The Reunion (22 page)

T
he first time their eyes met across the room, Dave was still on stage. But Karen had her eyes on him from the moment he’d walked through the doorway. All her doubts were gone. Steve, Aileen, and Gail had been right. She did love him! She lifted her napkin, wet with tears, smiled, and waved at him. He waved back.

But these tears were for her father. She could freely call him that now. Something in her heart had melted last night as she’d watched Dave’s video with Steve. She no longer resented him. How could she? He’d suffered through so many things alone, abandoned by the government, cut off from the care and comfort of family. But as Steve put it, the same God they worshiped each Sunday had not cast him aside. The Good Shepherd had gone after him, had found him and restored him. Then when Aaron had tried to come back, seeking to reconnect with her and Steve, he had been turned away.

But not anymore.

After a little time had passed, Karen had been able to let go of the resentment she felt toward her mother for making that decision. It hadn’t been her mom’s call to make. She hadn’t even asked them what they thought. They were no longer children at that point, needing to be sheltered and hidden from the harsh realities of life. She had, essentially, robbed Karen of over twenty years of relationship, hundreds of moments she and her father might have spent together.

He had wanted that, and now so did she. She was willing to give this relationship a new start. Watching that video, listening to three total strangers talk about Aaron with such love, admiration, and respect made her realize . . . she wanted to know this man. She didn’t want to miss out on any more moments. When Steve had suggested she drive down here together with his family, she’d instantly, tearfully, said yes.

Karen looked up at the four aging soldiers onstage, Dave right behind them. He had no idea what was about to happen next.

“Can we go see him now, Dad?” It was her nephew, Steven.

She turned to catch Steve’s response. “I think Mr. Lansing’s about to call us up. Now, remember, after we go up on stage, we agreed to let your grandfather eat dinner with his war buddies. But we’ll have plenty of time together after that.”

Karen looked up again at Dave standing next to her father. He was looking right at her. She smiled, acknowledged him with her eyes.

John got everyone’s attention again. “Hey, folks, we’ve got another surprise in store for Aaron tonight.” He looked at Aaron. “You might want to take a seat for this next one. There’s another group of folks here tonight who drove a long way to see you.” John looked toward the back of the room at Karen and Steve and nodded.

“Okay,” Steve said. “Let’s go.”

“Just you two?” Aileen asked, meaning him and Karen.

“No, all of us.”

When Dave saw Karen and Steve and their family making their way toward the stage, he instantly figured out what John had in mind.

John looked at him and said quietly, “Dave, would you mind taking it from here?”

“Not at all.” Dave looked at Aaron, his eyes fixed on this small group of strangers climbing the stage steps. “Aaron, these are . . . some special people I’d like you to meet. Well,
meet
isn’t exactly the right word, for two of them anyway.”

Aaron stood by his chair. “I suppose we can do that.” He smiled, but he looked so nervous.

Dave noticed the handsome young Marine in dress blues leading the way. It had to be Steven Jr., Aaron’s grandson. Behind him stood Karen. Tears welled up in her eyes. Behind her were Steve and Aileen, and at the end, he guessed, their two teenaged children, a boy and a girl.

A huge smile appeared on the young Marine’s face as soon as Aaron looked his way. He hurried across the stage, walked straight up to Aaron, and stood at attention and saluted. Tears filled his eyes as he held the salute. “Grandpa . . . it’s an honor.”

Instinctively, Aaron returned the salute. Then he thought . . .
Grandpa?

Aaron looked back at Dave, whose face was beaming. Still holding the mic, Dave walked in front of the small group of people, stood next to a woman at the end, and reached for her hand. She quickly took it. What was going on? Aaron looked at her face. She was crying. The man standing next to her was crying, and the woman next to him too. The Marine ended his salute then stood off to the side, blinking back tears.

Can this be . . . ?

“Aaron,” Dave said, “this is Karen, your daughter. And this is your son Steve and his wife Aileen. You’ve just saluted your grandson Steven Jr., just in from Afghanistan. And these are your other grandchildren. They’ve all come down from Fort Worth to see you.”

Karen . . . Steve?

His face suddenly felt hot. Tears filled his eyes. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. They had come here? To see him? “I . . . I’m so . . .” Tears poured down his face. “I never thought I’d see you again.” He felt faint and collapsed in his chair, then buried his face in his hands and cried.

Karen and Steve rushed to his side. He felt their arms around him. “We’re here, Dad,” Steve said. “We’re here.” They were crying nearly as hard.

Through his tears, Aaron heard Dave address the crowd, his words filled with emotion. “I guess you all are wondering what’s going on up here. This is Aaron’s daughter and son, Karen and Steve, who he hasn’t seen since they were children. And Steve’s family, who Aaron has never met until right now.” The room erupted in applause. Everywhere people reached for napkins to dab their eyes.

Aaron finally found the nerve to lift his head. When he did, Karen’s beautiful face was right there. She handed him a linen napkin. He took it and wiped his face, then leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, like he’d done every night when she was a little girl. But maybe it was a mistake. It made her cry even harder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize, Dad,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She threw her arms around his neck.

Dave stood a few feet away and let the moment play out. He was so happy. The scene before him was beyond anything he’d hoped for. Steve finally stood, then Karen. Dave walked beside her and took her hand again.

Steve handed his father a fresh napkin. “If you can pull it together, Dad, there’s some others here who are dying to meet you.”

“Okay. Not sure how much more excitement this old heart of mine can take.” He wiped his face and rose to his feet.

Steve introduced him to his wife Aileen and his two other children, Kate and Andrew. They were a little shy, but both came over and gave him a hug without being asked. Then Steve turned back to his son, now standing at ease, who gave Aaron a warm, very non-military hug. He looked down at the medal around Aaron’s neck. “I’m so proud of you, Grandpa.”

Aaron had to fight back a new wave of tears.

“Can I get a picture with you?” Steven asked. “I’m going to put it on Facebook tonight, let the guys back in Afghanistan see it.”

“Okay, if you’d like.”

Steve, Aaron’s son, looked down at the medal. “It’s beautiful, Dad.”

Aaron nodded his thanks. Everyone took turns getting pictures with Aaron wearing his medal, including John, Paul, and Allan. Afterward, as everyone began leaving the stage, Aaron’s grandson Steven walked up to the three Vietnam veterans. He stood at attention, saluted them, then held out his hand. “Thank you, gentlemen, for your great service to our country . . . and all you’ve done tonight to honor my grandfather.”

“Doing this has been one of the greatest joys in my life,” John said. He waited till everyone had cleared the stage and started down the steps himself. Then he stopped. “Wait, I almost forgot.” He walked back up to the mic. “Folks, I know you’re all probably hungry and, like me, emotionally exhausted. But we’ve got one more small group of people who have a few words they’d like to say to Aaron. If you’d all take a seat, we’ll dim the lights. This will only take five minutes.”

A
aron took a seat at the guest-of-honor table with John, Paul, Allan, and their wives as the lights in the room dimmed. Dave slipped back to sit next to Karen, but he could still easily see Aaron’s profile at the front. “I can’t believe you’re here.” He reached for Karen’s hand.

“It was your video,” she said. “I think they’re playing it now.”

“Really?”

Steve leaned over and whispered, “Uh, I beg your pardon. I think I deserve some credit here.”

“Okay,” Karen said. “Your video and some things Steve said.”

“And Aileen . . . and Gail,” Steve added.

“Okay,” Karen said. “I had some help.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Dave said. He looked at Aileen. “And thank you too. For whatever you said to get her here.”

The video began to play on-screen. Dave turned, recognizing the intro music. Then his face appeared on-screen.
Oh man
, he thought. This close-up was way too . . . close. He’d have to redo this intro bit.

Karen squeezed his hand. “It’s you.”

He looked at her. She was looking up at him on-screen, smiling.

“Hi, Aaron, Dave here. I’ve put this little video together for you. Not sure what I’m going to do with it. Initially, I made it just to get some input from a few of the people at Bentley’s Trailer Park. You know, you’ve got some serious fans there. In fact, everyone I talked to had nothing but good things to say about you. Sue Kendall said everyone at the park thinks the world of you.”

Dave looked at Aaron, who had a puzzled look on his face, then back at himself on-screen. “I’ve narrowed the list to three people who’ve each taken a little time to record their thoughts. The first is Heather, a young lady you helped reunite with her folks in Georgia. Then there’s Irene, whose life you saved the day after Thanksgiving. And then Billy Ames, your friend and fellow Vietnam vet. Well, I’ll shut up and let them talk. Sit tight, Aaron. This won’t take long.”

The scene shifted, and the background music disappeared. Dave saw Heather’s face appear on-screen. She looked so happy, like the youthful teen she was supposed to be. “Mr. Miller—I mean, Aaron—I’m so glad I get the chance to do this. Things were so rushed the day I left the trailer park. I know I thanked you then, but there’s no way it was near enough. I’m back with my mom and dad, and things are going great, way better than I ever imagined. You saved my life that day when . . . well, you know the day I mean. He really was going to kill me, but you stopped him. You could have gotten hurt or killed yourself, but you jumped right in. I was amazed at what you did. But even more than that . . .”

Heather reached for a box of tissues. “I put these here because I knew I’d need them. I want to thank you even more for pushing me to get back with my folks. You were right. They really do love me . . . just the way I am, and . . . they had totally forgiven me.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “You saved my life in so many ways, Mr. Miller. I . . . excuse me.” She wiped her face.

A man’s voice said in the background, “Can I say something, Heather?”

“Sure.”

She shifted her chair to the side, and her father got in the picture. “Aaron, we never met, but we talked on the phone. Heather’s mom and I want to thank you ourselves. You didn’t just save Heather that day. You saved our family. For the first time in years, we’re whole again. You have no idea . . .” He started choking up. “There aren’t words to express our thanks for what you did. Maybe someday we’ll get a chance to come down there and tell you in person.” He looked at Heather. “I have my little girl back again. Thank you, Aaron. Thank you so much.”

He backed away from the camera, and Heather leaned over to appear once more. “Thanks, Mr. Miller. I mean, Aaron.”

The screen shifted to Irene Hamlin sitting at a dining room table. “Is this thing on? It’s working? It’s on now?” Dave remembered the moment. She was looking at him offscreen. He heard people laughing quietly throughout the room.

“Okay, then. Hey, Aaron. It’s me, Irene. I’ll be staying down here in Tampa for a few months with my son, till we figure out what to do. I suppose the workers have already come and hauled the debris from my old trailer off to the junkyard. But thanks to you, that’s all they’re hauling away. I’m here, alive and kicking, because of what you did that day. I was all set to go home and be with Jesus, you know that? See Moe again. I’m still looking forward to that day, but I wasn’t too keen on seeing them after getting blown to pieces. That was a very brave thing you did, coming after me like that. Wish I had a big reward to give you. Not just for what you did for me then, but really, almost every day. You were more like a friend than a handyman. And that’s the God’s-honest truth.”

She sighed. “Well, I better sign off before I start getting emotional.” She looked offscreen. “Will anyone besides you and Aaron be hearing this?”

Dave heard himself say, “I don’t know.”

Irene looked back at the camera. “Well, either way, I want you to know. That piggyback ride you gave me as we fled that trailer was the most fun I had in years.” She sat back with a big smile.

Everyone laughed. Dave looked at Aaron, watched John pat him on the back. The scene shifted once more. This time to Billy Ames, sitting on his electric scooter, Tess sitting by his side.

“Hey, Aaron. This here fella says he knows you. He’s writing some book about Vietnam heroes. Man, why’d you never tell me about getting that Medal of Honor? Well, I guess I know the answer to that. You hardly ever talk about yourself. So, I guess I don’t know what you did to earn that medal, not the whole story anyway. But I’ll tell you what . . . you’re a hero to me.” Billy started blinking back tears. “I haven’t had a friend as nice as you since . . . well, I don’t remember when.”

Tess leaned over and rested her head on Billy’s lap. “That’s a girl.” He patted it and continued. “And I want to thank you for setting me and Tess up here. I haven’t had a dog since I was a kid, and that old hound wasn’t anything like Tess here. Between her and you, I ain’t ever lonely anymore. And believe me . . . that was a problem. A big problem.” He was getting choked up again.

“I never told you this, Aaron. But you didn’t just save the lives of those three vets back in 1970, or whatever year it was. You saved this vet’s life, the day you came knocking on my trailer to fix that old ramp. You remember that day? I let you in for a drink after. I was listening to old Bob Dylan songs, remember that? Well, before I opened the door to let you in, I had to hide a loaded pistol sitting on an end table. I was all set to end it that day. Felt I had no reason to keep going.” He looked down at Tess, offscreen toward Dave for a moment, then back at the camera. “Thanks to you, Aaron, I do now. You
are
a hero. Don’t you ever forget that.” He smiled as a tear slipped down his cheek. Then he sat up straight and saluted.

Some nice closing music began to play. Dave looked up at Aaron, who was saluting the fading image of his friend on-screen. People everywhere were reaching for tissues again.

John stood up and walked to the center of the room. “Could we have the lights up, please?” When they came on, he looked over at Aaron. “Guess you never quit, Aaron, do you? Still saving lives in your sixties. Three more, to be exact. Just like back in Nam.” He looked out to the crowd. “I’m sure you’re all hungry as I am. I’m going to ask Allan’s nephew Sam to come up and say the blessing. He’s a pastor in Tulsa. When he’s done, we’ll dig in.”

John looked to the back of the room and said over the mic, “Dave, when Sam’s finished praying, can I have a word with you?”