The transfer Rodger had requested had come through the end of September. A month by ship to Burma then onto China where he was reassigned to the Flying Tigers at the base in Chenkung, China.
Drumming his fingers on his desk, he re‑read letters from Adele and Ada.
Time. He had lost its sequence. It seemed so long ago that he had been home. And not even him, someone else. He folded the letters and put them back into the envelopes.
He riffled through the paperwork that pressed on him like rubber bands over too many sheets of paper. He pushed it all aside, then stood up and stretched. Men milled around the outer room, rumbling voices all around. He heard snatches of conversation; a poker game was in progress. Outside seemed quiet enough. But something was in the air; he could smell it, like ozone before a storm.
Rodger walked outside, around the building, listening. He strained his eyes against the night, slowly sweeping his head left to right. Then he heard the faraway drone of an engine. He wanted to go after that crazy Jap, still around after all these months. Sweat tickled down his armpit and his heart beat wildly, but he reconsidered and calmly called out orders.
“Pickens, get Jackson. Tell him it’s his chance to sack the Wolf. Hurry up! Keys, Mannor and Robins, we’ll crew the plane.”
Because Jackson was scheduled for first flight in the morning, he had gone to bed, blissfully sober. He came at a run, struggling into his flight suit while Stony Pickens, arrogant and self-possessed, casually walked behind him.
He’s good and he’s trouble, mused Rodger.
Jackson glanced up frequently at the men loading his plane with armament, hastily pulling on his gloves, and helmet, then checking his boots and zippered pockets. A tense grin played about his lips that Rodger envied. Once he caught Stony looking hard at Jackson, his jaw pulled taut and his eyes narrowed.
As Jackson prepared to board, one of the mechanics cried out, “Oh, come on, Stony, wish him well! Be a good sport!”
Stony attempted to smile, to wave off the implications. Rodger understood Stony’s resentment, how much he wanted to go instead of Jackson, to be the one who claimed the kill.
Jackson’s engines awakened, the intense vibrations stirring the night. Rodger and Stony stepped aside to watch the take‑off. Rodger flashed the victory sign.
Rodger whistled softly, swallowing down his own envy as he watched Jackson out-maneuver the Zero, concealing himself in cloud layers, filling the sky with his noise, dropping on top of the Zero. They tangoed in the sky. Jackson had the advantage, and then lost it. But neither could gain a position for the kill.
The take‑off aroused all of the pilots from sleep, and they stood outside to await the outcome. The men on the ground listened, wondered, and placed bets.
For several minutes, they could see no sign of Jackson in the sky. Rodger checked his watch, searched the sky again. The dark mantle of night began to pale into an azure line running across the horizon, as if it were turning itself inside out.
Rodger was the first to see the flaming plane approach the field. In spite of his crippled aircraft, Jackson made a skillful landing, earning the admiration of the whole group. The fire crew rushed out to extinguish the raging fire that had gutted the tail section. Jackson hopped off the wing and, fire extinguisher in hand, helped put out the fire.
A group collected around Jackson as he walked back to the barracks. Once inside the debriefing room he removed his flight helmet and gloves then paused in his silent striptease act. No one spoke.
Finally, Jackson shook his head from side to side.
Stony tried to suppress a grin as he clapped Jackson on the shoulder.
“Right nice of you to have your sport and leave him for someone else!”
There was chorus of laughter, of relief and gratitude.
Rodger trailed behind the group. He heard the Night Wolf’s plane returning and shouted,
“He’s back!”
They scattered, heading for the outermost bushes. The Night Wolf made one low pass over the outside perimeter of the airstrip. In the starry predawn, a piercing howl echoed. The wounded Zero left, leaving a smoky trail.
“Ya got him, Jackson!” cried his wingman. “He’s hurt bad, too!”
Rodger walked beside Jackson. The lean, handsome face turned to him.
“Mine was the first strike, sir. I should have made sure.”
Rodger clapped Jackson on the shoulder.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You did some pretty fancy flying. So did he. All’s fair, you know.”
And fair for me, too, he thought.
Captain Robins rubbed his hands together. “Sir, we’re starting a little poker game, it being so close to breakfast and all. Would you care to join in?”
Rodger stopped short, inhaling the acrid night air, sucking in all of the stars above.
“Deal me in.”
The rustle and click of poker chips rang sharply as he came in the door. Six men sat around the table, waiting for him. Their boisterous talk filled the tiny room, and someone was bent down rummaging boxes, looking for beer. Finally, the short, balding mechanic in a rumpled uniform produced eight capped bottles of beer. Someone threw a metal opener that skipped and clanked across the table.
Rodger watched until four of the men had taken a beer before he reached for a warm bottle. As he uncapped it, foam spilled over in quiet rivulets, oozing down the sides of the bottle, over his hand, dripping onto the floor. He wiped his hand dry on the side of his pants. He swallowed the salty, welcomed beer quickly, then abruptly plunked down in a chair.
“Five card stud, joker wild.” He took the deck, handed it to the man on his right to cut, and began the deal. Cards landed in place before him. “Ante’s white, limit ten dollars. We’re playing with American dollars.” He slipped the cards together and then fanned out the edges to peek into them.
Stony watched each man look at his cards. Rodger had once heard him say he could find clues in the reflections of an eyeball. Rodger dropped his eyelids, shifting his loose change from his right pocket to the left side, then leaned back into his chair. He found his silver dollar. Throughout the game, he would touch the edge of his pocket.
“I’ll see you and raise you five.” Stony let the chips rain down. After fifteen minutes, he had lost three successive hands, as had Rodger.
“I’ll call.” Rodger laid down his straight.
Stony fanned out his club flush, snapping each card down onto the table. “Read ’em and weep, Colonel,” Stony smirked, raking in the chips.
“Last hand for me,” Rodger said, mentally reviewing the upcoming daily roster.
Daylight streamed through the dirty windows. Each of the six men frequently whisked away beaded sweat from their foreheads. Two folded their cards and waved good-night. Rodger had dropped close to a hundred bucks, but he still felt lucky.
Time dragged around each play made. Four were still in. Rodger upped his bet by five dollars, hoping to narrow the odds. Two men folded, leaving him pitted against Stony.
Rodger leaned forward, rotating his shoulders as if to work out a kink. Stony chewed on the end of his mustache. He threw in another blue chip. Rodger tossed in one, picking up a red. Stony squinted, slowly pushing his red one into the pile. His eyes focused intently on Rodger, then he smiled. Rodger smiled back. Stony added another blue chip. Rodger eased in a blue one, then scooted another blue one beside it. Stony continued to smile, playing contentedly with his blond mustache. He scratched his chin, then picked up two blue chips and tossed them into the center.
“I’ll call.” Methodically, he exposed his hand.
Rodger laid down his royal flush on top of Stony’s ace, king, queen, jack, and ten. Only by a hair’s breath, he thought. But then again, that’s all I need to win.
The two who had folded, dropped the legs of their chairs so that they could lean over and see the lay of the cards.
Robins whistled, rolling his eyes backward as Rodger raked in the chips.
“That was real close, yes siree, real close!” he exclaimed. “There ain’t enough odds in the world that’ll say a combination like that will ever be seen again!”
Rodger nodded. “That’s for damn sure.”
Stony chuckled. Stretching his long arms overhead, he arched his back and yawned loudly.
“Not my lucky day by a long shot. Guess I’ll get some shuteye. I’m not due out till three.”
He stood up to go, then casually challenged, “Play you Cold Hand for a hundred, Colonel.”
“You’re on.” Rodger shuffled the cards, giving the deck to the man on his right. As each man flipped the oncoming card up, he stared straight ahead into the other’s eyes. When all five had been dealt, there lay an eerie hush about the room. Rodger looked quickly at his cards, noting that he had three threes. Then he glanced over to Stony’s hand and recoiled slightly when he recognized the aces and eights. Dead Man’s Hand. No one said anything.
Rodger swept the cards up and compacted them into a neat pile.
“Clean up and let’s get to work,” Rodger ordered.
Superstitious nonsense, he thought as he walked to his office. As he passed the board, he pulled the flight sheet down and replaced Stony’s name with his own.
After lunch, Stony stomped into the office, his mouth compressed and eyes ablaze. Rodger continued reading the paper in his hand, until Stony cleared his throat.
“Sir, could I have a word with you?”
Rodger looked up “What is it, Pickens?”
“I think I’m entitled to an explanation about the change in the flight schedule,” Stony spat out, “Sir.”
“Right.” He tapped the sheet of paper in his hand. “I reviewed your flight time. You’re due for some time off. And I need a few hours. That’s it plain and simple.”
“I want to protest—-”
“So noted, Pickens. Get some rest.” Rodger picked up his pen and began to sign the x’d lines.
With a thud, a clump of bills hit the upraised sheets of paper Rodger held in his left hand. He pocketed the poker winnings.
“Thank you, Pickens. This change has nothing to do with the poker game. My logs are up for review, and I can’t let any minor infractions show up. Don’t take it personally.”
“No, sir, I won’t take it too personally.” Stony turned and stormed out of the office, banging the door.
During the briefing, Rodger forced himself to act more enthusiastic than he really felt. The flight plans were limited in scope and field, the usual from the brass. He resented it as much as his men, but he pretended it was all perfectly sensible; and he pretended not to notice when his squadron blatantly disobeyed the cockeyed mandates.
Once airborne, he became just another pilot, working as part of a team. Reno was his wingman. The others, Steve, Coolly, and Nick, wasted no time doing preflights and run-ups. Rodger felt the current flowing between the planes, uniting them, washing over them, as blood goes from the heart to all parts of the body.
They took off with a direct vector, climbing north with one hundred forty miles to reach the Burma border, a routine mission. The flight spread out at the bomb line; all eyes swept constantly back and forth for enemy aircraft, making sure the sky was clear.
Reno cried out, “Bandits! Nine o’clock high.”
“Red Leader. Advance throttle and climb to twenty‑five.” Rodger initiated a climbing turn and leveled off at twenty‑five thousand feet. All of the others followed. Sweat slid from his armpits down to his wrists. They were working men now. No thought for anything else.
“Holy smokes! Red Leader, look what’s comin’ in from the south!” Reno banked slightly for a fuller view.
“Increase right bank!” Rodger barked.
As fast as they executed the turn, the Japanese Nates were out of sight.
“Lost ’em all, dammit,” moaned Coolly. “Nothin’ to write home to Mom about tonight.”
Then at eight-thousand feet, coming from the opposite direction, a single Nate skimmed along the cloud cover. Rodger pulled a quick ninety‑degree turn with Reno right beside him, level with the Nate, six miles back, their P‑38s screamed after him.
Reno dived behind him, staying level, but the elusive Nate remained two miles out of range. Finally at one‑thousand feet Rodger lined up the red nose, red rudder, and mid‑section of the Nate in his sights.
There was a short burst of flames, and little holes popped out on the fuselage. One more longer burst, and the engine and wings took the strikes. In a graceful dive, the aircraft began its descent, smoke spewing out. Rodger lined up astern, very close this time, and fired again. Huge hunks of the aircraft, flailing as if imbued with life, flew into space with dizzying speed. The canopy shot straight up, hovered for a second, and then tumbled over and over. The parachute blossomed, drifting slowly down to earth.
Almost immediately Rodger and Reno were rejoined by the others, along with the rest of the Japanese force.
Reno yelled, “Red Leader, break left!”
Rodger twisted over left and up into the sun. Getting into position behind the enemy leader, he tailed him hard until he had him in his sights. He pressed the trigger; a line of holes burst into the enemy’s wing. With grim determination, Rodger executed a hard barrel roll, passed over, and came into him again.
He heard strikes against his tail, but didn’t allow his eyes to wander from the sights. Again he fired. Two long, one short. The fuselage and tailpipe danced with fiery colors and gray‑green smoke. Rodger looked over to the cockpit. The pilot was dead, slumped against the controls, forcing the plane into an erratic spiral dive.
“Hot damn, Colonel!” sang out Nick. “We done ’em all in!”
“Red Leader here. Any damage?” Relief and pride in his men mingled with a sudden exhilaration. “Well, the boys at home aren’t going to believe us when we tell them about the ones that didn’t get away!”
They headed back to base. Upon approach, in tacit agreement, they made a low pass in unison.
The last one out of the debriefing room, Rodger walked across the compound toward his office, where he met Stony.
“Congratulations, Lt. Colonel. I heard you had a very successful day.” Stony crossed his arms and stared daggers at Rodger.
“Right. I expect the Night Wolf will be back tonight. You had better be prepared.”
Without another word, Stony turned and strode to the mechanics hut, issuing orders in a loud, surly voice; he looked like an emperor at the arena. Two mechanics scurried from the newly arrived ships to go to Stony’s, giving it a shakedown.
Rodger laughed aloud, wishing he had a picture. Then he shook his head, as if to brush off the lightness and good spirits. He went to the officer’s club, following the voices that led him to Banjo Billy in the poker room.
“Banjo, a word with you.” Rodger waved a flaccid salute to the other men.
His “Yessss, sir” was punctuated by the slapping down of cards.
“Couldn’t have come at a better time or to a better man.” He swept the jackpot into his hand, pocketed it, and saluted Rodger.
Rodger had cultivated a certain metallic edge to his voice while a captain on the high school football team, a voice that he knew how to use effectively.
“I have your request for a leave. Illnesses in your family.”
Squaring his shoulders, Banjo Billy replied, “Yes, sir. My mother and my wife. My mother’s in the hospital, and my wife’s having a difficult pregnancy.”
“There’s no one else that help out? No other family members?”
“Well, sir, no, but I’m, well, I’m an only son. The only man around. I mean; they need me.”
“Combat experience is at its lowest, and we need men with your background. You know that.”
“I know that, sir.” Banjo Billy frowned, distressed. “I’d only be gone a month leave, sir.”
“The war might wait for you.” Rodger shrugged. “Your request has been cleared by the Colonel himself. The transport leaves tomorrow, late afternoon.” He handed the orders to the and stared long and hard at the young officer.
Banjo Billy wavered. Rodger could see the captain’s resentment outlined in the clean-shaven, boyish face. But every opportunity he had, Rodger would pound home to his men: a man’s prime commitment, his first loyalty, is duty.
“Report to me at sixteen hundred hours.”
Banjo Billy looked around him. The guys were beginning a new hand of poker, each one talking to everyone in general. Rodger bet himself that he would not reach the count of one hundred.
“Excuse me, sir—but I’ve reconsidered. It’s probably more dangerous flying home. I’ll stay here and do my own, honest work.” He cast an anxious glance at Rodger. He ruffled the slip of paper, without actually tearing it up.
“Hey, Banjo, are you in for this hand or not?”
“In. But you guys don’t stand a chance in hell!” He quickly shoved the paper into his back pocket.
It was a bittersweet victory for Rodger. He went to the bar and motioned the bartender for bottle of half‑empty Jack Daniels and a clean glass. He left without a word to anyone.
Unlocking his office door, he remembered being twenty not so long ago. He sat heavily in his chair, pulling himself up to his desk, tipping the bottle into a glass. Without the lights on, the room had a gray cast to it. Rodger played with the shadow of his glass on the desk top. He lit a cigarette. His body tensed, and he strained to hear the noise. Yes, there it was.
He relaxed then, slouching back against the chair. He raised his tumbler, the amber liquid sloshing back and forth, in a salute as the beautiful screams of Stony’s Mustang split the still of dusk.
He told himself that Stony was not cursed; a poker’s hand had no meaning behind the game. Survival took skill, timing, and well, yes, luck. But you had to be good. Or lucky.
“Here’s to you. Go get ’em.” As the screeching tires left the pavement, Rodger downed the last mouthful of whiskey. “May the best man win.”
THE END
Showing posts with label adult fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adult fiction. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Forcing the Hand of God: Chapter 23 (part 2)
“I know, good knight, I know,” Adele murmured back. She dropped his hand and went back into the kitchen, leaving him and Aunt Carrie facing one another.
“Oh, Rodgie, how can you let yourself be beaten so!” Like a pampered squirrel, she nested into the chair, worrying her question.
“Don’t know. It’s funny, but you don’t even feel it,” Rodger gulped at his beer, “until later. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“It’s bad enough. You should see yourself!” Carrie pointed at him. “Is that any way for a man of your age and rank to behave?”
“Only if I win, Aunt Carrie,” he grinned. “Then I’m the hero of the hour.”
Madeline appeared. “Would you kindly prepare for dinner?”
Rodger nodded to the girls’ room. “I’ll call them.”
Adele bustled into the living room, then up the stairs. “No, the baby’s asleep. I’ll bring Heather and Rachel down.”
He drained the rest of his beer. The uncomfortable silence in the room pulled at him like over-stretched elastic. He wished this part of the night over so that he could relax with Ada and Adele.
Dues. He had to pay the family dues.
Rachel and Heather ate side by side, sneaking glances at him. Madeline silenced them with a reproachful look before either could question him. Rodger put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.
“I’m curious whether Captain Midnight goes after those Japs tonight. Last night he almost bought it.”
Madeline slapped down her napkin. “Isn’t it bad enough there’s a real war raging all over Europe without a silly, make‑believe hero?”
His jaw tensed as he stared down his mother.
“I’ve known a dozen Captain Midnights, Mother. Real guys.” He pushed away from the table. “I’ll be back, girls. Warm up the radio.”
He let himself out the back door, walking up towards the riverside, pounding out his anger in every step. Over and over in his mind, he sought a way out from the endless arguments. He stopped by a sycamore tree and leaned against the rough bark, twisting his head back and forth, trying to ease the tension.
He bent down and picked stones to skip across the river, thinking of Tommy and the days they had played on rafts down here. The summer days he had fished. The picnics with Dee Simmons. Skinny-dipping. And making love on a woolen blanket. And a dozen things he had wanted to tell his father.
He flipped another smooth stone across the water, counting the ripples from three centers. Then he took his time strolling back to his mother’s house. He checked his watch. Just in time for Captain Midnight.
Adele sat on the edge of his mother’s bed, nursing Jonelle as Rachel and Heather hovered around the crackling radio. Rodger leaned over between his sisters and twirled the knob until the announcer’s voice barked, “The makers of Ovaltine® sponsor the following program.” He sat cross‑legged in front of the radio with Rachel and Heather, engrossed until the very end.
He turned to Adele. “Now, radio, that’s a worthwhile past time.” He stretched, raising his arms. “I’m going next door to talk to Ada. Come with me.”
Like a startled katydid, Rachel jumped up from the floor. “I think I hear Ada at the door now.”
“Let’s go down and see her!” sang out Heather. Both girls darted out the bedroom and down the stairs.
“Jonelle’s finished nursing.” She handed the gurgling baby to her husband. “Go see Daddy. Here.”
With Jonelle on his shoulder, he led Adele down the stairs.
Madeline rushed over to Rodger and scooped Jonelle out of his arms. “Ada look! Don’t you think she has John’s eyes?”
Rodger swiped the baby out of his mother’s hands. Her eyes bugged out, but she didn’t make a sound. He presented Jonelle to Ada, who opened her arms to receive the squirming bundle.
“I…I think,” Ada stammered, “that Jonelle has your hands, Madeline. Her fingers are so long.”
Madeline bit her lip. She examined her nails.
“I hope she has Adele’s personality.”
Rodger gathered his bag in his left hand.
“I do, too.” He marched to the door, turning to see his aunt emerge from the kitchen. “And Aunt Carrie’s smile.” He held the door open for Ada and Adele to exit. “Good night, Mother. Good night, Aunt Carrie.” He blew kisses to his sisters.
“Thank you for dinner, Mother. The casserole was delicious!” Adele stopped by his side. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Madeline looked to Carrie, who held onto a pie dish in her chubby hands. “Won’t you stay for dessert? Ada brought us a strawberry cream pie.”
Rodger nudged Adele with his elbow.
“No, thanks. Maybe tomorrow.”
Out on the sidewalk, Adele snatched his shirt sleeve. “Just what gives you the right to be so damn rude to your mother?”
He threw off her hand.
“She irritates the hell out of me!”
Adele put her hands on her hips. Ada went on into her house with Jonelle. Fireflies sparked the evening air. “Your mother is scared, Rodger. Try to understand.”
He tore the wrappings from a new pack of cigarettes, punched one out, stuck it between his lips, and fished in his pocket for a match. He lit the match and held it away from the tip of the Lucky until it burned half‑way down. “So now you want to play the peacemaker?”
Adele’s raspy breathing, timed to his own, linked them in an odd agreement. She pointed her finger at him, stabbing the space between them.
“You’re a brat.”
He batted her finger with his right hand. “You sound like a granny.”
She laughed. “Maybe I’ve been around them too long,” she jerked her head backwards, indicating the house. “To be truthful, I understand why they get on your nerves.”
He stepped to her side, clasping her about the waist. “Don’t start that nagging. That’s one of the things I loved you for. You never were a whiner or nag.”
Adele hugged him. “But, Rodger, you can’t get your way all the time.”
“Why not?” He flicked away the cigarette stub.
“Because!” Adele shot back. Rodger opened the screen as Adele pushed open the front door of Ada’s house.
Ada sat on the couch, pillows propping her elbows as she held Jonelle and sang a lullaby to her. She had a surprisingly deep and gravelly voice.
Rodger watched her stroke Jonelle’s cheek, seemingly lost for a moment in the mystery of the baby and her song. Adele waited for Ada to finish the lullaby before picking up Jonelle.
“I’ll feed her once more, and maybe, just maybe the walk home will put her asleep for the whole night.”
Ada settled back into the couch. “Don’t count on it. Those night feedings might go on for another month or more.” Adele padded down the hall to the bedroom, leaving Ada and Rodger alone. He drummed the arm of the chair with his fingertips.
“I could rig up your sewing machine so that it’ll be easier to use.”
Ada massaged her hands, shaking her head so that her fine gray hair trailing from its chignon swayed like miniature streamers.
“You’ve done quite enough, mister.”
When Rodger frowned at her, she gave a dismissive a wave of her hand.
“Oh, all right. If you insist and have nothing better to do with your time, I’d be pleased to have you do it.”
“I have the time.” He avoided her eyes, until he could stand it no longer. “What’s the matter?”
“You.” Ada inched closer to him. The fine material of her flowered dress stretched taut against her bosom. “Tell her the truth, Rodger.”
He bolted upright. “Goddamn it! Why is everyone ragging on me?”
Ada pursed her lips. “It’ll not be right between the two of you if you keep secrets.”
“I don’t keep secrets.” He stared fixedly at her.
“I’ve known you too long, Rodger, not to know when you’re hiding a piece of the puzzle.”
He blushed, remembering how important it used to be to him to put in the last jigsaw puzzle piece. Ada never scolded him for keeping it in his pocket for a day or two, but she always made him put it in, finally.
“I have to go back,” he lowered his voice. “I have to square things for Mary Elizabeth.” He leaned down and smacked the kitten as it leaped for his shoe. “I have this dream. Every night. Running away from Mary Elizabeth and LinChing as they stand in front of the mission, begging me to take them home. Only there’s no home.”
The kitten sought refuge in Ada’s lap. She petted it absent‑mindedly.
“But Jonelle...,” Ada’s voice cracked.
Rodger searched Ada’s loving face.
“She’s in good hands.” He looked away, out the window at the dark shadows of the leaves on the tree. “I’ll come home.”
Adele came out of the bedroom, Jonelle asleep on her shoulder. Rodger hurried to the buggy by the chair and wheeled it over to Adele. Ada smoothed out the blanket, her hands working around Adele’s as she lay the baby down. Rodger propped the door open and took the buggy down the steps onto the sidewalk. He waved to Ada as Adele hugged her goodbye.
Adele hopped to catch up with him, clutching his hand as they walked side by side. The wheels of the buggy squeaked. He sighed as they came upon their brightly lit porch.
“Must cut the grass in the morning,” he said as he opened the door.
Adele pushed the buggy indoors. “Let’s just take it easy tomorrow, honey,” she pecked his sore cheek. Rodger winced. “Oh, sorry.” She went to touch it, but he pulled away.
“I’m tired tonight. Are you?”
“I haven’t boxed in the ring,” Adele faced him, the tartness of her voice betraying the comfort of her words.
“What is it you want from me, Adele?” Rodger crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
“I don’t know,” she paced in front of him, wringing her hands. “Maybe that’s the question I should be asking you.”
“Jesus, Adele! I want you to be happy. The baby to be happy.” He chewed his lip. No, this wouldn’t wash; she wouldn’t be compromised with a vague truth. “I don’t know. Something inside of me.”
“What? Losing your father? Sam? Mary Elizabeth?”
“None of that. All of it.” He closed his eyes. “I thought today about how LinChing busted his bones to do the right thing all the time. On top of those planes like he was personally responsible for them, he had his kid, too. Trying to do the right thing.” His left cheek and ear throbbed, shooting pangs along his neck. “You’re on me lately about every damn thing I do.”
“I want you…you,” she stumbled over her words, “to want to stay with us.”
“It wasn’t my idea to start this war.” He watched her through slitted eyes.
“No, but it seems to be your game.”
“I’m a flyer, honey. You knew that before we married.”
She sighed in defeat. “I know. I guess I thought because I changed after having Jonelle, you would, too.”
He grabbed her by the hands and embraced her.
“I’ll always provide us a good home and be a great daddy. You wait and see.”
Adele hugged him hard. “I’ll be here. I’ll wait.”
“And,” he pulled back to look into her eyes, “I’ll bring you more silver, marble and silks from China.”
She stared long and direct at him. “Just bring yourself back in one piece, mister.”
Soft mewing sounds came from the buggy as Jonelle awoke.
“There, there, hush, hush,” Adele cooed as she lifted Jonelle from the buggy and took her to the nursery.
Rodger watched them disappear into the room and then turned into the bedroom. He hastily undressed and crawled between the cool sheets.
He heard the sheets rustling and felt the warmth of Adele’s body when she climbed in bed beside him. She encircled his waist with her arms and snuggled into his back. Sleep enfolded him.
In the middle of the night, a pocket of coldness where Adele should have been shocked him awake. He listened for her above the pounding of his heart.
She moved through the hallway, to the door and paused.
“Rodger?” the alarm in her voice distressed him. “What’s the matter?”
He sat on the edge of the bed, cradling his head in his hands.
“Nothing. Come to bed.”
She slid in behind him, hugging his shoulders, pressing her face against his back.
“Are you in pain?”
“No.” He sat still, then turned and lay down, pulling her into his side. “I have to tell you something.”
Hiccupping cries pealed throughout the house. Adele sprang out of bed and ran down to the nursery. Minutes later, she returned with Jonelle nestled against her shoulder. Rodger reached over to the bed stand and flipped on the light, illuminating Adele’s face etched in worry. He patted the edge of the bed.
“Come here. It’s not that bad. And you probably know anyway.” Adele sat down beside him, and he put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in a gentle hug, careful of the nursing baby. “I’ve put in for a transfer for China. The Flying Tigers.” He shrugged. “May or may not happen.”
Adele cradled the baby against her shoulder, patting her on the back and nodded her head in time with the taps. Jonelle burped, sighed and closed her eyes, whispering baby snores.
“Sooner or later, I knew you’d go back.”
“I want you to understand I have to go back.” He sighed, pulling her close to him and kissing her ear lobe. “You know, for God, motherhood, apple pie, and all that.”
Adele pressed her forehead against his.
“No,” she muttered, shaking her head back and forth. “For you, Rodger.”
She took the sleeping baby back to her bed. He thought he heard muffled sounds of Adele crying. He waited, his shoulders aching from being tensed.
She tripped into the room, dancing in front of him with her nightgown fanned in her hand, and pulled taut, her body outlined by satin. He watched, fascinated. She dipped and swayed, inviting him with a wave of her hand. He rose, accepted her hand, crushing his body into hers, moving in time with her undulating hips. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back, she parted her lips and waited for his kiss. He met her lips. They waltzed. He pressed his cheek against hers, thankful for this hour. In the light that cast their ghostly shadows about the room; all else forgotten, they danced.
“Oh, Rodgie, how can you let yourself be beaten so!” Like a pampered squirrel, she nested into the chair, worrying her question.
“Don’t know. It’s funny, but you don’t even feel it,” Rodger gulped at his beer, “until later. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“It’s bad enough. You should see yourself!” Carrie pointed at him. “Is that any way for a man of your age and rank to behave?”
“Only if I win, Aunt Carrie,” he grinned. “Then I’m the hero of the hour.”
Madeline appeared. “Would you kindly prepare for dinner?”
Rodger nodded to the girls’ room. “I’ll call them.”
Adele bustled into the living room, then up the stairs. “No, the baby’s asleep. I’ll bring Heather and Rachel down.”
He drained the rest of his beer. The uncomfortable silence in the room pulled at him like over-stretched elastic. He wished this part of the night over so that he could relax with Ada and Adele.
Dues. He had to pay the family dues.
Rachel and Heather ate side by side, sneaking glances at him. Madeline silenced them with a reproachful look before either could question him. Rodger put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.
“I’m curious whether Captain Midnight goes after those Japs tonight. Last night he almost bought it.”
Madeline slapped down her napkin. “Isn’t it bad enough there’s a real war raging all over Europe without a silly, make‑believe hero?”
His jaw tensed as he stared down his mother.
“I’ve known a dozen Captain Midnights, Mother. Real guys.” He pushed away from the table. “I’ll be back, girls. Warm up the radio.”
He let himself out the back door, walking up towards the riverside, pounding out his anger in every step. Over and over in his mind, he sought a way out from the endless arguments. He stopped by a sycamore tree and leaned against the rough bark, twisting his head back and forth, trying to ease the tension.
He bent down and picked stones to skip across the river, thinking of Tommy and the days they had played on rafts down here. The summer days he had fished. The picnics with Dee Simmons. Skinny-dipping. And making love on a woolen blanket. And a dozen things he had wanted to tell his father.
He flipped another smooth stone across the water, counting the ripples from three centers. Then he took his time strolling back to his mother’s house. He checked his watch. Just in time for Captain Midnight.
Adele sat on the edge of his mother’s bed, nursing Jonelle as Rachel and Heather hovered around the crackling radio. Rodger leaned over between his sisters and twirled the knob until the announcer’s voice barked, “The makers of Ovaltine® sponsor the following program.” He sat cross‑legged in front of the radio with Rachel and Heather, engrossed until the very end.
He turned to Adele. “Now, radio, that’s a worthwhile past time.” He stretched, raising his arms. “I’m going next door to talk to Ada. Come with me.”
Like a startled katydid, Rachel jumped up from the floor. “I think I hear Ada at the door now.”
“Let’s go down and see her!” sang out Heather. Both girls darted out the bedroom and down the stairs.
“Jonelle’s finished nursing.” She handed the gurgling baby to her husband. “Go see Daddy. Here.”
With Jonelle on his shoulder, he led Adele down the stairs.
Madeline rushed over to Rodger and scooped Jonelle out of his arms. “Ada look! Don’t you think she has John’s eyes?”
Rodger swiped the baby out of his mother’s hands. Her eyes bugged out, but she didn’t make a sound. He presented Jonelle to Ada, who opened her arms to receive the squirming bundle.
“I…I think,” Ada stammered, “that Jonelle has your hands, Madeline. Her fingers are so long.”
Madeline bit her lip. She examined her nails.
“I hope she has Adele’s personality.”
Rodger gathered his bag in his left hand.
“I do, too.” He marched to the door, turning to see his aunt emerge from the kitchen. “And Aunt Carrie’s smile.” He held the door open for Ada and Adele to exit. “Good night, Mother. Good night, Aunt Carrie.” He blew kisses to his sisters.
“Thank you for dinner, Mother. The casserole was delicious!” Adele stopped by his side. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Madeline looked to Carrie, who held onto a pie dish in her chubby hands. “Won’t you stay for dessert? Ada brought us a strawberry cream pie.”
Rodger nudged Adele with his elbow.
“No, thanks. Maybe tomorrow.”
Out on the sidewalk, Adele snatched his shirt sleeve. “Just what gives you the right to be so damn rude to your mother?”
He threw off her hand.
“She irritates the hell out of me!”
Adele put her hands on her hips. Ada went on into her house with Jonelle. Fireflies sparked the evening air. “Your mother is scared, Rodger. Try to understand.”
He tore the wrappings from a new pack of cigarettes, punched one out, stuck it between his lips, and fished in his pocket for a match. He lit the match and held it away from the tip of the Lucky until it burned half‑way down. “So now you want to play the peacemaker?”
Adele’s raspy breathing, timed to his own, linked them in an odd agreement. She pointed her finger at him, stabbing the space between them.
“You’re a brat.”
He batted her finger with his right hand. “You sound like a granny.”
She laughed. “Maybe I’ve been around them too long,” she jerked her head backwards, indicating the house. “To be truthful, I understand why they get on your nerves.”
He stepped to her side, clasping her about the waist. “Don’t start that nagging. That’s one of the things I loved you for. You never were a whiner or nag.”
Adele hugged him. “But, Rodger, you can’t get your way all the time.”
“Why not?” He flicked away the cigarette stub.
“Because!” Adele shot back. Rodger opened the screen as Adele pushed open the front door of Ada’s house.
Ada sat on the couch, pillows propping her elbows as she held Jonelle and sang a lullaby to her. She had a surprisingly deep and gravelly voice.
Rodger watched her stroke Jonelle’s cheek, seemingly lost for a moment in the mystery of the baby and her song. Adele waited for Ada to finish the lullaby before picking up Jonelle.
“I’ll feed her once more, and maybe, just maybe the walk home will put her asleep for the whole night.”
Ada settled back into the couch. “Don’t count on it. Those night feedings might go on for another month or more.” Adele padded down the hall to the bedroom, leaving Ada and Rodger alone. He drummed the arm of the chair with his fingertips.
“I could rig up your sewing machine so that it’ll be easier to use.”
Ada massaged her hands, shaking her head so that her fine gray hair trailing from its chignon swayed like miniature streamers.
“You’ve done quite enough, mister.”
When Rodger frowned at her, she gave a dismissive a wave of her hand.
“Oh, all right. If you insist and have nothing better to do with your time, I’d be pleased to have you do it.”
“I have the time.” He avoided her eyes, until he could stand it no longer. “What’s the matter?”
“You.” Ada inched closer to him. The fine material of her flowered dress stretched taut against her bosom. “Tell her the truth, Rodger.”
He bolted upright. “Goddamn it! Why is everyone ragging on me?”
Ada pursed her lips. “It’ll not be right between the two of you if you keep secrets.”
“I don’t keep secrets.” He stared fixedly at her.
“I’ve known you too long, Rodger, not to know when you’re hiding a piece of the puzzle.”
He blushed, remembering how important it used to be to him to put in the last jigsaw puzzle piece. Ada never scolded him for keeping it in his pocket for a day or two, but she always made him put it in, finally.
“I have to go back,” he lowered his voice. “I have to square things for Mary Elizabeth.” He leaned down and smacked the kitten as it leaped for his shoe. “I have this dream. Every night. Running away from Mary Elizabeth and LinChing as they stand in front of the mission, begging me to take them home. Only there’s no home.”
The kitten sought refuge in Ada’s lap. She petted it absent‑mindedly.
“But Jonelle...,” Ada’s voice cracked.
Rodger searched Ada’s loving face.
“She’s in good hands.” He looked away, out the window at the dark shadows of the leaves on the tree. “I’ll come home.”
Adele came out of the bedroom, Jonelle asleep on her shoulder. Rodger hurried to the buggy by the chair and wheeled it over to Adele. Ada smoothed out the blanket, her hands working around Adele’s as she lay the baby down. Rodger propped the door open and took the buggy down the steps onto the sidewalk. He waved to Ada as Adele hugged her goodbye.
Adele hopped to catch up with him, clutching his hand as they walked side by side. The wheels of the buggy squeaked. He sighed as they came upon their brightly lit porch.
“Must cut the grass in the morning,” he said as he opened the door.
Adele pushed the buggy indoors. “Let’s just take it easy tomorrow, honey,” she pecked his sore cheek. Rodger winced. “Oh, sorry.” She went to touch it, but he pulled away.
“I’m tired tonight. Are you?”
“I haven’t boxed in the ring,” Adele faced him, the tartness of her voice betraying the comfort of her words.
“What is it you want from me, Adele?” Rodger crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
“I don’t know,” she paced in front of him, wringing her hands. “Maybe that’s the question I should be asking you.”
“Jesus, Adele! I want you to be happy. The baby to be happy.” He chewed his lip. No, this wouldn’t wash; she wouldn’t be compromised with a vague truth. “I don’t know. Something inside of me.”
“What? Losing your father? Sam? Mary Elizabeth?”
“None of that. All of it.” He closed his eyes. “I thought today about how LinChing busted his bones to do the right thing all the time. On top of those planes like he was personally responsible for them, he had his kid, too. Trying to do the right thing.” His left cheek and ear throbbed, shooting pangs along his neck. “You’re on me lately about every damn thing I do.”
“I want you…you,” she stumbled over her words, “to want to stay with us.”
“It wasn’t my idea to start this war.” He watched her through slitted eyes.
“No, but it seems to be your game.”
“I’m a flyer, honey. You knew that before we married.”
She sighed in defeat. “I know. I guess I thought because I changed after having Jonelle, you would, too.”
He grabbed her by the hands and embraced her.
“I’ll always provide us a good home and be a great daddy. You wait and see.”
Adele hugged him hard. “I’ll be here. I’ll wait.”
“And,” he pulled back to look into her eyes, “I’ll bring you more silver, marble and silks from China.”
She stared long and direct at him. “Just bring yourself back in one piece, mister.”
Soft mewing sounds came from the buggy as Jonelle awoke.
“There, there, hush, hush,” Adele cooed as she lifted Jonelle from the buggy and took her to the nursery.
Rodger watched them disappear into the room and then turned into the bedroom. He hastily undressed and crawled between the cool sheets.
He heard the sheets rustling and felt the warmth of Adele’s body when she climbed in bed beside him. She encircled his waist with her arms and snuggled into his back. Sleep enfolded him.
In the middle of the night, a pocket of coldness where Adele should have been shocked him awake. He listened for her above the pounding of his heart.
She moved through the hallway, to the door and paused.
“Rodger?” the alarm in her voice distressed him. “What’s the matter?”
He sat on the edge of the bed, cradling his head in his hands.
“Nothing. Come to bed.”
She slid in behind him, hugging his shoulders, pressing her face against his back.
“Are you in pain?”
“No.” He sat still, then turned and lay down, pulling her into his side. “I have to tell you something.”
Hiccupping cries pealed throughout the house. Adele sprang out of bed and ran down to the nursery. Minutes later, she returned with Jonelle nestled against her shoulder. Rodger reached over to the bed stand and flipped on the light, illuminating Adele’s face etched in worry. He patted the edge of the bed.
“Come here. It’s not that bad. And you probably know anyway.” Adele sat down beside him, and he put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in a gentle hug, careful of the nursing baby. “I’ve put in for a transfer for China. The Flying Tigers.” He shrugged. “May or may not happen.”
Adele cradled the baby against her shoulder, patting her on the back and nodded her head in time with the taps. Jonelle burped, sighed and closed her eyes, whispering baby snores.
“Sooner or later, I knew you’d go back.”
“I want you to understand I have to go back.” He sighed, pulling her close to him and kissing her ear lobe. “You know, for God, motherhood, apple pie, and all that.”
Adele pressed her forehead against his.
“No,” she muttered, shaking her head back and forth. “For you, Rodger.”
She took the sleeping baby back to her bed. He thought he heard muffled sounds of Adele crying. He waited, his shoulders aching from being tensed.
She tripped into the room, dancing in front of him with her nightgown fanned in her hand, and pulled taut, her body outlined by satin. He watched, fascinated. She dipped and swayed, inviting him with a wave of her hand. He rose, accepted her hand, crushing his body into hers, moving in time with her undulating hips. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back, she parted her lips and waited for his kiss. He met her lips. They waltzed. He pressed his cheek against hers, thankful for this hour. In the light that cast their ghostly shadows about the room; all else forgotten, they danced.
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Forcing the Hand of God: Chapter 23 (part 1)
Rodger finished lowering the kitchen cabinets in Ada’s kitchen Friday morning. Adele left him on the porch with Ada as she fed Jonelle in the back bedroom.
Ada wiped her hands across her thighs. “I’ve so enjoyed this time with Adele and the baby. You—-you’ve been busy. Like a carpenter wasp.”
His laughter exploded from his throat. “And I’m surrounded by queens.”
Ada reproved him with a sharp glance. “That’s not what I meant.” She tapped her glass with a finger. “Is it the upcoming fight?”
“No.” He cocked his head, amused by her interrogation. “I’ll pull it off.”
Ada pushed away from the table and went inside, bringing back a box tied with a satin ribbon. She handed it to him.
He jerked the ribbon off, tossing it onto the ground. As the lid slid off, he sucked in his breath as he stared at the black silk boxing trunks with white satin insets at the legs. He swallowed, meeting Ada’s penetrating eyes.
“I thought these would go nicely with your robe,” she said softly.
“Thanks,” he said, setting the bottom inside the lid, “I didn’t expect this. I bought the silk for you.”
“Yes, I know, but I wanted to do this for you,” Ada smiled. “Does the shoulder hurt at all?”
“Not a bit.” Rodger motioned to Adele as she came out the back door. “Look, honey.” He took the trunks out of the box.
“I know,” Adele winked at him. “I helped.” Both women chuckled. Adele leaned over his shoulder, close to his ear. “We did it all behind your back, and,” she tweaked his nose, “underneath your very nose.”
He stood, pushing his shoulder blades into one another.
“I’m outnumbered.” He caught Adele exchanging a quick glance with Ada. “You two just think you’ve outsmarted me.” He flexed his arms.
Adele’s face wrinkled in concern, but Ada stood abruptly, stopping Adele from saying anything. Rodger stood and held the door open for them. He walked back and picked up his boxing trunks and stuffed them carefully into his gear bag. Ada’s kitten attacked him from underneath the chair by the door. Rodger swatted at it.
“Pest!” he growled as it scrambled to the far side of the room.
Ada bent down and swept it up with one hand.
“Poor, Kid,” she soothed. “I thought you’d like him, Rodger.”
He waved impatiently at them; then, seeing he had wounded Ada, changed course.
“Oh, I do, kind of,” he tried to smile, hoping to ease the pinched look from Ada’s face. “I don’t like surprise attacks, is all.”
Ada grinned. “He’s friendly.” She put him down on the floor. “So sure that no one will harm him.”
Rodger rubbed his hand along his jawbone. “That cat reminds me of the Night Wolf. This crazy Jap raids the American air bases at night. All by himself. Does a fair amount of damage, too. You know what’s funny?” He looked fixedly at Ada. “Not one of us guys can get him. Out-maneuvers every single damn one of us.”
Adele closed in beside him. His neck tingled, like telegraph wires were connected to them, vibrating. He knew she tapped into his secrets. But he’d choose the time, a good time, to tell her.
“Wish me luck, my ladies.” He opened his arms to embrace Adele. “In a couple of hours, I’ll find out what I’m made of.”
Adele ground her cheek against his chest.
“Good luck, good knight,” she whispered.
Ada crossed her fingers and held them up.
“We’ll be thinking of the victory knock‑out.”
“I’ll be home in time for Captain Midnight,” he said as the door slammed shut behind him.
He walked along the familiar route conscious of the prickling heat and streams of voices around him. He nodded back to those who called after him. He swung his bag in time with his step and whistled an airman’s tune.
Wary faces turned on him as he strode through the gym to the locker room. The lanky Negro boy shuffled his feet as Rodger tossed his gear into the locker. He paused, waiting for the boy to look up.
“Something on your mind?”
The boy’s head snapped up and his eyes riveted on Rodger’s, his voice a husky whisper. “Lots a money comin’ down on this here fight.” Rodger shrugged, narrowing his eyes at the boy. “Don’t have nobody tending ya. I’d do it.”
Rodger studied the well‑formed muscles of the boy’s arms and shoulders.
“Sure. Earn yourself a cut of the winnings.”
“No, mister,” the boy put up a large, flat palm, and spoke fervently. “Don’ want no money. Jus’ you win.” His eyes burned.
To hide his surprise, Rodger bent down and laced his one shoe, then the other.
“Gonna do that, son.” He straightened. “Let’s work out. What’s your name?”
“Theys call me Li’l Les. Name’s Lester.”
Lester tossed Rodger a jump rope. He began a slow, easy hip-hop from side to side.
“Lester,” Rodger picked up his tempo, “you and me will be a winning team.” Not missing a beat, he whipped the rope faster and faster, wondering as he put his body through the routine paces, what Lester really wanted from him. The boy anticipated his needs, staying out of the way until he was needed. Rodger silently tallied the winning take. He knew the crowd had backed his opponent. A couple of hundred bucks, at least. More, maybe three hundred, on the second fight.
Shorty bounded into the room, waving his arms.
“Rodger! In the ring!”
Rodger flung aside the jump rope, pulled off the lightweight gloves and dropped them on the floor. Lester sat in his corner, dangling the regulation gloves in front of him as if exhibiting some kind of a trophy. Rodger snaked through the ropes and stood before Lester as he worked the laces tight on each glove. The crowd bunched around the young man in blue trunks, Reb’s friend. Rodger sized him up. A knockout in the first round. Big Red had schooled him on guys that came into the ring like bulls. Determined. All set for a kill. Easily killed.
The air crackled with alien voices. Rodger scanned the tops of the heads. He knew no one. Lester took his position behind the corner post. The voices blended to a drone.
The smell of his own sweat stung his nose. He clicked his mouthpiece into place. He felt sharp, ready. Energy coursed through his arms and buoyed his legs.
The bell clanged. He jumped up. His opponent in blue satin trunks with black initials “C T” on the left leg came bobbing into the center like a rubber toy.
Rodger slowed his step, teasing the man into a dance. C T swung wild, and Rodger stepped lightly away from the flying fist. He waited. CT came into his quarter circle.
Rodger cut him down.
The crowd was stunned into silence. Then the buzz swelled into a roar, crying victory for the next man, Reb. Lester offered Rodger the water jug and spit tube. His quick motions were efficient, yet oddly deferential.
Lester leaned and whispered in his ear, “Don’ like it quick, do they?”
Rodger shook his head, watching Reb getting laced up in his gloves. About the same build as he, maybe a pound or two heavier. Reb’s olive skin glistened with sweat; hard muscles rippled as he flexed his arms. He casually swiveled his head, giving Rodger a hard, brief once‑over.
“They want their money’s worth,” Rodger patted Lester on the shoulder. “I’ll give ’em what they want.”
He sucked his mouthpiece into place and waited for the bell. Reb stared him down. Rodger leaned forward, not blinking. Reb blinked, bobbing up as the bell jangled. Rodger was on the balls of his feet and swaying as Reb came at him.
They sparred. Reb was not so easily led as his friend, a better match for Rodger. Rodger pulled away from an uppercut. He nicked Reb’s jaw. Reb came in for him from the left. Rodger blocked. This man knew about dancing, too.
After the second round, Lester scolded, “Keep inside of ‘im. Don’ let ‘im come into your right.”
Third round. Shorty, commanding as a referee, bounded out of the ring. Rodger eyed the surly throng that lined the outside of the ring. Money poked up from fists, waved about like banners.
The bell. He leaped into the center of the ring. Reb charged him. Too late, he saw the gloved hand coming at him. He took the blow on his ear. The pain surprised him, giving Reb the edge. Rodger took another blow in the gut.
“Come on, old man, come and get me,” sneered Reb.
Maddened, Rodger lunged at his smirking opponent. He fended a blow to his left. Then his head cleared, and he knew the game Reb played.
Rodger dropped away from him, taking a sting on the shoulder. Reb closed in. Rodger bored down on top of him. One-two, one-two, one-two, three.
It was over.
Rodger looked down at the astonished face of Shorty. He smiled.
“Pay day,” he said. He turned and walked to his corner where Lester rubbed his aching shoulders and toweled him down.
He relished the cold of the metal post against his spine. Lester’s face was split by the white of his smile. Rodger tilted his head back and spoke wearily, “Just bill me as the ‘Bloodless Wonder.’ Madison Square Garden.”
Lester nodded in happy agreement. His hands worked deeper into the aching of his flesh. Reb and his friend were gone, out of sight of the crowd that had roared just a few minutes ago for their victory, now the men and women muttered angrily as their money changed hands.
Rodger shrugged off Lester. He took the towel and patted his face. His ear burned. His eye had already filmed over. The bodies crowding around the ring swayed back and forth. He inhaled deeply, breathing out hard. He climbed out of the ring and headed for the showers.
Lester trailed behind him. Voices trumpeted, and Rodger heard his name. He ducked into the stall and twisted the faucets on hard. Hot water pelted him, and he closed his eyes as a cloud of steam engulfed him. He drifted, then hearing voices, he lathered quickly and rinsed, stepping out, greeted by a towel thrust from Lester’s hand.
“Shorty’s got somethin’ for ya,” Lester gloated. “Man, oh, man, ya took in some winnings.”
Rodger dried off, careful of the tender spots. He felt his left eye begin to swell, and as he surreptitiously peeked into the mirror, he noted a bruise on his cheek. He dressed. Lester dogged his footsteps until he spun around and spoke to him “Listen, go tell Shorty I sent you to pick up my cut.” As Lester nodded and sprinted away to the main gym, Rodger ducked out the back door. He looked to his left, then his right, up the street and down, just in case Reb and his friend were waiting for him. It might have been a fair fight, but there are no honest losers.
As he came to the corner, his eyes strained to catch any movements in the shadows, and his ears prickled at the sounds of voices behind him. He strolled along, scanning to the right and left of him all of the way to his mother’s house.
The women bunched in the kitchen, not aware that he had come in the front door. He rattled his duffle bag, throwing it against the wall as he approached the kitchen. His Aunt Carrie screeched at the sight of him. Madeline turned from the sink and eyed him severely.
“Such savagery, Rodger.” She gripped the counter’s edge. “I’d thought you’d have outgrown this nonsense.” She wiped her hands on a green towel and motioned them into the living room.
Adele stepped away from his mother and aunt and ducked into the downstairs den where Jonelle slept. He rubbed his forehead.
“Not as bad as it looks.”
“You’ll be the death of your poor mother,” Carrie flung herself into a plump, upholstered chair. “Not to mention your wife.”
Adele laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Sit a spell. I sneaked a cold beer from home. Rode at the baby’s feet.” She placed the bottle into his hands. Then, cupping her hands over his around the bottle, she pressed them gently against his cheek. “To the victor belong the spoils.”
Painfully, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “How do you know some things before I tell you?”
Adele kissed him on his good ear. “Intuition.” She straightened, stepping away from the couch. “A lady always knows her knight and, like a good book, knows how to read him.”
Rodger caught her hand and held it, pulling her close again so that he could whisper in her ear. “I’m a good read in bed, too.”
Ada wiped her hands across her thighs. “I’ve so enjoyed this time with Adele and the baby. You—-you’ve been busy. Like a carpenter wasp.”
His laughter exploded from his throat. “And I’m surrounded by queens.”
Ada reproved him with a sharp glance. “That’s not what I meant.” She tapped her glass with a finger. “Is it the upcoming fight?”
“No.” He cocked his head, amused by her interrogation. “I’ll pull it off.”
Ada pushed away from the table and went inside, bringing back a box tied with a satin ribbon. She handed it to him.
He jerked the ribbon off, tossing it onto the ground. As the lid slid off, he sucked in his breath as he stared at the black silk boxing trunks with white satin insets at the legs. He swallowed, meeting Ada’s penetrating eyes.
“I thought these would go nicely with your robe,” she said softly.
“Thanks,” he said, setting the bottom inside the lid, “I didn’t expect this. I bought the silk for you.”
“Yes, I know, but I wanted to do this for you,” Ada smiled. “Does the shoulder hurt at all?”
“Not a bit.” Rodger motioned to Adele as she came out the back door. “Look, honey.” He took the trunks out of the box.
“I know,” Adele winked at him. “I helped.” Both women chuckled. Adele leaned over his shoulder, close to his ear. “We did it all behind your back, and,” she tweaked his nose, “underneath your very nose.”
He stood, pushing his shoulder blades into one another.
“I’m outnumbered.” He caught Adele exchanging a quick glance with Ada. “You two just think you’ve outsmarted me.” He flexed his arms.
Adele’s face wrinkled in concern, but Ada stood abruptly, stopping Adele from saying anything. Rodger stood and held the door open for them. He walked back and picked up his boxing trunks and stuffed them carefully into his gear bag. Ada’s kitten attacked him from underneath the chair by the door. Rodger swatted at it.
“Pest!” he growled as it scrambled to the far side of the room.
Ada bent down and swept it up with one hand.
“Poor, Kid,” she soothed. “I thought you’d like him, Rodger.”
He waved impatiently at them; then, seeing he had wounded Ada, changed course.
“Oh, I do, kind of,” he tried to smile, hoping to ease the pinched look from Ada’s face. “I don’t like surprise attacks, is all.”
Ada grinned. “He’s friendly.” She put him down on the floor. “So sure that no one will harm him.”
Rodger rubbed his hand along his jawbone. “That cat reminds me of the Night Wolf. This crazy Jap raids the American air bases at night. All by himself. Does a fair amount of damage, too. You know what’s funny?” He looked fixedly at Ada. “Not one of us guys can get him. Out-maneuvers every single damn one of us.”
Adele closed in beside him. His neck tingled, like telegraph wires were connected to them, vibrating. He knew she tapped into his secrets. But he’d choose the time, a good time, to tell her.
“Wish me luck, my ladies.” He opened his arms to embrace Adele. “In a couple of hours, I’ll find out what I’m made of.”
Adele ground her cheek against his chest.
“Good luck, good knight,” she whispered.
Ada crossed her fingers and held them up.
“We’ll be thinking of the victory knock‑out.”
“I’ll be home in time for Captain Midnight,” he said as the door slammed shut behind him.
He walked along the familiar route conscious of the prickling heat and streams of voices around him. He nodded back to those who called after him. He swung his bag in time with his step and whistled an airman’s tune.
Wary faces turned on him as he strode through the gym to the locker room. The lanky Negro boy shuffled his feet as Rodger tossed his gear into the locker. He paused, waiting for the boy to look up.
“Something on your mind?”
The boy’s head snapped up and his eyes riveted on Rodger’s, his voice a husky whisper. “Lots a money comin’ down on this here fight.” Rodger shrugged, narrowing his eyes at the boy. “Don’t have nobody tending ya. I’d do it.”
Rodger studied the well‑formed muscles of the boy’s arms and shoulders.
“Sure. Earn yourself a cut of the winnings.”
“No, mister,” the boy put up a large, flat palm, and spoke fervently. “Don’ want no money. Jus’ you win.” His eyes burned.
To hide his surprise, Rodger bent down and laced his one shoe, then the other.
“Gonna do that, son.” He straightened. “Let’s work out. What’s your name?”
“Theys call me Li’l Les. Name’s Lester.”
Lester tossed Rodger a jump rope. He began a slow, easy hip-hop from side to side.
“Lester,” Rodger picked up his tempo, “you and me will be a winning team.” Not missing a beat, he whipped the rope faster and faster, wondering as he put his body through the routine paces, what Lester really wanted from him. The boy anticipated his needs, staying out of the way until he was needed. Rodger silently tallied the winning take. He knew the crowd had backed his opponent. A couple of hundred bucks, at least. More, maybe three hundred, on the second fight.
Shorty bounded into the room, waving his arms.
“Rodger! In the ring!”
Rodger flung aside the jump rope, pulled off the lightweight gloves and dropped them on the floor. Lester sat in his corner, dangling the regulation gloves in front of him as if exhibiting some kind of a trophy. Rodger snaked through the ropes and stood before Lester as he worked the laces tight on each glove. The crowd bunched around the young man in blue trunks, Reb’s friend. Rodger sized him up. A knockout in the first round. Big Red had schooled him on guys that came into the ring like bulls. Determined. All set for a kill. Easily killed.
The air crackled with alien voices. Rodger scanned the tops of the heads. He knew no one. Lester took his position behind the corner post. The voices blended to a drone.
The smell of his own sweat stung his nose. He clicked his mouthpiece into place. He felt sharp, ready. Energy coursed through his arms and buoyed his legs.
The bell clanged. He jumped up. His opponent in blue satin trunks with black initials “C T” on the left leg came bobbing into the center like a rubber toy.
Rodger slowed his step, teasing the man into a dance. C T swung wild, and Rodger stepped lightly away from the flying fist. He waited. CT came into his quarter circle.
Rodger cut him down.
The crowd was stunned into silence. Then the buzz swelled into a roar, crying victory for the next man, Reb. Lester offered Rodger the water jug and spit tube. His quick motions were efficient, yet oddly deferential.
Lester leaned and whispered in his ear, “Don’ like it quick, do they?”
Rodger shook his head, watching Reb getting laced up in his gloves. About the same build as he, maybe a pound or two heavier. Reb’s olive skin glistened with sweat; hard muscles rippled as he flexed his arms. He casually swiveled his head, giving Rodger a hard, brief once‑over.
“They want their money’s worth,” Rodger patted Lester on the shoulder. “I’ll give ’em what they want.”
He sucked his mouthpiece into place and waited for the bell. Reb stared him down. Rodger leaned forward, not blinking. Reb blinked, bobbing up as the bell jangled. Rodger was on the balls of his feet and swaying as Reb came at him.
They sparred. Reb was not so easily led as his friend, a better match for Rodger. Rodger pulled away from an uppercut. He nicked Reb’s jaw. Reb came in for him from the left. Rodger blocked. This man knew about dancing, too.
After the second round, Lester scolded, “Keep inside of ‘im. Don’ let ‘im come into your right.”
Third round. Shorty, commanding as a referee, bounded out of the ring. Rodger eyed the surly throng that lined the outside of the ring. Money poked up from fists, waved about like banners.
The bell. He leaped into the center of the ring. Reb charged him. Too late, he saw the gloved hand coming at him. He took the blow on his ear. The pain surprised him, giving Reb the edge. Rodger took another blow in the gut.
“Come on, old man, come and get me,” sneered Reb.
Maddened, Rodger lunged at his smirking opponent. He fended a blow to his left. Then his head cleared, and he knew the game Reb played.
Rodger dropped away from him, taking a sting on the shoulder. Reb closed in. Rodger bored down on top of him. One-two, one-two, one-two, three.
It was over.
Rodger looked down at the astonished face of Shorty. He smiled.
“Pay day,” he said. He turned and walked to his corner where Lester rubbed his aching shoulders and toweled him down.
He relished the cold of the metal post against his spine. Lester’s face was split by the white of his smile. Rodger tilted his head back and spoke wearily, “Just bill me as the ‘Bloodless Wonder.’ Madison Square Garden.”
Lester nodded in happy agreement. His hands worked deeper into the aching of his flesh. Reb and his friend were gone, out of sight of the crowd that had roared just a few minutes ago for their victory, now the men and women muttered angrily as their money changed hands.
Rodger shrugged off Lester. He took the towel and patted his face. His ear burned. His eye had already filmed over. The bodies crowding around the ring swayed back and forth. He inhaled deeply, breathing out hard. He climbed out of the ring and headed for the showers.
Lester trailed behind him. Voices trumpeted, and Rodger heard his name. He ducked into the stall and twisted the faucets on hard. Hot water pelted him, and he closed his eyes as a cloud of steam engulfed him. He drifted, then hearing voices, he lathered quickly and rinsed, stepping out, greeted by a towel thrust from Lester’s hand.
“Shorty’s got somethin’ for ya,” Lester gloated. “Man, oh, man, ya took in some winnings.”
Rodger dried off, careful of the tender spots. He felt his left eye begin to swell, and as he surreptitiously peeked into the mirror, he noted a bruise on his cheek. He dressed. Lester dogged his footsteps until he spun around and spoke to him “Listen, go tell Shorty I sent you to pick up my cut.” As Lester nodded and sprinted away to the main gym, Rodger ducked out the back door. He looked to his left, then his right, up the street and down, just in case Reb and his friend were waiting for him. It might have been a fair fight, but there are no honest losers.
As he came to the corner, his eyes strained to catch any movements in the shadows, and his ears prickled at the sounds of voices behind him. He strolled along, scanning to the right and left of him all of the way to his mother’s house.
The women bunched in the kitchen, not aware that he had come in the front door. He rattled his duffle bag, throwing it against the wall as he approached the kitchen. His Aunt Carrie screeched at the sight of him. Madeline turned from the sink and eyed him severely.
“Such savagery, Rodger.” She gripped the counter’s edge. “I’d thought you’d have outgrown this nonsense.” She wiped her hands on a green towel and motioned them into the living room.
Adele stepped away from his mother and aunt and ducked into the downstairs den where Jonelle slept. He rubbed his forehead.
“Not as bad as it looks.”
“You’ll be the death of your poor mother,” Carrie flung herself into a plump, upholstered chair. “Not to mention your wife.”
Adele laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Sit a spell. I sneaked a cold beer from home. Rode at the baby’s feet.” She placed the bottle into his hands. Then, cupping her hands over his around the bottle, she pressed them gently against his cheek. “To the victor belong the spoils.”
Painfully, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “How do you know some things before I tell you?”
Adele kissed him on his good ear. “Intuition.” She straightened, stepping away from the couch. “A lady always knows her knight and, like a good book, knows how to read him.”
Rodger caught her hand and held it, pulling her close again so that he could whisper in her ear. “I’m a good read in bed, too.”
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
Forcing the Hand of God: Chapter 22
Ada lagged behind Rodger and his uncle as they left the ticket window to go outside and wait in the boarding area. The platform shook as the ten‑o‑five came rumbling in, on time. Rodger nodded, satisfied, and pocketed his father’s railroad watch. Dust whipped through the air as the passenger train came to a noisy halt.
Rodger clapped his uncle on the shoulder.
“Be a while before I see you again,” at once regretting Kyle’s departure, but weary of his advice, “so take it easy, old man.”
Kyle threw an arm around Rodger’s shoulders and spoke confidentially into his ear.
“Remember what I said about the three kinds of heroes?”
“Yeah, the scared, the quiet, and the showy ones.” Rodger thought of his dad, his self-confidence all these years, knowing what he was about.
“Well, there’s another kind. The military man. Not the glory hound or fighter jock. This man’s intelligent, capable, and above all else, loyal. To a fault. No mountain too high for him to scale or a war too far away. He walks along the edge of an abyss and dares man or God. He’s the man the Greeks immortalized.” Kyle sighed, dropping his arm from Rodger’s shoulder.
Rodger kept his face expressionless. Kyle frowned at the ground.
“Reconsider going overseas, son. You’ve done your duty.”
Rodger smiled. “You’d better say good‑bye to Ada again. Never figured you for a love‑’em-and-leave‑’em kind of guy.” He went and sat on a bench as Ada met Kyle.
Ada gave Kyle a sisterly hug. But Kyle’s hand reached and held Ada’s, prolonging the lovers’ moment. Rodger looked away. Seeing Kyle and Ada together made him a little uncomfortable, yet it hadn’t surprised Adele at all.
He made a fist and pounded lightly on the wooden back of the bench. There had been so many little things that got to him. Perhaps he’d been away from home too long. He’d felt a keen disappointment with his uncle, the only man left in the family who should have understood his position. He closed his eyes, letting the sunshine warm his face. Ada had said his father had given him wings; it seemed lately everyone wanted to clip them.
When he looked over again, Ada was standing alone. Kyle waved from the window as the train pulled away. Rodger jumped up and walked briskly to Ada’s side. Thank God she didn’t cry. He reached for and squeezed her arm.
“Want a cup of coffee at Joe’s?”
Ada nodded. “We shouldn’t be too long, though,” she peered at him, “if you’re serious about remodeling that kitchen. Adele said she would be at the house by eleven‑thirty.”
“Of course, I’m serious, that’s why I bought all the material,” Rodger retorted, leading her by the arm to the car.
“And left it so that I have to climb over it every time I go out the back door.”
As Rodger eased onto the car seat next to Ada, he pitched his head backwards toward the depot.
“I’ve lost the only ally this side of the continent.”
Ada’s laughter blended with the purring of the Chevy’s engine. “It must be hard living with women.”
Out of habit, Rodger scanned the sky above and over each shoulder before he released the brake. “I find salvation at the gym.”
Ada watched him. “Are you doing well?”
Rodger parked the car at the diner and grinned at her. “Better than I thought. I’m in great shape, and it’s all still there.” He squared his shoulders. “Those two kids don’t know what they’re up against.”
Ada’s lips drew thin. “Do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you trying to prove something?”
“That I haven’t forgotten.”
“I don’t expect you’ll ever forget much, Rodger.”
Ada slid out the door and walked unescorted into the café. Rodger followed her and sat across from her at a table.
“Miz Ada,” the proprietor scurried beside the table, nodding respectfully at her. “Rodger? Is it really you?” The small man’s eyes bulged comically. “Sure good to see you back, son.” Joe beamed. “Home for good, son?”
“No, leaving soon.” Rodger shredded the paper napkin along the edges. “Just coffee for us.”
“Right up. Fresh pot, too.” Joe wiped his hands on the white apron as he left.
The silence stretched between him and Ada until Joe slapped the cups down in front of them. “Now, you come round and see me while you’re here. Talk about the old times.”
“I will, Joe. See ya around.”
Another customer came in and sat at the counter. Rodger recognized Mr. Tollsend, the president of the Longhorn Bank. He nodded to Mr. Tollsend, then faced Ada.
“Offered me a job last week.”
Ada stirred her coffee, although she hadn’t used either sugar or cream.
“Have you considered it?” Then setting the spoon alongside the cup, she added hastily, “The pay would be good. Adele and Jonelle would be happy here.” Her forehead wrinkled. “And, Rodger, you’d be good at a management job.”
Rodger lowered his voice, “I told him I’d think about it. But,” he recoiled, “I’d never fit in, Ada. You know that. Maybe I’ll go to college on the GI bill. There’s a future in airplanes for commercial use.”
Rodger scratched the bridge of his nose and leaned onto his elbows, close to Ada. “It’s gonna be a hot ‘un today, Miss Ada. A real scorcher. Maybe me and the wife’ll go on down to the creek for a spell and let the kids catch ’em some crawdads.”
Ada bit her bottom lip to cover her smile. “I’ve missed your incisive comments on our small town ways.”
“Commentator, that’s me.” He slurped his coffee. He held up a hand and ticked off his fingers.
“Weather, kids, family; or family, kids, and weather.”
Ada paused, the cup halfway to her lips, then replaced it without sipping any coffee. “Perhaps there’s a reason to think about one’s family. There’s safety in the familiar.”
“Safetytown, U.S.A. It’s what the damn war’s all about.”
“No, Rodger,” Ada gazed at him evenly, “that was World War I.”
Rodger drummed his fingers on the table. “Adele seems to like it here.”
“She’s the kind of woman who makes her own life, Rodger.” Ada gave him a little smile. “She’d adapt in the Mojave Desert.”
Rodger played his napkin corner back and forth. “I think it’d be a mistake to move her out to Texas with me. I might not be at one base too long.”
Ada shook her head, negating him. “You’ll have to give yourselves time to make happiness. Get used to one another.” She slumped back against the chair. “All this week you’ve been working frantically. Have you ever heard of a carpenter wasp?”
Rodger chuckled. “I feel a parable coming on.”
Ada continued, ignoring his remark. “Carpenter wasps are the most intelligent species of either bees or wasps. They cut tubular nests in wood. The males die during cold weather, but the females live on to start a new colony.”
Rodger draped an arm over the end of his chair. “So I better finish this project before the first snowfall?”
“No, I just brought it up so I could get around to asking what’s bothering you.” Ada chipped at the tabletop with a fingernail. “I remember you when you were younger. Always attacking the yard work before a big game or fight with the vigor of a man possessed.”
“Maybe I am possessed.” He tried to figure out what Ada wanted from him. She had loved Sam and Uncle Kyle. Not exactly the kind of men who were root‑bound. “This town’s too small for me.”
Ada turned her head and looked out the window. “There’ll be changes. Just you wait and see how fast this town changes, Rodger. It’s in the air. And perhaps,” she twisted back to stare directly at him, “you’re part of it. Rachel talks about going to college, maybe getting into medicine. A career! And your mother encourages both girls to think about a college education and a career.”
He pondered that for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He pulled out his wallet and laid the dollar across the check. “This’ll cover it.”
Standing by the car, he pulled himself into a long stretch. Ada cocked her head to one side. “Your shoulder healed fast.”
Rodger hunched his shoulders, then pushed them in small circles. “Been working out every day. Makes a difference.” He paused, and she stopped beside the car. “If you want, I’ll go with you to the cemetery and tend Sam’s grave. Anytime.”
Ada’s face set, a sad mask of her other self.
“No, Rodger. I’ve said my good‑bye.” She eased herself into the car, and Rodger shut the door. Ada rolled down the window and leaned out to speak to him. “When’s your match?”
He walked around the car, opened the door, and got in. “Friday afternoon.”
Ada nodded. She sat pleasantly silent on the way home. Rodger hummed. They spied Adele rounding the corner with the baby buggy at the same time.
She waved, hurrying over to them as they climbed out of the car.
“Whew! I feel like I’ve walked a mile!”
“Come in and rest a spell with a cold drink.” Ada gripped Adele’s elbow and led her to the steps. “Rodger can bring the baby and buggy up onto the porch for us.” Adele disappeared into the house with Ada.
Rodger bent over his sleeping daughter. The deep creases in her face had smoothed out, and she no longer looked like living parchment paper. She suckled in her sleep. He tapped her tiny fist with his forefinger. She stirred.
“Hey, doll baby,” he whispered, “it’s Daddy.”
Jonelle opened one sleepy eye and then closed it again. She yawned and threw her fisted hands into the air, arching her back. Rodger leaned in and scooped her up.
“Come out and see the world.” He sat on the porch step and propped her in his arms.
He wanted to say something important to her, like a father should to his daughter, but the words evaporated. Jonelle strained against his arm. Such a solid little creature. Her fine, dark hair might have been penciled in. He ran his hand over her downy head, letting his palm rest on the pulsating soft spot. She made strange, gurgling noises in her throat, neither crying nor demanding, as her head wobbled right and left. Suddenly, he thought of LinChing. He had always tried to do the right thing for Mary Elizabeth, just hoping his best was good enough. Rodger looked down at Jonelle. “That’s about all anyone can do, just his best.” Someone rustled behind him.
“Would you like a cold drink?” Adele poised the glass over his head.
“You wouldn’t dare do anything of the kind,” Rodger looked up, “because I am holding your daughter in ransom.”
Adele leaned down and kissed him on the lips. “I’ll pay, just name your price.”
Rodger reached for the glass. “You can’t afford it.”
Adele stepped down next to him. “Fred Hewling called this morning. Has a job offer, if you’re interested.”
“Nope.” Rodger chewed an ice cube. “I don’t figure on settling down here.”
Adele shrugged. “That’s okay by me. And baby.” She twisted a loose thread along the hem of her shirt sleeve. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow. It’s been like that since the dawn of time.”
“It’ll be best for you both to stay here for now, though.” Rodger slipped the glass down Adele’s bare leg. She jumped back. “Don’t know where I’ll end up.”
“You’ll stay stateside, won’t you?” Adele’s eyebrows pinched together. “You’ll be satisfied instructing?”
Rodger stared in front of him. Jonelle lay quiet in the crook of his arm. “Depends.”
“You’ve got a lot more to lose than just your life.” Adele’s voice hardened.
“And who doesn’t? Damn it, Adele, has it been so long ago that you’ve forgotten? Practically all the guys are married and have one or two kids. I’m nothing special.”
Adele massaged his arm. “You are to me.”
Rodger lifted his arm with her hand still on it and kissed her five fingers. “You make me that way.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll work around here until four and then go to the gym.”
Adele sat down next to him, gripping his arm.
“Must you go through with the fight?”
Rodger cringed. “Of course. It’s not a big thing, Adele. Just a game to see who wins.”
She patted him. “I know. It’s just we haven’t been together much, even though we’re in the same place at the same time.”
“I’ll be back for dinner. Do you want me to swing by here and walk home with you?”
Adele plopped her chin in her hands. “You always slide the subject right on by me. Like fast pitch.” She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “No, I promised your mother we’d have dinner with her. I got her to change it to six‑thirty.”
Rodger rolled his eyes. “Wonderful.”
Adele wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “Rodger, she has good intentions.”
Rodger drank deep of lemonade. “This takes me back to when I was a kid.” He smacked his lips and Jonelle flinched. Rodger looked down. “Ada’d bring me something iced as soon as I got done with the chores.”
Adele reached over and took the baby from him. “Well, you got the reward before the labor today. Get busy.”
Rodger sprang up, dramatically pointing to Jonelle. “Who’ll protect this poor child from such a taskmaster?”
Adele slapped at his knee. “Holler if you need any help and I’ll make a note of ignoring you.”
They walked side by side into the house where Ada sat at her sewing machine, rubbing her arthritic hands together. She pushed her glasses against her nose and peered at the material in front of her.
Rodger stopped and pointed. “Whose?”
“Kathy Weatherling’s christening her baby boy this Saturday. I have to get it done.”
“Must be her second? Geez. We can come back tomorrow.” Rodger rinsed his ice cubes into the sink. “That way you won’t be disturbed.”
Ada pinned him with her unblinking eyes. “You won’t be interrupting me.”
Rodger threw off his shirt. He worked out by the garden, well into the afternoon, until Adele called to him to come and eat lunch. He wolfed down his sandwich then returned to the backyard.
As Adele tidied the kitchen, Ada returned to the sewing machine. Adele fed and rocked the baby asleep, then laid her down. She came out to where Rodger was sawing a two‑by‑four.
“I’m going to pull out a weed or two,” she dipped to one knee and tugged at a plant.
Rodger mopped his forehead. “I’m going to be working inside.”
Adele blocked his retreat. Rodger stared back into her probing eyes. If there were no words for it, there couldn’t be any conflict.
Adele started to speak to him, then turned back to the garden. “My timing seems to be off.”
In the kitchen, Rodger hammered steadily, enjoying the rhythm of the swing and smack and listened with one ear for the old grandfather clock. He had lowered one set of cabinets when the clock chimed three o’clock.
Outside, he could see Adele and Ada sitting beneath the awning talking. Rodger took a step back to the opened window and listened to snatches of their conversation.
Ada gestured at the garden. “... time and so much dying. He’s still reacting to all that.”
Adele shook her head vigorously. “No, it’s something else. He’s closed down. Away.”
He ran his hand along the underside of the cabinet, then turned and looked out the kitchen window at his mother’s house. Choices. He had to choose.
He had known long ago, when he had left for Chicago to fight in the Golden Gloves, that he’d made up his mind not to come back. That night before leaving, he’d gone into his sisters’ room and stood there for a while as they lay sleeping, whispering baby snores, and the moonlight streamed in from an uncurtained window across the beds. He had known that by leaving he would step across that threshold into another reality, the real world where he would be on his own. And maybe never come back home again.
He ran the cold water and washed his hands, fixing his stare on the upstairs bedroom window. His father had snagged him on the way out the door, asking if he could do anything for him. All Rodger had wanted was for him to be there, for the fight, for his big victory. But his Dad had commitments to the bank, and he was sorry he couldn’t make it to Chicago to see him fight. Rodger understood. Only too well.
He dried his hands on a rag flecked with varnish. He wanted to grab Adele, shout out loud and clear that he loved her. He loved their baby. But damn it, he was not the summation of their lives in this small town where he’d always be known as John’s boy, The Kid or a war hero.
Ada’s voice drifted through the still afternoon air. “And the military is his only opportunity for flying.”
“Goddamn planes!” Adele sniped. “He’ll never be unfaithful as long he has a flying mistress.” She twisted aside. “I loved to fly, but I guess it wasn’t my whole life.”
Rodger went to the window and watched the two women.
Ada leaned forward, clasping Adele’s hand. “He’s a man with direction and purpose. And I’ve a deep down feeling we won’t ever stop him from going where he wants.”
Rodger grabbed his shirt and buttoned it as he left through the front door to go to the gym. He shook free of strain as he walked along the sidewalk. Maybe Ada was right. Maybe this town would change. The unlit gaslights reflected the glaring sunlight. Rodger shielded his eyes as he searched the cloudless blue sky. Maybe it was the quiet that got to him.
He didn’t mind the curious stares of the youthful men in the gym training beside him. Like during a preflight check, the adrenalin began flowing, and his mind focused sharply on the mission ahead of him. Every day, the two younger men were there sparring in the ring or working the bags. Rodger skipped rope, eyeing Reb and his friend as they jigged in the ring.
He offered to spar with a thin Negro boy who never spoke. Rodger liked this dark‑skinned, morose kid, who took it all too seriously. Rodger was huskier, but moved lightly on the balls of his feet. The long arms of his opponent stung with well‑placed punches.
Rodger held back. Whoops and hollers for the Negro echoed around the gym. It was always like that, people not really knowing what’s behind the obvious. Big Red had warned him early on never to show his style in the prelims. Like a good poker game, leave ’em guessing. He fended off an onslaught of fists but took a jab in his middle. At the end of the third round, their time up, he slipped off the gloves and extended a hand.
“Good show, kid.” The young man returned the handshake. Rodger waited for him to say something, but he didn’t speak. As they separated to go to the showers, Rodger noted with satisfaction that the men clustered in two groups placing bets on tomorrow’s fight.
He left amidst snide remarks and jeers of his hometown crowd, satisfied that he had them right where he wanted them.
Rodger clapped his uncle on the shoulder.
“Be a while before I see you again,” at once regretting Kyle’s departure, but weary of his advice, “so take it easy, old man.”
Kyle threw an arm around Rodger’s shoulders and spoke confidentially into his ear.
“Remember what I said about the three kinds of heroes?”
“Yeah, the scared, the quiet, and the showy ones.” Rodger thought of his dad, his self-confidence all these years, knowing what he was about.
“Well, there’s another kind. The military man. Not the glory hound or fighter jock. This man’s intelligent, capable, and above all else, loyal. To a fault. No mountain too high for him to scale or a war too far away. He walks along the edge of an abyss and dares man or God. He’s the man the Greeks immortalized.” Kyle sighed, dropping his arm from Rodger’s shoulder.
Rodger kept his face expressionless. Kyle frowned at the ground.
“Reconsider going overseas, son. You’ve done your duty.”
Rodger smiled. “You’d better say good‑bye to Ada again. Never figured you for a love‑’em-and-leave‑’em kind of guy.” He went and sat on a bench as Ada met Kyle.
Ada gave Kyle a sisterly hug. But Kyle’s hand reached and held Ada’s, prolonging the lovers’ moment. Rodger looked away. Seeing Kyle and Ada together made him a little uncomfortable, yet it hadn’t surprised Adele at all.
He made a fist and pounded lightly on the wooden back of the bench. There had been so many little things that got to him. Perhaps he’d been away from home too long. He’d felt a keen disappointment with his uncle, the only man left in the family who should have understood his position. He closed his eyes, letting the sunshine warm his face. Ada had said his father had given him wings; it seemed lately everyone wanted to clip them.
When he looked over again, Ada was standing alone. Kyle waved from the window as the train pulled away. Rodger jumped up and walked briskly to Ada’s side. Thank God she didn’t cry. He reached for and squeezed her arm.
“Want a cup of coffee at Joe’s?”
Ada nodded. “We shouldn’t be too long, though,” she peered at him, “if you’re serious about remodeling that kitchen. Adele said she would be at the house by eleven‑thirty.”
“Of course, I’m serious, that’s why I bought all the material,” Rodger retorted, leading her by the arm to the car.
“And left it so that I have to climb over it every time I go out the back door.”
As Rodger eased onto the car seat next to Ada, he pitched his head backwards toward the depot.
“I’ve lost the only ally this side of the continent.”
Ada’s laughter blended with the purring of the Chevy’s engine. “It must be hard living with women.”
Out of habit, Rodger scanned the sky above and over each shoulder before he released the brake. “I find salvation at the gym.”
Ada watched him. “Are you doing well?”
Rodger parked the car at the diner and grinned at her. “Better than I thought. I’m in great shape, and it’s all still there.” He squared his shoulders. “Those two kids don’t know what they’re up against.”
Ada’s lips drew thin. “Do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you trying to prove something?”
“That I haven’t forgotten.”
“I don’t expect you’ll ever forget much, Rodger.”
Ada slid out the door and walked unescorted into the café. Rodger followed her and sat across from her at a table.
“Miz Ada,” the proprietor scurried beside the table, nodding respectfully at her. “Rodger? Is it really you?” The small man’s eyes bulged comically. “Sure good to see you back, son.” Joe beamed. “Home for good, son?”
“No, leaving soon.” Rodger shredded the paper napkin along the edges. “Just coffee for us.”
“Right up. Fresh pot, too.” Joe wiped his hands on the white apron as he left.
The silence stretched between him and Ada until Joe slapped the cups down in front of them. “Now, you come round and see me while you’re here. Talk about the old times.”
“I will, Joe. See ya around.”
Another customer came in and sat at the counter. Rodger recognized Mr. Tollsend, the president of the Longhorn Bank. He nodded to Mr. Tollsend, then faced Ada.
“Offered me a job last week.”
Ada stirred her coffee, although she hadn’t used either sugar or cream.
“Have you considered it?” Then setting the spoon alongside the cup, she added hastily, “The pay would be good. Adele and Jonelle would be happy here.” Her forehead wrinkled. “And, Rodger, you’d be good at a management job.”
Rodger lowered his voice, “I told him I’d think about it. But,” he recoiled, “I’d never fit in, Ada. You know that. Maybe I’ll go to college on the GI bill. There’s a future in airplanes for commercial use.”
Rodger scratched the bridge of his nose and leaned onto his elbows, close to Ada. “It’s gonna be a hot ‘un today, Miss Ada. A real scorcher. Maybe me and the wife’ll go on down to the creek for a spell and let the kids catch ’em some crawdads.”
Ada bit her bottom lip to cover her smile. “I’ve missed your incisive comments on our small town ways.”
“Commentator, that’s me.” He slurped his coffee. He held up a hand and ticked off his fingers.
“Weather, kids, family; or family, kids, and weather.”
Ada paused, the cup halfway to her lips, then replaced it without sipping any coffee. “Perhaps there’s a reason to think about one’s family. There’s safety in the familiar.”
“Safetytown, U.S.A. It’s what the damn war’s all about.”
“No, Rodger,” Ada gazed at him evenly, “that was World War I.”
Rodger drummed his fingers on the table. “Adele seems to like it here.”
“She’s the kind of woman who makes her own life, Rodger.” Ada gave him a little smile. “She’d adapt in the Mojave Desert.”
Rodger played his napkin corner back and forth. “I think it’d be a mistake to move her out to Texas with me. I might not be at one base too long.”
Ada shook her head, negating him. “You’ll have to give yourselves time to make happiness. Get used to one another.” She slumped back against the chair. “All this week you’ve been working frantically. Have you ever heard of a carpenter wasp?”
Rodger chuckled. “I feel a parable coming on.”
Ada continued, ignoring his remark. “Carpenter wasps are the most intelligent species of either bees or wasps. They cut tubular nests in wood. The males die during cold weather, but the females live on to start a new colony.”
Rodger draped an arm over the end of his chair. “So I better finish this project before the first snowfall?”
“No, I just brought it up so I could get around to asking what’s bothering you.” Ada chipped at the tabletop with a fingernail. “I remember you when you were younger. Always attacking the yard work before a big game or fight with the vigor of a man possessed.”
“Maybe I am possessed.” He tried to figure out what Ada wanted from him. She had loved Sam and Uncle Kyle. Not exactly the kind of men who were root‑bound. “This town’s too small for me.”
Ada turned her head and looked out the window. “There’ll be changes. Just you wait and see how fast this town changes, Rodger. It’s in the air. And perhaps,” she twisted back to stare directly at him, “you’re part of it. Rachel talks about going to college, maybe getting into medicine. A career! And your mother encourages both girls to think about a college education and a career.”
He pondered that for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He pulled out his wallet and laid the dollar across the check. “This’ll cover it.”
Standing by the car, he pulled himself into a long stretch. Ada cocked her head to one side. “Your shoulder healed fast.”
Rodger hunched his shoulders, then pushed them in small circles. “Been working out every day. Makes a difference.” He paused, and she stopped beside the car. “If you want, I’ll go with you to the cemetery and tend Sam’s grave. Anytime.”
Ada’s face set, a sad mask of her other self.
“No, Rodger. I’ve said my good‑bye.” She eased herself into the car, and Rodger shut the door. Ada rolled down the window and leaned out to speak to him. “When’s your match?”
He walked around the car, opened the door, and got in. “Friday afternoon.”
Ada nodded. She sat pleasantly silent on the way home. Rodger hummed. They spied Adele rounding the corner with the baby buggy at the same time.
She waved, hurrying over to them as they climbed out of the car.
“Whew! I feel like I’ve walked a mile!”
“Come in and rest a spell with a cold drink.” Ada gripped Adele’s elbow and led her to the steps. “Rodger can bring the baby and buggy up onto the porch for us.” Adele disappeared into the house with Ada.
Rodger bent over his sleeping daughter. The deep creases in her face had smoothed out, and she no longer looked like living parchment paper. She suckled in her sleep. He tapped her tiny fist with his forefinger. She stirred.
“Hey, doll baby,” he whispered, “it’s Daddy.”
Jonelle opened one sleepy eye and then closed it again. She yawned and threw her fisted hands into the air, arching her back. Rodger leaned in and scooped her up.
“Come out and see the world.” He sat on the porch step and propped her in his arms.
He wanted to say something important to her, like a father should to his daughter, but the words evaporated. Jonelle strained against his arm. Such a solid little creature. Her fine, dark hair might have been penciled in. He ran his hand over her downy head, letting his palm rest on the pulsating soft spot. She made strange, gurgling noises in her throat, neither crying nor demanding, as her head wobbled right and left. Suddenly, he thought of LinChing. He had always tried to do the right thing for Mary Elizabeth, just hoping his best was good enough. Rodger looked down at Jonelle. “That’s about all anyone can do, just his best.” Someone rustled behind him.
“Would you like a cold drink?” Adele poised the glass over his head.
“You wouldn’t dare do anything of the kind,” Rodger looked up, “because I am holding your daughter in ransom.”
Adele leaned down and kissed him on the lips. “I’ll pay, just name your price.”
Rodger reached for the glass. “You can’t afford it.”
Adele stepped down next to him. “Fred Hewling called this morning. Has a job offer, if you’re interested.”
“Nope.” Rodger chewed an ice cube. “I don’t figure on settling down here.”
Adele shrugged. “That’s okay by me. And baby.” She twisted a loose thread along the hem of her shirt sleeve. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow. It’s been like that since the dawn of time.”
“It’ll be best for you both to stay here for now, though.” Rodger slipped the glass down Adele’s bare leg. She jumped back. “Don’t know where I’ll end up.”
“You’ll stay stateside, won’t you?” Adele’s eyebrows pinched together. “You’ll be satisfied instructing?”
Rodger stared in front of him. Jonelle lay quiet in the crook of his arm. “Depends.”
“You’ve got a lot more to lose than just your life.” Adele’s voice hardened.
“And who doesn’t? Damn it, Adele, has it been so long ago that you’ve forgotten? Practically all the guys are married and have one or two kids. I’m nothing special.”
Adele massaged his arm. “You are to me.”
Rodger lifted his arm with her hand still on it and kissed her five fingers. “You make me that way.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll work around here until four and then go to the gym.”
Adele sat down next to him, gripping his arm.
“Must you go through with the fight?”
Rodger cringed. “Of course. It’s not a big thing, Adele. Just a game to see who wins.”
She patted him. “I know. It’s just we haven’t been together much, even though we’re in the same place at the same time.”
“I’ll be back for dinner. Do you want me to swing by here and walk home with you?”
Adele plopped her chin in her hands. “You always slide the subject right on by me. Like fast pitch.” She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “No, I promised your mother we’d have dinner with her. I got her to change it to six‑thirty.”
Rodger rolled his eyes. “Wonderful.”
Adele wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “Rodger, she has good intentions.”
Rodger drank deep of lemonade. “This takes me back to when I was a kid.” He smacked his lips and Jonelle flinched. Rodger looked down. “Ada’d bring me something iced as soon as I got done with the chores.”
Adele reached over and took the baby from him. “Well, you got the reward before the labor today. Get busy.”
Rodger sprang up, dramatically pointing to Jonelle. “Who’ll protect this poor child from such a taskmaster?”
Adele slapped at his knee. “Holler if you need any help and I’ll make a note of ignoring you.”
They walked side by side into the house where Ada sat at her sewing machine, rubbing her arthritic hands together. She pushed her glasses against her nose and peered at the material in front of her.
Rodger stopped and pointed. “Whose?”
“Kathy Weatherling’s christening her baby boy this Saturday. I have to get it done.”
“Must be her second? Geez. We can come back tomorrow.” Rodger rinsed his ice cubes into the sink. “That way you won’t be disturbed.”
Ada pinned him with her unblinking eyes. “You won’t be interrupting me.”
Rodger threw off his shirt. He worked out by the garden, well into the afternoon, until Adele called to him to come and eat lunch. He wolfed down his sandwich then returned to the backyard.
As Adele tidied the kitchen, Ada returned to the sewing machine. Adele fed and rocked the baby asleep, then laid her down. She came out to where Rodger was sawing a two‑by‑four.
“I’m going to pull out a weed or two,” she dipped to one knee and tugged at a plant.
Rodger mopped his forehead. “I’m going to be working inside.”
Adele blocked his retreat. Rodger stared back into her probing eyes. If there were no words for it, there couldn’t be any conflict.
Adele started to speak to him, then turned back to the garden. “My timing seems to be off.”
In the kitchen, Rodger hammered steadily, enjoying the rhythm of the swing and smack and listened with one ear for the old grandfather clock. He had lowered one set of cabinets when the clock chimed three o’clock.
Outside, he could see Adele and Ada sitting beneath the awning talking. Rodger took a step back to the opened window and listened to snatches of their conversation.
Ada gestured at the garden. “... time and so much dying. He’s still reacting to all that.”
Adele shook her head vigorously. “No, it’s something else. He’s closed down. Away.”
He ran his hand along the underside of the cabinet, then turned and looked out the kitchen window at his mother’s house. Choices. He had to choose.
He had known long ago, when he had left for Chicago to fight in the Golden Gloves, that he’d made up his mind not to come back. That night before leaving, he’d gone into his sisters’ room and stood there for a while as they lay sleeping, whispering baby snores, and the moonlight streamed in from an uncurtained window across the beds. He had known that by leaving he would step across that threshold into another reality, the real world where he would be on his own. And maybe never come back home again.
He ran the cold water and washed his hands, fixing his stare on the upstairs bedroom window. His father had snagged him on the way out the door, asking if he could do anything for him. All Rodger had wanted was for him to be there, for the fight, for his big victory. But his Dad had commitments to the bank, and he was sorry he couldn’t make it to Chicago to see him fight. Rodger understood. Only too well.
He dried his hands on a rag flecked with varnish. He wanted to grab Adele, shout out loud and clear that he loved her. He loved their baby. But damn it, he was not the summation of their lives in this small town where he’d always be known as John’s boy, The Kid or a war hero.
Ada’s voice drifted through the still afternoon air. “And the military is his only opportunity for flying.”
“Goddamn planes!” Adele sniped. “He’ll never be unfaithful as long he has a flying mistress.” She twisted aside. “I loved to fly, but I guess it wasn’t my whole life.”
Rodger went to the window and watched the two women.
Ada leaned forward, clasping Adele’s hand. “He’s a man with direction and purpose. And I’ve a deep down feeling we won’t ever stop him from going where he wants.”
Rodger grabbed his shirt and buttoned it as he left through the front door to go to the gym. He shook free of strain as he walked along the sidewalk. Maybe Ada was right. Maybe this town would change. The unlit gaslights reflected the glaring sunlight. Rodger shielded his eyes as he searched the cloudless blue sky. Maybe it was the quiet that got to him.
He didn’t mind the curious stares of the youthful men in the gym training beside him. Like during a preflight check, the adrenalin began flowing, and his mind focused sharply on the mission ahead of him. Every day, the two younger men were there sparring in the ring or working the bags. Rodger skipped rope, eyeing Reb and his friend as they jigged in the ring.
He offered to spar with a thin Negro boy who never spoke. Rodger liked this dark‑skinned, morose kid, who took it all too seriously. Rodger was huskier, but moved lightly on the balls of his feet. The long arms of his opponent stung with well‑placed punches.
Rodger held back. Whoops and hollers for the Negro echoed around the gym. It was always like that, people not really knowing what’s behind the obvious. Big Red had warned him early on never to show his style in the prelims. Like a good poker game, leave ’em guessing. He fended off an onslaught of fists but took a jab in his middle. At the end of the third round, their time up, he slipped off the gloves and extended a hand.
“Good show, kid.” The young man returned the handshake. Rodger waited for him to say something, but he didn’t speak. As they separated to go to the showers, Rodger noted with satisfaction that the men clustered in two groups placing bets on tomorrow’s fight.
He left amidst snide remarks and jeers of his hometown crowd, satisfied that he had them right where he wanted them.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Forcing the Hand of God: Chapter 21 (part 2)
“Remember the game against the Chicago Beavers? Boy, the team was sure you’d bitten the dust, but you rallied and went on to score.” Tommy rubbed his hands together. “Sure had us some good times, didn’t we, Rodg?”
Rodger waved them on into the living room.
“Mother, Aunt Carrie, I’d like you to meet my old friend, Tommy Radkins.” Rodger stepped aside. “This is his wife, Cindy.”
Madeline lowered Jonelle from her shoulder, turning to display her sleeping face. “Nice to meet you, Cindy. Of course, I remember Tommy.”
Tommy bowed to Madeline, and then lightly shook Aunt Carrie’s proffered hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Cindy nudged Tommy. “Isn’t she precious?”
Rodger noticed Madeline’s pinched smile, as if she’d bitten into a lemon. He wished for once, just this once, she’d look happy. “Do you two have any children?”
Tommy’s head bobbed in delight. “Yes ma’am. We have three.”
Cindy clasped her hands and held them demurely in front of her, lifting her head so that she could look directly into Rodger’s eyes. “I’d like you to tell Adele that I’d be more than happy to pass on the baby’s things. The little ones grow so fast; they never wear their clothes out.”
Rodger nodded. “Thanks.”
Carrie slapped her knees. “Rodger! Your manners! Why, I bet these good folks would like to sit a spell and talk over a glass of lemonade.”
Jonelle let out a lusty cry. Rodger looked at Madeline, wondering what she could have possibly done to his child. He stepped towards her. The cries grew in intensity, the sound swelling within the small room.
“She’s hungry,” Cindy said quietly.
“Give her to me,” Rodger demanded. “Excuse me while I take her to Adele.” From the corner of his eye, he noticed Tommy and Cindy exchange indulgent smiles.
Adele lay sleeping on her back, her face relaxed, but her right hand held tightly to the bunched bedspread. Rodger hesitated to disturb her. Jonelle screeched and hiccupped. Adele’s eyes flew open. She rolled over.
Rodger laid Jonelle on the bed, close to Adele’s breasts. “She must be hungry.”
“I meant for you bring her when she just started to fuss.” Adele undid the flap on her maternity bra, exposing the nipple, touching Jonelle’s cheek with it.
The baby wailed. Adele made soothing noises to her. Finally, the baby fumbled for the nipple, then latched onto it.
Rodger gawked, fascinated. Desire tickled in his groin. Voices from the other room shook him from his reverie.
“An old friend dropped by. Tommy Radkin.” He continued staring at Adele and the nursing baby. “His wife, Cindy, said to tell you she’d pass on some baby things.”
Adele looked up as if she just remembered he was there.
“Go on back to your friends. I’ll feed her and put her down, then be right out.”
“All right,” Rodger paused before he got to the bedroom door. “I’d never have recognized Tommy walking down the street. He was always such a scrawny kid. Now he’s husky and has a farmer’s tan.”
Adele wiped away some milk dribbling down the baby’s cheek. “Farmer’s tan?”
“Red hands and white forehead.” He leaned close to her, mocking her quizzical expression by wrinkling his nose. “Wearing a hat and long sleeves all day long in the sun. Working his old man’s wheat farm.”
Adele shooed him away. “You’re being rude. Go on.”
“I’d rather be with you.” But he turned and hurried back into the living room.
Aunt Carrie brought out the lemonade in a pitcher on a tray and passed a glass to each of them. Rodger checked his watch and sighed, anxious to push off and go to the gym for his daily workout.
“Boy, this heat’s a killer, huh?” Tommy leaned back and rested his arm across the back of the sofa. His wife nodded.
“Does it affect your crops?” Rodger tipped his glass, letting the cool, sour lemonade slide down his throat, thankful that it was Tommy and not he who had been left behind.
“Only them dust storms. Got most of the hard work out of the way until harvest time. Gonna be around for a while, Rodg?”
“Not very long,” Rodger looked down in his glass. “Got my orders to instruct at Fort Kelly.”
Tommy leaned forward, his hands splayed out on his knees.
“Gonna teach flyin’?”
Rodger pinched the lemon slice, dredging it up to the rim of the glass. “Yeah. New group of Army Flying Tigers.”
“Boy, oh, boy, ya can’t get it out of your system, can ya?” Tommy kneaded his hands. “We’d go sneakin’ down to Bombner Field, and Rodg would take a spin in that old plane of Sam’s. Man as mean as the day were long.”
Rodger eyed Tommy as he bit into the lemon slice.
“Sam was a great flyer.”
“Yeah, I know. Remember that smoker in thirty‑five at Jake’s corner when ya took on Gruesome George? Thought ya were a goner for sure. Never seen anyone so fast at dodgin’ as you Rodger. Should a called yourself ‘Dodgin’ Rodg.’” Tommy guffawed at his little joke.
Rodger chuckled. Madeline shivered, averting her face from Rodger.
“What do you do for fun nowadays, Tommy?” Rodger felt the afternoon speed by, like the slip stream of Sam’s airplane, Lucy.
“Me and Cindy don’t have much time with the farm and three little uns, Rodg. I guess you could say we settle for home entertainment.”
Madeline delicately cleared her throat. “What are the ages of your children, Tommy?”
He shot a quick glance to his wife. “Uh...,”
“Two, four, and six, Mrs. Brown,” Cindy swirled her ice cubes. “Two boys and the baby, Jenny Lyn.”
Tommy scratched his head. “Sorry to hear about your dad, Rodg. Must of been quite a blow to ya.”
Madeline stiffened. Carrie stood up, collecting glasses.
“It was to us all, young man.”
Tommy flushed bright red, stretched his shoulders, before blurting, “Say, Rodg, got a Wednesday night poker game going with the guys. Wanna join us tomorrow night?”
Rodger compressed his smile. “Might. See how the day goes.”
“Well, me and the missus gotta go. Glad we got to see the baby.” Tommy pushed his hand at Rodger.
“Wait for a bit more and meet Adele,” Rodger countered. He heard the door to the bedroom open. “She’s putting the baby down.”
Adele whispered into the room, dressed in a crisp white sundress. She glided over to Rodger and entwined her hand along his arm.
“You must be Rodger’s friends,” Adele spoke evenly, squeezing Rodger’s arm. “I’m ‘The Kid’s’ wife, Adele.”
“Excuse me, honey!” Rodger extended his right hand, palm out. “Meet Tommy and Cindy Radkin.”
They both tipped their heads and sang out jointly, “Pleased to meet ya.”
As Carrie came out from the kitchen, Madeline stood, smoothing her skirt. Rodger recognized an old habit.
“We must be going ourselves, Carrie.” She picked up her purse, and the keys jangled in her hand.
“Rodger, your Uncle Kyle will be leaving tomorrow. He received a telephone call this morning from Washington. He has to go there for a meeting.”
“Tell him I’ll drive him to the station.” Rodger led the group out to the porch. “Tommy, it was great seeing you again.” He stared into the solid green eyes of Cindy. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Adele folded her long legs crosswise as she sat on the porch swing. Rodger waved until his arm ached, as Madeline and Carrie left, then Tommy and Cindy pulled away in their noisy Ford truck. He sat down on the porch step.
“I wonder if Ada will go with me and Kyle to the train station. I’m sure there’s more than just a friendship between them.”
He studied Adele’s face for a reaction, but she just smiled and gave a little shrug of her shoulders.
“I think they would make a good couple.” She tipped the swing to begin rocking gently as she rested her head on her arm and stared back at Rodger.
Rodger leaned over and stopped the swing so that her face tilted close enough so he could kiss her. He set the swing rocking again.
“I’d like to sneak off for an hour or so.”
“I wouldn’t mind. I’ve started a new book. Think I’ll just soak up some sunshine and read for a while.”
“I’ll get your book for you.” He went quickly to the bedroom and found it on the bedside table. He hastily grabbed the duffle bag with his boxing gear and walked on the balls of his feet down the hall so that his shoes wouldn’t squeak.
“Here.” He handed Adele the book and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “See you later.”
He turned and waved as he walked away. He picked up his pace as he drew closer to downtown, pushing against an inward ticking of precious minutes. He flexed his neck muscles and those along his shoulder and back. Beads of sweat dotted his upper lip and tickled down his sides.
He relished the pull of his muscles as he climbed the stairs two at a time up to the door and let himself in, going directly to the locker room to dress. Today he would spar a little with Reb.
Reb danced around him, throwing a practiced punch. Rodger surprised him with a powerful jab to his jaw, throwing him momentarily off balance. Reb quickened his pace and concentration, making Rodger stay on his toes and dance, dance, dance.
After forty-five minutes, they were exhausted. Rodger smacked his glove against Reb’s. “Nice workout. Thanks.”
“Hey, Pop, you’re good, real good. See you around.” Reb waved to him as he left the ring.
Rodger showered, changed back into his street clothes, and massaging his neck, took the steps slowly as he left the gym. The late afternoon shadows of the sycamore trees that lined the avenue made it seem cooler as Rodger plodded home. His body ached from the strenuous workout. But it was good hurt, a clean hurt. One that he understood.
Silence greeted him as he entered his house. He carefully put down his gear and sat on the arm of the chair to remove his shoes and socks. His feet sucked at the polished wooden floor as he came to the bedroom. Adele lay with the baby on the bed.
“Hey, you two, I’m home.” Rodger plopped on the bed. The baby jerked, and then her head bobbed awkwardly, almost as if searching for his voice. Rodger touched her tiny hand with his index finger. “Do you think she knows who I am?”
Adele chuckled. “Yes, I do. Really.” She reached over and twisted Rodger’s left arm so that she could see his watch. “Let’s eat. She’s been fed and will be good until your turn.” She sat up, adjusted her clothing, and then checked the baby’s diaper.
“Wait a minute before you put her down to sleep.” Rodger went to the dresser and rummaged through his underwear drawer. “I want to give this to Jonelle when she’s twelve years old. Remember I told you about Mary Elizabeth and her birthday dinner?”
He laid the jeweler’s box in Adele’s palm. She flipped the top open.
“What is it?”
“The ivory bead that Mary Elizabeth gave me.” He looked at his daughter. “I got a chain for it.”
Adele teased the chained bead with a finger.
“It’s really quite lovely, isn’t it?” She tilted the box. “Look what Daddy is going to give you, Jonelle. See the pretty necklace?”
Rodger went back to the dresser, extracting his father’s railroad watch from a sock turned inside out.
“Mother said Dad wanted his grandson to have this. I think he’d have changed his mind if he’d seen Jonelle.”
Adele tilted her face upwards, her watchful eyes ferreting for inner truth. “Perhaps you should save it until there’s a son. Carry it with you.”
Rodger snorted. “Like a talisman?”
Adele shook her head, putting the necklace back into the box.
“No.” She paused thoughtfully. “Well, yes, kind of like a talisman.” She swaddled Jonelle in the baby blanket and lay her down to sleep in the middle of the bed.
Rodger flicked his wrist so that the watch on the gold chain began to sway back and forth.
Adele swayed with it. “I’m yours, master. Command me and I shall do your bidding.”
“Dinner, wife. Get me food.”
“Yes, master.” She stood woodenly, working her stiffened arms like an animated toy soldier, and marched toward the kitchen.
Rodger swept up his baby and followed Adele to the kitchen. She heated the tuna casserole as he watched Jonelle’s face, trying to read her expressions.
“What do you suppose she thinks about?”
He moved to one side as Adele put plates, flatware and glasses on the table. She brought the casserole to the table and ladled portions onto each plate.
“Airplanes. She undoubtedly dreams of flying.” Adele motioned for him to give her the baby and sit. “I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.”
Rodger shoveled the casserole into his mouth.
“Uncle Kyle is leaving tomorrow, sooner than expected. I’m going to take him to the train station.”
Adele’s forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t get to see very much of him. Can’t he send Carrie instead?”
“Why, woman! What do mean to imply about my favorite aunt?” Rodger gasped and put his hand over his heart. Then he wiped his mouth, tucking the napkin beside his plate.
“Here, let me have her while you eat.” Rodger nestled Jonelle in the crook of his arm as she slept. “Babies don’t do much, do they?”
Adele ignored him, hurrying to finish her meal. Still chewing her last bite, she rose to do up the dishes. It seemed as if they had been into this routine for many years, right down to night time rituals. Rodger put Jonelle in her bassinet as Adele fixed a bottle of formula, filling the pan half‑full of water to boil.
Rodger eyed the bottle in Adele’s hand. “How do I know if it’s too hot?”
Adele turned her wrist and shook drops from the bottle onto it.
“Inside, remember? It’s the most sensitive.” She clicked her tongue. “Don’t forget to burp her after a minute or so. If you get frustrated, bring her into me.”
“It’ll be duck soup, honey, don’t you worry.” Rodger pushed away from the door frame and peeled off his undershirt. “Bedtime for us.”
Adele ringed his waist with her arms and followed him duck-walking down the hall to their bedroom. They slept in a naked embrace until Jonelle’s squalls woke them.
“I’ll see to her.” Rodger stretched awake.
“Rodger, it’s much easier for me.” Adele rested a hand on his thigh.
“You just wait here.” He got up out of bed.
“Good luck, good knight,” Adele mumbled as Rodger threw on his robe and padded into the baby’s room.
Rodger grew tense as Jonelle’s crying intensified. The water was slow to boil. He tapped the pan. He plunked the bottle into the warming water, swirling it with his right hand as he cradled Jonelle securely to him, like a football. She strained against him, her wailing interrupted by little hiccups.
“Hush, little baby,” he muttered, trying to convince them both to be calm. “Damn, I should have changed your diaper and then let this thing warm.” He turned away from the stove and pried his finger into the side of her wet diaper. He took her back to the nursery, changed her while she continued to bawl, poked his finger with a diaper pin, and sucking on it, he scooted back to the kitchen with Jonelle. She kicked and stiffened her whole body when he tried to place her again in the crook of his arm.
Holding her tight against his shoulder, he paced and patted her back. “Shhh, shhh, little girl. Daddy’ll feed you and rock you and everything will be right with you and the world.”
Exasperated, he looked from the bobbing bottle in the boiling water in the pan around the kitchen trying to figure out what to do with Jonelle. Finally, he decided to return her to the bed and he would just have to let her cry until he could get the bottle ready.
He tested the bottle against the inside of his wrist.
“Ouch!” He closed his eyes and sighed, putting the bottle on the sink board. He could hear Jonelle sobbing in the other room. Adele couldn’t have possibly planned this.
He hurried back to the nursery and swept Jonelle up in her blanket.
“Okay, little girl, let’s go see Mommy.”
“Here, she’s all yours,” Rodger slid the mottle‑faced baby over to Adele. “Do you need lights on?”
“No, I do it by feel.”
Rodger heard the baby greedily gurgling milk; without seeing Adele’s face, he knew she was smiling.
“You don’t impress me as the kind of man who takes the easy way out,” she chuckled.
Rodger nested into his pillow.
“It occurred to me that I was making undue hardships for myself.” He exaggerated a yawn.
“Could you at least stay awake long enough to take her back to her room? It won’t be long. I’ll have to sit up to burp her. Would you give me a hand?”
Adele’s words fell on deaf ears. Rodger had already fallen asleep.
Rodger waved them on into the living room.
“Mother, Aunt Carrie, I’d like you to meet my old friend, Tommy Radkins.” Rodger stepped aside. “This is his wife, Cindy.”
Madeline lowered Jonelle from her shoulder, turning to display her sleeping face. “Nice to meet you, Cindy. Of course, I remember Tommy.”
Tommy bowed to Madeline, and then lightly shook Aunt Carrie’s proffered hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Cindy nudged Tommy. “Isn’t she precious?”
Rodger noticed Madeline’s pinched smile, as if she’d bitten into a lemon. He wished for once, just this once, she’d look happy. “Do you two have any children?”
Tommy’s head bobbed in delight. “Yes ma’am. We have three.”
Cindy clasped her hands and held them demurely in front of her, lifting her head so that she could look directly into Rodger’s eyes. “I’d like you to tell Adele that I’d be more than happy to pass on the baby’s things. The little ones grow so fast; they never wear their clothes out.”
Rodger nodded. “Thanks.”
Carrie slapped her knees. “Rodger! Your manners! Why, I bet these good folks would like to sit a spell and talk over a glass of lemonade.”
Jonelle let out a lusty cry. Rodger looked at Madeline, wondering what she could have possibly done to his child. He stepped towards her. The cries grew in intensity, the sound swelling within the small room.
“She’s hungry,” Cindy said quietly.
“Give her to me,” Rodger demanded. “Excuse me while I take her to Adele.” From the corner of his eye, he noticed Tommy and Cindy exchange indulgent smiles.
Adele lay sleeping on her back, her face relaxed, but her right hand held tightly to the bunched bedspread. Rodger hesitated to disturb her. Jonelle screeched and hiccupped. Adele’s eyes flew open. She rolled over.
Rodger laid Jonelle on the bed, close to Adele’s breasts. “She must be hungry.”
“I meant for you bring her when she just started to fuss.” Adele undid the flap on her maternity bra, exposing the nipple, touching Jonelle’s cheek with it.
The baby wailed. Adele made soothing noises to her. Finally, the baby fumbled for the nipple, then latched onto it.
Rodger gawked, fascinated. Desire tickled in his groin. Voices from the other room shook him from his reverie.
“An old friend dropped by. Tommy Radkin.” He continued staring at Adele and the nursing baby. “His wife, Cindy, said to tell you she’d pass on some baby things.”
Adele looked up as if she just remembered he was there.
“Go on back to your friends. I’ll feed her and put her down, then be right out.”
“All right,” Rodger paused before he got to the bedroom door. “I’d never have recognized Tommy walking down the street. He was always such a scrawny kid. Now he’s husky and has a farmer’s tan.”
Adele wiped away some milk dribbling down the baby’s cheek. “Farmer’s tan?”
“Red hands and white forehead.” He leaned close to her, mocking her quizzical expression by wrinkling his nose. “Wearing a hat and long sleeves all day long in the sun. Working his old man’s wheat farm.”
Adele shooed him away. “You’re being rude. Go on.”
“I’d rather be with you.” But he turned and hurried back into the living room.
Aunt Carrie brought out the lemonade in a pitcher on a tray and passed a glass to each of them. Rodger checked his watch and sighed, anxious to push off and go to the gym for his daily workout.
“Boy, this heat’s a killer, huh?” Tommy leaned back and rested his arm across the back of the sofa. His wife nodded.
“Does it affect your crops?” Rodger tipped his glass, letting the cool, sour lemonade slide down his throat, thankful that it was Tommy and not he who had been left behind.
“Only them dust storms. Got most of the hard work out of the way until harvest time. Gonna be around for a while, Rodg?”
“Not very long,” Rodger looked down in his glass. “Got my orders to instruct at Fort Kelly.”
Tommy leaned forward, his hands splayed out on his knees.
“Gonna teach flyin’?”
Rodger pinched the lemon slice, dredging it up to the rim of the glass. “Yeah. New group of Army Flying Tigers.”
“Boy, oh, boy, ya can’t get it out of your system, can ya?” Tommy kneaded his hands. “We’d go sneakin’ down to Bombner Field, and Rodg would take a spin in that old plane of Sam’s. Man as mean as the day were long.”
Rodger eyed Tommy as he bit into the lemon slice.
“Sam was a great flyer.”
“Yeah, I know. Remember that smoker in thirty‑five at Jake’s corner when ya took on Gruesome George? Thought ya were a goner for sure. Never seen anyone so fast at dodgin’ as you Rodger. Should a called yourself ‘Dodgin’ Rodg.’” Tommy guffawed at his little joke.
Rodger chuckled. Madeline shivered, averting her face from Rodger.
“What do you do for fun nowadays, Tommy?” Rodger felt the afternoon speed by, like the slip stream of Sam’s airplane, Lucy.
“Me and Cindy don’t have much time with the farm and three little uns, Rodg. I guess you could say we settle for home entertainment.”
Madeline delicately cleared her throat. “What are the ages of your children, Tommy?”
He shot a quick glance to his wife. “Uh...,”
“Two, four, and six, Mrs. Brown,” Cindy swirled her ice cubes. “Two boys and the baby, Jenny Lyn.”
Tommy scratched his head. “Sorry to hear about your dad, Rodg. Must of been quite a blow to ya.”
Madeline stiffened. Carrie stood up, collecting glasses.
“It was to us all, young man.”
Tommy flushed bright red, stretched his shoulders, before blurting, “Say, Rodg, got a Wednesday night poker game going with the guys. Wanna join us tomorrow night?”
Rodger compressed his smile. “Might. See how the day goes.”
“Well, me and the missus gotta go. Glad we got to see the baby.” Tommy pushed his hand at Rodger.
“Wait for a bit more and meet Adele,” Rodger countered. He heard the door to the bedroom open. “She’s putting the baby down.”
Adele whispered into the room, dressed in a crisp white sundress. She glided over to Rodger and entwined her hand along his arm.
“You must be Rodger’s friends,” Adele spoke evenly, squeezing Rodger’s arm. “I’m ‘The Kid’s’ wife, Adele.”
“Excuse me, honey!” Rodger extended his right hand, palm out. “Meet Tommy and Cindy Radkin.”
They both tipped their heads and sang out jointly, “Pleased to meet ya.”
As Carrie came out from the kitchen, Madeline stood, smoothing her skirt. Rodger recognized an old habit.
“We must be going ourselves, Carrie.” She picked up her purse, and the keys jangled in her hand.
“Rodger, your Uncle Kyle will be leaving tomorrow. He received a telephone call this morning from Washington. He has to go there for a meeting.”
“Tell him I’ll drive him to the station.” Rodger led the group out to the porch. “Tommy, it was great seeing you again.” He stared into the solid green eyes of Cindy. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Adele folded her long legs crosswise as she sat on the porch swing. Rodger waved until his arm ached, as Madeline and Carrie left, then Tommy and Cindy pulled away in their noisy Ford truck. He sat down on the porch step.
“I wonder if Ada will go with me and Kyle to the train station. I’m sure there’s more than just a friendship between them.”
He studied Adele’s face for a reaction, but she just smiled and gave a little shrug of her shoulders.
“I think they would make a good couple.” She tipped the swing to begin rocking gently as she rested her head on her arm and stared back at Rodger.
Rodger leaned over and stopped the swing so that her face tilted close enough so he could kiss her. He set the swing rocking again.
“I’d like to sneak off for an hour or so.”
“I wouldn’t mind. I’ve started a new book. Think I’ll just soak up some sunshine and read for a while.”
“I’ll get your book for you.” He went quickly to the bedroom and found it on the bedside table. He hastily grabbed the duffle bag with his boxing gear and walked on the balls of his feet down the hall so that his shoes wouldn’t squeak.
“Here.” He handed Adele the book and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “See you later.”
He turned and waved as he walked away. He picked up his pace as he drew closer to downtown, pushing against an inward ticking of precious minutes. He flexed his neck muscles and those along his shoulder and back. Beads of sweat dotted his upper lip and tickled down his sides.
He relished the pull of his muscles as he climbed the stairs two at a time up to the door and let himself in, going directly to the locker room to dress. Today he would spar a little with Reb.
Reb danced around him, throwing a practiced punch. Rodger surprised him with a powerful jab to his jaw, throwing him momentarily off balance. Reb quickened his pace and concentration, making Rodger stay on his toes and dance, dance, dance.
After forty-five minutes, they were exhausted. Rodger smacked his glove against Reb’s. “Nice workout. Thanks.”
“Hey, Pop, you’re good, real good. See you around.” Reb waved to him as he left the ring.
Rodger showered, changed back into his street clothes, and massaging his neck, took the steps slowly as he left the gym. The late afternoon shadows of the sycamore trees that lined the avenue made it seem cooler as Rodger plodded home. His body ached from the strenuous workout. But it was good hurt, a clean hurt. One that he understood.
Silence greeted him as he entered his house. He carefully put down his gear and sat on the arm of the chair to remove his shoes and socks. His feet sucked at the polished wooden floor as he came to the bedroom. Adele lay with the baby on the bed.
“Hey, you two, I’m home.” Rodger plopped on the bed. The baby jerked, and then her head bobbed awkwardly, almost as if searching for his voice. Rodger touched her tiny hand with his index finger. “Do you think she knows who I am?”
Adele chuckled. “Yes, I do. Really.” She reached over and twisted Rodger’s left arm so that she could see his watch. “Let’s eat. She’s been fed and will be good until your turn.” She sat up, adjusted her clothing, and then checked the baby’s diaper.
“Wait a minute before you put her down to sleep.” Rodger went to the dresser and rummaged through his underwear drawer. “I want to give this to Jonelle when she’s twelve years old. Remember I told you about Mary Elizabeth and her birthday dinner?”
He laid the jeweler’s box in Adele’s palm. She flipped the top open.
“What is it?”
“The ivory bead that Mary Elizabeth gave me.” He looked at his daughter. “I got a chain for it.”
Adele teased the chained bead with a finger.
“It’s really quite lovely, isn’t it?” She tilted the box. “Look what Daddy is going to give you, Jonelle. See the pretty necklace?”
Rodger went back to the dresser, extracting his father’s railroad watch from a sock turned inside out.
“Mother said Dad wanted his grandson to have this. I think he’d have changed his mind if he’d seen Jonelle.”
Adele tilted her face upwards, her watchful eyes ferreting for inner truth. “Perhaps you should save it until there’s a son. Carry it with you.”
Rodger snorted. “Like a talisman?”
Adele shook her head, putting the necklace back into the box.
“No.” She paused thoughtfully. “Well, yes, kind of like a talisman.” She swaddled Jonelle in the baby blanket and lay her down to sleep in the middle of the bed.
Rodger flicked his wrist so that the watch on the gold chain began to sway back and forth.
Adele swayed with it. “I’m yours, master. Command me and I shall do your bidding.”
“Dinner, wife. Get me food.”
“Yes, master.” She stood woodenly, working her stiffened arms like an animated toy soldier, and marched toward the kitchen.
Rodger swept up his baby and followed Adele to the kitchen. She heated the tuna casserole as he watched Jonelle’s face, trying to read her expressions.
“What do you suppose she thinks about?”
He moved to one side as Adele put plates, flatware and glasses on the table. She brought the casserole to the table and ladled portions onto each plate.
“Airplanes. She undoubtedly dreams of flying.” Adele motioned for him to give her the baby and sit. “I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.”
Rodger shoveled the casserole into his mouth.
“Uncle Kyle is leaving tomorrow, sooner than expected. I’m going to take him to the train station.”
Adele’s forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t get to see very much of him. Can’t he send Carrie instead?”
“Why, woman! What do mean to imply about my favorite aunt?” Rodger gasped and put his hand over his heart. Then he wiped his mouth, tucking the napkin beside his plate.
“Here, let me have her while you eat.” Rodger nestled Jonelle in the crook of his arm as she slept. “Babies don’t do much, do they?”
Adele ignored him, hurrying to finish her meal. Still chewing her last bite, she rose to do up the dishes. It seemed as if they had been into this routine for many years, right down to night time rituals. Rodger put Jonelle in her bassinet as Adele fixed a bottle of formula, filling the pan half‑full of water to boil.
Rodger eyed the bottle in Adele’s hand. “How do I know if it’s too hot?”
Adele turned her wrist and shook drops from the bottle onto it.
“Inside, remember? It’s the most sensitive.” She clicked her tongue. “Don’t forget to burp her after a minute or so. If you get frustrated, bring her into me.”
“It’ll be duck soup, honey, don’t you worry.” Rodger pushed away from the door frame and peeled off his undershirt. “Bedtime for us.”
Adele ringed his waist with her arms and followed him duck-walking down the hall to their bedroom. They slept in a naked embrace until Jonelle’s squalls woke them.
“I’ll see to her.” Rodger stretched awake.
“Rodger, it’s much easier for me.” Adele rested a hand on his thigh.
“You just wait here.” He got up out of bed.
“Good luck, good knight,” Adele mumbled as Rodger threw on his robe and padded into the baby’s room.
Rodger grew tense as Jonelle’s crying intensified. The water was slow to boil. He tapped the pan. He plunked the bottle into the warming water, swirling it with his right hand as he cradled Jonelle securely to him, like a football. She strained against him, her wailing interrupted by little hiccups.
“Hush, little baby,” he muttered, trying to convince them both to be calm. “Damn, I should have changed your diaper and then let this thing warm.” He turned away from the stove and pried his finger into the side of her wet diaper. He took her back to the nursery, changed her while she continued to bawl, poked his finger with a diaper pin, and sucking on it, he scooted back to the kitchen with Jonelle. She kicked and stiffened her whole body when he tried to place her again in the crook of his arm.
Holding her tight against his shoulder, he paced and patted her back. “Shhh, shhh, little girl. Daddy’ll feed you and rock you and everything will be right with you and the world.”
Exasperated, he looked from the bobbing bottle in the boiling water in the pan around the kitchen trying to figure out what to do with Jonelle. Finally, he decided to return her to the bed and he would just have to let her cry until he could get the bottle ready.
He tested the bottle against the inside of his wrist.
“Ouch!” He closed his eyes and sighed, putting the bottle on the sink board. He could hear Jonelle sobbing in the other room. Adele couldn’t have possibly planned this.
He hurried back to the nursery and swept Jonelle up in her blanket.
“Okay, little girl, let’s go see Mommy.”
“Here, she’s all yours,” Rodger slid the mottle‑faced baby over to Adele. “Do you need lights on?”
“No, I do it by feel.”
Rodger heard the baby greedily gurgling milk; without seeing Adele’s face, he knew she was smiling.
“You don’t impress me as the kind of man who takes the easy way out,” she chuckled.
Rodger nested into his pillow.
“It occurred to me that I was making undue hardships for myself.” He exaggerated a yawn.
“Could you at least stay awake long enough to take her back to her room? It won’t be long. I’ll have to sit up to burp her. Would you give me a hand?”
Adele’s words fell on deaf ears. Rodger had already fallen asleep.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
Read Forcing the Hand of God Online for FREE
Fighter Pilot Major Rodger Brown of the Flying Tigers is deep in the thick of World War II. Back home, his pregnant wife, long time friend, parents, and younger sisters anxiously await his return. Torn between his obligations to his country and family, Rodger is a man tormented by the realization that he prefers battle in the air than the drudgery of everyday life on the ground.
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- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17 - Part 1 and Part 2
- Chapter 18 - Part 1 and Part 2
- Chapter 19 - Part 1 and Part 2
- Chapter 20 - Part 1 and Part 2
- Chapter 21 - Part 1 and Part 2
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23 - Part 1 and Part 2
- Chapter 24
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Forcing the Hand of God: Chapter 21 (part 1)
Rodger leaned against the wall, enchanted by Adele’s swift and graceful movements as she crammed her few things into the suitcase.
“Doc Adams may have released you, but the nurses aren’t happy about you going AWOL.” He compressed his lips to keep from smiling.
“Honest to God, Rodger, one more day in here and I’ll be ready for the loony bin.” Adele poked a hairbrush into the pile of clothes and snapped the suitcase shut. “I give Doc Adams credit for being a practical man.”
“Doc Adams, hell. I charmed the head nurse.”
“I’m ready.” She spun around in a full circle, flinging out her arms. “Bring the wheelchair! Present the child!”
He cocked an eyebrow, then bowed at the waist. “Your Majesty.”
“That’s the kind of treatment I deserve.” She sat on the bed and waved her hand grandly, indicating the floor in front of her. “Husband.”
He knelt before her, enjoying her wide-eyed surprise. She smoothed her hands down his cheeks, closed her eyes, and bent to kiss him on the lips.
When she opened her eyes again, he presented a ring box in the flat of his hand. Slowly, he opened the lid to reveal the silver band inlaid with Burmese rubies.
“Oh,” she whispered.
As he freed the ring from the groove, he caught her hand in his and kissed each knuckle.
She cradled the band in her palm, turning it over and over, puzzling over the inscriptions.
“Our wedding date,” she frowned, “but what is this other one?”
“What?” Rodger leaped to his feet, grabbing his shirt pocket over his heart. “You don’t know?”
Adele chewed her lower lip, the first finger of her right hand pressed against her nose.
“The first time I beat you at chess?”
Rodger pointed an accusing finger. “That never happened.”
“Oh.” Adele eyed him severely. “Only you would immortalize the first night we slept together!” But she laughed softly, and her eyes sparkled with tears. “Just what am I going to tell Jonelle when she asks?”
He looked at her quizzically, taking the ring and sliding onto her right hand ring finger.
“Why would she ask?”
Adele’s eyebrows puckered. “Rodger, she’ll be just like you; she’ll just have to know.” She examined her hand, her long, finely tapered fingers fanned out, hiding her face. “When it’s time to discuss the birds and bees, I’ll tell her she has to solve the riddle first.”
“Jesus, Adele, isn’t that a little ways down the line?”
“I guess so.” She beckoned him. “Come here, Sir Galahad, and I shall bestow upon you your just reward.”
He lost himself in the sweetness of her mouth when the door swung open and a nurse entered with a wheelchair. Rodger released Adele’s lips, kissed her nose with a smack, then broke away from her.
“Mrs. Brown, are you ready?” said the young nurse curtly, a reddening blush creeping across her cheeks.
Adele murmured, “Bad timing, nurse.”
The nurse glared at them. Adele scowled back at her. Rodger smiled and waggled his eyebrows then picked up the suitcase.
“Where’s the baby?” he asked innocently.
“She’s being brought by Head Nurse Williams.” The nurse gripped the wheelchair handles until her knuckles turned white. “Mrs. Brown, I have to ask you if you had a b.m. today.”
“Oh, yes, nurse, quite a nice one, thank you,” Adele purred.
Rodger frowned at Adele. She looked up sweetly, blowing him a little kiss. The door opened again, as the head nurse whisked into the room with the baby in her arms.
“Thought I’d give her a proper send off,” she said as she placed the sleeping infant in Adele’s waiting arms. “She’s a little spoiled, being the only baby in the nursery. All the nurses fought for a turn walking her up and down the hall.” She patted Adele on the forearm. “The poor child has to go home to get some rest.”
“I don’t mind if she’s been spoiled by love.” Adele stroked Jonelle’s cheek, then looked up at Rodger, her face radiant. “Home, good knight.”
“Follow me, pretty maids.” Rodger took the lead, sauntering down the hall, the women in silent procession.
He helped Adele from the wheelchair into the front seat of the car.
Rodger faced the nurse as she was backing the wheelchair away. Her guarded, green eyes, nurse’s cap and almost‑black hair pulled severely away from her face made her look as if she were playing at getting old. He had an impulse to pull off the hat and demand that she shake loose her hair. Instead he bowed slightly, addressing her formally.
“Thank you for your services, Nurse Nancy Radkins.” He shot straight up, his hand detaining the wheelchair. “You aren’t Tommy’s sister, are you?”
“Yes, I am.” She stopped abruptly, her bloodless hands still clutching the handles of the wheelchair.
Rodger pointed his finger at her. “Little Nancy.”
She blinked in surprise, then grinned. “Yes, and you’re Scrappy Rodger Brown, aren’t you? My, you’ve changed.” She studied him, her head cocked to one side. “Tommy’ll be in hog heaven when he hears you’re in town.”
“He’s home?”
Nancy nodded.
“I’ll be damned!” He inadvertently looked down the street at the back lot of the high school. “Tell him to come by and see me!”
Nancy started to leave. “I’ll give him your address.”
“Oh, yeah, and my telephone number.” Rodger reached into a shirt pocket and took out a receipt from Hewling’s Hardware store. “Just let me get a pencil.”
Adele rolled down her window and flipped her hand out with a crudely sharpened, yellow pencil.
Rodger took the pencil and winked at her.
He scrawled quickly on the paper and handed it to Nancy.
“Thanks for passing this on for me.”
She pocketed the note and jerked the wheelchair around. Rodger waved, hoping he looked a lot friendlier than he had felt towards her.
He got in the car, sliding the pencil into Adele’s outstretched hand. “She’s still got a nasty disposition. Even as a kid she acted like everything was sinful.” He backed out, watching for cars. “I’ll bet she has a system for rating the degree of sin. Probably not married.”
“That’s a leap in logic!” Adele spat peevishly.
Rodger was taken aback. “I didn’t think you liked her.”
“I don’t. But that doesn’t mean men don’t find her attractive, even worth marrying.” The baby whimpered. Adele rocked her, looking intently into the baby’s face.
Rodger grimaced. “Let’s not fight about it, for God’s sake.” He turned the corner on their block. “My mother will be over with a casserole for dinner about noon.”
Adele sighed. “I’ll be resting. I’m not up to Carrie.”
Rodger chuckled. “She’s not a bad ol’ girl, Adele. She has good intentions.”
“And a good deal of petty ones, too.” Adele stopped rocking the baby and hugged her close. “She finds fault with everybody and everything.” Adele glanced sideways at him. “Except you.”
“That’s because,” he pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine, “I’m almost perfect.”
“Almost,” Adele smirked.
Rodger offered her a hand, and she grasped it firmly, pulling herself up from the seat of the car.
“What if I get more perfect with age?”
Adele squared off in front of him, nestling Jonelle close to her. The early morning summer sun shone directly in her face, casting an aura over her. “I’ll tell you on our fiftieth wedding anniversary if you made the mark.”
He leaned close to her face. “What if I make the maid and miss the mark?”
“Then you’ll just have to keep trying, my dear,” she pecked his lips and walked heavily to the door and waited for him to open it.
Adele lumbered through the house, naming the rooms for Jonelle.
“And this is your nursery. Small room, but maybe Daddy will add on later, Sugar Lumps.”
“In a few years?” Rodger poked his head around the corner of the door. “Or must I start today, honey?”
“Depends.” Adele stared at him coldly.
“On what?” Rodger pulled himself through the doorway.
“On when you’re home, for good.” She turned to face him. “I’d like to know.”
“I’m here now,” Rodger shrugged. “And tomorrow.”
Adele’s nostrils flared, but then her face softened. “Want to try your hand at fathering?”
“Hey! I’m a natural!” He made a cradle with his arms. He looked at his daughter for a long time before he could trust his voice. “She’s so tiny. I thought, somehow, she’d be bigger.”
“She’s big enough, Rodger,” Adele squeezed his arm. “You’re picture perfect.” She hurried out the room, retrieved her camera and snapped a flash. “You should have gotten a picture of me bringing the baby into the house.”
Rodger snatched the camera away from her, shoving Jonelle back into her arms. “So go pose.”
Adele had just simulated getting out of the car when Madeline and Carrie drove up. Rodger dangled the camera by the strap, observing the women. Adele smiled weakly at Madeline and Carrie, folding the flap of the blanket so that Jonelle’s face peeked out. Carrie, surprisingly fast on her feet, dashed over to Adele and the baby, leaving Madeline to struggle with the casserole and car door. Rodger hurried to lend a hand.
“Let me help, Mother.”
“No, thank you. I can manage.” Madeline thrust her hip hard against the car door, slamming it shut.
“Oh, my!” cooed Carrie, hovering over Jonelle. “Oh, Maddie, did you ever dream of such a lovely granddaughter!”
Madeline stopped before Adele, her mittened hands holding up the Pyrex dish.
“It’s Rodger’s favorite tuna casserole. I made it one time for you, too, and I remembered you liked it.”
“Smells delicious, Mother. Come along inside before your hands burn.” Adele found Rodger’s eyes and lingered a moment before she turned and walked stiffly into the living room. Rodger trailed behind.
Adele, holding the baby, sat in her chair, Aunt Carrie settled into the couch, and Madeline took the hot dish into the kitchen. Rodger leaned against the door frame, enjoying the late morning rays through the screen door. He massaged his neck, watching as Madeline came back into the room, wondering if Adele were going to relinquish the baby.
“New babies are so precious!” Carrie sang out in a high-pitched voice, which startled the baby, her tiny face lost in the wrinkles of her frown.
Madeline gave Carrie a scathing glance. “Adele, how are you feeling?”
“Tired. But I guess that’s normal.” She leaned back into the chair, ostensibly allowing Madeline a better look at Jonelle.
Carrie stood up and walked over. “Give me the baby and go take a rest. Why, between Maddie and me, we’ve got enough experience to raise an army!” Carrie’s greedy hands demanded the baby.
Adele looked at Rodger beseechingly. He could think of no way out and shrugged.
“I’ll go get some diapers and pins. What about a bottle?”
Adele reluctantly gave up Jonelle. “You can bring her in to me when she fusses.” She followed Rodger down the hall to the bedroom.
Rodger scowled at Adele. “I thought I was going to help feed her,” he whispered savagely.
“You can.” Adele tweaked his ear, “Tonight. She’ll take a bottle, too.” She flicked her wrist. “Don’t make the ladies wait, dear.”
He backed out as she closed the door on him, then he stomped into the nursery. He crammed diapers, pins and powder into a wad and took them into the living room. As he stood beside Madeline sitting primly on the couch, he fixated on his Aunt Carrie’s arms jiggling as she bounced Jonelle up and down.
“Carrie, give the poor child a rest.” Madeline took the bundled diapers from Rodger. “Let me see if she needs changing.”
Carrie ignored her. “Sweet little dumplings,” she caroled. “Are you going to smile for Aunt Carrie?”
Madeline rolled her eyes up to meet Rodger’s. “Babies don’t smile at this age.”
Rodger moved away from his mother to Adele’s empty chair. He stifled a yawn. The baby began to whimper.
“Maybe, Aunt Carrie, Jonelle needs a change.”
When Rodger met his aunt’s fierce gaze with a smile, she sighed pointedly. “Little lambkins, go see Grandma.” Carrie laid the baby down onto the receiving blanket.
Rodger suddenly thought of an airplane landing. An acute longing for the feel of the controls and the gut‑wrench of a take‑off struck him. He chewed on his lower lip.
“Would you mind if I took off for a while?” He looked directly at his mother.
Carrie patted the air. “No, now you just go about your business. Let us women tend to the baby.”
Madeline’s jaw tightened. “Collect your laundry, and I’ll see to it.”
“Couldn’t it wait a few days, for Adele and Jonelle’s things, too?”
His mother’s face set, and she tilted her head slightly. “I’ll see to their things in a few days, Rodger.”
Madeline stabbed a pin through the layers of diaper, easing it expertly over her unscathed finger.
Rodger peered over her shoulder, scrunching up his face at Jonelle. Her thin legs kicked the air. He wanted to hold her. His mother snapped the rubber pants on, then eased the gown down, and drew the string until the material puckered shut, then wrapped the blanket tightly around the baby.
“Isn’t that going to cut off her circulation or something?” Rodger reached to loosen the blanket. Madeline raised her shoulder, blocking his hand.
“Babies like to be wrapped snugly.” Madeline tapped the baby’s back with the palm of her hand. “Honestly, you’re behaving like a Nervous Nelly.”
Anger flared within him. He raised his hands. “Give her to me.”
“A little colicky is all,” Madeline continued, rubbing her back, refusing to give up possession. “Give Adele a chance to get a minute’s peace.”
“Mother…” Rodger leaned over, prepared to yank his baby from her arms, when voices coming from the outside interrupted.
Rodger straightened and went to the door. Aunt Carrie, her nose twitching, craned her neck to see out the door onto the porch.
Arms akimbo, Rodger watched as a young man in a gray shirt, sleeves rolled up exposing white arms and reddened hands, came lumbering up the sidewalk. A petite woman skipped to keep up with his long strides.
Who was this guy? So unlike his men. There was a casualness about the man that annoyed Rodger, a familiarity not earned.
The man came up to the porch, his face looming large and ridiculous with a full‑toothed grin. Then Rodger recognized his old friend and flung open the screen door.
“Tommy! Tommy, you old son of a gun!” Rodger clasped Tommy’s hand and Tommy pumped Rodger’s hand, wrenching his shoulder.
“Long time, long time,” Tommy threw back his head and chortled. “You’ve been mighty long away from this part of the country.”
Rodger slapped Tommy on the back. “You mean I ducked out on our last season game, huh?”
Tommy scrubbed his mustached lip. “We all wondered where you’d gone, Rodg. We won the homecoming game, all right.” He smiled lopsidedly. “But it wasn’t easy without ya.”
Rodger shook his head. “You guys didn’t really need me. I was just a one‑man cheering section.”
“Yeah, Rodg,” Tommy scoffed, “that’s why ya got all them trophies. For cheering us on.”
Rodger punched Tommy on the left arm. “You got your fair share. Always got a fair share.”
Those times of sharing, the long summer days and the years of school and sports. Their first razor rash and making it with a girl. They had shared it all, the stolen days of beer, women and victory songs.
“Man, we had some good times, didn’t we?” Tommy grinned as his face flushed red.
The oddity of Tommy blushing made Rodger chuckle. “Say, did you join up?”
Tommy sobered. “Remember our game against ol’ Cleveland High? You know, the one where you scored two touch downs and I got forty yards on one pass?” Rodger nodded, only able to recall it as Tommy replayed it. “Got knocked in the kidneys a couple of times. Anyway, I got what they call ‘Bright’s disease.’ Having to do with my kidneys.”
Rodger shivered inwardly. “Serious?”
“Neah, not at all if I watch my diet. And,” Tommy reached behind him, encircled the small shoulders of the red‑haired woman with his massive forearm, drawing her up to his side; she stood just underneath his armpit. “This little woman makes sure I eat and rest like I should. Meet my wife, Cindy.” Tommy leaned close, cupping his free hand beside his mouth. “Don’t let her size fool ya. She’s a real bearcat!”
Cindy elbowed Tommy in the ribs. “Don’t pay him any mind. Nice to meet you, Rodger,” she stuck out her hand.
Rodger shook it, surprised at her firm grip. “Won’t you come in? I think Adele’s resting with the baby right now, but I’ll look in.”
Cindy arrested him with a motion of her hand. “No, let your wife and daughter be. We came by to see you, for now. I’ve heard so much about you and all that I had to see you face to face.”
It was Rodger’s turn to blush. “Take everything Tommy says and cut it in half, and you’ll have a pretty good picture.”
“No, she’ll only have the half of it.” Tommy grazed Rodger’s wound with his fist. His face clouded with concern when Rodger winced. “What’s the matter, Rodg?”
“Old war wound,” Rodger laughed, rubbing the ache. “Nothing very serious.”
“Doc Adams may have released you, but the nurses aren’t happy about you going AWOL.” He compressed his lips to keep from smiling.
“Honest to God, Rodger, one more day in here and I’ll be ready for the loony bin.” Adele poked a hairbrush into the pile of clothes and snapped the suitcase shut. “I give Doc Adams credit for being a practical man.”
“Doc Adams, hell. I charmed the head nurse.”
“I’m ready.” She spun around in a full circle, flinging out her arms. “Bring the wheelchair! Present the child!”
He cocked an eyebrow, then bowed at the waist. “Your Majesty.”
“That’s the kind of treatment I deserve.” She sat on the bed and waved her hand grandly, indicating the floor in front of her. “Husband.”
He knelt before her, enjoying her wide-eyed surprise. She smoothed her hands down his cheeks, closed her eyes, and bent to kiss him on the lips.
When she opened her eyes again, he presented a ring box in the flat of his hand. Slowly, he opened the lid to reveal the silver band inlaid with Burmese rubies.
“Oh,” she whispered.
As he freed the ring from the groove, he caught her hand in his and kissed each knuckle.
She cradled the band in her palm, turning it over and over, puzzling over the inscriptions.
“Our wedding date,” she frowned, “but what is this other one?”
“What?” Rodger leaped to his feet, grabbing his shirt pocket over his heart. “You don’t know?”
Adele chewed her lower lip, the first finger of her right hand pressed against her nose.
“The first time I beat you at chess?”
Rodger pointed an accusing finger. “That never happened.”
“Oh.” Adele eyed him severely. “Only you would immortalize the first night we slept together!” But she laughed softly, and her eyes sparkled with tears. “Just what am I going to tell Jonelle when she asks?”
He looked at her quizzically, taking the ring and sliding onto her right hand ring finger.
“Why would she ask?”
Adele’s eyebrows puckered. “Rodger, she’ll be just like you; she’ll just have to know.” She examined her hand, her long, finely tapered fingers fanned out, hiding her face. “When it’s time to discuss the birds and bees, I’ll tell her she has to solve the riddle first.”
“Jesus, Adele, isn’t that a little ways down the line?”
“I guess so.” She beckoned him. “Come here, Sir Galahad, and I shall bestow upon you your just reward.”
He lost himself in the sweetness of her mouth when the door swung open and a nurse entered with a wheelchair. Rodger released Adele’s lips, kissed her nose with a smack, then broke away from her.
“Mrs. Brown, are you ready?” said the young nurse curtly, a reddening blush creeping across her cheeks.
Adele murmured, “Bad timing, nurse.”
The nurse glared at them. Adele scowled back at her. Rodger smiled and waggled his eyebrows then picked up the suitcase.
“Where’s the baby?” he asked innocently.
“She’s being brought by Head Nurse Williams.” The nurse gripped the wheelchair handles until her knuckles turned white. “Mrs. Brown, I have to ask you if you had a b.m. today.”
“Oh, yes, nurse, quite a nice one, thank you,” Adele purred.
Rodger frowned at Adele. She looked up sweetly, blowing him a little kiss. The door opened again, as the head nurse whisked into the room with the baby in her arms.
“Thought I’d give her a proper send off,” she said as she placed the sleeping infant in Adele’s waiting arms. “She’s a little spoiled, being the only baby in the nursery. All the nurses fought for a turn walking her up and down the hall.” She patted Adele on the forearm. “The poor child has to go home to get some rest.”
“I don’t mind if she’s been spoiled by love.” Adele stroked Jonelle’s cheek, then looked up at Rodger, her face radiant. “Home, good knight.”
“Follow me, pretty maids.” Rodger took the lead, sauntering down the hall, the women in silent procession.
He helped Adele from the wheelchair into the front seat of the car.
Rodger faced the nurse as she was backing the wheelchair away. Her guarded, green eyes, nurse’s cap and almost‑black hair pulled severely away from her face made her look as if she were playing at getting old. He had an impulse to pull off the hat and demand that she shake loose her hair. Instead he bowed slightly, addressing her formally.
“Thank you for your services, Nurse Nancy Radkins.” He shot straight up, his hand detaining the wheelchair. “You aren’t Tommy’s sister, are you?”
“Yes, I am.” She stopped abruptly, her bloodless hands still clutching the handles of the wheelchair.
Rodger pointed his finger at her. “Little Nancy.”
She blinked in surprise, then grinned. “Yes, and you’re Scrappy Rodger Brown, aren’t you? My, you’ve changed.” She studied him, her head cocked to one side. “Tommy’ll be in hog heaven when he hears you’re in town.”
“He’s home?”
Nancy nodded.
“I’ll be damned!” He inadvertently looked down the street at the back lot of the high school. “Tell him to come by and see me!”
Nancy started to leave. “I’ll give him your address.”
“Oh, yeah, and my telephone number.” Rodger reached into a shirt pocket and took out a receipt from Hewling’s Hardware store. “Just let me get a pencil.”
Adele rolled down her window and flipped her hand out with a crudely sharpened, yellow pencil.
Rodger took the pencil and winked at her.
He scrawled quickly on the paper and handed it to Nancy.
“Thanks for passing this on for me.”
She pocketed the note and jerked the wheelchair around. Rodger waved, hoping he looked a lot friendlier than he had felt towards her.
He got in the car, sliding the pencil into Adele’s outstretched hand. “She’s still got a nasty disposition. Even as a kid she acted like everything was sinful.” He backed out, watching for cars. “I’ll bet she has a system for rating the degree of sin. Probably not married.”
“That’s a leap in logic!” Adele spat peevishly.
Rodger was taken aback. “I didn’t think you liked her.”
“I don’t. But that doesn’t mean men don’t find her attractive, even worth marrying.” The baby whimpered. Adele rocked her, looking intently into the baby’s face.
Rodger grimaced. “Let’s not fight about it, for God’s sake.” He turned the corner on their block. “My mother will be over with a casserole for dinner about noon.”
Adele sighed. “I’ll be resting. I’m not up to Carrie.”
Rodger chuckled. “She’s not a bad ol’ girl, Adele. She has good intentions.”
“And a good deal of petty ones, too.” Adele stopped rocking the baby and hugged her close. “She finds fault with everybody and everything.” Adele glanced sideways at him. “Except you.”
“That’s because,” he pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine, “I’m almost perfect.”
“Almost,” Adele smirked.
Rodger offered her a hand, and she grasped it firmly, pulling herself up from the seat of the car.
“What if I get more perfect with age?”
Adele squared off in front of him, nestling Jonelle close to her. The early morning summer sun shone directly in her face, casting an aura over her. “I’ll tell you on our fiftieth wedding anniversary if you made the mark.”
He leaned close to her face. “What if I make the maid and miss the mark?”
“Then you’ll just have to keep trying, my dear,” she pecked his lips and walked heavily to the door and waited for him to open it.
Adele lumbered through the house, naming the rooms for Jonelle.
“And this is your nursery. Small room, but maybe Daddy will add on later, Sugar Lumps.”
“In a few years?” Rodger poked his head around the corner of the door. “Or must I start today, honey?”
“Depends.” Adele stared at him coldly.
“On what?” Rodger pulled himself through the doorway.
“On when you’re home, for good.” She turned to face him. “I’d like to know.”
“I’m here now,” Rodger shrugged. “And tomorrow.”
Adele’s nostrils flared, but then her face softened. “Want to try your hand at fathering?”
“Hey! I’m a natural!” He made a cradle with his arms. He looked at his daughter for a long time before he could trust his voice. “She’s so tiny. I thought, somehow, she’d be bigger.”
“She’s big enough, Rodger,” Adele squeezed his arm. “You’re picture perfect.” She hurried out the room, retrieved her camera and snapped a flash. “You should have gotten a picture of me bringing the baby into the house.”
Rodger snatched the camera away from her, shoving Jonelle back into her arms. “So go pose.”
Adele had just simulated getting out of the car when Madeline and Carrie drove up. Rodger dangled the camera by the strap, observing the women. Adele smiled weakly at Madeline and Carrie, folding the flap of the blanket so that Jonelle’s face peeked out. Carrie, surprisingly fast on her feet, dashed over to Adele and the baby, leaving Madeline to struggle with the casserole and car door. Rodger hurried to lend a hand.
“Let me help, Mother.”
“No, thank you. I can manage.” Madeline thrust her hip hard against the car door, slamming it shut.
“Oh, my!” cooed Carrie, hovering over Jonelle. “Oh, Maddie, did you ever dream of such a lovely granddaughter!”
Madeline stopped before Adele, her mittened hands holding up the Pyrex dish.
“It’s Rodger’s favorite tuna casserole. I made it one time for you, too, and I remembered you liked it.”
“Smells delicious, Mother. Come along inside before your hands burn.” Adele found Rodger’s eyes and lingered a moment before she turned and walked stiffly into the living room. Rodger trailed behind.
Adele, holding the baby, sat in her chair, Aunt Carrie settled into the couch, and Madeline took the hot dish into the kitchen. Rodger leaned against the door frame, enjoying the late morning rays through the screen door. He massaged his neck, watching as Madeline came back into the room, wondering if Adele were going to relinquish the baby.
“New babies are so precious!” Carrie sang out in a high-pitched voice, which startled the baby, her tiny face lost in the wrinkles of her frown.
Madeline gave Carrie a scathing glance. “Adele, how are you feeling?”
“Tired. But I guess that’s normal.” She leaned back into the chair, ostensibly allowing Madeline a better look at Jonelle.
Carrie stood up and walked over. “Give me the baby and go take a rest. Why, between Maddie and me, we’ve got enough experience to raise an army!” Carrie’s greedy hands demanded the baby.
Adele looked at Rodger beseechingly. He could think of no way out and shrugged.
“I’ll go get some diapers and pins. What about a bottle?”
Adele reluctantly gave up Jonelle. “You can bring her in to me when she fusses.” She followed Rodger down the hall to the bedroom.
Rodger scowled at Adele. “I thought I was going to help feed her,” he whispered savagely.
“You can.” Adele tweaked his ear, “Tonight. She’ll take a bottle, too.” She flicked her wrist. “Don’t make the ladies wait, dear.”
He backed out as she closed the door on him, then he stomped into the nursery. He crammed diapers, pins and powder into a wad and took them into the living room. As he stood beside Madeline sitting primly on the couch, he fixated on his Aunt Carrie’s arms jiggling as she bounced Jonelle up and down.
“Carrie, give the poor child a rest.” Madeline took the bundled diapers from Rodger. “Let me see if she needs changing.”
Carrie ignored her. “Sweet little dumplings,” she caroled. “Are you going to smile for Aunt Carrie?”
Madeline rolled her eyes up to meet Rodger’s. “Babies don’t smile at this age.”
Rodger moved away from his mother to Adele’s empty chair. He stifled a yawn. The baby began to whimper.
“Maybe, Aunt Carrie, Jonelle needs a change.”
When Rodger met his aunt’s fierce gaze with a smile, she sighed pointedly. “Little lambkins, go see Grandma.” Carrie laid the baby down onto the receiving blanket.
Rodger suddenly thought of an airplane landing. An acute longing for the feel of the controls and the gut‑wrench of a take‑off struck him. He chewed on his lower lip.
“Would you mind if I took off for a while?” He looked directly at his mother.
Carrie patted the air. “No, now you just go about your business. Let us women tend to the baby.”
Madeline’s jaw tightened. “Collect your laundry, and I’ll see to it.”
“Couldn’t it wait a few days, for Adele and Jonelle’s things, too?”
His mother’s face set, and she tilted her head slightly. “I’ll see to their things in a few days, Rodger.”
Madeline stabbed a pin through the layers of diaper, easing it expertly over her unscathed finger.
Rodger peered over her shoulder, scrunching up his face at Jonelle. Her thin legs kicked the air. He wanted to hold her. His mother snapped the rubber pants on, then eased the gown down, and drew the string until the material puckered shut, then wrapped the blanket tightly around the baby.
“Isn’t that going to cut off her circulation or something?” Rodger reached to loosen the blanket. Madeline raised her shoulder, blocking his hand.
“Babies like to be wrapped snugly.” Madeline tapped the baby’s back with the palm of her hand. “Honestly, you’re behaving like a Nervous Nelly.”
Anger flared within him. He raised his hands. “Give her to me.”
“A little colicky is all,” Madeline continued, rubbing her back, refusing to give up possession. “Give Adele a chance to get a minute’s peace.”
“Mother…” Rodger leaned over, prepared to yank his baby from her arms, when voices coming from the outside interrupted.
Rodger straightened and went to the door. Aunt Carrie, her nose twitching, craned her neck to see out the door onto the porch.
Arms akimbo, Rodger watched as a young man in a gray shirt, sleeves rolled up exposing white arms and reddened hands, came lumbering up the sidewalk. A petite woman skipped to keep up with his long strides.
Who was this guy? So unlike his men. There was a casualness about the man that annoyed Rodger, a familiarity not earned.
The man came up to the porch, his face looming large and ridiculous with a full‑toothed grin. Then Rodger recognized his old friend and flung open the screen door.
“Tommy! Tommy, you old son of a gun!” Rodger clasped Tommy’s hand and Tommy pumped Rodger’s hand, wrenching his shoulder.
“Long time, long time,” Tommy threw back his head and chortled. “You’ve been mighty long away from this part of the country.”
Rodger slapped Tommy on the back. “You mean I ducked out on our last season game, huh?”
Tommy scrubbed his mustached lip. “We all wondered where you’d gone, Rodg. We won the homecoming game, all right.” He smiled lopsidedly. “But it wasn’t easy without ya.”
Rodger shook his head. “You guys didn’t really need me. I was just a one‑man cheering section.”
“Yeah, Rodg,” Tommy scoffed, “that’s why ya got all them trophies. For cheering us on.”
Rodger punched Tommy on the left arm. “You got your fair share. Always got a fair share.”
Those times of sharing, the long summer days and the years of school and sports. Their first razor rash and making it with a girl. They had shared it all, the stolen days of beer, women and victory songs.
“Man, we had some good times, didn’t we?” Tommy grinned as his face flushed red.
The oddity of Tommy blushing made Rodger chuckle. “Say, did you join up?”
Tommy sobered. “Remember our game against ol’ Cleveland High? You know, the one where you scored two touch downs and I got forty yards on one pass?” Rodger nodded, only able to recall it as Tommy replayed it. “Got knocked in the kidneys a couple of times. Anyway, I got what they call ‘Bright’s disease.’ Having to do with my kidneys.”
Rodger shivered inwardly. “Serious?”
“Neah, not at all if I watch my diet. And,” Tommy reached behind him, encircled the small shoulders of the red‑haired woman with his massive forearm, drawing her up to his side; she stood just underneath his armpit. “This little woman makes sure I eat and rest like I should. Meet my wife, Cindy.” Tommy leaned close, cupping his free hand beside his mouth. “Don’t let her size fool ya. She’s a real bearcat!”
Cindy elbowed Tommy in the ribs. “Don’t pay him any mind. Nice to meet you, Rodger,” she stuck out her hand.
Rodger shook it, surprised at her firm grip. “Won’t you come in? I think Adele’s resting with the baby right now, but I’ll look in.”
Cindy arrested him with a motion of her hand. “No, let your wife and daughter be. We came by to see you, for now. I’ve heard so much about you and all that I had to see you face to face.”
It was Rodger’s turn to blush. “Take everything Tommy says and cut it in half, and you’ll have a pretty good picture.”
“No, she’ll only have the half of it.” Tommy grazed Rodger’s wound with his fist. His face clouded with concern when Rodger winced. “What’s the matter, Rodg?”
“Old war wound,” Rodger laughed, rubbing the ache. “Nothing very serious.”
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