan, a frown on his face. Even from this distance, Kris could smell liquor on her husband’s breath. For some strange reason it elated her, proving, she thought, that this parting was just as hard on him as it was on her. She smiled. She would be upbeat if it killed her. No tears, no clutching, no sobbing. Maybe she should just pat him on the cheek and say something flippant like, “I’ll see you when I see you. Let’s go, kids.” Could she do that? Never in a million years. She could try, though.
“Time to go!” Tom Zepack said.
“Do you have everything, Kris?” Logan asked.
“Yes. You know me. I was packed two weeks ago. We’re ready.”
The kids barreled out to the car, Tom Zepack on their trail.
Kristine sucked in her breath. “I made some coffee, Logan. It’s on the weak side because there wasn’t enough left. I guess I cut it too close. Rinse the pot and throw it away or leave it for the new officer and his wife. Remember to take the wet towels with you.”
“Yeah, sure. Ah, listen, Kris, I’m sorry. I acted like a real ass earlier.”
“It’s okay, Logan. We’re all upset. We all knew this day was coming. Even though we thought we were prepared, we weren’t. I guess I better get going. Tom is such a slow, careful driver. I don’t want to miss the plane. Take care of yourself. Call me so I can meet you at the airport when you have your flight information.”
“Kris?”
“Yes.”
“We had a good life, didn’t we?”
“The best. We’ve been happy. We have three wonderful kids. This move is hard on them because they know it’s the last one. As Mac
ala said, from here on in everything counts. ”
“You sound strange, Kris. You aren’t going . . .”
“No, I’m not going to make a scene. Take care of yourself, and hopefully we’ll all be together for Christmas. I know just where I’m going to put the tree, too. I do love you, Logan. I just want you to know I will always love you.”
Logan nodded. “I feel the same way, Kris. Don’t make this any harder than it is. Go on, Tom’s waiting.”
Go on, Tom’s waiting. That was all she was going to get? “See you,” she said in a choked voice.
“Bye, Dad,” the kids shouted from the car.
“Bye,” he shouted in return.
Kris climbed into the car, tears streaming down her cheeks. If nothing else, she had at least waited until her back was turned before she allowed the tears to flow. She looked out of the car window, expecting to see Logan outlined in the open doorway. The door was shut. She couldn’t even wave good-bye.
“Relax, Mom, thirty days will go by just like this,” Macala said, snapping her fingers.
“Thirty whole days without that damn book,” Mike, her twin, said happily.
“I like the book. It’s how things get done. Everyone needs structure in their life,” sixteen-year-old Tyler said, slouching down in the corner of the car.
“That’s a crock, and you know it,” Mike said. “That stupid book stinks. You’re just a suck-up. Get over it. The book is history.”
“Hear! Hear!” his twin said.
Kris continued to cry.
Chaplain Tom Zepack stared at the road in front of him, wondering what lay in store for the Kelly family once they returned to the States. With God’s help they would all survive and lead happy productive lives. He was almost sure of it.
“This is it! It looks . . . shabby, Mom. Do we really have to live here?”
Kristine took a deep breath. “It does look shabby, Cala, but you have to remember that no one has lived here for over twenty-two years. This dreary, rainy day isn’t helping either. By this time next year your dad and I will have it all fixed up. Paint works wonders.” It was hard to believe this strangled-sounding voice was coming from her own mouth.
“I don’t think a bucket of paint is going to do it, Ma,” Mike said. “Did that banker guy get someone to clean it up? Is there any furniture? Did our stuff get here? Are we going to be sleeping on beds that are full of dust? Jeez, why can’t we stay in town. This place is in the middle of nowhere. Do we have a telephone?”
“Of course there’s a telephone. Mr. Dunwoodie said everything was hooked up and turned on. It’s going to be okay. We’re always jittery when we move to a new place. It was a beautiful estate when I was little. It can be that way again.”
“Ma, that was back in the Dark Ages. Look at it! Forget the way it looked black then. Are you seeing what we’re seeing? Half the shutters are gone. The porch is sagging. Jeer, I bet it isn’t safe; and take a gander at those steps—they’re lopsided, too. It will cost a fortune to fix this baby up. Do you and Dad have a fortune?”
Did they? She had no clue. Logan had handled their finances from the day they got married.
“I think it’s safe to say we have enough to get by. Repairs won’t be done all at one time. We’ll work on it. Now come on, let’s exit this brand-new station wagon and open our front door. We’re home. My old home, our home now. All those other places we lived were just buildings where your dad and I paid rent. This is home, like it or not.”
“Add my name to the list of people who don’t like it,” Cala snapped. “God, I will never bring anyone here. That’s assuming I meet some farmer who is interested in me, which is so laughable it’s beyond belief.”
“I second that,” Mike said as he hefted his bags from the backseat to dump them on the ground.
“Did Dad know what this dump looked like when he decided to ship us here?” Tyler demanded.
Kristine dropped her overnight bag on the ground. “Listen to me. I’m only going to say this one more time. This is our new home. No, Tyler, your father hasn’t seen this house in fifteen years. Time takes its toll on everything and everyone. We have no other options. The farm your father grew up on is probably in worse shape than this one. Instead of fighting me every step of the way, help me. The four of us can make a beginning. I know that if your father was standing here, none of you would have opened your mouth. Why are you taking this out on me? I’m trying to do the best I can.”
“What page is that on in your book?” Cala snarled.
“Page sixty-two, and watch your mouth, young lady. End of discussion. Now move your asses and get in the house.”
“Wow!” young Tyler said as he walked around the spacious rooms. “Was I ever here, Mom?”
“You were just a toddler when we came back here the last time. You were too little to remember. Cala and Mike spent the whole time sliding down the banister. It’s a wonderful old house. All the beams and wainscoting are original, as are the wooden pegs they used for nails back in those days. The floors are solid oak. They could stand to be refinished at some point. The people Mr. Dunwoodie hired to clean everything up did a good job. It’s more than livable.”
“It’s freezing in here,” Calla grumbled.
“Guess that means you kids have to go outside to the woodshed and bring in some wood. Mr. Dunwoodie said he had two cords of cherry wood delivered. In the meantime I’ll turn up the thermostat and hope it works. Take your gear upstairs, pick out a bedroom, and put on an extra sweater. This house was always drafty, and heat rises,” Kristine said, pointing to the high ceilings. “I want to check out the kitchen to make sure the stove and water pump work.”
“Are you saying we have to pump water too?” There was such disgust on Mike’s face, Kristine cringed.
“If you want water, that’s exactly what you do,” Kristine said, her patience wearing thin. She wondered what her children would say and do when they saw the archaic contraption that heated the water in the upstairs bathroom.
Kristine was priming the pump in the kitchen when she heard her daughter’s screech. “One bathroom! There’s only one bathroom up here! What am I supposed to do? There’s no vanity either. What the hell is this . . . thing?”
Kristine knuckled her burning eyes. She would not cry. She absolutely would not cry. “You should be here, Logan. We should be doing this together. They wouldn’t be acting this way if you were here,” she muttered under her breath as a steady stream of rusty water shot from the pump spout. She continued to pump water because it was something to do. She didn’t want to think about what Cala would say when she washed her hair for the first time in the hard well water. She wished she could lie down and go to sleep and not wake up until Logan walked through the door.
“It’s sleeting out, Mom. The temperature is dropping,” Tyler said, coming up behind her. “How much wood do you want us to bring in? I counted ten fireplaces in this house. Which ones do you want to light?”
“I guess you better light the ones in the bedrooms and the one here in the kitchen and the one in the living room. The heater doesn’t seem to be working. The propane tank could be empty. I’ll look into it tomorrow. I don’t think we’ll freeze. My mother had wonderful quilts and down comforters on all the beds. A lot of wood, Tyler. There’s a wood carrier in the shed that holds a lot of wood. Off the top of my head I’d say you need four loads. Bring it to the kitchen door. If the three of you work at it, you should be able to drag it up the kitchen staircase. My father used to do it on his own, so I think you three robust children should be able to handle it. It’s called, work, Tyler.”
“There’s no television set, Mom.”
“So there isn’t. I guess you’ll just have to miss the tube for one day until our belongings get here tomorrow. Read a book.”
“This is like one of those houses you see in horror movies,” Mike said as he slammed through the kitchen door behind Tyler. “What do you mean there’s no television set?”
Kristine
clenched her teeth so hard she thought her jaw would crack when she opened the refrigerator. Eggs, a can of coffee, bread, butter, jam, bacon, juice, and milk. “This certainly takes the guess-work out of what to cook for dinner,” she muttered. Tomorrow things will be better, she thought.
Since the preparation time for dinner would be ten minutes or so, Kristine gathered up her baggage to carry upstairs. She shivered as she walked through the old house, drafts swirling about her legs. She took a minute to marvel at the old furniture, antiques really, and the fact that everything was in such good condition. Her own comfortable, worn furniture wasn’t going to fit in anywhere in this barn of a house. Still, she would have to spread it out for the children’s sake and gradually get rid of it. There was a lot to be said for antiques.
Cala swept by her on her way down the stairs. “I can’t believe you’re making me carry in firewood. That’s a man’s job.”
Kristine turned. “Cala?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t say yeah. I need to know why the three of you are so ... belligerent today. Why are you fighting me over every little thing? We belong in the United States. We’re citizens of this country. This is where we belong. Daddy’s tour is over, and this is what we decided to do. I grant you it’s an adjustment, but if we all pull together, we can make it work. In September you and Mike will be going off to college, so what’s the big deal. It’s nine months out of your life.”
“Daddy said it was your idea to come back here. He said since you never squawked about moving all over the world every couple of years, it was your turn now. Daddy didn’t care. He would have been happy staying in Germany. We didn’t want to come back here. You’re the one who wanted this move.”
“Of course I wanted it. Your father did, too. He was upset, Cala, about being passed over. He had no other choice. What kind of work would he have done over there? Nothing that paid any kind of money, that’s for certain. I would never renounce my citizenship to live in a foreign country. There’s too much unrest in Europe. I wanted us to be safe on our own soil.”
High Stakes Page 27
