Jaxson

by Kris Keldaran

  “Lei’Ana, could I try that one next please?”

  “Of course. It just showed up off the boat today.”

  In the dressing room, Kehau slid into it, too scared to look in the mirror. Even though Jax had never demanded it of her the way Sione had, Kehau still felt incredibly critical of her body. “Ready?” she asked.

  “Duh, today,” Carli replied from where she and the other women waited helping Kehau choose a dress. Taking a breath, Kehau opened the door and stepped out.

  “Oh, Kehau,” Marcia exclaimed softly. The other women nodded their silent agreement.

  Kehau turned to the mirror with some trepidation—she had never found a strapless dress that worked on her figure, but the pattern of this one seemed different. She was surprised by the woman looking back at her. She was a vision, with beautiful dusky-toned skin, set off by the white satin band hugging the sweetheart neckline of the coral-colored dress—the satin dipped beautifully into the soft shadows of her cleavage, highlighting her curves with a delicate diamond pattern of rhinestones. Kehau turned and marveled at the snug fit as it skimmed over her body and then elegantly flared into a flowing hem, banded in white like the bodice. As she stepped forward, her movement revealed a daring slit in the side of the gown, showing her tanned leg almost to her hip. The color was perfect—it stood out in brilliant contrast to her glossy black hair and the green of her eyes seemed even deeper.

  Oh yeah. This is the one.

  “I think I speak for all of us when I say ‘damn, girl!’” Carli exclaimed.

  “Kehau,” Marissa interrupted, “is that a hickey on your neck?” She'd said it loudly enough to stop all conversation. Kehau looked in the mirror again. "Oh my gosh! That damned man!”

  “So that's what you two were up to in the backyard last night,” Marcia teased.

  “Mother!”

  “Oh relax. Remind me to tell you the story of how your father and I met. He did almost the exact same thing.”

  “I still don't know how we’re going to pay for this.” Kehau glanced at the price tag and nearly fell over. “Where in the hell am I supposed to get eight thousand dollars from?” she cried.

  “If I may,” Lei’Ana interjected, “Mr. Kuznia mentioned his business card is good for anything you need to buy today.”

  Carli stared hard at Lei’Ana. “What is this card you’re talking about?” she asked, more than a little confused.

  “Mr. Kuznia, as well as his associates, come here approximately once a month. As such, he has a rather large line of credit with us,” Lei’Ana explained patiently.

  “Define large,” Kehau said in quiet voice.

  “I'm not sure I should divulge that information. It could cost me my job. Our clients tend to enjoy the confidentiality of our company. But I can tell you,” Lei’Ana added helpfully, “he's one of our best customers with more than enough credit to cover your purchase.”

  Carli was the first to recover. Kehau noticed a gleam in her eyes she'd had never seen. “What about shoes? Jewelry and handbags?” Carli said excitedly.

  Lei’Ana nodded. “His exact words were, ‘Let her get whatever her pretty little heart desires.’”

  “Very well,” Carli affirmed. “Keep that dress on, Kehau, it's time to go accessorize.” She stalked out of the dressing room, a shark-like grin plastered across her face. Lei’Ana paused to help finish zipping Kehau up, then led them toward the jewelry counter.

  Marcia, meanwhile, looked at Marissa. “What just happened?”

  “We told a southern Cali girl to go spend money without any worries.”

  “Oh God,” Marcia moaned. “Jax is gonna kill us.”

  “Too late for that now,” Marissa chided. “We might as well pray for world peace. On a good note, if he can afford to shop here with no worries, he should be able to cover funeral costs. Well, that's if they find the bodies.”

  "That's what I'm afraid of," Marcia said as they caught up with the others.

  Carli's knowledge of jewelry and fashion paid immediate dividends. By the time Kehau caught up to her, the blonde had circled the case once, directing the clerk to pull a half-dozen different sets out for Kehau to try on.

  “Marissa, how would you do her hair? Up or down?” Carli asked.

  Marissa frowned, deep in thought. Moving behind Kehau, she gathered the long dark hair up behind her neck. “Kehau, what if we do it up on the sides, and a big loose braid with plumerias worked into it?”

  Kehau’s eyes widened. “You can do that?”

  “Easily,” Marissa assured her. “Very easily.”

  “Good,” Carli stated. “Then what about these earrings and necklace?” With Carli seemingly in her environment, it wasn't long until they had finished with everything Kehau would need to have a complete ensemble for the special event.

  “How do you do it?” Kehau asked her afterwards, as all of them sat relaxing in the café. Lei’Ana was seeing to their purchases, having them packaged and bagged before they left.

  Carli looked up from her Crab Louis salad and iced tea. “My favorite cousins are Jewish diamond merchants on Rodeo Drive. I know more about gems than all of the clerks behind the counter combined. The rest of it is just a matter of practice.”

  “Kehau,” Marcia interjected. “Do me a favor, keep this boyfriend. I kinda like him.”

  “I thought you liked Sione!”

  “I tolerated him, dear. I’ve got heels taller than his standards.”

  Carli choked on a bite of salad.

  “Truth be told, your father was glad to see him gone,” Marcia told her.

  “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Kehau frowned at her mother.

  “Because you’re a grown woman, and you deserve to make your own choices. We just wish you would've talked to us more.”

  “Oh.” A feeling of sadness and guilt overwhelmed her then. All those months of not talking, wasted. “I'm sorry, Momma.”

  Marcia smiled. “Everybody makes mistakes, sweetheart. Even your daddy and I. We may not be able to get time back, but we can certainly improve the future.”

  *****

  “Daddy, what's a Birthday Ball?”

  Jerry looked up from his Saturday paper to see his daughter looking at him with worry written all over her face.

  “If you're asking me what I think you are, it's the celebration of the Marine Corps’ birthday on 10 November. Why do you ask, sweetheart?”

  “Because Jax is taking me to one next weekend. And I have no clue what it's about.”

  Jerry stood and went over to a bookshelf. He returned carrying a large dust-bound black leather scrapbook. “Your momma made this for me years ago.”

  He opened it, fingers skimming through pages to find a specific area.

  “Marines are clannish by nature. Everything about being a Marine is important. That includes celebrating the birthday of our founding.”

  He turned the book around for her to see. “It starts with a ceremony, then a dinner, followed by dancing and loads of drinking.” He smiled. “It’s the kind of party worth going to.”

  “Okay.” She looked down at the pictures, seeing a much younger version of her father, alongside friends in old faded Polaroid shots. “Why don’t you talk about it very much, Daddy?”

  Jerry sighed. “When I joined the service, it was very unpopular here on the island. I had family who thought I was a traitor for joining the American Marine Corps. There are aunts and uncles you’ve never met because they disowned me for enlisting.”

  “What about after you got out?”

  “Trying to explain combat to people is hard. So is explaining why you went there in the first place. Especially with an unpopular war like Vietnam. Private places to mourn your dead are hard to come by. What has Jax shared with you?”

  “Not much.”

  “In some ways, it’s a trust issue. There’s a whole lot of emotional baggage that comes with combat and surviving it. Nothing compares to being shot at and missed. Trying to share that emoti
on makes a man feel very vulnerable. When he chooses to share that with you, don’t talk at all. Just listen, hug him, kiss him, and love him. Because it’s a damned hard thing to do.”

  “Momma’s seen that side of you, hasn’t she?”

  “Every year on Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day.”

  Suddenly, so much about her childhood made sense. Kehau had always been sent to the house of friends or relatives, and she stayed there until dark. The few times she’d asked her momma, Marcia simply said, “Daddy is sick and needs some rest.” Now she knew.

  “Is that why you opened up to him the other night?” she asked quietly.

  “We’re both veterans. We’ve walked those fields where men die. We have respect for each other. We share the guilt of living, where so many didn’t come home.”

  Jerry hung his head, a tear rolling down his cheek as his broad hands gripped the table edge. “You miss your friends. Every day.”

  Kehau stepped up to her father and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  “You're welcome, sweetheart. Just remember, what he shares with you in those moments is nobody else's business. That’s only meant for you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  From the halls of Montezuma

  To the shores of Tripoli

  We will fight our country’s battles

  In the air on land and sea

  First to fight for right and freedom

  And to keep our honor clean

  We are proud to claim the title of United States Marines!

  John Phillips Sousa “Marines’ Hymn”

  Kehau remembered her high school prom, thinking she’d never seen so many beautiful dresses before. This though, this was incredible! Every shade and color of the rainbow was on display. The men were in uniform, with few exceptions. Jax was one of them. Instead, he’d gone with a midnight blue tuxedo and bowtie, giving him a James Bond appearance. James Bond didn’t have a row of miniature medals on his chest though. She didn’t know what all they stood for, but she knew the most important fact of all—she loved the man she was with. And he’d already proven he’d do anything for her.

  They were at the Marriot Hotel in Ko' Olina, enjoying the fresh ocean breeze as the sun slowly fell toward the horizon. Jax was leading her around, introducing her to friends and their dates for the event. She had a glass of champagne and she felt like a queen. It was a perfect way to start the night.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats, the ceremony will begin in five minutes.”

  “Guess that’s our cue, sweetheart.” He tossed back the last of his drink and set the empty glass where a server could pick it up.

  Making their way inside through the press, Kehau was startled by how easily everyone seemed to find their seats. Then again, this is the military, they aren't anything if not organized. It was something that had come out more than once in Jax’s stories about his time in the military. Everything seems to be going well so far though.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I would direct your attention to the table at the rear where a place has been set for those Marines who have gone before us. The military way of life is filled with much symbolism. The table provides a way to tell us that members of our profession, whom we call “brothers”, are unable to be with us this evening.”

  Jax moved so slowly she almost didn't catch it. His hand dipped into his coat pocket, producing of all things a rosary, with dog tags looped on to it. He began to run his thumb across the worn metal, lips moving as he looked over each one in turn.

  “It is set for one, yet there are many represented by the single chair. The table is draped in black, symbolizing the color of mourning; the ultimate sacrifice, a table set in honor of our fallen comrades. The single lighted candle reminds us of the flame of eternal life the memory of our fallen comrades will be with us always. The Purple Heart medal displayed to reflect the infliction of wounds and the ebb of life in battle. The identification tags blank, yet they could bear the name of Marines of every creed and color, and from every state in the Union. The dinner setting inverted, they dine with us in spirit only. Those who have died so we may live, our former comrades who have earned the glory and have given to us the respect and pride that we, as Marines, hold so dear.”

  A bugler stood with trumpet in hand, and began to play a sad mournful tune. It seemed to reach deep down inside her heart, grabbing hold and twisting, and for a long moment, Kehau remembered the class trip she’d taken in junior high to the Punchbowl Military cemetery on island. Looking over at Jax, she saw his eyes were closed. His big hands were tightly clenched around the rosary, and she saw tears rolling down his face. The bugler finished, and after a moment of silence, the ceremony continued.

  Jax dried his eyes with a kerchief, and as Kehau looked around the room, she realized he wasn't the only one doing so. In a room full of hard men, there were few dry eyes. These were men they drank, fought, lived, and chased girls alongside. Men who never came home from those places they had been. This is the first time he's ever cried in front of me. Kehau remembered what her father had said about unpopular war. This is the only place where they can mourn in peace. Suddenly the night held new meaning for her.

  As the ceremony progressed, Jax quietly explained the different parts of it to her. Some of things seemed silly, like the cake cutting. But it was all part of what made Marines who and what they were. She could respect that.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Sgt. Major Caldwell.”

  The applause was near deafening, Jax had pointed out the indomitable man to her during the cocktail hour, with the explanation, “He’s big, ballsy, hard, and commands respect. He’s what we strive to be like.”

  The Sergeant Major stood at the head of the room, and cleared his throat.

  “Our Guest of Honor, and the Speaker tonight, is different from what you see on the program. Colonel Lloyd got badly burned on a field op and is recuperating at Trippler. Our prayers and thoughts are with him and his family at this time. However, an old friend happened to call me last week. I told him about our situation, and he was happy to help. Twenty-nine years ago, when I met him at Camp Pendleton, I was a brand new boot private, fresh off the Depot. He was my platoon sergeant.”

  Caldwell moved about with an enthusiasm more akin to a fiery southern preacher. “I thought I was hard. Staff Sergeant was harder. He taught me what it meant to be a Marine. Motivation, Attitude, Discipline. It all came from him. He’ll knock the brakes off yuh! He sure did it to me, more than once.” Laughter filled the room and he continued, “Our guest speaker is an old school mortar man. He earned a Navy Cross in Vietnam for taking out four enemy tanks and preventing the capture of a bridge the NVA badly wanted. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Gunnery Sergeant Jerry Makoa.”

  Kehau was shocked and from the look on Jax’s face, he had no idea about it either. But that was her father stepping up to the microphone, looking younger than he had in years.

  “Good evening, devil dogs, ladies. I happen to like 1/3. When I retired in 1989, I was the gunnery sergeant over Weapons Company. I know all about Pointless Training Area, Shit Creek, bad MREs and living in Mackie Hall. Those barracks were a dump when I was in.”

  “They still are!” a brave voice yelled from out in the crowd.

  “They still are? What a surprise. I had to keep my assault men from blowing them up once every other week on Field Day.” He scanned the room. “I haven’t seen this many marines together in years. And it’s a beautiful sight. You senior Lance Corporals ought to be proud of yourselves. Same goes for the Corporals and Sergeants. You are the backbone of our institution. So long as you’re doing your job, we can survive the Lieutenant getting lost with a map and a compass. Again. You point him in the right direction and send him on his way. Or taking a certain private and making him dig sandbags all day. What? You think the Sergeant Major got those arms naturally? I helped him build those bad boys one shovelful at a time.”

  The room filled with laughter.


  “I know chow’s a calling, and I know you boys want to hit that bar again. I don’t blame you. We’re hell-raisers, heartbreakers, and life takers. We drink napalm and piss barbwire. We’re hard to love, hard to live with, and we’re damned lucky if we can find women who put up with us.

  “I didn't imagine I'd go to a ball after I retired in 1989. Some months ago, a Marine decided to start chasing my little girl. All the girls he could chase in the world, and he meets my only daughter. What are the odds?” Jerry smiled. “Though from what your Sergeant Major tells me, Jaxson Kuznia has always been crazy. On a serious note though, if all the marines of this battalion are like him, then I have reason to be proud of each and every single one of you. You are a credit to yourselves and our history as marines.

  “Never forget who you are and what you stand for. I have friends buried here, and at Arlington. Yes, I earned this Navy Cross, but it wasn’t just Lance Corporal Makoa out there slaying bodies that night in 1972. It was Tommy McConnell and Eddie Blair and Lee Showles and a whole host of other Marines to my left and to my right. I visited Eddie Blair’s grave last week down at the Punchbowl. I miss him every bit as much now as I did the day we sent his body home from Vietnam. You never stop missing your friends. You never listen to Taps without crying because you remember them, living and dying in your arms. And that’s okay. But don’t ever dishonor their memory. Don’t ever break faith with each other or the Corps. If you can do that, our country has a bright shining future. Oorah?”

  “OORAH, Gunny!” the room chorused as one.

  “Thank you for having me here tonight. I’ll see you devil dogs at the bar.”

  Dinner was quickly served, much to Kehau’s delight. It was the next announcement though, that she had been looking forward to. “Ladies and gentlemen, the dance floor is now open.”

  “Hey, Johnny Rocket, care to take me for a whirl?”

  “All night long, pretty baby.”

  It was nearly three in the morning and the DJ had just announced, “Lst song.” Jax held Kehau close as they waltzed to a slow love song by Elvis. Best fifteen dollars I ever spent. He looked her up and down appreciatively once more. She looks incredible. “You're gorgeous, Kehau.”