Pretense (23 page)

Concentrating on the distance to the sand pit, Mackenzie stepped up to her mark and took off. Running was her strong point, and if she hadn't overstepped the takeoff line at the pit, it might have been a school record. The person watching for just such a mistake held her flag in the air, and Mackenzie groaned before the coach called her over.

"I can't seem to get this," she complained. "I think I should stick to the relay and hurdles."

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"You need to keep practicing," Coach Frank disagreed with her. "The only eighth-grade girl who can jump farther than you is Stacy. Now I want you to go again."

"All right." Mackenzie jogged back down the grass next to the lane and stood in line for her next try. She heard people cheering at the track and looked over to see Delancey come across the line. It was almost her turn to jump again, or she would have gone to her. Delancey finished in second place, but it looked as though she was flailing her arms too much.

"Delancey had a good run," Stacy spoke from in front of her.

"Yeah," Mackenzie smiled. "It's those long legs of hers. But she's flapping like a bird, and that's going to slow her down."

Stacy laughed a little. "Doesn't it feel good not to be a seventh grader?"

Mackenzie grinned and couldn't help but agree.

"Here's the track schedule," Mackenzie said, putting a piece of paper down on the kitchen counter and wandering away. "The meets are usually right after school, same as last year."

"All right. Do you want dessert?" Marrell spoke to her retreating back.

"What is it?"

"Lemon cake."

"No thanks," she called from the other room.

Delancey was just finishing her own supper and stood to leave, her lemon cake in her hand.

"You're welcome, D.J."

"Oh yeah, thanks, Mom."

Marrell looked back to Paul, who was still at the table. "She towers over me," she said dryly. "Have you noticed?"

"Considering the fact that she's nearly looking me in the eye, how could I miss?"

Marrell sat back down at the table. "It's our own fault. We keep feeding her."

Paul found this highly amusing and smiled across at his wife.

"When's the first track meet?"

Marrell consulted the paper. "Not until after Easter break. Whenever Mackenzie hands me something, I have to ask myself

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how long it's been riding around in her backpack, but this time we have it with plenty of notice."

"She's not strong on organization," Paul said of his oldest child.

"Unless it's something important to her, like her books or story notebook."

"That's true."

"Have you thought about what you want for your birthday?"

"Is that coming up?" Paul's eyes were all innocent. Marrell had been asking him for suggestions for a week, and he still hadn't replied.

"Paul, it's less than three weeks away. It would be nice to have an idea."

"No man wants to be reminded that he's going to be 42. I think I'm in denial."

"Oh," Marrell brightened, ignoring his last statement, "I just thought of something."

"What?"

"I can't tell you," she chided him. "I'll be right back. I've got to go write something down."

Paul started the dishes after she left, his mind on the months to come. He still didn't know if he should leave the Army, or at what point. He'd already made up his mind that he couldn't leave his family again for another year, and if he stayed in the Army, he would be expected to do just that. But when did he call it quits? He was stationed here at the Presidio until August of 1983, which meant he had approximately a year and three months left in San Francisco. Unless he decided to call it quits-then he could stay in the area with his family, friends, and church family. A very appealing idea.

Since he had arrived home close to a year ago, he had been meeting with the pastor and one other man for Bible study. Each week they met in a corner booth of a restaurant at 6:30 on Tuesday morning. Paul had asked them to pray with him on the subject, and they talked of it often, but he was still no closer to a decision. He realized suddenly that he hadn't spoken to Marrell about it for some time. They had talked about it almost nonstop after he got back, but without having come to a final decision, the subject had rather died down.

"That's quite a frown."

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"Just thinking."

"You're getting water on the floor."

"Oh." Paul shook himself and grabbed the towel. "We need to talk tonight about my career."

"Okay." Marrell sounded uncertain. "Has something come up?"

"No, but I need to figure out a plan, and I realized suddenly that we haven't talked for a while."

"Are we including the girls?"

"Not yet. They know we're talking about it, so it won't come as a huge surprise, and right now I wouldn't have anything to tell them anyhow."

"I've thought of it from time to time, but part of me is afraid, so I push it away."

Paul turned from the sink, leaned one hip against the counter, and stared down at her.

"I didn't know that," he said softly.

"I didn't want to tell you. I hate being afraid of things like change, but I am. The Army is so secure, Paul." She made a face, clearly disgusted with herself. "As you can see, I'm not trusting very well."

His hand came up, and he tucked her hair behind one ear, letting his finger trail down her cheek. She was so precious to him and a frequent surprise to boot. He had watched her strength and growth through her grandmother's death. And now here she had a chance to remain in the area, and she was afraid.

"Come here."

Marrell didn't need to be invited twice.

"We'll talk, okay?" He bent to speak into her ear. "When the girls go to bed."

Marrell nodded and looked up at him. "That's getting later all the time." Marrell stopped. "Do you know what I just thought of? This is D.J.'s dish night."

"Well then," Paul said firmly, "she can finish."

That was the last thing said on either subject for several hours, but finally the house became quiet, and husband and wife sat across the living room from each other.

"What is it that scares you? The lack of security?"

"Much of it, yes. I can't think of another employer who is going to take care of you the way Uncle Sam does. I know the Army has its problems, Paul, and I know you're trained to go

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into several different fields, but I can't help but wonder how we'll make it on the outside. You're accepted here. As a civilian, you'll have to prove yourself. I get frightened for you. Unless you get passed over, they don't fire you in the Army."

"I can't say as I haven't thought of it, Marrell, and it does concern me, but going overseas for another year, and even moving from this church family, bothers me more."

"Those bother me too," she admitted softly. "I guess I do need to do some weighing. I can't have it all. Have you talked to Gene?" Marrell asked, referring to his present CO.

"No. It's time I did, but he's going to ask me what I want to do, and I would like to have some answers for him."

"Can you wait until this summer? That would be about a year's notice. Do you think that's reasonable? It would give us a little more time to think and plan."

"I think that's a good idea. I can keep talking to friends and praying for wisdom. In fact, I forgot to tell you that I got a letter at the office today from Allen Post."

"How is he doing?"

"Very well. He's scheduled to be stationed back in the States by September. I was thinking of writing to him about my plans too."

"Maybe you should. I would think his counsel would be a great help." Marrell covered a yawn. "My body is telling me to go to bed."

"Yeah, it's that time."

Paul checked the doors and hit the lights before heading to the bedroom. Marrell was already in the bathroom when he spotted a stack of papers on the bed.

"Mary, what's this stuff?" He opened the door to show her.

"Oh, it's the mail. I was so rushed after I picked it up, I forgot where I set it down. Where was it?"

"On the bed." Paul's voice was preoccupied as he sorted through it. "There's a letter here from my mom."

Marrell swiftly finished brushing her teeth and went to join him on the edge of the bed. She read from his side, scanning his mother's words as he read.

Dear Paul and Marrell,

Thank you for the letter and pictures of the girls, shown them to everyone, but one day I couldn'tfind them.

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They reappeared mysteriously after your father came home from work, and I strongly suspect that he took them to the office. Still no word from him about how he feels.

How are the girls doing in track? It looks like they're both tall enough to make those long jumps. I enjoyed your call last week. Lance came in just after you phoned, and I got the impression he was sorry to have missed you. I told him I could give him your number, but he declined.

Mrs. Barry's cat had kittens three weeks ago now. So cute. I found myself wishing the girls could have one each. Impractical thought, but then I've been practical for too many years. I'm sending a birthday card next week sometime. Do you have big plans for Easter and your birthday? I feel old having my baby turn 42.

Best close now. Your father will be home soon. I would like to say he sends his love and to visit anytime, but it hasn't happened yet. I have hope. Call again soon.

Love, Mom

Paul put the letter on the bed and sat very still. "The girls have to know that I love them, Mary. If nothing else, they have to know how much I care."

"They do, Paul. They love you. Girls who call you back to their rooms to make sure you'll be at their track meets are not girls who want nothing to do with their father."

He nodded and continued to stare across the room.

"I have to admit to having some fears, Mary, but I also have to tell you I'm excited about having a regular job." He turned to look at her. "I'm excited to move on and experience things in civilian life. Every move we've made has been hard on you, but you've done it. Don't let me push you into this, babe. If you really want me to stay with it, I will."

"Oh, Paul." Marrell put her arms around him. "No, I don't want it that badly. I have fears, yes, but excitement too. I know you'll take care of us." She leaned forward and kissed him.

"Toothpaste."

She smiled. "I just brushed."

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"I'd better brush too." He wiggled his eyebrows at her and slipped into the bathroom. Marrell picked up the letter and read it again.

Please let his father welcome him home, Lord,
Marrell prayed.
Please work a miracle in Otto Bishop's heart.

"Look at her smile," Delancey said with a laugh.

"That outfit is so cute. Hi, Jana," Mackenzie cooed.

The Bishops were making fools of themselves. Ten-week-old Jana Lacy was spending the evening with them, so her parents could go out for their first anniversary. Someone watching them would have thought they had never seen a baby before.

"My turn," Paul proclaimed, taking Jana from Marrell's arms without permission.

"Isn't she precious?" Marrell breathed.

"It's hard to believe D.J. and Micki were ever this size." Paul looked up at his daughters. "You were, you know."

"I think it's coming now, D.J.-a teary walk down memory lane."

Both Paul and Marrell laughed. Mackenzie often had that effect on them.

"You just wait," her mother warned. "Someday when you present me with a grandchild, I'll remind you that it's no big deal-just a baby."

"I think she's doing something," Delancey said, her face looking horrified.

Paul laughed down into Jana's red, scrunched-up features and asked Delancey where she had put the diaper bag.

"
You're
going to do it?" Mackenzie was amazed.

"Did you think your mother did all of it?" His tone was telling. "We had an infant and a 13-month-old. Trust me when I tell you there was plenty of teamwork."

Delancey handed the diaper bag to her father and stood aside while he headed to the bathroom.

"That baby is so cute," Marrell said. "Tempts me to have another."

"You wouldn't really, would you, Mom?" Delancey asked, looking unsure.

"Why would that be so awful?"

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"It wouldn't. I was just curious."

"I think it would be cool," Mackenzie said. "A little brother."

"I would want a girl."

"Should I be told about this?" Paul asked as he returned with a clean baby.

Marrell laughed. "No, the girls are just dreaming."