One Summer

2016

The Man on the Stairway

The man on the stairway is tall and wide

And he will not go and he will not go

With a lion tamer’s whip and a tall silk hat

He stands his ground and he whispers, No.

And no matter how loudly I call for help

He will not vanish, he will not move

And there is nothing my heart can say

And there is nothing my soul can prove.

He would not stay but now he stays,

Inanimate and caught by time

Within the dark vanguard of the heart

Etched acid bright within the mind.

              Nellie Bressie Tucker, c. 1956

CHAPTER 1    TUESDAY

The drone of the United Airlines Flight 1435 was hypnotic.

Sergeant Neil Henderson, roused from his semi-sleep by an elbow in the ribs from the sleeping girl next to him, sucked in a couple of quick breaths. He fumbled in his pocket for a Jolly Rancher candy, unwrapped it and let the tart sweetness of it ease his tense muscles. He shifted his broad shoulders in his cramped middle seat, trying to find a comfortable position. Everything’s fine. No worries. He  repeated that mantra between breaths.

No worries.

Breathe.

No worries.

The young girl next to him, maybe sixteen or seventeen, slept on, her head pillowed on her folded coat. Another woman probably in her forties, thin to the point of emaciation, sat in the aisle seat, braced against the moment.

Neil leaned back, quit moving in the uncomfortable seat and watched the thin woman from half closed eyes. He’d seen her before but for the life of him he couldn’t pull up why she looked familiar.

He shifted to ease his cramped legs but his booted feet caught against his duffle on the floor. He shoved it as far as possible under the seat in front of him, but not far enough to ease his legs.

Next time, he thought, I’m flying first class.

At least the Colorado Springs flight would be over soon. He’d get a ride to the base, start working on the paperwork, and then Amy could go screw herself.

He looked again at the woman in the aisle seat.

Who in the hell was she?

He’d seen her face somewhere before, but where?

The plane’s steady throbbing was an ache inside him. He tried to focus on that and pretend he wasn’t tied in hard knots, that the letter from Amy’s lawyer wasn’t burning the life from his body.

He shifted again, trying to find comfort.

A mechanical sound altered the plane’s droning and sent Neil’s hands instinctively reaching for his rifle, his companion for his entire tour in Afghanistan, stowed now in some military warehouse back in Maryland.

He looked around, embarrassed. No wonder Amy wanted a divorce.

He felt naked without the weapon. Violence could happen here, too. It wasn’t like over there, but it could happen. Over there, he and the guys had boredom and down time and horsing around. But things could go from sugar to shit with no warning. Never far from his thoughts, from everyones’ thoughts, was the knowledge that death could be hiding behind that rise or inside that building or hidden in that pile of rubble beside the road, a heartbeat away. When he sat down to breakfast, it might be for the last time. The bullet with his name on it might even then be in somebody’s rifle.

He imagined death, the total darkness, the world without him in it. He hoped it wouldn’t hurt. If he got it, he hoped the end was instantaneous.

He’d made it home. That knowledge was gradually seeping into his mind, but only in flashes. What was he supposed to do now? He’d have to get a job. Doing what, he couldn’t imagine. Then what? Home didn’t carry the relief he’d counted on. His first view of the orderly flow of life back here had seemed too strange to be believed. No dust and dirt roads and mud shacks. 

He was home but the war still perched on his shoulder, waking him at night with dreams more real now than during the actual event, most of them about Reilly. He still wondered if there were anything he could have done, any choice he could have made that would have saved Reilly …

What was he supposed to do now? Amy wanted a divorce. He’d escaped the reaper, but it wasn’t over. Amy wanted a divorce and she wanted to take his boys.

The thin woman beside him sat up suddenly, her voice shattering the drowsiness of United Flight 1435. No, she cried. No, and her broken whisper ricocheted up and down the narrow aisle of the Airbus 320. No,

Startled out of his own waking nightmare, Neil touched her shoulder. Are you all right? he asked.

She frantically pulled away from him and struggled against her seatbelt. The seat in front of her reclined so far back she could scarcely squeeze out and stand.

And remember where she was.

Joanna Caldwell noted the people up and down the aisle of the plane, some staring at her, most still lost in their own lives. She noted her breathing. Rapid. Her heart thudded inside her chest to the point she could hear it. Her shrink would purse her mouth and shake her head. She was supposed to be getting better.

But the steady hum of the plane’s engines had been too much like the Humvee …

Get it together, Jo, you’ve got this to do..

Okay. She was on a plane.

Not in Afghanistan.

This was here and now. 

Clinging to the back of the seat in front of her, she could just see out the window beyond her seat mates, the young soldier in the middle seat, and the sleeping girl next to the window. Framed by the small window were irrigation circles below like some kind of modern painting.

So they were in the airspace over either New Mexico or Colorado, depending on how long this latest in a long series of painful flashbacks had lasted. She’d flown out of Oklahoma City late morning and they’d left Dallas at 2:00 p.m. She looked around the cabin. The only person who seemed to be aware of her at all was the young soldier.

She slid back into her seat, breathing rapidly.

Okay, she was on her way to meet Adam.

Photo shoot in the morning. For her friend since forever Adam.

Colorado Springs.

Right. Adam. Colorado Springs.

Holy shit, the soldier in the middle seat said, his surprised voice jerking her attention to him. I know who you are. You’re Joanna Caldwell.

Joanna turned to him, taking in his sand colored uniform, his young face with old eyes.

I thought you looked familiar, he said.

Joanna just stared at him.

You’re the one that got those amazing photos. I’ve got the magazine right here. Damn. Joanna Caldwell. He stopped speaking, rummaged in the bag at his feet and pulled out a much handled, ragged issue of TIME Magazine. On the cover, her worst nightmare, her last image from that awful day.

Neil noted her eyes too large in her white face. He registered her pain, looked at the worn magazine with its graphic image of destruction, then slipped it back in his bag. I’m sorry.  I didn’t … He swallowed. You look like maybe you had a rough time over there.

Where were you deployed, she asked, pulling out the first thing she could think of to deflect any more comments about her photos. Her editor had published the damned things. She’d won an award because of the damned things. And now somebody recognized her because of them. Shit. How could he have recognized her? The photo of her in the magazine was several years old. She touched her now short hair.

Afghanistan, too, just like you, he said. Kandahar. It’s rough coming back.

She didn’t answer, but wiped her sweaty hands on her khaki slacks and looked for a flight attendant.

The long narrow aisle flanked by people in every position of repose, restlessness, or boredom stretched in both directions. A crying baby. No flight attendant.

Probably in the back talking. Staying as far away from the uncomfortable infant as possible.

I’m sorry, the young soldier said. I don’t mean to bother you. I still have nightmares, so I sort of know how you’re feeling.

How she was feeling? Her hands clenched into white-knuckled lumps in front of her. She closed her eyes and saw the impossibly jagged mountains, the winter-killed farmland. She heard again the Humvee carrying them …

Adam’s depending on me. He’s waiting at the airport. Keep it together, Joanna. Think about Adam.

She looked down at the man’s watch, David’s watch, on her wrist to see how much longer before they landed.

Wrong move. David’s watch pulled up his face in her mind, laughing, dragging her after him. So alive and joyous.

Until he wasn’t.

A small moan burst from her throat. She rubbed the stainless steel band, too loose on her narrow wrist. Should have sent David’s watch to his family along with all of his other belongings she’d gathered and packed in that far off hotel room. They had to be hurting as badly as she was. Couldn’t do it though. 

The young soldier said,  Is there anything I can do, Ma’am?

Ma’am?

Joanna swallowed her startled reaction, afraid if she freed it, she’d burst into hysterical laughter or tears and wouldn’t be able to stop. Was she really that much older than the man-child beside  her?

Joanna stared into the young sun-tanned face, examined the sandy camouflage of his uniform, the bit of beard on his chin. The old eyes. So young, too damned young, and yet no longer young at all. Staring at him, she decided he couldn’t be more than twenty-five, twenty-six and felt every one of her forty-two years. Some water? Joanna managed to whisper. He rummaged in his pack and handed her a cold bottle of water.

Not too long now, he said and put a firm hand on her shoulder for just a moment, just long enough to settle her panic into controllable anxiety. Then he twisted to remove his billfold. Let me show you my boys.

Joanna forced herself to look at two small photos, encased in a worn plastic sleeve. The smallest boy looked up at her from a position on the floor, a small truck in one hand, a big smile that showed a missing front tooth. That’s my youngest, Justin.

The other boy had just emerged from what appeared to be a library, two books clutched to his chest. He wasn’t pleased to have someone snapping his picture, and Joanna could almost hear him saying in a somewhat surly voice, Stop it.

He’s my brainchild. Toby. He’s loved books since he was a baby.

Joanna reached for a comment, finally whispered, Impressive, and took a long drink of the water.

I’m cashing out, collecting my boys and putting this other shit behind me.

Joanna nodded. She needed to put this other shit behind her too. Only problem, how did a person do that? What about your wife?

The soldier’s face tightened, his lips thinned into a harsh line. Not an issue, he said.

Then the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, strong, calm, reassuring, and moments later the Fasten Seat Belts sign clicked on. Thirty minutes until touchdown at the Colorado Springs Airport, the calm voice of the pilot assured her.

Not Afghanistan. She was here in the United States. She was on a plane on her way to do a photo shoot for Adam. There were no shadows following her.

Thirty minutes. She could hold herself together for thirty minutes. She’d been doing it with varying degrees of success for the past three months. She could do thirty minutes.

Joanna looked into the soldier’s young face with the old eyes. Good luck with that, she whispered and sipped the water, letting the chill of it pull her back into the moment, into the now of her life. With putting that other shit behind you.

CHAPTER 2    TUESDAY

North of Keegan’s Notch and not far from the Oklahoma/Colorado border, Reuben Klein  looked out the open living room window and saw that his daughter’s car was packed. A spring wind out of the south promised rain later in the day. For two weeks, he and Amy and her two sons had toured childhood landmarks in the valley, visited the few friends from her childhood still left in the valley, and helped her boys become comfortable with ranch life. Now she was getting ready to go to step two of her summer plans. The boys would stay with him. She would return to Missouri and the summer program she’d signed up for.

He watched as Amy stood at the rear of the blue Ford Focus, her Nordic blonde hair ruffled by the wind, checking the weather and taking a last look at the stone house where she’d grown up. Toby was on one side of her and Justin on the other, small bookends with freckles and windblown hair.

You sure you’re up to herding two wild Indians for the entire summer? Reuben’s sister Carolyn asked from the sofa. Her husband John Edelman, Sheriff John Edelman, sat across from her near the fireplace, his roughened hands clasped across an expanding waistline. Their nine-year old son, John Todd, sat between his father’s knees.

Hell, I don’t know, Reuben said. Amy’s got a chance to do a summer program in Kansas City. Last thing she needs is to have to deal with a couple of unhappy youngsters. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, blond also like Amy’s but beginning to hide some gray. Anyhow, this is a chance for the boys to have a ranch summer.

Doing what? Carolyn asked. Mucking out the barn? You’re not dealing with ranch-raised boys. You’ve got a couple of gadget addicted city youngsters on your hands. I don’t think they’re going to be too thrilled with some of the things we take for granted.

Reuben’s voice was defensive. We’ve got the stock tank for swimming. Junior Brown  brought over a couple of horses for the boys. They’ve already had a ride in the back pasture. If you’ll bring John Todd out sometimes we’ll do fine.

Why isn’t Helen helping with this?

Reuben didn’t answer for a moment. Even now, even after the past several years since their divorce, her name still sent shockwaves through his system. She works too. Got her a job in a bank in St. Louis now doing something. God knows what.

Amy takes advantage of you. Her mom should be helping.

Nah, I’m glad to have the company. He turned back to the open window. Carolyn was ten years younger than he was, but acted like his older sister. Or his mother. She and John should have had a houseful of kids instead of just one. Give her something to do other than try to run his life.

Carolyn wasn’t finished. Why aren’t you seeing anyone?

Reuben laughed. Who would you recommend? Emma Caldwell? At eighty, she’s a little old for me. Marcella? Junior would cut out my liver.

I could probably turn up some nice women.

Carolyn, I’m fine. Leave me alone.

You’re not fine. You’re out here by yourself. What if you get hurt when you’re out with the cattle?

What if you get hit by lightning? he countered. Or a runaway school bus.

You’re not taking me seriously.

No, I’m not.

Amy’s voice floated toward him on the wind. Now you remember what I told you, she said. Grandpa’s word is law. If he says jump, you ask how high.

Five year old Justin giggled.

Toby looked pained and disgusted as only a seven year old boy can. Mom, we know all this stuff. We’re good. We’ll mind Grandpa. We’ll watch for snakes. He stared at his ragged tennis shoes. Just call us sometimes. All right?

All right, Amy said. You have the calendar. You can mark off the days …

We’ll be fine, Reuben called, interrupting her as he stepped out to the porch railing. John Todd darted from behind him and hurried toward Toby and Justin.

Are you sure you can’t take another day and at least say hello to Neil? Reuben knew he should just leave it alone, but he couldn’t.

Amy watched as John Todd joined the boys, then called to them, Do you guys each have a book for your trip with Grandpa? Without waiting for an answer, she continued. Up in my old room, there’s a box under the bed. You’ll want to look and get something out of it for your trip. John Todd can get a book too.

Like a buried treasure box? Justin asked, his eyes large and interested.

Amy forced a grin. Yep, a buried treasure box.

Toby looked at her. Is there really a box or are you just trying to talk to Gramps alone?

Amy pulled him to her and hugged him. Looked at her father over Toby’s dark hair. Seven going on seventy, she said then answered Toby. Both. Now go help your brother and John Todd find the box so I can talk to Dad.

When the front door slammed behind the boys, Amy turned to her dad. There’s no reason for me to see Neil. I’ve filed the papers.

Seems to me that cries out for a little communication.

Dad, don’t do this.

Your mind’s made up?

I have to think about the boys.

I guess you already know how to manage on your own.

She nodded. Been doing that for a while. Her voice was careful but anger simmered beneath the words.

Are you being fair, denying Neil visitation?

Amy turned an angry face toward her father You don’t know anything about any of this.

For a moment, Reuben could hear the echo of a younger, angry Amy, saying much the same thing. Followed not too long after that by her marriage to Neil and her mom’s exit from the ranch and from Reuben’s life. So Reuben clamped his teeth over words that choked his throat and tightened his normally smiling mouth, nodded and just said, Watch yourself with the driving. Call us when you get in. You’ve got my cell phone number. I should have service in Colorado. He paused and then because he knew his daughter expected it, he said, And tell your mother I said Hey.

She nodded. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Reuben didn’t react.

I have to move on.

Reuben stared at his dust-covered boots for a long moment, then said, Honey, you don’t have to apologize or explain. I’m glad to have the boys.

I haven’t heard anything from Neil … He may not even be on that plane.

If he’s not there, the boys and I will have a good time and come back home. But if he is, he’ll want to see family waiting for him. Reuben heard the unspoken criticism in his words that slipped in without his notice. Now she’d be pissed and more determined than ever to do her own damned thing. Never mind about Neil and the boys.

Should have swatted her bottom a few more times when she was growing up. Should have made her clean her room and finish what she started.

Amy spoke slowly as if editing her words. I haven’t told you everything, she said after too long a pause. Don’t let Neil take the boys until you’ve talked with me. On his last leave … She stopped.

On his last leave, what? Reuben tensed. Waited.

He’s different.

How different?

Scary different. Neil has secrets locked inside that I don’t want to know. He wakes up at night sometimes. He’s come really close to hitting me at least twice now before he truly woke up. It’s like he thinks he’s still over there. I can’t put up with that. Yelling and hitting? I don’t think so.

You didn’t tell me.

What was I supposed to say? The high school guy you didn’t want me to marry that I married anyhow is bonkers? I didn’t want any ‘I told you so’ comments.

You were too young. Anyhow, I wouldn’t …

Oh, Dad, of course you would. You seem to think you know best about everything. Look, I don’t want to fight. Neil has some bad issues that he’s got to get over before the boys and I live with him. She stepped toward her car. I need to get on the road.

Amy …

Just don’t let Neil have the boys. If he’s on that plane, he’s going to want the boys and if he takes them, you and I will never see them again. He’ll take them and disappear.

The three boys clattered out of the house, all clutching well used books, Toby and Justin stopped beside Reuben, John Todd behind them. John and Caroline stepped onto the porch.

Reuben pulled all the boys close, Toby and John Todd on either side and Justin sandwiched in the middle.

Amy knelt and pulled her two sons into a fierce hug and kissed each of them, then reached up and tousled John Todd’s hair. Justin saved the moment by scrubbing his cheek and breaking away, followed by Toby and John Todd. Whooping, the boys raced toward the back of the house.

Amy stood, stared after them for a moment, forced a laugh and waved at her aunt and uncle. Then she hugged Reuben and whispered, I mean it. Don’t let Neil take the boys.

Reuben held her, then stepped back. She climbed in her car that Reuben thought was too small for her safety. The small car became a gray shadow in the dust trail that followed her down the long drive. She turned south onto the highway.

When her car disappeared behind the flank of an unnamed hill, the three adults returned to the living room. Explain to me again why you think you have to take the boys and go to Colorado Springs, Carolyn said.

Reuben closed his eyes briefly, torn between irritation and amusement. Damn but sisters were a pain sometimes. I’m meeting Neil.

Didn’t your daughter just tell you he’s turned into a bad dude?

Come on, Sis, this is Neil we’re talking about.

After Carolyn, John and John Todd left, Reuben settled his well-used Stetson in place, cleaned his wire framed glasses. Justin and Toby attached themselves to him, following on his heels as he locked the doors and made sure all windows were closed, watching anxiously as he gathered snacks into a plastic bag. Justin held his free hand and Toby held onto his back pocket as he locked the front door and headed for the battered crew cab F-250.

Once the boys were belted in and settled in the back seat, he started his truck and followed the same driveway Amy had followed. But when he reach the highway, he turned north.

He supposed Amy had factored in the loneliness when she’d started thinking about dissolving the marriage. She’d already lived with that loneliness when Neil was off soldiering. But the boys would grow too quickly, and without a strong male role model, what would happen to them? Mom would have to be off somewhere making enough money to keep the family going.

He remembered hard times and hard words between his German father and his Cimarron County mother. In spite of all their differences, though, they’d kept their marriage together. Too bad he and Helen hadn’t given Amy a better example.

Reuben wasn’t sure what kind of dad Neil would be when he got out of the service. Hell, he wasn’t sure of his own mentoring skills or that he’d do that great a job with the boys this summer either. Hell, he hadn’t done that well with Amy. But somebody had to step up and he wasn’t sure that Neil had it in him to be the father the boys deserved. He’d been a royal screw-up early in his and Amy’s marriage, one of the reasons he’d opted for the military with Amy’s fervent approval and blessing. She wanted him gone and out of her life until he grew up. Now she wanted him out period.

Might have been nice, Reuben thought, if Amy had mentioned Neil’s problems before I arranged to pick him up in the Springs.

As he approached the Caldwell elm grove and their old silver mailbox, he pictured Emma Caldwell the last time she’d called him to help her find Ed. Damn it, she needed to get Ed settled somewhere. She was too old to be dealing with Ed by herself. One of these days the wily bastard would hide himself so well they wouldn’t find him. Should he stop, tell her he’d be out of touch for a day or two? Did he want to risk being maneuvered into doing some small—ha—chore that she didn’t want to bother him with. He could hear her fluttery voice telling him how she’d never ask this of him for herself, but it would really make things more comfortable for Ed.

The Caldwell yard was empty and things looked quiet. If there was a problem, Junior and Marcella were just up the road. Anyhow, the boys were settled with their treasures from Amy’s bedroom. He didn’t much want the hassle of getting them