“Kristine, it’s Aaron Dunwoodie. You sound strange. Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine, Aaron,” she lied. “I think I might be coming down with a cold. What can I do for you today?”
“I’d like you to come into the bank tomorrow if possible. I’ll be free all morning.”
“Is something wrong?”
“I believe so. I don’t like to discuss business over the phone. How does ten o’clock sound?”
“It’s fine, Aaron. I’ll be there. Do I need to bring anything?”
“Bring whatever Logan sent home with you. All the account information and your bankbooks.”
“All right. I’ll see you at ten.”
“Perhaps we should make it nine instead. There’s a snow advisory tomorrow for midday. These weather people never get it right. Yes, nine is good.”
“Then nine it is.”
Kristine hung up the phone, a frown building on her face. What exactly did Aaron mean when he said bring everything Logan gave her? Logan hadn’t given her anything. She shrugged. Right now she had more important things on her mind. She beelined for the door, shrugging into her jacket as she raced out to the mailbox. She wanted to howl her misery as she withdrew two catalogs and a bill from Reynolds Propane. She slammed the door of the mailbox so hard it flopped open again. She gave the post a kick as she clicked the metal door to the fastener. “Well, I’ve had enough of this!” she stormed as she raced to the house to get out of the cold. Aaron was right about the snow. It felt like snow right now. She looked upward at the gray scudding clouds. She didn’t need a weatherman to tell her it would snow before the day was over. If she was going to go into town tomorrow, she had to find her father’s old set of chains in case the roads weren’t plowed. She also needed to gather some evergreen branches to make a new centerpiece. Later. Everything these days was always later. She also needed to think about making something for dinner, something that didn’t come out of a box.
Back in the kitchen, Kristine sat down on the raised hearth, the searing heat warming her back and neck. She hated crying like this, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Something was wrong. Logan should have been here by now. Morbid thoughts ricocheted inside her head as she sought for reasons why her husband was four days late in returning to the States. Did he have an accident? Was there one last mission? The thought was so stupid she bit down on her lower lip. Logan had never gone on a mission in his entire military career. Amnesia was a possibility. A plane crash. There had been nothing on the news. He stayed longer than intended to party with some of his fellow officers, most of whom he would never see again. That must be it. Maybe he simply lost track of time, missed his flight, and had to wait for a reservation to open up. He would pop in anytime now shouting, “Surprise!” at the top of his lungs.
It wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t know how she knew, she just knew. Woman’s intuition along with good old gut instinct.
“I’ve had enough of this,” she muttered. Within minutes she had what she called her global address book in hand. Upstairs she had three more just like it, each page filled with names, addresses, and little notes about the people she’d met during twenty years in the military. She flipped the pages to the section marked Germany, running her fingers down the list until she located the names she wanted. As she dialed the country code, she calculated the time difference in her mind. Not that she cared one way or the other.
The chaplain’s voice was somber-sounding to her ears. Did she interrupt his prayers? “Tom, it’s Kristine Kelly. How are you? Shivering! It’s very cold here in Virginia, too. It is December. I understand the weatherman has predicted snow for tomorrow. Get on with it, Kristine, ask him. Stop with the small talk. Tom, Logan is three days late. Do you happen to know if he was detained for some reason? Mail is so slow at this time of year and our phone system is not the best way out here in the country.”
“As far as I know Logan left on schedule, Kristine. There was the usual round of parties, gag gifts, hoots, and hollers. It was my understanding that Captain Dellwood drove him to the airport. Logan did come by the night before he left to say good-bye. We had a beer and talked for about an hour. It was my impression he was flying straight into Dulles. I wish I could be of more help. I can call around to see if there was a change in plans and call you if I find out anything.”
“I would appreciate it, Tom. I’m worried. This is not like Logan. He’s only called once and sent one letter. The kids are as jittery as I am. Logan is not a thoughtless, inconsiderate person. I think you know that, Tom.”
“Yes, I do know that. Like I said, I’ll check around and get back to you. I’m sure there was a glitch along the way. It’s possible he’s stranded somewhere. The weather here has not been good.”
Kristine’s voice was tortured when she said, “Tom, you don’t think anything happened to him, do you?”
“Kristine, you would have heard by now if something had happened. I’m sure it’s nothing more than a mixup somewhere along the line. I’ll call when I know something. Say hello to the children for me.”
“I will. Thanks, Tom. You’ve been a wonderful friend to this family. Don’t eat too much plum pudding this year. Merry Christmas.”
“I need to do something with this kitchen before Logan gets home,” Kristine muttered. Somewhere in the storage room there were boxes and boxes of fabric she’d purchased over the years in all the foreign ports they’d stopped at. If she hauled out her sewing machine, she could whip up a new set of curtains, make cushion covers for the chairs and the rocker that sat by the fire, and even make some new holiday place mats. If she really wanted to be creative, she could glue some fabric on the pull-down shades on both kitchen doors. If she wanted to, she could go outside and gather armfuls of evergreens to put in clay pots. A colorful ribbon around the crock would add a festive touch. If she hurried, she could have it all done by the time the kids got home from school at four o’clock. If she wanted to. The only problem was, she didn’t want to. She wanted to sit here at the table sucking her thumb while she pretended nothing was wrong.
Dellwood. Kristine squeezed her eyes shut to try and get a mental picture of the captain. When the captain’s likeness failed to materialize, she opened her eyes. Maybe the captain was new to the base. Was he in the directory?
Stapled to the last page of her address book was the latest list of new as well as old officers living on base. Her friend Sadie Meyers had handed her the list the day before she left, saying, “In case you want to get in touch with any of us.” A smile tugged at the corners of Kristine’s mouth. Trust Sadie to put the list in alphabetical order. She ran her finger down the list and there he was, Captain Laurence Dellwood.
Kristine didn’t stop to think. She dialed the number opposite the captain’s name. The words hurtled from her mouth, the moment the captain identified himself. She ended with a rush saying, “I’m sure you understand how worried we are. Can you tell me anything, Captain? Was there a mixup? Did Logan’s flight get canceled?”
“Ma’am, as far as I know, Colonel Kelly boarded his flight with ten minutes to spare. I saw him checking his ticket en route to the airport, and he said he had a straight through flight to Dulles. He said he couldn’t wait to get home, and this was going to be the best Christmas ever. Did you check with Dulles, Mrs. Kelly?”
“No. No, I didn’t, but I will when I hang up. I don’t suppose you know his flight number.”
“The colonel said he was flying Lufthansa, with one stop somewhere, but I can’t remember where it was, ma‘am. I’m sorry. The colonel’s flight left at 0600 hours December 15. He said he would probably be drinking coffee while he stared at his Christmas tree on December 16, all the while marveling at the fact that he was a civilian again. He wished me luck with my tour, shook my hand, said ‘Merry Christmas, Captain,’ and then he was gone. That’s all I know, ma’am.”
Kristine felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. “What about his luggage, Captain?”
“Yes, what happened to it?”
“The colonel didn’t have any luggage, ma’am, just a small flight bag. I assumed everything else had been shipped.”
“I see.” Damn, she didn’t see at all. “Thank you, Captain. Have a nice holiday.”
In a near trance, Kristine paced the kitchen. Logan had left Germany on schedule. Where in the name of God was he? Something was wrong? “My God!” she cried, Logan could be buried in a ditch somewhere, and I’ll never know. Oh, God, Oh, God! She was going to do something. What? Make coffee? Tea? A centerpiece for the kitchen table? Even a new wreath for the front door? She was going to do some sewing. The middle of the huge bare table made her flinch. No, no, no, she wasn’t going to do any of those things. She was going to call Dulles Airport.
Fifteen minutes later, Kristine slammed the phone down in disgust. Civilian passenger information was sacrosanct. Maybe she could call the airline in Germany. She placed the call and switched to German when she spoke. The result was the same. Lufthansa did not divulge passenger information. Now what was she supposed to do? Make coffee, create a new centerpiece for the kitchen table like a good little wife, write another letter she would never get to mail.
All of the above if she wanted to keep her sanity. Like hell! The phone found its way back to her hand. Her first call was to her friend Sadie in Germany. When she heard her friend’s cheerful voice on the other end of the phone the tenseness between her shoulder blades lessened. The moment she wound down from her spiel, she asked, “Do you know anything, Sadie? Did you and Jim go to Logan’s going-away party?”
“It was one of those guy only things. Don’t get riled up now. It was held in the Officers’ Club and aside from some risque entertainment, everyone left alone. Logan stayed here that night in the spare bedroom. I think you’re overreacting, Kris. He could have missed his stopover flight.
“Just wait, he’ll waltz in like nothing happened, his arms full of presents. That’s Logan, Mr. Showman himself. Stop worrying. When did you become so neurotic and paranoid?”
“Four days ago, that’s when. I’m going to call the American Consulate and have them check it out. Maybe the airline will give them the information. Four days is a long time, Sadie.”
“I think you’re worrying needlessly. And you’re running up your phone bill at the same time. Kick back, relax, and get the house ready for the holidays. You are Mrs. Christmas herself. You need to go by the book, Kristine. Military wives do not buckle under pressure. We measure up!”
“I’m not in the military anymore, Sadie. My measuring-up days are long gone. I did decorate,” she said, her voice sounding defensive.
“An old Virginia farmhouse. It must have tons of character. Did you bake cookies and streusel?”
“Of course,” Kristine fibbed. She didn’t even have any flour. How could she bake?
“How are the kids?”
“Testy. They don’t like it here. They haven’t made really good friends yet. Their educations are too advanced for the school system here. The twins could really have skipped this last year and gone straight to their sophomore year at college. The paperwork was mind-boggling. Logan did some of it back in August. but I can’t find it. The kids are upset over that, too. I think they all sleep through their classes. There is a possibility Logan can get them registered for the next semester if he can come up with the paperwork.”
Sadie asked, her voice sharp and blunt, “Why are you waiting for Logan? That’s a mother’s job.”
“Goddamn it, Sadie, I’ve been waiting for Logan. I unpacked everything, and there is no box with college papers or anything else. I can’t pull it out of thin air, can I?”
“You always said your family was your top priority, Kris. I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong here. You sound to me like you’re teetering on the edge. The Kristine Kelly I’ve known for fifteen years is not an insecure twit. The kids must know what Logan did on their behalf. You said Mike was going to VMI and Cala was going to Georgetown. Start there. Call the damn schools, for God’s sake.”
“It’s Christmas recess right now. I’ll do it the first of the year.” It wasn’t an admission that Logan wasn’t coming back. It truly wasn’t.
“I’ve never heard you like this,” Sadie said. “What’s really bothering you?”
Kristine sighed. “The not knowing. If Logan called and said he couldn’t make it home until Easter, that would be fine. I could handle that. It’s the not knowing, the worry. What it something did happen, Sadie?”
“If something happened, you would have heard by now. When he does get home, I’d kick his butt all the way to the state line. That’s if he was my husband. My suggestion to you is shift into neutral, have some intense dialogue with the kids, call the colleges. At least leave your name. I’m sure there’s a skeleton staff in Admissions to take down your information. Then go Christmas shopping. You need to be a good little soldier and . . .”
“I’m going to hang up now, Sadie, before I say something I’ll regret later on. It was nice talking to you. Say hello to Jim. Have a wonderful holiday.”
Kristine broke the connection so she wouldn’t have to hear her friend’s reply. What did Sadie know? Everyone in the whole world knew Sadie Meyers never had a serious thought in her entire life.
Kick back, shift into neutral, relax. Easy to say. Not easy to do. It was just that she loved Logan so much. Sometimes in her secret thoughts she realized her love was sickly obsessive. If something happened to Logan, she wouldn’t be able to go on. She would want to die, too. Life without Logan was unthinkable.
She needed to do something, and she needed to do it now before she fell apart. She was a whirlwind then as she raced about the old farmhouse, dragging out her sewing machine, rummaging in the packing boxes for material. The old treadle Almost smoking, she whipped up new curtains, seat cushions, and place mats. She used up another thirty minutes ironing everything and hanging the curtains, then carried bundles of evergreens into the house to make arrangements, wreaths, and, finally, the centerpiece for the kitchen table. Her hands covered with the pungent resin, Kris stood back to survey her efforts. Next she carried the huge clay pots with their bright red bows and fragrant evergreens all over the house. In a matter of minutes the scent from the greens filled the house. She inhaled deeply. Two jobs down. Energy seemed to ooze from her pores as she nestled a fat red bayberry candle in the middle of the new centerpiece she’d created.
Kris turned on the oven. A pie was in order. The kids wouldn’t care if it was a Mrs. Smith’s deep dish apple pie or not. She slapped a rump roast into a baking pan, seasoned it, peeled potatoes and carrots. The house was going to smell heavenly when the kids came in from school. She dusted her hands dramatically as she walked from room to room. The corner of the living room had been cleared earlier to allow for the Christmas tree. The boxes of decorations waited next to the tree stand. There would be an hour of daylight when the kids got home, just enough time to cut down a tree from the back of the property. Tomorrow after her meeting with Aaron Dunwoodie, she would go Christmas shopping and do some extensive grocery shopping. She also needed to plan a Christmas dinner and do some baking. She’d bring home Chinese and it would be almost like old times. The key to everything was keeping busy.
Now it was time for a cup of coffee, coffee she would actually drink while it was hot. She needed to think about Aaron Dunwoodie and what it was he expected her to bring to the bank. Later this evening, after the tree was up and decorated and the kids were settled, she would go to the storage room and look through the boxes again to make sure she hadn’t missed whatever it was Dunwoodie wanted.
Plump, lacy snowflakes dotted the windshield of the Chevy station wagon as Kristine pulled into a wide parking space outside the Virginia National Bank. It didn’t look the way it had when she was a child going to the bank with her parents on Friday mornings. The huge columns were now pristine white, complementing the pale pink of the brick building.
She decided she liked the crisscross-paned doors with the huge evergreen wreath. Long ago the building was smaller, dingier, and the columns were a dirty beige color. “Progress,” she murmured as she opened the door that led into a luxurious lobby. She had an immediate impression of wealth with all the polished brass, thick carpeting, and elegant window treatments. The furniture was heavy but comfortable-looking, the desks polished cherry wood. Even the staff looked affluent. A floor-to-ceiling Douglas fir sat in the center of the lobby, silver gift-wrapped packages with huge red bows underneath. Everywhere she looked there were bright red poinsettias in silver and gold pots. It all looked and smelled wonderful. She untied the thick wool scarf around her neck as she made her way to the first desk across from the elegant-looking Christmas tree. “I have an appointment with Aaron Dunwoodie at nine o’clock,” she said to the woman behind the desk.
“Mr. Dunwoodie is expecting you, Mrs. Kelly. Go around the corner, and he’s the last office on the right side.”
He was a pleasant, good-looking man, Kristine decided as she shook hands with the banker before slipping out of her coat. She didn’t remember him at all. He must be two or three years older than I, she thought. Obviously, he’d stepped into the banking business when his parents retired. She suspected he looked older than his age. Possibly because of the stress of taking care of other people’s money.
“Did you bring your records, Kristine?”
“I didn’t have any records to bring, Mr. Dunwoodie. Logan always kept everything in a big brown accordion-pleated envelope. I remember seeing it at one point, but moving was so hectic. I just assumed Logan had it because it wasn’t sent with our belongings. The only thing I can think of is he’s bringing it with him because he didn’t trust it with the movers.”
Celebration Page 4
