by CJ Murphy
Ree gave her a smile. “Liebchen, come here. Our Viking’s already let the world know she stopped in.” Ree held up the tablet for Laurel to see.
Laurel looked the post. It wasn’t the picture that caught her eye, but the hashtag line. There’s no place like home. Val thought of this place as home? Val had never even spent a night here that Laurel knew of. But she thinks of this as home? Laurel rolled the thought around in her mind and caught her grandmother looking at her with suspicious eyes.
“A fox that watches its prey too long might miss a meal.”
Laurel squinted at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just saying, you look a little hungry to me.”
“Gram!”
“Don’t Gram me. Never known ya to be a coward. I sure as thunder didn’t raise ya to be one.” Getting up and pushing through the diner door, she left Laurel alone in the kitchen, dumbfounded.
Am I a coward? She’d never thought so. She’d never done anything brave like go off to war like others she knew, but she’d always considered herself a little on the daring side. Like the time she was seventeen and jumped off the railroad bridge into Blue Hole. She’d skinny dipped in the Cheat River with Beth and a few other friends. Looking back, spending a night in the haunted cemetery on Halloween seemed stupid and foolish now, not brave. Muttering as she emptied half full glasses into the sink, Laurel looked up to the ceiling. “Not by Val’s standards.”
“Not by Val’s standards what?” Beth asked as she brought in another tub of dirty dishes.
“Oh, I was thinking about us jumping off Seven Islands Bridge.”
“God, we were stupid. That thing is twenty-five feet in the air. Good thing Blue Hole is damn near bottomless. How we didn’t die as teenagers, I’ll never know.” Beth laughed and bumped Laurel’s hip with hers. “What got you thinking about that?”
Laurel waved her hand back and forth. “Oh, something Gram said about not raising a coward.”
“Boy, that woman has you pegged dead to rights. If we’d have listened to half of the stuff she told us, we might’ve done something with our lives.”
Laurel raised an eyebrow at her friend.
“Not that working in this classy joint sixty hours a week wasn’t what I spent those years in college to do,” Beth said with a wide grin on her face.
They both broke out into laughter. Hearing their chortling, Wunder walked into the kitchen and over to the big counter. “Whatcha laughing at?”
“Just girl talk, Wunder.” Laurel looked up at him.
He stood for a second then cocked his head sideways. “I wonder, why doesn’t glue stick to the inside of the bottle?” Looking over, he saw the plate with his name on it holding the sandwich his mother had made for him. Grabbing for the thick slices of homemade bread heavily laden with peanut butter and jelly, he took a huge bite on his way out of the kitchen.
“And people ask us why we call him Wunder,” Beth whispered.
“I still thank God we hired him four years ago. Gram always said she knew he’d have trouble getting a job after he dropped out of school. Think of all the groceries he’s carried out and the gas he’s pumped for those who can’t. He’s a godsend for Tilly. Those questions of his make my head hurt, but somehow I couldn’t imagine this place without him.” Laurel smiled thinking about how lucky they were to have him.
Wunder helped bus tables and kept all the machinery running in the place with his mechanical genius. They paid him a decent salary and while he was at work, he could drink all the chocolate milk he wanted. His sister had gotten hooked on heroin and was now a resident of the Hazelton Federal Prison for the next ten years, after being sentenced for possession with intent to deliver. Her three children lived with him and his mom.
Laurel frowned. “Tilly says he watches those kids like they were his. Not sure how she’d work that second job at the Dollar General without him. He feeds, bathes, and reads them all bedtime stories before he tucks them in. She doesn’t get home until 11:00 pm and told me it’s not unusual to find him passed out, a story book open on his chest and one of those kids curled up at his side. Wunder wouldn’t hurt a soul. One of the kindest people I know.” Laurel found the young man’s innocence endearing. “What a place it would be if there were more Wunders in the world.”
Chapter Two
VAL AND HER FELLOW riders arrived in Washington D.C. about 4:00 pm. The local VFW treated them to a memorial presentation and after, they made their way over to the Vietnam Wall. She had her camera out, respectfully capturing moments as men and women of all ages reached out to the granite monolith to touch the lettering on a name that had once been a friend, a comrade, or a loved one. It was difficult to watch, the grief still palpable some forty years later. Her camera lens focused on the veterans clothed in remnants of bygone uniforms bearing their unit insignia. In their faces, she saw a study in grief and regret and—she saw herself.
I imagine I wear that look a good bit. Your body is standing on home soil while parts of your soul lie bleeding in a foreign land. After a while, the sight of the unspoken pain became too much. She walked away to find a warm ray of sunlight to break through the darkness. Pulling the small artist pad from her bag, she let her hand move across the paper. Sketching was one of the exercises Liz had her use to capture the confusion struggling to the surface. More than one person had commented that the sketches showed a great deal of artistic talent, but that wasn’t something Val could see. Her pad held page after page of sketches chronicling her visits to this hallowed place. As she sat there, a haunting image began to find its way onto the blank paper. Small fingers, a crayon, and a blood-soaked uniform. Her fingers traced the fine pencil lines, blurring them as her mind did the memory. Dubbing it Collateral Damage, it was an image Val had drawn from a dozen different angles. A mystery she couldn’t solve. She put her hand across her face. Why can’t I let this go?
Val finished and brushed her hands on her pants. She checked her camera settings and made her way to the large polished granite panels. That was where her own respects would be paid using a small piece of artist charcoal she rubbed across the engraved surface. Her hope was that in doing so, the token created would bring comfort to her friends who couldn’t be there to do it for themselves.
Val stopped at Panel 05E-Line 47. 2LT Elizabeth Ann Jones, died in a helicopter crash in Saigon. This was the aunt and namesake of her psychiatrist and friend, Dr. Elizabeth Ruston-Romano. Mailing the pencil rubbing to her had become a ritual. Without Liz’s help, Val wasn’t sure she would’ve escaped the memories that plagued but no longer bound her. Although less frequent now, they still persisted. If they got bad enough, a trip to Maryland for an ’in person’ visit was necessary instead of their monthly phone conversation.
After placing the rubbing in her sketchpad, she found Panel 29E-Line 98. Reverently, she touched the name of 1LT Randall D. Shaffer, Mule’s brother. He was a newlywed at the time. A few years after his death, Mule’s sister-in-law remarried and moved away from Aurora. His remains were among the thousands of white crosses in Arlington National Cemetery. She ran her finger across the name, feeling the smooth stone and the indentation of each letter. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t known Dale. She knew his death had deeply affected Mule. That was enough. After making the rubbing, she filed it in her sketchpad and decided to take a few pictures of the name. Taking a second rubbing, she placed it alongside the first while her mind rolled over something special for Mule. How to accomplish it would come later. For now, Val stared at the name and wondered if she’d ever meant that much to anyone.
That evening, there was another ceremony and a concert by the Lieutenant Dan Band, led by Gary Sinise. In Forest Gump, he’d played Lieutenant Dan Taylor. Val had a press pass providing her backstage access to capture some of the events as part of her story. She was to meet up with Tess Arnold, who had worked with her over in Iraq.
Val remembered meeting Gary for the first time finding out that he did a great deal for the t
roops and veterans. He’d also co-founded Operation Iraqi Children, a program designed to ’Help Soldiers Help Children’ with author Laura Hillenbrand. The program purchased and shipped school supply kits to soldiers in Iraq and eventually to other areas in which troops were deployed. It had been Val’s job to photograph the events while she was embedded with different units in Iraq. During one of the donation events, Val’s life changed forever. Walking around the back of the stage, Val heard a voice from her past.
“Hey, stranger, how are you?” Feminine arms enveloped her into a hug and soft lips met her own in a greeting kiss. “I wondered when you would show your mug around this place.”
“I’m like a bad penny that keeps showing up. I’m good, Tess. You?”
“Busy as always. More to do than I have time for.” Tess held Val at arm’s length, a questioning eye appraising her.
“I’m fine, Tess. Leg doesn’t give me any trouble or the elbow. Call me the bionic woman,” Val assured her.
“How about the head?”
“Still have some migraines. They’re manageable.”
“I’m not talking about the headaches, and you know it.” Tess stepped back and crossed her arms.
Val chuckled and shifted her weight from foot to foot, staring at a particularly fascinating tile on the floor.
Tess persisted. “Not kidding. This is me, not some doctor or someone who doesn’t know you.”
Val thought about the petite woman standing before her. For a few months, they’d been more than friends. To save their friendship, they chalked it up as two people needing to connect. “I still have some nightmares, some flashes during the day. I go see Liz if they get bad. Mostly I get on the bike and ride away from them.”
“Still sketching?”
Val managed to muster a hint of conviction in her voice. “Of course, it helps get the pictures out of my head. I don’t know that I’ll ever forget what I saw, though it’s been a long time since I crawled across the floor on my hands and knees in the middle of the night.”
Tess had held her many nights as the terrors chased her from the bed and under a table. She’d seen the worst of it and suffered a few bruises bringing Val back to reality. They would still be together if Tess had her way, but Val couldn’t bring herself to lie to this beautiful woman. No matter how hard she tried, she wouldn’t ever be in love with her. Saddling Tess down with the demons while not giving her what she deserved was unfair.
Tess ran her hand gently down the side of Val’s face, stopping to cup her jaw. Val leaned into the touch, drawing strength and warmth from the caress. “Honestly, Tess, I’m happy. How about you?”
Tess looked away. “Kelly and I’ve moved in together. I don’t know if it’s forever. What we have is comfortable, and she’s good for me.”
“That’s great. You deserve someone to be good to you.” She was relieved Tess was finding happiness with someone. Her head pounded, familiar regret racking her from the emotional and physical pain she’d inflicted on Tess.
Tess pulled Val against her again. “I deserve someone to make me feel like you did. I know you aren’t going to let that happen, so I’ll keep trying to find something close.”
“You deserve so much more than me. Now, where’s Kelly?”
“She’s working a twenty-four-hour shift at Arlington. She’s been promoted to captain.”
“Tell her congratulations for me next time you see her.” Val put every bit of sincerity in her voice she could.
“One of these days, Val, you’re going to realize you’re enough. If not for me, for someone. You have to let someone in, babe.”
“Maybe someday, for now, I have—”
“Miles and miles to go before I sleep,” Tess finished.
“Exactly.” She squeezed Tess one more time, kissed her forehead, and broke the embrace as she walked away knowing she’d never be her lover again and hoping that a friendship would do.
That night, Val took a ride to quiet the voices that threatened to pull her back to that dark place. She let the miles slide by, driving the dark voices back into a box. She pulled into her hotel a little after midnight. Taking a long hot shower, she let the pulsations ease her tired muscles. Her body ached, reminding her to take her over-the-counter pain meds before lying down. The decision to go without prescription painkillers had become a mandate as the desire for the pills overcame the necessity. Having her mind clouded while she rode was a bad idea.
Hopping out of the shower, she dried her body. Riddled with scars, it told the story of how her life had taken a dramatic left turn. Though not painful, her right calf muscle was missing a large chunk where shrapnel had torn it away. A long scar ran from her triceps down the underside of her left forearm where they’d replaced the elbow joint. The most devastating injury she suffered that fateful day was having her left leg nearly blown off, amputating it just below the knee. The vest and helmet saved her life.
Standing naked at the sink, both hands grasping the edge of the counter, she balanced on her right leg as the laughter of children, angry foreign words, and the deafening sound of an explosion bombarded her senses. Her prosthesis rested by the shower. It bore her Marine Corp insignia and various images from her career. One was taken while she was embedded with her unit. Displayed on the socket was a picture of her surrounded by Iraqi children. Shutting her eyes tight against the images, Val shook herself to rid her mind of the vestiges of that former life.
She pulled on a soft blue t-shirt and a pair of loose boxers, pushing her stump into the prosthetic leg. Walking out of the bathroom, she sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled a bottle of Makers Mark out of her bag, pouring three fingers into a clear glass she found by the bathroom sink. Throwing four ibuprofens into her mouth, she took a healthy swallow of the amber liquid. Despite being smooth, it burned going down. Restless, she rose and walked out onto the balcony of her hotel room, staring at the tiny dots of light. Feeling the pulse of the city, the vivid memories of searing heat and the bitter taste of blood pushed back into her memories. She stood there for several breaths and closed her eyes. Let it go. It’s only a memory from your past, not your present. Stepping back into the room, Val picked up her laptop. The email she typed to Liz had one line: ‘Got time for a face to face? Val.’
There was little doubt that her psychiatrist and friend would look at her schedule and then set up an appointment. Seeing Tess had stirred the memories she tried to keep at bay. There was a weary understanding that sleep would have a steep price tonight. Payment would be in the form of a full-color movie of the worst day of her life or a hangover. Looking at her glass, she poured another three fingers and started counting out the cost.
Chapter Three
LAUREL STOOD AT THE prep table and folded the ends under the loaves of dough in the stainless-steel pans. She covered them with a clean cheese cloth to allow them to rise before baking. Her grandmother sat at her side on a stool.
“I’m glad ya got the inner webs turned on here at the store, honey. I can see what our travelers a doin’ even if we aren’t home. Got something I want to show Mule when he comes in today.” Ree turned her tablet around for Laurel to see.
“It’s the internet, Gram, not the inner web. I’m glad, too.” Laurel looked at the tablet. On the screen was a black-and-white photo Val had taken of Mule’s brother’s name. The stone around it was so polished, you could see the reflection of a veteran standing at attention and saluting the wall. Val had titled it Remember the Fallen. Wiping her hands on the blue and white cotton dishtowel slung across her shoulder, she walked over to a long preparation table. “Mule will be touched.”
“Mule will be. What time ya figure she’ll be coming back through?”
“She really didn’t say.” Laurel rubbed her grandmother’s back.
Ree looked up at Laurel, her eyes narrowed. “Ya really like her, don’t you?”
Laurel felt her cheeks heat and turned to avoid Ree’s questioning gaze. “Of course, I like her. She’s given the s
tore a lot of great advertising over the years.”
“Now ya know that’s not what I’m talking about. I might be eighty-five, but I’m not senile. I’ve seen the way the two of ya look at each other.”
“Gram!”
“I remember what it was like to feel my heart speed up at the sound of a voice and for my palms to sweat anytime Johann was near me.” Ree’s sharp tone made Laurel wince. “I want to see ya happy and as far as I can tell, no one else’s even ruffled your feathers for years.”
“I’m not talking to you about this, especially not here. Last thing I need is more talk about me in this place.” Laurel headed toward the walk-in cooler.
Ree chuckled. “Ya can cool off in there all you want. I noticed ya didn’t deny it neither. If I’m not blunt with ya, who will be?”
***
Ree clucked her tongue in disapproval and watched her granddaughter shake her head as she disappeared into the cooler. Making her way out of the kitchen, she hobbled toward the potbelly stove and heard Mule’s distinctive laugh. Bobeye already had the paper and held it in one hand with a coffee cup inches from his lips. Something had caught his eye. Mule ordered a sandwich from Tilly as Ree reached him.
“Afternoon, boys. Anything good in that rag, Bobeye?" Ree lowered herself down in the third rocker, falling the last few inches onto the well-worn cushion. She rubbed her knee. “Somethin’ amiss, fellas. My knees a thumping.”
Bobeye finally took a sip of his coffee. “Paper says the weather’s supposed to be good. Can’t be that. What’s ailing you, Ree?”
