“That it?” she asked when they were in the car again. “Everything paid off?”
“All but one.” He had to stop and take a breath, but he knew it was time.
“You need to visit their grave,” she said.
“Yeah.” He shot a look at her. “You don’t have to come. I could drop you off at the airport to wait for me.”
“Do you want to drop me off? Because I’d rather come.”
“You want to come to a cemetery?”
“Joe. I’m a minister’s daughter. I’ve been to a lot of cemeteries. And even if I hadn’t, even if this was the very first time, I’d want to come with you. Unless you really, really don’t want me there, I’m coming with you. So I’m asking you. Do you not want me to come?”
“No,” he said. He saw the hurt in her eyes and went on hastily. “No, I mean, I don’t not want you to come. I mean, yes, I think I want you to come.”
“Then let’s go.”
Two graves, but only one stone, at the head of the right-hand plot. Joe looked down at the bronze plaque inlaid in the simple concrete memorial, took a deep breath and looked up again, out across the manicured grass, the orderly rows of markers, up at the relentless blue of the desert sky, the shape of the mountains rising against the horizon to the north and west. And just like that, he was standing there, eleven years old. Numb. Bewildered. Lost.
He’d just talked to his dad for Christmas, he’d thought over and over again on that January day, standing beside Cheryl and shivering at the bite of the wind across the field of dead people, trying not to look at the hole in the ground, at what was lying inside it. His dad couldn’t be in that box. Not his dad, so big and tough and brave that nothing could hurt him, nothing could stop him. He couldn’t be gone.
But he was. The truth of it was there in the hollow pit of Joe’s stomach, in the lump in his throat that wouldn’t go away, in the pain that had pinched his chest since he’d braked to a stop on his bike at the sight of the two officers getting out of their car, slamming the doors, starting up the walk to the front door of his house. He’d known then that his dad was gone. Every military kid knew what the two officers meant, what they were there for.
This was real. He’d watched the casket being carried from the hearse by the honor guard. He’d heard the chaplain say the words, had seen the folded flag handed to his mother. He’d heard the shots fired in salute. He knew it was real.
The tears, unable to be denied, blurred his eyes now as they had on that day, and he could barely read the inscription, but he knew what it said.
John “Jack” Raymond Hartman, MSgt, U.S.A.F.
10/16/52 - 12/31/91
They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old
He stood there until he couldn’t stand up any longer, then sank to his haunches, put his elbows on his knees, and buried his head in his hands, there in front of the grave.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” he whispered. “I didn’t do it. I couldn’t. I’m so sorry.”
Alyssa heard him, because she was there too, crouched uncomfortably beside him, her arms coming around him, holding him tight.
“He’d know,” she told him, her voice low and urgent in his ear. “He’d forgive you. If he were here, he’d tell you so. He’s telling you now, in your heart. Let him know that you hear him. Let him forgive you, Joe.”
He was on the cool grass again, another May evening in Vegas, just like that last night, the night when his mom had told him to leave. He had his arms wrapped around himself, and he was crying for the first time since that worst time, and crying for the same things. For his dad, that he wasn’t here, that he couldn’t ask him for forgiveness, that he’d never again feel the strength and solidity of his body, the security of knowing that everything would be all right, because his dad was there. For his mom, for what she’d become, for the loss of everything she’d once been, and for the fact that he could kneel before her grave and not feel sorry she was dead. For Cheryl, that she’d left him too, that she’d had no choice but to go. And for himself. For the loss of his childhood, his parents, his sister, his innocence. For the boy who’d been alone.
Alyssa didn’t say anything else, just crouched next to him and held him while he cried and shuddered and tried to wipe the tears away, the tears that insisted on coming, more than twenty years’ worth of them, as if they’d been held behind a dam that had burst, broken wide open.
It was minutes before he got himself back under control. Not crying anymore, but left shaken and bruised and emptied. He took a couple last deep, shuddering breaths, felt her shift beside him. He opened his eyes, saw her reaching into her purse, digging around, pulling out a few tissues and handing them to him, then continuing to rub his back as if she couldn’t help it.
He blew his nose, wiped his eyes. “Damn. I’m sorry.”
“No. Don’t be sorry.”
“Tomorrow,” he said, “when they open, I’ll call this place, arrange for her marker.”
“If that’s what you think he’d have wanted,” she said, “then that’s what you should do.”
“You must be wondering what you got yourself into,” he said when they were in the car again. Alyssa had taken the keys from him, and he hadn’t protested. She was driving them down the winding road, through the tall black cemetery gates, back to the airport.
“What do you mean?”
“Me crying all over you.” He blew his nose again, because the emotion was creeping up again. “Some tough guy. And here you thought I was this big, strong hero.”
“Joe.” She pulled over on the wide boulevard, braked to a stop, shifted the car into Park and left it idling, the air conditioning pumping, and turned in the seat to face him.
“You are strong,” she said, and the look on her face told him she meant it. “You are tough. I can’t imagine what it took to go through everything you did and become the man you are. Your dad would have been so proud of you. If he could see you now, if he could have seen you today, he’d be saying, ‘That’s my son. That’s my boy.’ Just like when I look at you and I think, that’s my man, and I’m so proud that it’s true.”
He groped for words that didn’t come, but it didn’t matter, because she was still talking.
“There’s nothing about you that isn’t right for me,” she told him. “There’s nothing you are that isn’t good enough for me. You told me your dad was a good man, but you’re a good man too. I don’t love you because you’re big and tough. That’s sexy, of course it is, but it’s not why I love you. I love you because you’re strong and good and . . . and real. Because I know I can trust you, because I feel it all the way through. Not just to my heart, all the way down to my soul. I see who you are, and I know you, and I love you. And if your dad were here, he’d know the exact same thing.”
He couldn’t answer, but she didn’t ask him to. She was crying herself now. She hadn’t cried, he realized, back there in the cemetery. She’d held steady, just like she had on that night after he’d seen Cheryl.
He reached for her across the center console, and she was hanging on tight, and so was he, and he couldn’t have said who was supporting whom. All he knew was that right here was where he needed to be, and holding her was what he needed to do.
What You Do When You’re Done
It was a long time before they were quiet together again, because Joe hadn’t wanted to stay in Vegas, even with Alyssa along. He’d done what he’d had to do, and it was time to go.
“Do you mind just going back to my place?” he asked her when they’d landed at SFO late that evening and retrieved his car. “I can cook.”
“Fine with me,” she said. “Do you want me here, or would you rather be alone? Because that’s all right, if that’s what you want.”
“No. I want you.”
He cooked sausages and fried potatoes, and she made a salad, and she talked a little and he didn’t. Afterwards, they did the dishes together, and he thought that he could do the dishes next to Alyssa for the re
st of his life, and that he wanted to.
Then he took her to bed and made love to her, and tried to show her with his body everything he couldn’t say, how glad he had been to have her with him, how grateful he was for her courage and her support and her love.
But when they were quiet again, her head against his heart, he found that it wasn’t enough, that he actually needed to say something, too.
“Thank you for coming with me today,” he said. “I needed you.” It wasn’t nearly as hard to say as he’d thought it would be, so he said it again. “I needed you, and I love you. I’ve never said either of those things, and I thought it would scare me, but it doesn’t. It feels good.” And that was how she felt. Good, and soft, and warm, and close.
She paused a moment before answering. “Thank you for letting me come. Thank you for trusting me. But, Joe.” She hesitated, and that wasn’t like Alyssa at all.
“What?” He tightened his hand around her shoulder, pulled her closer.
She laughed a little against him. “I am scared. You aren’t scared to share what you’re feeling, and I am. Isn’t that something?”
“Tell me.” His heart was pounding now. She couldn’t be telling him this was a mistake after all. She couldn’t. He’d known it was a bad idea to let her come, and a worse one to cry in front of her. He hadn’t been able to help it, but he should have waited until he’d been alone to break down. He should have waited, but he hadn’t been able to.
She was talking again, though, so he listened. “I need you too,” she said, “and it does scare me. I’ve been in love with you for half my life. I’ve spent fifteen years telling myself that I had a teenage crush on you, and measuring every man I dated against you anyway, and having them come up short every single time, because they weren’t you. I have to face it. I love you, and I need you, and I know that’s never going to change. So if this isn’t real,” she said, and he could hear the entreaty in her voice, “please tell me now. Let me start trying to somehow undo fifteen years, because I’m so afraid that it’s going to take longer than that to convince myself that you weren’t right for me. If it isn’t forever, please, Joe, if you can, tell me now.”
“I can’t tell you that,” he said, that lump in his throat threatening again. “Because it’ll never be true. It’s real, and it’s forever, and we both know it. Remember when I told you, that first time we made love, that if we did this, you were mine?”
“I remember. And I thought later,” she said, her voice not steady at all, “that I should have asked you to promise me the same thing.”
“I promise it now. I’m yours, and you’re mine, and that’s it. We’re both done, aren’t we? Are you ready to say we’re done?”
Her hand, which had been stroking his chest, his shoulder, stilled. “I’m done. What do we do, though, if we’re done?”
“Well, I think we get married, don’t you?”
“We do?” She sounded a little breathless.
“If it’ll make you sure that you don’t have to look anymore, then, yes, we do. I’m already sure. I’m done looking. I’ve found what I want. I found it a long time ago, but I thought, it doesn’t happen this way. It can’t be this easy. But now I think maybe it can. Maybe it did, and I just didn’t trust it. I’m ready to trust it now, if you are. I’m ready,” he said, and felt the weight of years rolling off his chest, “to trust you. Are you ready to trust me?”
She was crying, her tears warm and wet against his skin. “I always have,” she told him. “I already do.”
They drove over to Rae’s cottage the next morning to make their first announcement.
“Oh, score,” Rae said happily. “All it took was one ski vacation. All it took was one little push. I knew it.”
“And now you’re going to take credit for the whole thing,” Alec sighed. “Don’t you think Joe and Alyssa might have had a little something to do with it?”
“Well, let’s look at the facts,” she said. “Progress until I came on the scene: zero. Progress since then: complete. You can’t argue with results.”
“No,” Alyssa said, and she was laughing, and Joe was grinning pretty hard himself. “You can’t. I’m willing to give you the credit for the push.”
“Thank you,” Rae said.
“Did you tell the folks already?” Alec asked.
“No,” Alyssa said. “We decided we should do it in person. We’ve been traveling all weekend anyway. What’s another road trip?”
On their way up to Chico, though, she sounded less sure. “Maybe we should just have called,” she said.
“Wouldn’t you rather do it this way?” he asked in surprise.
“Yes, I would. I’d have liked to tell your sister in person too, but Alaska’s a little far even for us. But thanks for letting me listen in. That felt good.”
“It did. And I’m thinking, if we’re going to be making this trip as often as I think we are, and having as many adventures as I see in my future, maybe it’s time for me to take flying lessons. What do you say?”
“Only if I get to take them too,” she answered instantly. “I’d love that. Do you think we could?”
“Why not? We can do whatever we want to do.”
“Whatever we want to do. Wow. Somebody to have adventures with, somebody who likes them as much as I do. That’ll be . . . that’ll be something. People are always saying not to take risks,” she continued impulsively, “but I think that’s the biggest risk of all, don’t you? Living your life afraid, and then your life is over, and you never did the things you really wanted to do. I don’t want to have that life.”
“Well, don’t worry,” he said, smiling across at her. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that, and I’m ready to help you do it. As long as I’m there to make sure you run through your checklists first, that is.”
She sighed and put on her little show for him. “Fine. I guess for flying lessons, I can put up with some nagging.”
He had to laugh at that one. “I’m thinking you’ll have to. I’m guessing we’ll have the rest of our lives for me to drive you crazy.”
Back in Chico again, then, in her parents’ living room this time, where only five months earlier, Joe realized, he’d sat and watched Alyssa rolling on her green exercise ball, and this moment hadn’t seemed remotely possible.
“Do you want to say?” she asked him, looking shy, which was a new look for her.
“Yeah. I’ll say. We’ve come to tell you,” he told her parents, “that I’ve—” He stopped. He couldn’t exactly say that he’d asked Alyssa to marry him, but he couldn’t exactly say that she’d asked him, either. “That Alyssa and I have decided to get married,” he finished. There. That sounded better anyway.
“Oh. Oh, my goodness.” Susie had both hands crossed over her chest, and looked, Joe realized with relief, absolutely thrilled, maybe even as thrilled as she was about babies. She was probably thinking about babies, and that was just fine with him, because he was thinking about them too.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. I’ve been hoping. I’ve been wishing,” she said, and she was laughing, and maybe crying a little, too. She hugged Alyssa, then came to Joe and gave him his own hug and kiss, and he could feel some tears rising, and it didn’t even bother him, and he hugged her right back.
“I couldn’t be happier,” she assured him, pulling him down for another squeeze.
Dave was standing back, though, his face impossible to read, and Joe felt a pang of alarm.
“What kind of an engagement are you planning on?” the older man asked when Susie was done with her hugging.
“The short kind,” Alyssa said, and Joe took her hand.
“That’s about it,” he agreed. “Short. Maybe . . .” He looked at her. “Summer?” He laughed. “Next month?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling back at him, so happy, and he thought that if his heart got any bigger, it would burst right out of his chest.
“A little soon, isn’t it?” Dave asked.
“
Oh, I don’t know,” Joe said, still smiling like a big dumb idiot. “Seeing as I’ve been in love with your daughter for about fifteen years.”
“You’ve known her that long, yes,” Dave said. “And you’re saying you’ve had feelings for her that long, and that’s just fine. I believe that you love her, and that you feel sure. But a couple needs time together to work things through, and you’re still in the courtship stage, and that’s a different thing, even physiologically, from a long-term relationship. It takes a good year for the first infatuation to wear off, to know what’s underneath, how much you can count on it. I’d like to see you wait until next summer, ideally, winter at least. To make sure, before you take those vows, that you’re both ready to mean them for a lifetime.”
Alyssa was looking anxious, and Joe tightened his hand around hers, and his smile was gone now.
“With all due respect, sir,” he told Dave, “no. We’ve got the rest of our lives to work things through. I’m not going anywhere, and whatever I have to do to make this work, I’ll do it. I’m promising Alyssa here and now, and I’m promising you and her mother, too.”
A man always keeps his word.
I hear you, Dad, he promised. And I’m going to do it.
“And another thing,” he told Dave. “I found another one of those Cherokee proverbs.” He felt stupid reciting it, but he took a deep breath and did it anyway, because there was a time when even a quiet man needed to talk, and this was it. “It said, ‘A woman’s highest calling is to lead a man to his soul so as to unite him with Source. A man’s highest calling is to protect woman so she is free to walk the earth unharmed.’ It sounded like a pretty good description of what Alyssa’s done for me, and I know it’s what I mean to do for her. I don’t want her to be my girlfriend, or my fiancée either. I want her to be my wife. I want her to know, I want to know, I need to know that even if something happened to me, she’d be taken care of. And I need her, too. I need her to be my wife. I want your blessing, yours and Susie’s. But I’ll marry her without it. I’ll marry her anyway.”
Asking for Trouble (The Kincaids) Page 28
