They were all back on the bus before seven and Annie had packed Zebadiah a slice of pie to take with him. He accepted gratefully but was somewhat bemused at her refusing his money for the coffee and pie he had eaten.
“My boy went over there two month ago. Nineteen he is.” Annie said to him as she pushed the money back into his hand. “I’m just hoping he’ll have a Sergeant like you looking out for him over there is all. I’m glad your home son.”
“Your son will be in good hands Ma’am I promise. He’ll be home before you know it and ready for some of that fine apple pie.” Zebadiah had replied trying to smile. All the time he was thinking of Jethro as he was blown across the jungle, separated from his legs. Some of those guys wouldn’t be going home in anything but a wooden box. Jethro was no greenhorn either. Death was in the air for anyone over there and the inexperienced were at greatest risk. Hopefully her son would gain that experience before meeting a messy end.
Back on the bus he had slid the apple pie into his hold-all. Yes it was good and yes he would enjoy this piece later. Hopefully, so would her son at some time.
The bus pulled into Charlotte. The terminus was well lit and, even so late in the evening, still buzzing with people. All needing to be somewhere. Zebadiah just needed home.
The last bus that passed Charles Station was about to leave and Zebadiah climbed hurriedly aboard. He settled himself in an empty seat after loading his hold-all in the overhead rack. The bus was half full he noted. It would wind through a dozen cities and small one-horse-towns before reaching Charles Station. Zebadiah decided his best bet was sleep. As much as he could get and when he did wake he would have himself a slice of pie. He was almost home. All was well.
As the sun was rising Zebadiah noted they were perhaps an hour from Charles Station. He reached in his pocket for the pain pills the nurse had given him before he left the camp and his last medical.
“You make sure you take these Sergeant Rasnake. You’ll need plenty of rest first, then gentle exercise. These pills will just get you through the first few weeks. Then you’ll need to see your doctor and maybe get something a little lighter. Good luck to you Sergeant and welcome home.” The nurse had said.
Zebadiah swallowed two of the pain pills with a bottle of cola he’d picked up at one of the frequent stops they’d made. He eventually felt the pain in his leg begin to ease as the morphine worked its way into his bloodstream. He leaned back in the seat as the drug slowly relaxed him to an almost sleeping stupor. As he watched familiar landmarks flashing past the dirty window of the bus he dragged himself back to reality. He stood himself up carefully and pulled his hold-all down from the overhead rack. He slowly made his way to the front of the bus, stopping at each seat to grab a hold and recover his balance. The pain was disappearing into the background but he was feeling groggy and heavy headed as he got to the front.
“You can drop me anywhere around here boss.” Zebadiah said to the driver.
“No problem son, I know where you’re headed. Best I can do is get you to the end of your road. That’s a long walk you got ahead of you son. Sorry about that but I got to get this bus home and the rest of these passengers to their families too.” The driver replied kindly.
Zebadiah looked down the bus at the handful of passengers all looking at him. Some looked at each other and shook their heads sadly. Zebadiah became acutely aware of the cane in his hand and thought it must be obvious to everyone he was drugged up. He felt anger welling up as he looked down the bus at them, but the driver was slowing and pulling over to the road that led up to his homestead.
The door swung open to allow Zebadiah to exit. He climbed slowly down and gave a brief wave of thanks to the driver.
“Really sorry for your loss son. We hope it all goes well from now on. We all go to Jesus one way or another, right?” the driver said preparing to close the door and pull away.
Zebadiah stared at him. Surely word of Jethro hadn’t got here already? They never even knew Jethro. Maybe his arrival had been on the local news and the story of how he got to come home he pondered. He’d heard a lot of people now were protesting the war. Targeting returning soldiers for abuse and demanding they all come home. Not in these little places though. Here they appreciated a man that had served in uniform. They would have all been trying to find out how he had been getting on. That was all. Just nosey country folk finding out about their own was all.
“Right, yeah. Thanks. I’m sure we all do, of course. Thanks again.” Zebadiah replied feeling strange at the driver's comment. He turned and made his way up the road.
He was home. It was a three mile walk he was looking forward to. Even in his broken condition he felt like running all the way. Reality kicked in and even the drugs weren’t going to get him there any faster than one would expect of a broken man on a cane and carrying a hold-all.
He recognized each tree he passed. The small stream that cut through the track caused him to pause. He would have normally just took a jumping step over it, but now he had to focus. He threw his bag across first, then the cane. He leaped and reached for the other side with his good leg. The weight of the rest of him and the drug induced wobble saw him collapse on the other side. He rolled on his back and giggled. At least he’d made it across and nobody was shooting at him he thought as he slowly got to his feet and dusted himself off. Picking up the cane he shouldered his bag and continued up the track. That should be the only obstacle to contend with he thought. He might have to stop again on the way but right now he just wanted to be home and in the arms of Mary.
As he walked he remembered he had the two letters. He could remember almost every word of the letter Mary had written him. He hoped all that stood true now he was broken and battered, but with her help, he knew he’d be back to the old Zebadiah she’d married. He tried to recall the other letter. From his mother he knew. He just couldn’t remember what was in it. Each time he tried to think back, all he could do was remember the shots and explosion that led up to him ended up comatose and shattered. He couldn’t remember at all. He reached into his jacket to retrieve them but the pocket was empty. A different jacket of course. Maybe they were still laid somewhere in a Vietnamese jungle. Or in the hands of Vietnamese troops. Laughing over them. He frowned as he carried on walking. It was important and he needed to remember. He couldn’t. Whatever it was could wait until he saw his mother face to face.
The track was overgrown he noticed. Certainly no traffic had been using the track in a long time. Zebadiah thought it strange. Surely Mary would have gone into town now and then for those things they couldn’t grow at home and to sell their extras? Maybe it had rained heavy of late and the weeds and grass had shot up. He’d seen it do that before now.
Now he was beginning to realize just how isolated their little piece of paradise was. How on earth could Mary have coped all this time without him? Stuck up here so far from friends, family or anyone else for that matter? Mary’s parents had died when she was still a teenager. She had no brother or sister and had lived with her aunt before meeting Zebadiah. For her, their marriage also meant getting away from the aunt she hated and having a real place of her own with her man.
It was never going to be an easy life for them there and then Zebadiah joined the Army. They would have had to feed themselves and barter any extras they might have for the finer things in life, like clothing and maybe one day a truck. But Zebadiah’s dad had taught him all he knew about making moonshine and the right people to sell it to. They would have survived. But now with the pension he would receive, they would do just fine. That truck just got a little bit bigger and a whole lot newer than what they had hoped for in the past.
As Zebadiah gave a small wince at his leg as he moved up the road he smiled to himself. “Sure, wince away. You’re paying for a Chevy dear leg.”
He could now see the house through the trees, half a mile away. It looked different. Dark, almost foreboding. Something certainly didn’t look right. He knew he would see the house as soon a
s he cleared this last rise and was hoping the sight of it would bring him joy and spur him on that last part of the journey. It didn’t. As he got closer he started to smell that unmistakable smell of burned wood. Wood that had burned and been extinguished with water. Lots of water. He had known a lot of houses in these parts that had gone up in flames. Neighbors would rally round to try to save the house but these places were a tinder box. The help was just to show willing neighbors and to stop a fire spreading. The chance of saving one of these places was slim. Zebadiah had seen a few, smelled a few and now recognized the unmistakable smell of a burned down house. He shivered and froze.
They would have told him of course. They wouldn’t send him home to a house that had burned down. Someone would have known. The bus driver would have known. The passengers would have known. They all knew about Jethro didn’t they? How could they not know his house had burned down?
The smell hung heavy in the air as he made his way along the track.
His heart leaped as he saw Mary standing at the gate. The house behind her was perfect. More than perfect. Damn those stupid drugs messing with his mind. He rushed the last hundred yards to his home and his wife, waiting with outstretched arms.
Chapter 4
Zebadiah rushed to the gate, dropping his bag on the way and thrashing the ground with his cane to speed him forward. He was angry at himself for his injuries slowing him down but elated as he fell into Mary’s arms.
“You made it! You made it! I knew you would. Come, come inside my darling, I’ve missed you so much.” Mary cried as she pulled him into the house fearful of letting him go.
Zebadiah followed her through the front door and into the kitchen where he could smell the sweet aroma of fresh baked corn bread and the warm scent of the pot of bubbling beans. His stomach did somersaults as the smells invaded his nose. He settled himself on one of the chairs at the kitchen table and dropped his cane to the floor. Taking her hands from his shoulders Mary moved to the wood stove. She plated up a large portion of beans from the pot and set it down before him with three large biscuits.
“Before you dive into that, I have someone who has been very excited to meet you. I told him you would be here today.” Mary said as she disappeared from the room.
She returned in a few moments cooing and hushing the baby in her arms. Joshua gurgled with glee as he looked up at his father for the first time. His eyes wide, he opened his mouth and said “Momma.”
“Nooo, that’s not Momma. Say Papa.” Mary giggled.
Zebadiah reached cautiously for his son and cradled him gently in his arms.
“Joshua? I have a son called Joshua? I don’t believe it! He is wonderful Mary. Yes Joshua you are absolutely wonderful!” Zebadiah said. “And Mother? Is she in the back room?”
Mary lowered herself into one of the chairs at the table.
“Momma Rasnake isn’t with us Zeb. I’m afraid she passed away while you were in the hospital. I think the shock of hearing about your condition caused her a heart attack. I’m so sorry my love. I thought someone would have told you. I’m sorry I had to break it to you.” Mary said.
Zebadiah passed Joshua back to Mary. “Dead? My mother has died? Nobody told me anything honey.” He lowered his head into his hands and quietly began to sob. Mary came around behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Be strong now Zebadiah. You will need to be strong for me and Joshua here. That’s what your mother would expect.” Mary said.
“Yes. Yes of course. Where is she buried Mary?” Zebadiah asked.
“They took her off to the hospital at first, then buried her at the town cemetery. I was in the hospital too then having Joshua so we were kept pretty much out of things. I’m so sorry my love. Eat, Zebadiah. Then I will help you upstairs where you can rest. I know you will be needing a lot of rest now to get you healthy again. Please eat something darling. Everything is going to be alright. We three are together at last. Forever.” Mary replied.
Zebadiah spooned the warm beans into his mouth as he took it all in. He had looked forward to some real home cooking for longer than he could remember, yet though he was savoring every mouthful, the shock of his mother’s death was biting deep and he could feel his body starting to ache. He lowered the spoon and slowly stood up.
“Yes Mary, perhaps I’d better lie down for a while. I don’t feel too good. It has been a long trip.” Zebadiah said.
Zebadiah made his way to the stairs with Mary right behind him. A nervous look on her face as she helped him climb the stairs as if she thought he might flee at any minute. Zebadiah didn’t flee. Fleeing was the last thing on his mind. As he ascended the stairs to the bedroom he could feel his body slowly collapsing from the exhaustion of all that had happened and the news he had just heard. A new son, all happy and gurgling and a dead mother, buried somewhere he knew not. His head was spinning from it all as he reached the bed and lay down. He closed his eyes and instantly fell into a deep sleep.
The smell and sound of sizzling bacon awoke Zebadiah early the next morning. Downstairs he could hear Mary talking to baby Joshua as she busied around the kitchen. The gentle aroma of freshly brewing coffee finished the job of bringing Zebadiah to his senses. He immediately reached in his jacket pocket that was hanging neatly on a chair by the bed to retrieve his pain pills. As he reached over he noticed he barely winced. Perhaps he would leave the pills until after breakfast he pondered. Just use them when the pain really kicked in. He swung his legs out of the bed and slowly eased himself into a standing position. His leg too was keeping its pain hidden at a low ebb this morning he noted. Perhaps the sleep and the home cooked food the evening before was what he really needed after all rather than pills and doctors. The smile that was forming on his face dropped as he recalled the news of his mother’s death. That was something that neither home cooked food nor pills was going to repair he thought to himself. That was a pain he would have to bear himself for the rest of his life. He knew the grief would ease slowly as it had done with his father, but for now, it was raw and it bit deep in his chest. He made his way down the stairs to the kitchen where Mary was already filling a plate with bacon and eggs. He sat down smiling and happy at how Mary had taken to the house and how confident she was in the kitchen. He’s been expecting his mother’s cooking. He knew his mother was a wonderful cook and had been looking forward to it. To see Mary equal to the task made him smile.
“Did you sleep well my love?” Mary asked as she poured him a mug of hot, steaming coffee.
“I can’t remember the last time I slept so well Mary. I guess I needed it, right?” Zebadiah replied. He reached over to Joshua sat in a high chair and stroked his cheek. “I’m so damn proud of you little fella. You want some of Daddy’s toast?” He chuckled.
“He’s a long way from chomping on a slice of toast just yet Zebadiah Rasnake. Let me worry about feeding young Joshua and you tuck into those eggs and bacon. I’ve been waiting to have my man back in my arms. Now eat up and let’s get your strength built up fella.” Mary chortled.
Mary say down opposite Zebadiah at the kitchen table and nibbled on a slice of toast.
“Is that all you’re having Mary? You can’t do a full day looking after me and the baby on just a slice of toast honey.” Zebadiah said.
“I ate earlier dear when I was dressing Joshua this morning. Eat and enjoy. Then I’m going to give you a bath just as soon as Joshua takes his nap.” Mary replied.
“A bath eh? Think I need one do you?” Zebadiah smirked.
“I want to examine that beautiful body of yours darling. I’ve missed it for so long.” Mary replied smiling sweetly.
As Zebadiah settled at the kitchen table and enjoyed a cigarette with his fresh mug of coffee, Mary cleaned up the dishes and took Joshua out to his own room. As they were gone, Zebadiah gazed around the old kitchen. Everything was as it was and Mary hadn’t changed how his mother used to have it. No need to really Zebadiah thought. Mother had this kitchen down to a fine art. Knew where
everything was and had all she needed to hand.
He gazed out of the window and looked out to the creek below. It wasn’t far from the house at all and a large pool had formed that they had all used for swimming and fishing. Even in summer, the water would be ice cold and fresh. He smiled as he thought back over the years to all the times of swimming in that cold water. He shivered and laughed to himself just as he felt a hand caressing his shoulder. He turned to find Mary standing behind him. She was naked. She placed a finger to his lips and taking his hand, led him into the back room where the large bath tub was filled with hot soapy water.
Zebadiah undressed, pausing to look back at Mary with the removal of each article he wore. He knew his body was scarred and he didn’t want to disgust her. He’d looked back to see the clear look of love and adoration in her eyes, never shifting to disgust, and before long he stood naked before her. She smiled and took him into her arms, pulling him close.
“I love you Zebadiah Rasnake, all of you, scarred, torn, shot, or broken. You’re mine and I love you however you are, my darling.” She pulled away after kissing him once more, and gestured to the bathtub. “Let me wash away all of those bad memories.”
He let her help him into the tub and he sank down in the water gratefully with a deep sigh. The heat of the water she’s spent so long preparing bucket by bucket soaked in through his skin, down into his bones and did more to ease his ache than anything else had. There was something comforting about being surrounded with hot water.
Zebadiah relaxed and sank back as Mary began scrubbing up his hair, gently rubbing over the scarred area she found. He heard her gasp, then tut, as she felt the scar. But her touch was awakening memories, and his body. She was gentle as she rinsed his hair but as her fingers moved lower, down his neck and to his chest, Zebadiah felt a new need, a need to make love to his beautiful wife.
Professor next Door Page 17
