Beyond The Ghosts (Legacy Falls Project)

by Jody Pardo

  She pushed her chair out from the table and took her plate into the kitchen.

  "I'm sorry, Danny. Do you have family?"

  "No, Sir. Both my parents died a couple years after high school. I'm married to the Army."

  "No brothers or sisters?"

  "I am an only child. Chris was my best friend, my brother by another mother. The Army is my family. I'm a lifer."

  "So, when you gonna put in for your E6, Pierson?"

  "I don't know. I never get a chance to study. It's long overdue, I know. I'm not really good at taking tests."

  "Now is the time to do it. You should put in for it while you are stateside. Go back to Germany an E6."

  "I will think about it."

  With less than twenty-four hours until show time, the house was buzzing with activity when Dad and I got home from the shop. The ladies of the Rotary were still spread out in the dining room, so Mom served us our dinner at the kitchen table. The kitchen table was full of food as crockpots and steamer trays galore lined the surfaces of the kitchen sharing power strips keeping their contents warm. The ladies had escalated from finger foods to full potluck status as their deadline approached.

  My dad ate quickly and grabbed a few pastries and wrapped them in a paper towel before heading to his bedroom. He would be happy when the event was over and he got his house back. Christina found me in the kitchen serving myself a second helping of Mrs. Jones' shepherd’s pie.

  "Hello, beautiful," Christina looked behind her to see who I was talking to before meeting my gaze again.

  "I'm talking to you. Which one of these dishes is yours?"

  "I made the pigs in a blanket over by the toaster."

  "I haven't even made it over there yet. I will have to try them out." Christina grabbed a few from the steamer tray and put them on a small, round, paper plate and put them beside my bowl of shepherd’s pie.

  "Come here." I wrapped my arm around her waist and drew her back to me, landing her on my lap. "I have a question for you."

  "Anything."

  "Wanna take a trip with me to Texas? I can't say it's going to be tons of fun since it's for a funeral, but it will be a nice ride."

  "Sounds like fun. I can ask for the days off."

  I leaned her back to give her a kiss.

  "What was that for?" she asked, breathless, cradled in my arms.

  "Aren't you supposed to kiss the chef?"

  "I only made the piggies. They're not even hard to make."

  "You could make me a peanut butter and jelly; and I would still kiss you." I leaned down again to sweep my tongue across her mouth, but one of the ladies came in in search of something to drink.

  Christina straightened up right away and walked away from me putting some distance between us.

  The Rotary lady retrieved a drink and went back out to join the group.

  "Why are you so jumpy?" I asked her.

  "Me? I'm not jumpy."

  "You practically flew out of my lap."

  "Sorry, I just don't want them to start gossip about nothing." The last word stung, and I wasn't sure how to proceed.

  "It didn't seem like nothing, Christina."

  She lowered her head and picked at her invisible hangnail.

  "Is it nothing?" I asked.

  Her head snapped up, and her eyes narrowed in on mine. "You're the one who said you weren't built for relationships. So, you tell me."

  I did say that. Open mouth, insert foot. When I didn't say anything else, she turned on her heels and left the kitchen.

  I was batting a thousand.

  I sat up in my room basically avoiding Christina. Her words still rang in my ears and I saw the hurt on her face. That was exactly what I warned her about. I just wasn't cut out for relationships. I didn't know what she wanted from me.

  My belly growled, and my bladder kicked me in the gut. I got out of bed to use the bathroom and then ambled down the stairs to the kitchen to grab a snack. A few ladies sat huddled with my mother at the dining room table going over last minute details for the Memorial Day event as I passed through.

  I walked into the kitchen and Pierson was leaning forward with both hands on the counter in front of the sink. It wasn't until I heard her squeaky little Munchkin voice did I realize Christina was on the other side of his wall of a body.

  "What are you doing, man?"

  He didn't even turn around to face me. I saw Christina trying to wiggle under his arms to get free, but he shifted to the side blocking her passage.

  "I'm just getting to know this sweet little bird a little better."

  Fire consumed my veins and a warm flush emanated throughout my body. I saw red and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around. Christina scurried out from behind him and the terror was clear on her face.

  "I wasn't done. What the hell, Sarge? We were just talking."

  My arm snapped back, and my fist connected with the side of his face crunching his nose.

  "You owe this young lady an apology. We don't treat our Southern women like birds. Stay away from her, or you will have me to deal with."

  "I didn't know you already claimed this one, Sarge. She was down here all by herself. I figured she was free game."

  Pierson didn't know when to shut his mouth. I punched him in the face again, clipping his eye, and he went down. I went to Christina's side and held her to my chest.

  "I'm sorry for him."

  "You know that guy?" Christina screeched.

  "He is in my unit."

  "I guess he was absent on Manners Day," Christina barked past me as Pierson tried to stop the gush of blood flowing from his nose.

  "Well, he just got a refresher lesson."

  "It's probably time I got heading home. Big day tomorrow."

  "I think you broke my nose, Sarge," Pierson whined through a fistful of paper towels.

  "Suck it up, it's nothing a little duct tape can't fix. You're lucky that's all I broke."

  Christina giggled and shook her head at me. I leaned down and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips before she went out to the dining room to say her goodbyes.

  "Shit, shit, shit. Sarge I didn't know. Dammit. I guess I deserved that."

  "If you are looking for a piece of ass, look somewhere else. Lesson number two: Don’t shit where you eat."

  "Hurrah, Sarge." Pierson gathered some ice in a plastic storage bag and placed it on his face avoiding any remaining women on the way to the guest room.

  Despite all my mother's worries, the Memorial Day dedication service for the Pleasant Street station went off without a hitch. The event drew a large crowd. Nearly every resident in town was in attendance from what it looked like. It equated to lots and lots of shaking hands and standing in the long receiving line.

  The dedication plaque read:

  "Dedicated to the Pleasant Street Station on this day, 31 May 2016, for her dutiful service and commitment to our military, active and retired. God Bless this train. Legacy Falls Rotary Club."

  There were a few other veterans but Pierson and I were the only ones dressed in our dress blues. Others sported veteran hats and various pieces of retired uniforms and jackets with their insignia and medals proudly displayed. We stood alongside the lady officers of the Rotary, including my mom, the mayor, and the Pleasant Street Station Master for countless pictures with the plaque and during its placement before heading back to Town Hall for the dinner banquet.

  Pierson's blackened eye and bandaged nose weren't questioned beyond our household; he didn't know anyone in town. People created their own stories, and he let them fly. Mom, of course, noticed, and when she questioned the cause, he dodged the inquiry and eventually was bailed out by my father who simply stated, "Boys will be boys". Avoiding any further pressing on the subject, he made himself scarce around the house, and I wasn’t sure where he went or what he did, but he would return after dinner hours where my mom had made him a plate and left it in the microwave for him.

  On Wednesday, Pierson heard from Goemans' m
other. It was time to bury her son. We were going to leave early in the morning. It was a day's drive from Legacy Falls to Fort Hood, Texas but we wanted to drive during the day and at a leisurely rate. Pierson left out as soon as word came from Mrs. Goemans so he could help her with the arrangements. We were taking Christina's car because it was great on fuel mileage, but not the most comfortable ride so I allowed plenty of stretch my leg breaks.

  Bright and early, I met Christina at her apartment at five in the morning where it looked like everything black colored was laid out on her bed.

  "I don't know which dress to wear. Or should I wear pants? You're wearing pants."

  I laughed out loud at her ridiculous statement, but she glared at me. "Of course I'm wearing pants, I'm a man."

  "You know what I mean."

  "No, no I don't. I have never ... Okay, correction, except that one time I lost a bet with my sister ... I don't wear dresses."

  "Well, I don't want to be disrespectful to his memorial service."

  "I don't think people will be judging your little black dress choice."

  "I will take both and a pair of pants just in case."

  "Christina, you are being ridiculous. We will only be gone for two days. How much stuff are you packing?"

  Her red, hard-cased, carry-on suitcase was laid out on the floor but didn’t have one stitch of clothing in it. Hair products, a flat iron, at least three pairs of shoes and various toiletries filled the case. The matching red wardrobe bag was buried under her outfit choices on the bed.

  "Where is your stuff?" she asked me desperately.

  I pointed to my garment bag and backpack resting on the side of her couch.

  "That's it? That is all you are bringing?" She let out an exasperated sigh and stuffed most of the contents on her bed into her garment bag and threw one more pair of sandals into her carry-on. "I guess this will have to do."

  It was only a few hours to Beaumont, TX and we were well ready for lunch. The great thing about Beaumont was Pappadeaux restaurant off of the I-10 that sported a huge sign featuring $30 all-you-can-eat lobster. Challenge accepted.

  We pulled in and sat down and ordered the sides for our meals. The lobsters were a pound and a half each and the platter of sides came with a cup of soup, side salad, a choice of potato, and coleslaw. Our waitress was a young, long-haired blonde who handed us plastic bibs after writing down our order.

  "Can I get you guys something to drink?" she asked.

  "Some sweet tea please and a couple glasses of water."

  "Anything else?"

  "Is it really all you can eat lobster—" I looked for her name on her rectangle badge on her polo shirt "—Megan?"

  "Yes, Sir. Just let me know when you are ready for the next round."

  "In that case, you should probably bring them out two by two. Just to save time."

  Megan looked between Christina and I, who just shrugged her shoulders and smiled back at her. "Two by two, got it." She grabbed our menus and left us alone.

  "She thinks I'm kidding. Get ready, Christina, it's about to go down."

  We donned our bibs and our waitress returned with our drinks and two cups of Shrimp Bisque.

  "Mmm, this is so good," Christina moaned, drawing her spoon out of her mouth.

  "This is one of my favorite places to eat."

  "Do they always have all you can eat lobster?"

  "Not that I know of. It just happened to be a bonus today."

  "Why is this your favorite? Beaumount? You come here a lot?"

  "We get equipment shipped through here. I have had to come and claim my platoon and unit's containers before and put them on the rail car and ship them over to Fort Hood. Some of the more sensitive cargo we would drive back personally."

  "So, this is old stomping grounds for you?"

  "I guess you can say that. The truck stop across the way has enough room to accommodate a motor pool of large vehicles. This place is much better than truck stop food or anything the military can pack in a box lunch."

  "I will take your word on that one. The bisque is great. Usually, it's just pink colored and shrimp flavored, but this is so chunky."

  "I usually get the catfish platter, but who can resist all you can eat lobster? That is a no brainer."

  We spent the better part of an hour and a half eating lobster after lobster, demolishing our huge sour-cream-covered baked potatoes and bowls of coleslaw. While we waited for our next crustaceans to arrive to meet their demise, we sucked the life out of their hot, red, thin legs. Megan was an attentive waitress and didn’t keep us waiting long for anything including endless refills of sweet tea while bringing round after round of lobsters two at a time.

  "If we are ever gonna get to Fort Hood, we have to get moving," I said as I stuffed yet another succulent lobster tail in my mouth after dipping it in the clarified butter warmer.

  "I don't know if I can move," Christina moaned.

  I counted the lobster carcasses in the scrap bowl and it totaled eighteen. Between us, we ate eighteen pound-and-a-half lobsters. We killed a small crustacean family, and I felt no guilt. I counted in my head the miles left to drive, and we still had a good five hours without hitting any traffic.

  "Come on, Munchkin. If we don’t get back on the road, it will be dark when we get in."

  "But it's so good. I'm so full."

  "I know, I could probably eat at least two more, but one of us has to drive."

  When I saw our waitress, I flagged her down for our check. Our meals came with dessert, but we took it to go. The chocolate cake would be a nice snack on the road a little later on.

  By the time we were a few miles down the interstate again, Christina was fast asleep in my lap. She tucked the shoulder strap of her seatbelt behind her, flipped the console up, and laid her head in my lap. Her warm breath heated my leg, and it kept me more awake and alert than I needed to be. I tried to think of what I was going to say for Goemans' eulogy. It served as a distraction, but I would have much rather thought of happier things and my anxiety grew making my leg shake unconsciously rousing Christina every once in a while. So, my cuticles took the brunt of my anxiety instead.

  Admittedly, I didn't know much about Goemans outside of his service in the military. I tried to think of anecdotes or personal interactions to share, but I kept reverting back to his record of service. As a Sergeant, there were many men under my command, but he was not directly under me, so our interactions were minimal except chow and large functions with the entire unit.

  My crew of three E-4s were the operations platoon while Goemans and Pierson were in the launcher platoon. As a NCO, we didn’t bunk in the same ConX and mine was on the other side of our station. One memory came flooding back of movie night at the USO tent. They rigged up a screen and projected Rocky Horror Picture Show nearly as big as a drive-in but the sound sucked.

  Only men sitting right next to the speaker could hear any of the dialogue and strained to hear the music but Goemans took on the role of Rocky. Fashioning his Alice belt with some paracord and jacking up his PT shorts, he strutted around and narrated word for word. He finally coerced Pierson into participating and he took the role of the more subdued Riff Raff, which matched his broody personality.

  With the movie running in the background, Goemans, Pierson, and a few randy others acted out the cult classic. It was a great evening in the middle of a war zone. As soldiers loosened up, they jumped to the left and stepped to the right picking up the Time Warp dance quickly under Goemans and Pierson's lead. It’s funny the odd things we remember about people once they are gone. At first, I could hardly place him, but as I pulled into the parking lot of The Highland Hotel humming “Science Fiction Double Feature” what I would say on behalf of Goemans became a little clearer.

  At first, I wasn't sure I was in the right place. While the neon sign clearly stated The Highlander Hotel, the building looked like it could have served as the set for Pee Wee's Playhouse. I should have known better than to let Christina book
the hotel, but she said she had travel points or something. The place looked like it was decorated by hipster drag queens and nothing made sense. The bright colors glared even as the setting sun caused the skies to dim.

  I had never seen a place like it and lord knows I had visited some exotic locations. Random pink sheep speckled the landscape, hallways, and one sat on the roof adjacent to the neon sign. We grabbed our bags, and I loaded them on a valet cart and proceeded to the concierge desk.

  A slight-framed pale woman, possibly Albino with brilliant sapphire eyes that were a sharp contrast to her alabaster skin and platinum hair, sat perched on a tall stool at the desk. She cocked her head to the side and stared at me. Her hotel name plate read "Mei" but she didn't say a word.

  "Um, Mei, we are here to check in. Toledo?"

  She smiled wide and extended her small hand for a shake. Her skin was cool to the touch and smooth like marble. She hopped down off of the stool and nearly disappeared behind the desk. She was shorter than Christina by a few inches. She popped back up with registration paperwork that was preprinted with our information from the online reservation site and was dotted with little 'please sign here' flags. She handed me a hot pink pen and slid the paperwork in front of me.

  When all the flags were matched with my signature and she swiped my credit card, she handed me two small portfolios with hot pink sheep and the hotel logo on the front with our room keys within. Mei hopped down from her perch once again and came around to the front side of the desk. It was unusual for Christina to look down at anyone and her smile was evidence of her amusement. Mei held out her hand to her and led us to the elevator bay pushing the signal button before leaving us.

  Our rooms were across the hall from each other. Pierson had already checked in, and his ruck sack sat on the bed in the rear of the room closest to the bathroom. He must have been out and about, probably at Mrs. Goemans' home. As Christina settled in her room, I unpacked my uniforms to air them out and avoid any wrinkles.