The Reunion (18 page)

D
ave had waited patiently for Aaron to get through whatever was breaking loose inside him. It had taken almost fifteen minutes. Dave thought he should leave, just slip out quietly and give Aaron some privacy. Before he got halfway to the door, Aaron had asked him to wait.

“I want to hear more about Karen and Steve.”

For the next thirty minutes, Dave had shared everything he knew about them with Aaron, including how he and Karen had begun to see each other and Dave’s hopes that their relationship would continue. That conversation led to this moment, one Dave had been dreading. Aaron had just asked, “How do they feel about me—Karen and Steve? Do you know?”

“I can’t share anything about Steve,” he said. “I really only spoke with him briefly. I know from what Karen said, he was very excited when he heard about you winning the Medal of Honor. Neither of them knew that.”

“I guess Betty never told them,” he said, still sitting in the armchair. “I don’t blame her. Wasn’t any kind of hero when I got home.”

“You have a grandson in the military,” Dave said. “He’s stationed in Afghanistan right now. His name’s Steven Jr.”

Aaron smiled weakly. “I’ll bet he’s a fine boy. I’ll have to start praying for him. What about Karen?”

Dave paused, trying to think of what to say. He’d wondered the same thing. He noticed a clock on the wall. She should be home now. “I’d say Karen is struggling.” He’d already told Aaron all about his family, how his ex-wife Betty had remarried, and the way Karen talked about her stepfather as her real father. Aaron seemed to know all this. The only thing he hadn’t heard was that Betty had died four years ago from colon cancer. It clearly saddened him.

“Karen’s got a right to struggle,” Aaron said. “They’ve got good lives now. They don’t need me coming around messing things up.” He looked down at the floor. “I’ve missed out on so much, though. For so many years.”

Dave was sure he was about to lapse into another bout with tears. “Can I ask you something, Aaron? You don’t have to answer if you’d rather not.”

He looked up.

“I’d say one of the things Karen is struggling with—maybe the main thing—is why you never tried to contact her all those years. She thought you must be dead. I know your life got straightened out quite a while ago. How come you never tried to reconnect?”

“I did try. Several times. But Betty told me no.”

“When was that?”

“Back in 1987, after I got off the streets and turned my life over to God. I even waited for six months to make sure I was really free and I knew I’d left my old life for good.”

Aaron talked for the next ten minutes, pouring out his heart. It was abundantly clear how much he loved Karen and Steve, and it grieved him deeply that they’d been apart all these years. It was equally clear that his ex-wife, Betty, had shut the door, locked it, and bricked it over. Aaron had told him what she’d said in their last conversation together. Dave could understand why Aaron had given up hope of ever being allowed back in their lives again.

Karen didn’t know this. He had to tell her.

Dave left things with Aaron on good terms. Knowing he’d have to call John and update him on the visit, he’d asked Aaron one more time to reconsider John’s offer to fly out to Houston and meet him, Allan, and Paul. Aaron still said no, but he did agree to pray about it, maybe even talk to his pastor about it at church tomorrow. Aaron had thanked him several times for telling him about Karen and Steve’s lives since they’d been apart.

As Dave walked across the parking lot toward his car, he looked at his phone. Still no call from Karen. She had to be home by now, probably even home from the airport. He wanted to call her but thought he should give it a little more time. He called John instead.

John answered the phone in an excited tone. “So did you meet him? Did you meet Aaron? How did it go?”

“I did,” Dave said. “I just said good-bye for the night.”

“So is he coming? I’m going to need a few weeks to set this reunion up.”

“I’d hold off on making any big plans just yet.” Dave spent the next ten minutes filling John in on his conversation with Aaron, including what he did now for a living and where he lived.

“Saddens me to hear that,” John said when he finished. “But I am glad to hear he got straightened out and off the streets. Did he seem healthy?”

“As far as I can tell. Still working with his hands every day. Folks around this trailer park love him, according to his boss.”

“We’ve got to find a way to get him to come. Did you get any sense from talking to him why he’s saying no?”

“First it was the money. When I told him everything would be covered, he still said no. My guess is, it has something to do with not feeling worthy of all this attention. He’s an extremely private man, and he doesn’t see himself as a hero, on any level. After his picture got in the paper for saving that woman, he turned down every other interview request, even from a TV station. When I mentioned about my book being about the heroes of Vietnam, the first thing he said was he didn’t want to be in anyone’s book. No one in this trailer park even knew he’d won the Medal of Honor.”

“I know a lotta guys don’t feel worthy of their medals. I sure didn’t, and mine’s a few notches below his. I imagine he feels even more unworthy after the way his life turned out when he got home.”

“Losing his family the way he did,” Dave added, “all the lost years between then and now . . . it really eats at him. I’d say he doesn’t feel worthy of winning the medal back in Nam or worthy of wearing it ever since.”

“We’ve got to find a way of changing his mind on that. I really want him with us this time. You said you think he might be softening up a little?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, how about this,” John said. “You stay there overnight and try again after he gets home from church.”

“I was actually thinking the same thing.”

“Then let’s do it. Call me back tomorrow afternoon and let me know.”

Dave hung up the phone and walked into the office. Sue was still there, but she looked ready to lock up for the night. “Excuse me, Sue. I’m thinking of staying over tonight. Know of any motels nearby? Didn’t see any on the way in.”

“Don’t stay in a hotel, stay here.”

“Here?”

“I’ve got a few trailers empty. Unoccupied rentals. Electric’s on. They’re furnished. Aaron’s cleaned ’em all up.”

“Well, I guess I can do that. How much per night?”

“Just tonight?”

“That’s the plan.”

“No charge, then. My treat.”

“That’s very kind of you. Say, did you hear me mention the book I’m writing?”

“The one about Vietnam heroes? Heard you tell Aaron that. Did you get him to change his mind about being in it?”

“Not yet. But I’d like to talk to some of the people who know him. That’s one of the reasons I’d like to stay over. I bought this little video camera, and—”

“You making a documentary?”

“No, it’s just for me, to help with my research. Think you could recommend anyone here in the park I could talk to?”

She thought a moment. “I bet Billy Ames will have some nice things to say. He’s a Nam vet in a wheelchair, lost his legs in the war. Aaron’s been helping him out a lot lately. And you might want to interview Irene Hamlin, the woman Aaron rescued when that limb crushed her trailer. She thinks the world of Aaron. Course, she’s down in Tampa now staying with kin. I’m sure she’d be willing to talk to you. Either on the phone or you could drive down there.”

Dave wrote all this down. “Anyone else? I’d like to have three.” He was just about to suggest her.

“You know, I just thought of someone. A young teenage girl used to live here, up until a few weeks ago. She got pregnant, and her boyfriend came after her with a knife. Right over there in the trailer on Lot 31.”

“Oh my.”

“Aaron saved her life too, come to think of it. The boy came after him and he used some of his old combat moves to take him down.”

Dave could hardly believe it. “I’d love to talk with her. Know where she is now?”

Sue shook her head. “Aaron helped her reconnect with her parents up in Georgia somewhere. She wanted to get as far away from that boyfriend as possible.” Then a look came over her face. “But you know what?” She walked over to her desk. “I think I saved her parents’ phone number.” She opened a drawer, moved some things around. “Here it is.”

Dave walked over, and she handed it to him.

“She’ll be a great one to interview,” she said.

“I agree. You’ve been so helpful. I guess if you’re locking up for the night, maybe I should get that key to the rental trailer.”

Sue got that for him, then gave him directions so he could find it easily in the dark. He said good-bye and walked out to his car. He glanced at his watch under a streetlight. Karen still hadn’t called. He needed to call his mother, let her know he was staying over for the night, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He dialed Karen’s number. It rang four times. He heard a click, expecting it to be her voice mail message.

“Hello?”

“Karen?”

“Hi, Dave.”

She didn’t sound good. “Are you all right? You make it back to Texas okay?”

“I did.”

“I was getting a little worried. I thought you were going to call when you landed safely.”

He heard her sigh on the other end. “I know . . . that’s what I said, but . . .”

She didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Is everything okay? I met your father, by the way. We actually talked for over an hour.” He waited a moment. She didn’t respond. It dawned on him, that probably wasn’t a good thing to say now. “Karen?”

“Dave, I’m sorry. I had a lot of time to think on the plane ride home. I’ve decided we should back off for a little while. A few weeks, anyway. This whole thing is just moving way too fast for me.”

“You’re not talking about your father, are you?”

“No, I’m talking about you and me.”

His heart sank.

“But this thing with my father hasn’t helped any. It’s all just too much for me right now. I need some time to catch my breath. I hope you understand. I do . . . care about you. But I really think I need a break.”

“You said a few weeks?”

“Yeah, at least a few.”

“How will I know when it’s okay to call you?”

“How about I call you?”

That old saying ran through his head: “Don’t call us, we’ll call you.” This wasn’t good at all. “I guess that’s okay.”

“I’m really sorry, Dave. I don’t want to hurt you or your mother or Jake. I just need some time.”

“I understand.” But he didn’t. He didn’t understand.

She said a polite good-bye and hung up.

I
t was a quiet night of sleep for Dave in the trailer, compliments of two Benadryl. He had to take them. Before he did, he’d tossed and turned for over an hour trying not to think about how he’d messed things up with Karen.

It was Sunday morning, and he normally went to church back home on Sundays. He thought about asking Aaron which church he attended but thought that would come across as being pushy, like he was trying to butter him up into changing his mind about Houston. Instead, Dave made himself a cup of coffee, found a church service on television that seemed relatively safe, and slept right through it (also compliments of the Benadryl).

When he awoke on the couch, he got cleaned up and walked over to the park office to ask Sue which trailer Billy Ames lived in. She’d said she was pretty sure he wasn’t a churchgoer and that Dave could mention she had recommended him. Dave also got the phone number of Irene Hamlin’s son in Tampa, thought he’d call her next, after stopping in to see Billy.

He walked over to Billy’s trailer and heard a dog bark as he walked up the ramp. Rapping gently on the metal door, he heard a humming sound on the other side in between the dog barks. “Who is it?”

“My name’s Dave Russo. Sue, the manager, suggested I talk to you. It’s about Aaron Miller. She said you two were friends.”

“You a reporter?”

He was, but . . . “Not exactly, more like a friend.”

“Aaron doesn’t want to talk to any reporters. Since we’re friends, I’ll respect his wishes, so I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“I’m not here as a reporter.”

“What kind of thing is that to say? You’re either a reporter or you aren’t.”

Dave laughed; the man had a point. They were still talking through the closed door. “I came here to find Aaron. One of his friends from the Vietnam days hired me to find him, to try to get him to come to a special reunion. And I’m also a friend of Aaron’s daughter Karen.” That was still true, he thought.

The door opened. A happy-faced retriever greeted him. Behind the dog, Billy Ames sat in an electric scooter in a blue terry-cloth bathrobe. “Pretty dog,” Dave said.

“Yes, she is. Okay, Tess, let the man in.” Billy backed his scooter up, and Tess followed. “Aaron’s probably still at church.”

Dave walked into the living room. “I know. Could I sit down a few minutes? I’d like to explain why I’m here.”

“Guess I got a few minutes.”

Dave sat on the edge of an old plaid sofa. He had his little video camera in his coat pocket but didn’t want to scare Billy off with that just yet. Dave explained the situation as quickly as he could. Billy listened then interrupted him when he got to the part about Aaron’s medal.

“Say what?”

“Aaron won the Medal of Honor,” Dave said. “Back in Vietnam.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am. I’ve seen the picture of Nixon pinning it on him at the White House in 1970. The guys who hired me to find him, they were there in the battle where he won it. Aaron got it for saving their lives.”

“That’s incredible. Aaron never said a word.” Then he thought about it. “But you know, I’m not surprised. That’s the kind of guy Aaron is. You shoulda seen the way he went right in that crushed mobile home to save Irene.”

“See, that’s exactly why I wanted to talk with you. I’m writing a book about Vietnam War heroes. I’d like to make one of the main chapters about Aaron, maybe the first one. I think you could help me. Not about the battle scenes, obviously, but I’d love to hear what he’s like now. What it’s like to be his friend. Would you be willing to do that?”

“I’d consider it a privilege. Isn’t that something?” he said, more to himself. “Aaron got the Medal of Honor.”

“Is it okay if I record you? It’s just a lot easier than taking notes.”

“That’s a video recorder? Such a small thing.”

Dave said it was, and Billy said he needed a few minutes to spruce up. Dave waited until Billy came back looking just about the same, except he’d swapped out the robe for a gray T-shirt and had combed his hair. Dave fronted him a few questions, then pretty much listened as Billy talked about Aaron nonstop for the next forty-five minutes.

He’d offered a lot more information than Dave could use, but mixed in there was at least five minutes of gold. Including a jaw-dropping secret that Billy said he’d never told a soul. It was about the day Aaron had come over to fix his ramp. Billy said he had a gun lying right there on the table beside him and was all set to pull the trigger. Aaron’s care and friendship, not just that day but every day since, had pulled Billy out of his depression, gave him a flicker of hope again.

After they parted, Dave walked down Billy’s ramp with an even deeper respect for Aaron Miller than before.

He was glad he got all this on tape.

Later that day, just after sundown, Dave was traveling back to Bentley’s after spending the better part of the afternoon in the car, driving to and from Tampa. In between, he’d met with Irene Hamlin for an hour. She was delighted to talk about “my good friend, Aaron. He saved my life, you know.”

Once again, Dave was glad he got it all on tape. And once again, he was even more in awe of this man, Aaron Miller. It was sad that Aaron viewed himself so poorly, as if he had never done anything worthwhile with his life. Billy Ames thought the world of Aaron, and so did Sue, the park manager. And like Sue, Irene said everyone at Bentley’s loved him. She didn’t know a soul who’d say a cross word about him, thought he was the kindest, nicest, most thoughtful man she’d ever met.

On the way down to Tampa, Dave had called the number Sue had given him for the parents of Heather, the pregnant teenage girl. He left a voice mail. On the way back, Heather’s father had returned Dave’s call, and after hearing Dave out, he put Heather on the phone. She was happy to tell him all about Aaron. She got choked up and started crying halfway through the story. Dave couldn’t take notes on the road, so he asked her if she had any way to video her story. She agreed to make a video and send Dave the memory card.

When Dave pulled into the trailer park, it was almost dark outside. He was so tired he couldn’t imagine driving all the way home tonight. A light was on in the park office. Maybe Sue would let him stay in the trailer one more night.

As he got out of the car, he felt pretty satisfied about the day’s efforts. He couldn’t wait to call John with his updates. First, he wanted to take one more try with Aaron, see if he could give John a glimmer of hope that Aaron might change his mind. He glanced over at the storage room where Aaron lived.

A light glowed from the lone window. He decided to go there first.

Walking across the parking lot, he tried to think of a way to break the ice. Then it dawned on him. He hadn’t gotten a chance to see the actual medal last night. Aaron had reached for it, but then the whole conversation shifted when Dave had seen the picture of Karen and Steve.

Karen
.
No, don’t go there.
He had been doing his best to not think about her all day. That was the one thing he’d dreaded about the car drive to Tampa. All that time alone to think. The phone call to Heather and her parents had helped, but it had only covered a fraction of the time. An audio book saved his sanity and kept him from drifting into full-blown depression.

He tapped lightly on Aaron’s door. Heard some noise inside, then the door opened.

“Oh, hello,” Aaron said. “I thought you’d gone home already.”

“Not yet,” Dave said. “Think I might stay one more night. I wanted to ask if I could see your medal. Remember last night you were just about to show it to me, then we started talking about your family and never got back to it.”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, you better come in then.”

Things looked pretty much like they had last night. Aaron walked over to the shelf, lifted the picture frame, and set it on the workbench. Only this time he didn’t look at it. He reached for the metal box and slid it carefully from the shelf and set it down. “Been a long time,” he said.

Dave guessed he meant since he’d looked at it.

Aaron pulled the lid off, and there it was. He stood aside so Dave could come close. “The Congressional Medal of Honor,” Dave said reverently. Aaron had been in the Marines, so this was the navy’s version. A collar of light blue ribbon formed a circle. In the middle, a small blue octagon with thirteen white stars. Hanging from this, a gold five-pointed star. “Aaron, it’s beautiful. Can I bring it over to the light?”

“I guess. But be careful. I haven’t let that thing touch the ground all these years.”

“I will.” Dave wanted to say “You must be so proud” but knew Aaron would struggle with that.

The medal was even more remarkable under the lamp. Dave was struck with the realization that he was standing next to the man who’d earned this highest honor in battle, dodging a hail of machine-gun fire and mortar to save three men.

Aaron had no idea who he was or how much he mattered.

Dave thought of something he could ask. “What was it like being at the White House, having the president put this around your neck?”

“Wish I could remember. It’s all a blur. I was so high on pain meds that day. Well, every day back then.” Dave handed the box back to Aaron. Aaron took the box and said abruptly, “Oh, I guess I’ll go with you to Houston.”

“What?”

“Changed my mind. I’ll go with you. You go ahead and call John for me, and the guys. Tell them I’ll come, and thank them for their kind offer.”

“Aaron, thank you. I don’t know what to say. John will be ecstatic. What changed your mind?”

“Something my pastor said this morning after church. I could tell, he thought I should go. After I explained things, he said, ‘Aaron, sometimes people need to experience the blessing of thanking others for the kind things they’ve done, and the people who’ve done those kind things need to let them.’”

Then Aaron smiled. It was the first time Dave had seen him smile. “What else did he say?”

“He said that when I die and go to heaven, and the Good Lord says to me, ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant,’ well, he feels pretty sure I’ll struggle hearing that too.”

They talked a few more minutes. As they shook hands at the door, Dave told him he’d find out the details about the Houston trip from John and let Aaron know.

When Dave stepped into the night air, for a few moments he was excited about this new development and couldn’t wait to call John. Then he thought about Karen. He wanted to call her and share the good news. It was so nice having someone in his life again to talk with about everything, big or small. And this was a big deal.

But he couldn’t call her. He was in exile.

Besides, the last thing she wanted to hear was news about the father who’d abandoned her as a little girl.