A Father for Christmas: A Veteran’s Christmas, #1

by Ayala, Rachelle

  He headed for the old cabin in the canyon. The buyers for their farm hadn’t wanted the dilapidated shack, so his mother had kept it under his name.

  After hiking several miles following a dry gully, he reached the old shack. Snow covered the roof in patches and the stone structure was still standing, but he was sure there’d be leaks. He found the key in its hiding place under the porch. There would be no electricity or running water. After stowing his things, he took the wreath and hiked to the abandoned cemetery.

  The gravestones were covered with mud. Using a stick, Tyler cleared the stones until his parents’ names appeared.

  “I’m truly alone in this world.”

  I’ll always be your hero, son. He heard his father’s voice in his mind.

  I’ll always pray for you, Tyler. His mother’s voice played across the breeze.

  “I belong here, with you. There’s nothing out there for me.”

  You’re a hero, son. Don’t let me down.

  He traced his father’s name on the headstone.

  You’re a man who’ll be one lucky woman’s world.

  And he placed the wreath under his mother’s name.

  “But I’m still alone. I have to be.”

  Alone with God is never alone, a still, small voice whispered in the wind.

  Be brave, my son.

  Mannings never give up.

  Tears rolled down Tyler’s face. There will be no Mannings left in these hills. There will be nobody to heal the wounds left by war. No laughter, no smiles, no hope if I fail my mission.

  He rose from his knees and kissed the stone. Goodbye, Father. Farewell, Mother. I’ll see you across the Jordan, in that bright and shining land.

  22

  ~ Kelly ~

  “Any one of you brave men want to take me to the Fort Manning cemetery?” I wave a twenty-dollar bill at the two yokels eating chips and drinking beer at the gas station.

  The driver claims he’s afraid of ghosts, that he has no snow chains, and his wife’s expecting a baby. Oh, and he has to pee.

  The guy with the beard belches and scratches his belly. “Ain’t no cemetery. That’s a family plot behind the abandoned fort.”

  “They say there’s ghosts up there.” The other guy picks his nose and studies his finger. “Some kid took his girlfriend to the fort, and I’m telling you, something happened and they ain’t the same anymore.”

  I pull out another twenty. “Let me borrow your truck if you’re too chicken.”

  The bearded guy scoops up the money. “Let’s go, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  The cab driver comes out of the bathroom. “You want me to wait?”

  “Nah, you go ahead,” the bearded guy says. “I’ll take care of her.”

  “Okie doke.” The little man bobs his head and skedaddles back to his cab.

  We get into the bearded guy’s rusty truck, and it starts after he cranks it a few times.

  “Who you looking for?” He spits out the window. “Baby daddy knock you up or what?”

  “You haven’t seen a guy wearing camouflage around these parts, have you?”

  “Should have asked before you gave me the money. Truth is, we ain’t seen nobody.” He turns the truck off the pavement onto a bumpy dirt track covered with snow. “It gets dark out here real early. You don’t want to go wandering off.”

  “I won’t.”

  “The last few yards is walking only. I’m staying with the truck.”

  So much for taking care of me.

  “It’s okay. I won’t be long.”

  “You’re crazy going out there by yourself.”

  “Just drive, will you?”

  For the next several miles he’s silent, but as we drive between a narrow crevice and down into a canyon, he turns to me.

  “Lots of varmints out there. You don’t want to run into a cougar.”

  “I’m big enough to handle it.” I stare out the window at the deepening shadows. If Tyler’s out there, I have to find him and let him know I still care for him.

  “How much he owe you?” The guy just won’t shut up. “I mean you don’t come out here unless you want something.”

  “I’m looking for Tyler Manning, you know him?”

  The guy throws his head back and laughs. “Every one of them was named Tyler Manning. From the old General to the young one. They’d be lots of ghosts answering to Tyler Manning.”

  “I’m looking for the young one.”

  “The one who went batshit crazy? You won’t find him here. You’ll be lucky to find the grave stones.”

  “Well, thanks a lot for the encouragement, Mr. what did you say your name was again?”

  “I didn’t say. And there it is.” He idles at the end of the road. A rusted chain is attached to two rotting fence posts.

  “Out you go,” the man says. “I’m not staying here all night. If I have to go in looking for you, you owe me favors.”

  I slam the door with a resounding rattle. Tyler’s got to be out there. I can feel it.

  “Half hour,” the man’s voice trails after me. “Give me your cell number in case you get lost.”

  “I won’t get lost. Tyler will show me the way.” I don’t know why I’m feeling crazy, even fey, but the man jumps from his truck and strides toward me.

  “Give me your number. I’m not going to be responsible for some fancy city woman disappearing out here.”

  “Fine, if only to let you know I’m okay.” I dictate my number to him. “Thanks.”

  He texts me a moment later so I have his number.

  A chill skitters its way down my spine as I walk into the wilderness. Darkness falls fast between the buttes and canyon walls. I follow a trackless trail along the wire fence. There are no fresh footprints. If Tyler’s been here, he didn’t come this way.

  The trail gets smaller, and I’m not sure if I’m going the right way. I pull back the tree branches along the broken down fence and feel my way into a small clearing. I can barely make out the rock hewn ruins of the old fort.

  The cemetery or family plot has to be close by. My heartbeat flails when I see footprints. He’s here. What will I say to him? He’ll think I’m crazy to come after him. He’ll run from me.

  But I didn’t come this far to turn back. Hitching my breath, I swing my arms and jog in the direction of the tracks. It’s not snowing, and the tracks are still fresh.

  I follow them around the corner of a broken wall and stop short. Among the lumps of snow covered headstones are two wiped clean. A wreath is propped under one of them.

  “Tyler.” I rush to the gravesites, but he’s not there. His departing footsteps disappear toward the ravine beyond.

  I’m too late.

  “Tyler! Wait up. Tyler.” I can barely make out the footprints in the dusk. I quicken my steps into a loping running pace.

  After several twists and turns where I’m unsure if I’m on his trail or not, I crash through a thicket of scrawny trees and find an old stone cabin.

  I run to the door. “Tyler, it’s me, Kelly.”

  ~ Tyler ~

  Tyler put his thumb down and jogged up to the eighteen-wheeler.

  “How far are you going?” he asked the driver, a stout bald guy.

  “Salt Lake City. Hop on. I need someone to keep me awake.”

  “Sure thing, buddy.” Tyler pulled himself into the rig.

  “Something tells me you got a story.” The man shuts off the radio. “You going home for Christmas?”

  “Yep, going home.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “I left my heart in San Francisco.” Tyler leaned back in the captain’s chair. Hitchhiking sure beat jumping trains.

  The driver, Charlie Foster, turned out to be a Vietnam veteran. Tyler had never met one before.

  “Yep, we’re a dying breed,” Charlie said. “But we survived. Ever been a prisoner?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then you’re lucky.” Charlie pats his belly. “I was nine
ty-eight pounds when they released me from the Hanoi Hilton.”

  “You must have seen some horrible sights.”

  “Not just seen, been them. Had my bones sticking out of my leg. Buddy’s brains splattered all over me when he got fragged. A man never gets over them.”

  “But how do you cope? I get flashbacks so real. Problem with Afghanistan, there weren’t marked battlefields where we fought. We patrolled and everywhere we went, something could go wrong. I can never relax.”

  “You ever freak out? Go on a rampage because you think you’re back there?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Tyler hung his head. “That’s why I ran. It’s like nothing helps. I take my meds, I go to therapy, but everything comes back crystal clear and poof, I’m back there.”

  “You need a circuit breaker,” Charlie said. “Just like something triggers the flashback, you need something to step you back.”

  “Like slapping myself? I never remember to pinch or slap.”

  “No, a stop word or phrase, like ‘Snickerdoodles’ or ‘Taj Mahal.’ It’s like hitting the pause button and then your conscious mind can take over. Right now, it’s all emotions, your heart beating, sweating, adrenaline pumping.”

  “I wish it were so simple.”

  “Nothing simple at all. But it might help to get a mentor, because your wife and kids?” Charlie jerked his thumb back at the family pictures pinned to the back of his cab. “They won’t understand. Don’t expect them to. You call your mentor, and he talks you off the ledge. He’s been there. He knows what you’re going through, and he won’t leave you in the foxhole alone. Find a guy at your local veteran’s group. I can hook you up with one of my buddies who lives near you.”

  “Thanks, I will.” Tyler glanced at the family pictures. “How do you keep them happy when you’re falling apart?”

  “Tell yourself, this too will pass. This too will pass. Then appreciate the hell out of them. That’s all you can do. You’re not here to make their lives perfect. You’re here to share your life with them.”

  “I have so much I want to do. So many things I need to accomplish.”

  “There’s nothing stopping you, brother.” Charlie said. “Nothing but your own fears. Let them go.”

  “I’m trying. Believe me, I’m trying. I tell myself, no more running. There’s someone I want to make a life with. Someone special.”

  Charlie gave him a thumbs up. “I knew it. You had that look in your eye.”

  He turned on the radio and “I’ll be Home for Christmas” played on the air.

  The miles rolled on. Tyler couldn’t keep Kelly and Bree from his mind. When it was time to say goodbye to Charlie, Tyler had made a decision. He’d be the best man he could for Kelly and the best father in the world for Bree. Thank you, God, for sending Charlie my way.

  He hopped from the cab and reached for his cell phone. It wasn’t in any of his pockets.

  ~ Tyler ~

  It was the day before Christmas when Tyler arrived back in San Francisco. None of the people he met on the road seemed to take special notice of him, and there was nothing on the radio about a manhunt for a veteran.

  He double-checked his surroundings and took a quick shower at the Y. His street friends were not in their usual spots, and he hadn’t seen Sawyer at the BART station. Of course, now that he had the gig with Jewell’s band, he no longer needed to busk.

  Tyler wandered into an electronics store and watched the news on the TV screens while last minute shoppers snapped up gifts. He browsed the internet and googled his name. There was no mention of the incident at Pacific Baptist Church. Nothing at all about his disappearance.

  How did that happen? He could have sworn the police sirens were after him.

  The latest news on him showed him at the Warspring Donor’s Ball wearing a Santa hat and holding hands with Kelly. He couldn’t take his eyes off her image. She was simply stunning. Her dress was not revealing like the rest of the women’s. Everything about her was clean and fresh. She looked like an executive, with a sharp gaze and confident chin, but so feminine she made his toes curl.

  Walking back into her life wasn’t going to be easy. He couldn’t just go knocking on her mother’s door. Not after the scene at the church.

  Tyler retraced his steps to the Ferry Building. The sun was out, but the temperature was low enough for hats and mittens.

  The outdoor ice skating rink glistened in front of a row of palm trees under the clock tower. Long lines of children snaked around the block. Tyler made his way across the plaza and leaned against the barricade to see if he could spot Kelly and Bree.

  He had to chuckle at the Californian skaters. Many of them hugged the walls, and others were so wobbly they fell more than they skated. And then there were the macho teen boys who raced out of control on hockey skates but went barreling into the walls.

  Not a way to impress a girl, buddy. Maybe for laughs.

  Several fellows pretended they were playing hockey, more like air hockey since they had no sticks. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a tall, thin man with a hockey bag arguing with an attendant about their ‘no stick’ policy.

  Tyler put his hands in his pockets and suppressed the urge to react. Not my fight. Not my monkeys.

  He walked around the rink. Could that little blond girl be Bree? He edged his way closer, but the woman holding her hand was shorter and had spiked hair under her earmuffs. Not Kelly.

  The man who had argued with the attendant was lacing up his hockey skates. He still had his hockey bag looped over his shoulder. When he passed through the barricade onto the ice, he slipped a long dark object out of his bag.

  The man raises an AR-15 assault weapon with a fully loaded magazine. He waves it around at the skaters who are oblivious. No one sees what he’s doing.

  I leap silently over the barricade and sneak up on him. No sense alarming the crowd. The man zeroes in on his target.

  It’s Bree. Bree’s twirling out on the ice. Her silvery blond hair flies in the air. She’s giggling and laughing.

  The man steadies his aim, and I pounce.

  Boom. Boom. Boom. He squeezes off several rounds. I’m rolling on the slippery ice. My heart is on overdrive, thumping. Did anyone get hurt? Screams rend the air and people are panicking.

  The bastard won’t let go of the semi-automatic. He pulls the trigger, and the blast deafens me. I can’t let him shoot anyone else. I just can’t. I pound on him, gouge his eyes, and knee him in the gut.

  It all comes down to me to get the rifle away from him. Man to man, hand to hand. I won’t let him go. He tried to shoot Bree. He tried to kill her. I slam his head on the ice. He drops the AR-15, and I grab it.

  “Hands up. Police.” Gruff voices shout behind me, and rough hands yank me from the bloodied man.

  23

  ~ Kelly ~

  A policeman escorts me toward the San Francisco Police Station. Ella and Bree are in there, and so is Tyler.

  No one knows exactly what happened, except some man pulled an assault rifle at the ice rink. I don’t believe it’s Tyler, but the police are holding him because he was the one with the rifle when they arrived on the scene.

  They assure me no one was shot, although reports vary on how many shots were fired.

  “Step back, step back.” The officers cordon a path for me up the steps. They lead me past the reception area and down a long corridor.

  One officer knocks briefly on the door and ushers me into an office. Bree is sitting on the window ledge, and Ella’s speaking to the officer behind the desk.

  “Mama!” Bree jumps off the ledge and slams into me. “Ty saved my life. I almost got shot!”

  “Bree.” I hug her and kiss her. Tears stream down my face at how I could have lost her. “Ella, what happened? What was Tyler doing?”

  “I didn’t see it,” she says, her voice shaking. I only saw the flash and I grabbed Bree and ran. We slipped and fell, and everyone was falling or crawling to get away.”

  I reach ov
er and fold her and Bree into my arms. We hold each other, trembling and crying. After we calm down, I ask if I can see Tyler.

  “No visitors. He’s being held for questioning.”

  “But he didn’t do it, did he? He’d never do something like this.”

  “We’re analyzing all the witnesses’ statements as well as forensics. You can take your daughter and sister home. They were very fortunate.” He leads us to the door. “Oh, and Merry Christmas.”

  ~ Kelly ~

  We celebrate Christmas Eve at my mother’s apartment. Jaden and Ella, me and Bree. No one talks about Tyler. Mother had made us promise not to dampen our spirits with his troubles.

  As far as I know, he’s still being held on weapons charges. Discharging an assault weapon is a serious offense, and it being the holidays means no judge is going to move on granting him bail.

  The guy Tyler tackled is the son of a billionaire, the idiot who gave me the bad stock tip. Rebecca was right. He’d traded the opposite way, wiped me out, then got a slap on the wrist, no jail time thanks to daddy dearest.

  This time, he’s not getting away, even if the press is going around pegging Tyler as the one going nuts and the billionaire’s son as the innocent bystander.

  I’m praying someone captured the event on video. Somewhere out there is a film that will exonerate Tyler. I’m in no mood to celebrate, but for Bree’s sake, I pull on a happy face.

  We go through the motions, singing carols, giving thanks, and opening our one gift for Christmas Eve. Bree chooses the gift Tyler and I bought the day we met at the Ferry Building.

  “A monster kit,” she squeals. “I wanna make one and show Ty. He’s coming, isn’t he? After they let him out of jail.”

  “Let’s make one and put it under the tree for him.” I know I shouldn’t feed her dreams, but my heart aches because it’s what I want more than ever.