by Trent Reedy
“But the federal government is expecting him to show up at that Air Force base Wednesday,” said Sweeney. “If he doesn’t, it’s a crime or something, right?” I nodded. He went on, “The federal government has thought he was guilty of a crime for a while now. I don’t know, maybe it would be a good idea to go federal and get that pardon. On the other hand, even without a pardon for Boise, and even if they’re pissed that he doesn’t show up to federal duty, it’s not like they can come and arrest him. The Idaho Guard won’t even let them into the state.”
“Bingo.” Cal spoke through a belch before crushing his empty Turbo Juice can. “What’s he supposed to do? Act like it’s all good while the National Guard protects him?” He pointed at me. “While they put their asses on the line, you’re just going to sit around and watch? I say go state all the way, man. You don’t owe the Fed shit. They tried to arrest you. They almost killed us all, trying to run us down in the car. If you go to that Air Force base, they’ll probably bust you right there. You’re insane if you think the president is really going to give you that pardon. He already proved he ain’t trustworthy by accidentally-on-purpose leaking your name to the news. The governor’s right. The only reason they’re calling you to active duty Army is so they can come into the state and arrest Montaine, and that guy is the only one who kept you out of jail after that whole thing went down in Boise. He helped you. Now you got to help Idaho. Someone has to stand up to these guys.”
I don’t know exactly what the others were thinking, but they had to have been as shocked as I was. That was the longest, clearest speech Cal ever gave, better even than his classic sophomore-year English-class presentation, “Why Brittany Mavis Is the Best Actress and Singer and She Turns Me On.”
Finally, JoBell shook her head. “That’s illegal. That’s rebellion!”
“Whoa, whoa. Easy, guys.” I didn’t need my best friends fighting about this.
“It’s the damn Fed that’s breaking the law.” Cal threw his can into the river. “The Idaho Guard is only protecting us. It’s not rebellion. It’s self-defense.”
“It’s suicide,” Becca said quietly. She had this way of getting everyone’s attention without having to yell. She didn’t always talk much, but when she did, her words mattered. “If it comes to an all-out fight? Idaho against the full Army, Air Force, and Marines of the United States? Suicide.”
“It won’t be a fight if the Fed stays out of Idaho,” Cal said.
“What if they don’t stay out? What if they storm the state? They don’t even need to come in. They can fire cruise missiles or drop bombs or something,” Becca said. “I’m sorry, but Idaho doesn’t have a chance. Not in a million years.”
“Hey,” I said. “The Idaho Guard is just as well trained and —”
“They’re going to get killed,” Becca said. “You know it’s true.”
“But they won’t take it that far,” said Sweeney. “What president would order the total slaughter of his own people? He’d never be elected again.”
I put my head back and pressed my fists to my eyes. “This isn’t getting me anywhere. If I obey the president, I have to leave home for two years.”
“Or maybe longer,” JoBell added.
“Or maybe longer,” I agreed.
“Or probably go to jail.” Cal folded his big arms. “And you’d be selling out your state.”
I leaned against a steel girder in the bridge’s truss. “If I stay with the Idaho Guard, I’ll probably end up getting killed.”
“Not necessarily,” said Sweeney.
“And you’d betray your oath to the president,” said Becca.
“But if I drop out of the military entirely,” I said, “I’d be a traitor to both.”
JoBell took my hand.
“Dude, I don’t know what you should do,” said Sweeney. “But I’ll support you no matter what you decide.”
“Thanks for coming out here, guys,” I said. “It means a lot. Tomorrow’s only Tuesday, right? The Fed doesn’t expect me until Wednesday, so I can sleep on it.”
Cal slapped me on the back. Becca put one arm around Sweeney’s shoulders and the other down around Cal’s waist, and we all started back toward our cars, parked in a line on the Abandoned Highway of Love.
* * *
With Mom gone, I could dodge the reporters by parking in the garage, but JoBell had to park over a block away and then sneak through backyards on foot to escape notice. I let her in, then went upstairs to shower and change into clean clothes, but when I came down to the living room, she wasn’t there.
“Jo?” I called. Someone reached around from behind and grabbed me. I spun out of the grip and pulled my fist back, ready for a fight.
She stood there, smiling and wearing my cowboy hat.
“Whoa! Sorry. Bad idea,” she said.
I breathed deeply to still my pounding heart. I had been ready to crush whoever was behind me. “Don’t scare me like that,” I said quietly. I never would have been like this before everything had fallen apart. JoBell slid her hands up under my T-shirt and pressed them to my bare chest. My breath seized up. “Whoa, ice-cold,” I said.
She cupped her hands over her mouth and blew to warm them with her breath. Then she rubbed her palms together before placing them on me again. “Better?”
I kissed her and tried to put my arms around her, but she slipped away. “I’m hungry.”
“So am I.” I grinned.
She giggled and headed for the kitchen. “I’m hungry for food. Show me what frozen delights you have for us tonight.”
She put on a playlist of our favorite songs, and I showed her my master chef skills in cooking the perfect fish sticks and fries. Before we sat down to eat, I found a couple candles from the junk drawer, lit them, and put them on the table.
“Poor man’s romantic feast.” I pulled out JoBell’s chair for her.
She bowed. “Thank you, sir,” she said in a rich-sounding accent before sitting down.
I sat down across from her, and we clinked our wine glasses filled with grape pop together. Then we settled in to eating. The food may have been cheap and crappy, but I couldn’t remember a better meal.
“I was feeling pretty miserable today.” I dipped my last fish stick in the little dish of ketchup between us, holding it up afterward. “But being with you makes everything so much better.”
“I’m glad I can help.” She grinned. “You’re going to be okay, Danny. You’re strong enough to handle all this. That’s what I’ve always loved most about you. It wasn’t your looks —”
“Hey!”
“— or your choice in music. But I’ve always loved how brave you are. Pulling off that fake punt in football. The bull riding. Even your courage to enlist and go through basic training with all those mean drill sergeants. You’re strong … and brave.” She pushed her empty plate away and looked at me. In her eyes I saw her other hunger. “And yeah, it actually was your looks too.”
She rounded the table and sat on my lap, straddling me, taking my head in her hands. Her tongue explored my mouth.
“I think,” she gasped after a bit, “that we should go upstairs.”
“To my bedroom?” Had I been in a condition to think straight, I might have said something smarter.
She got up and slipped her sweatshirt off so that she stood there in a little T-shirt and jeans. She held out her hand. “Come on, babe.”
As soon as we entered my room we were on each other. She backed me up to the bed and then pushed me down onto my back before climbing on top of me to kiss me more. All my concerns from earlier in the day, all the problems in the whole world, melted away. The universe was only JoBell and me. And it felt so good.
Hours later, with the blankets pulled up over us, we lay there in the dark, so close that we breathed each other’s breath. I’d never felt so … with someone, so much a part of someone else. When we’d been together before, it had always been hot and steamy, but that night it felt warmer, safer, than anything I�
��d ever felt before. I wanted to stay there forever.
“Danny,” she whispered after a long time. “Danny, please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. Forget everything I said earlier today. Forget politics and laws and duty. Just stay. For me.”
I squeezed her. Of all the arguments that everybody had made this afternoon on the bridge, what JoBell had said right now made the most sense. What was the point of being in an army that was almost ready to fight itself? What was life without JoBell? I didn’t want this closeness to end.
After a long time, I began to fade into sleep. She slipped out from under my arm and moved toward the edge of the bed. I caught hold of her hand. “Where you going?”
“Home.” She smiled.
“No,” I whispered, stretching my arms around her waist to pull her back. “You are home. Stay here.”
“I can’t,” she said. “My dad would kill us both. You know that.”
I did know that, and I let her get up. I also knew that I loved her, and the feeling was so intense that it ached in my chest. I knew then what I had to do.
“Hold on,” I said when she had her shoes on. My heart beat heavy in my chest as I pulled on my jeans and went to the drawer in my nightstand. I swear my hands were shaking so much when I approached her that I thought I’d drop the black box hidden behind my back.
“What are you doing?” JoBell said. “I have to get going.”
Was this the right time? Was I being stupid? I ran through all the arguments in my head again. Was proposing to JoBell any crazier than everything that was happening in America lately? No. This was right. That much I knew. I switched on the bedside light and went down on one knee, opening the box to show her the ring. I hoped the lamplight sparkled right on the diamond.
JoBell gasped.
“JoBell Marie Linder, I love you,” I said. “I love you more than I could ever love anything or anyone. Will you marry me?”
She froze with her mouth dropped open. Then she pressed her hand to her chest and took a step back, bumping our rodeo picture off the shelf. She made a clumsy grab to catch it, but missed, and it clattered to the floor. “Oh, Danny.” Tears welled in her eyes.
I smiled. She was so happy, she was crying.
“Oh, Danny,” she said. She pressed her fist to her mouth, biting one knuckle.
My knee was getting a little sore, kneeling like this on the hardwood floor. “I want us to be together forever.”
“So do I.” She nodded as a tear ran down her cheek.
I stood up and moved toward her. “Then you’ll —”
“Not now, Danny.”
I felt almost like someone had punched the wind right out of my gut. “What?”
“I want to be with you forever too, Danny, but we can’t be engaged in high school. Even if our parents would let us, we’re still too young. There’s college coming. I’m going to the University of Washington in Seattle and I want you to come with me, but you’ll probably …” She paused.
I snapped the ring box closed.
JoBell went on. “But even if you come to U-Dub too, who’s to say we’ll be the same people there as we are now? Who’s to say we won’t change?”
I squeezed the box to keep myself under control. “This …” I stopped and swallowed back the stinging feeling in my throat. “My love for you won’t ever change.”
She ran to me and kissed me full on the lips. She put her hands around the box and pressed it between our bodies, over our hearts. “Keep this,” she said. “For when the time is really right.”
“How will I know —”
She pressed her finger to my lips. “You’ll know, Danny.” She kissed me again, and then hurried from the room.
I followed her downstairs to the kitchen, where she went to the back door. She stopped there for a moment and looked back at me. Then she slipped outside and the door slammed shut behind her.
I stood in the kitchen for a long time watching that closed door. Then I made myself a drink of lemonade from water and a powdered mix along with some ancient vodka that Mom had forgotten at the back of the cupboard, going over everything that had just happened. JoBell said she loved me, said she always would, and that she wanted us to be together. If that was true, then what did she mean with all that stuff about going to college and changing into different people? Did she think we’d meet people at college that we liked more than each other? Did she think she’d take some classes and learn that she didn’t love me anymore? No way. I took a sip of my vodka lemonade and shook my head as I went into the dark, lonely living room. I’d mixed my drink way too strong.
Maybe it was time to admit to myself what JoBell had almost said tonight. I probably wasn’t going to college in Seattle or to any other big university. Yeah, I wanted to stay closer to home, but it was more than that. I wasn’t flunking out of high school, wasn’t in danger of not graduating, but my grades weren’t that great. So far this year, with the bad dreams about the Battle of Boise and even about Lieutenant McFee’s death keeping me awake all the time, and the waking nightmare of everything that had happened, I had not been able to focus on my schoolwork at all. What’s more is that I simply wasn’t able to make myself care about homework and grades. Never could. Is that why JoBell had turned me down? Because I wasn’t smart enough? Because she knew I wouldn’t be going to college with her?
I didn’t need college. I had my plan, my perfect plan, to take over the shop someday and raise a family here in Freedom Lake with my JoBell. What was the good of any plan if it didn’t include JoBell?
I pulled the ring box from my pocket and squeezed it in my fist against my forehead. Why had I asked her tonight? She was right. We were still in high school. Nobody got engaged in high school! That’s why she’d said no. None of that other crazy stuff mattered. Me and JoBell were good. Good for each other. Meant to be together. Soul mates or whatever.
I took a drink, the ice cubes clinking against the glass in my shaky hand.
I had asked her to marry me because everything else in my life was falling apart. I was afraid that I would have to leave, and I didn’t want to lose my girl in the process. I only wish … How was I supposed to come back from a rejection like that? I’d tried to put our relationship on a higher level and she’d shot me down. What happened to us now?
Later, I did my duty as a good son and called Mom in Spokane, even though I really didn’t want to talk to anyone right then. She said she was fine, but I could hear the shadow in her voice, and my call log showed me she’d already tried to call me a couple times tonight while I’d had my comm on silent. Luckily, the conference had set her up in a nice hotel with room service that offered chamomile tea. She said I shouldn’t worry about her at all, but I’d been worrying about her my whole life.
The next day was worse than Monday. I still had the deadline for reporting for duty, but now I had a touch of a headache from last night’s drink, and I had to face JoBell. By the look on Becca’s face when she saw me, JoBell had told her about the flop proposal from the night before. At lunch, when I asked JoBell to come over that night, she made an excuse and then went to the bathroom. Becca would hardly look at me. She said quietly, “Give her a little time. It’ll be okay.”
So Tuesday night I sat alone on the couch, flipping through feeds on the living room screen to see if there was something live that was good. Of course, there was nothing worth watching, and I didn’t feel like catching old shows on the Internet. I sighed. “I’m bored enough to actually do homework,” I said to nobody.
The doorbell rang and I jumped up, thinking it better not be a reporter. I was pissed enough to finally give them a statement, and it wouldn’t be one they would like. I opened the door a crack so I could slam it shut if it was trouble.
And there Becca stood on the porch, smiling and holding a foil-covered pan.
I hadn’t expected to see her and had no idea what to say. “Um, hey.”
She laughed a little. “Can I come in?”
Reporters out in the
street started taking photos. “Oh.” I opened the door and rushed her inside. “Yeah. Sorry. Sure. What’s up?”
“I know that your master plan was to eat frozen pizzas or canned soup all week.” She went to the kitchen, put the pan on the counter, and leaned over to start the oven. “But since my parents are on vacation in Florida with Eric’s mom and dad, I thought I’d bring you some real food.” She peeled the foil off the dish. “My famous lasagna. Won a blue ribbon at the 4-H fair freshman year.”
“You didn’t have to do this. I’m good with the frozen pizzas, really. Plus I have some fish sticks.”
“You’re good with that stuff, but it is not good for you. Plus, it’s too late. I’ve already made this. Now I have to bake it, and then we can eat.”
“But … That’s a pretty big pan. I hope you’re really hungry or counting on leftovers because I don’t think you and me —”
She leveled her gaze at me. “Relax,” she said. “The others are on their way over right now. If you are going to report for federal duty tomorrow, and this is your last night at home, we thought we’d send you off in style.” She reached up to unclip the shiny butterfly from her hair. “And no matter where you go, I want you to remember that you have friends back home who care about you.” She held the hair clip out to me. “Take this to remind you of that?”
Except when we were little babies, I’d never seen her without that clip. She’d told me once that her older sister had given it to her on the day she died of cancer, asking Becca to keep it to help her remember.
“Becca, I can’t take this,” I said quietly.
She grabbed my hand, opened my fingers, put the butterfly in my palm, and closed my grip around it. “Yes, you can.” She kept my hand in both of hers. “No matter what you choose. No matter where you go. I don’t want you to forget me. Forget us.”
“I could never forget you guys.” It was silent for a moment. Then I smiled. “And what if I stay home?”
She laughed and pushed my hand away. “In that case, I’m going to want that back.”
“Hey, you two didn’t start without me, did you?” Sweeney came in carrying a duffel bag that was obviously packed with some sort of box. “When the folks are away, the kids will play! My old man won’t miss a few beers.”
