The Reunion (23 page)

D
ave wondered what John wanted. He didn’t look upset. “I think he wants me to eat dinner up there with Aaron,” he said to Karen. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “John and Steve talked about this. John was a little concerned that our coming might be too much of a distraction for my father. But Steve told him we don’t want to ruin their time with him. So we agreed, he’d eat dinner and dessert with you all at the big table, then we’d see him after. Please tell him that, so he can relax.”

“I will.”

“And tell him we’re staying over till tomorrow afternoon, so we could spend more time together. John told us your plane wasn’t flying back until tomorrow night.”

“He’ll love that,” Dave said, and so would he. “Gotta go.” He hurried over to John. They walked over and stood near a large Christmas tree. “What’s up, John?”

John looked back at Aaron, who was chatting with Allan and Paul at the table. “Tonight I get to play Santa,” he said, looking back at Dave. A big smile appeared. “The guys and I wanted to do this privately. I’ll let you decide how and when to tell him. But after hearing about Aaron’s financial situation, we didn’t feel like this party here goes near enough to express our gratitude. So we pulled together our resources. We want Aaron to be able to retire as soon as he’s ready, in a little bit of style.”

Dave couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What did you have in mind?”

“My accountant will go over the details with you, but here’s a card you can give Aaron from us that explains the idea and the amount. We were able to pull together just a tad over four hundred thousand dollars.”

Aaron sat back in his chair, listening to the wonderful Christmas songs, his belly full, his heart overwhelmed.

After finishing off an eight-ounce filet mignon and the biggest lobster tail he’d ever seen, he’d spent the next thirty minutes receiving more handshakes, hugs, and words of praise than a man has a right to this side of heaven. He couldn’t even think about dessert, so John had the waiter box it up for later. When John first opened the door to this room just over an hour ago, and Aaron saw this big crowd instead of just Allan and Paul, he’d felt trapped.

But not anymore.

On the plane ride, he’d worried about the conversations they might have over dinner. After they had gotten all their thank-yous out of the way, whatever would they talk about? The three of them were best friends, had been back in Nam and forty years since. They had lots in common, then and now.

Five minutes into the dinner, Aaron realized he had worried for nothing. They made him feel like he belonged right there with them. John had even said, “Aaron, you need to be a part of all our reunions from now on.” He had no idea how he’d afford something like that, but it warmed his heart that they had offered. They mostly talked about how their lives had gone over the years, but none of it came across like bragging, and none of it made him feel like the gap between them was anywhere near as big as it really was.

“Say, Aaron.” He looked up. It was John.

“Why don’t you go on back and spend a little time with your family before the night’s over?”

Dave had told Aaron that he’d get to spend tomorrow morning and part of the afternoon with them. “You sure you don’t mind?”

John shook his head. “Not a bit. You head on back there too, Dave. We’ll be all right up here. The guys and I’ve got some family we need to get with anyway. By the way, in about thirty minutes, I’m going to change the Christmas music playing now to some of those old classic Christmas dance songs.”

John gave Dave a wink. “If you get my drift.”

D
ave led Aaron back to Steve and Karen’s table. They were still finishing up dessert. They all got up and hugged him again. Then sat down and started talking. At one point, Steve mentioned them getting together tomorrow morning.

“You all can come over to our room,” Aaron said. “Dave’s and mine. We’re on the twentieth floor. It’s as big as a house.”

Dave looked at Steve. “John put us up in the Governor’s Suite.”

“That sounds like a great idea, Dad. Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Dave noticed how Aaron smiled each time they called him Dad. He was so happy for Aaron. The family continued chatting. Steven Jr. was filling him in on some of his adventures in Afghanistan. Dave tapped Karen’s shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a few moments?”

“Sure.”

One of the families with small children had already left for the night, leaving an empty table. Dave pointed to it. “Let’s sit over there.” He reached for her hand then led the way. Dave realized something a little while ago. The Christmas songs that had been playing in the background included all the ones that had depressed him for the last few weeks. But he wasn’t depressed tonight.

As he and Karen sat, Elvis Presley started singing one of the most depressing songs of all, “Blue Christmas.” Whenever that song would come on, Dave would actually turn off the radio. Now, looking at Karen’s smiling face, he felt no pain. But he was feeling a little anxious about what he was about to say. “Karen, I might be making a big mistake here. I know you wanted to slow everything down, take this break to think everything over, but I’ve got to tell you . . . I’ve been dying the last few weeks. Not being able to talk to you at all is like—”

“I’ve thought everything over, Dave,” she interrupted.

“What?”

She reached for his hands. “What I figured out during my ‘break’ is something I knew almost from the first moment we met. I didn’t really acknowledge it then, just went with my feelings. But I think that’s what tripped me up. I’m not used to doing that. I just got carried away when we met, and it felt wonderful.”

“Felt wonderful for me too.”

She looked down. “Then I got afraid. For some reason, when I saw my father’s picture in the paper that day, it was like I was standing next to a ledge and it suddenly gave way.” She looked at him. “So I ran home, where I felt safe.”

“But you’re here now.”

“I am.”

“Okay, then, I’m just going to say it, Karen. I don’t care what kind of trouble I get in.” He looked deep into her eyes. “I love you. I don’t want to chase you off again, but something’s happened to me. I don’t know how. It wasn’t something I planned. The logical side of me says to feel this strongly about someone has to take a long time. But I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you at Chili’s. I can’t stop thinking about you. These past few weeks have been like torture for me. I can’t—”

“I love you too, Dave.”

He looked in her eyes, her lovely brown eyes. “You do?”

She nodded.

“You love me?”

She nodded again, then picked up a napkin and dabbed her eyes. “Steve helped me see it.”

“I love Steve,” Dave said. She smiled. He stroked the side of her face with his finger. They stared at each other a moment. He looked in her eyes, then at her lips.
Just do it
. He slid his finger tenderly down her cheek and placed it under her chin. Then drew her close and kissed her.

The first kiss was short, until he felt her kiss back. Then he kissed her again, expressing all the love he felt so strongly inside. Their lips parted a moment. He kissed her once more as Elvis sang his final chorus of “Blue Christmas.” “Listen,” he said, “I know we need to spend time to get to know each other better. I don’t know how we’re going to make it work, being so far apart, but couples do it all the time now. We can find a way . . . until somehow we’re both in the same place.”

“We could get on each other’s cell phone plans,” she said, “so the calls are free.”

“We can do that and both get phones that allow us to see each other when we talk. And we can text and email every day.”

“But we need to see each other in person too,” she said. “How are we going to do that?”

“I don’t know. But we will. We’ll make it work. Getting some time together tomorrow is a nice start, but it’s going to be horrible going our separate ways.” Another Christmas song began to play. Rascal Flatts sang that romantic classic “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”

Karen turned and looked at the table where her father and Steve’s family sat. Aaron was still talking with Steven Jr. while the others listened in. “I just had a great idea,” she said.

Aaron did his best to listen to his newfound grandson talk about Afghanistan, but he was a little distracted. Across the way, he had just watched Dave kiss his newfound daughter, Karen. Dave had become his hero, so this made him very happy.

Then
the song
began to play. “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”

He didn’t recognize the singers, but they were doing a beautiful job with it. His mind instantly went to the faded picture of Karen and Steve as toddlers, the only picture he’d had of them all these years. He remembered holding it in his trembling hands, raindrops falling on his poncho, artillery explosions booming in the distance. Then this same song began to play.

Listening to it while looking at that picture had become his simple, lonely Christmas tradition every year since.

But look
, he thought.
The song is playing, but the photograph is back in my room
. He was looking at Karen and Steve face-to-face. It was so wonderful. And yet, a wave of sadness was crouching at the door of his heart. He knew in a little while this magical evening would end. He didn’t want to leave.

He was so glad he’d get some time with Karen and Steve and the rest of his family tomorrow, but what about after that? How could he see them here—something he had longed for all these years—then head back to Florida and be all alone again? There had to be a way to see them more often. One day was not enough. But he didn’t have the kind of money people needed to travel. He didn’t own a car, couldn’t even afford a cell phone plan in his monthly budget.

Just then Karen got up and headed his way. She tapped Steve on the shoulder, then whispered something in his ear. Steve got a big smile on his face and nodded. He leaned forward and said something quietly to Aileen. She smiled and nodded. Steve stood up. Karen motioned for Dave to join them. He did.

The three of them stood in front of Aaron.

Karen looked at Dave. “I want you to hear this too.” Then she looked at Aaron. “Dad, listening to this song gave me an idea. We’re really excited about tomorrow, but Steve and I wanted to know if you’d consider flying back to Texas a week from now. Only this time to Fort Worth. We’d like you to spend this Christmas at home, with us. At Steve’s place. And Dave, we’d like to invite you, your mom, and Jake.”

Tears rolled down Aaron’s face. “I’d love that . . . more than anything in the world.” He looked down. “But I don’t have . . . I can’t really afford . . .”

“Aaron.” It was Dave.

Aaron looked up. Dave pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket. “You can afford to make this trip. And a whole lot more trips after that. Here, read this card.”

Aaron opened the envelope and read the card. When he’d finished, he couldn’t speak. The classic song ended with the memorable words “if only in my dreams.” No one said a word. Aaron looked up into the faces of his children, then his grandchildren. He was here, with them. He felt as if he were already home.

And it wasn’t a dream.

W
hile this book is entirely a work of fiction, as with several of my books, the inspiration behind
The Reunion
was drawn from real-life events. As I researched my first two novels,
The Unfinished Gift
and
The Homecoming
, I came across two stories that astounded me involving World War II vets. Both of these men had fought in horrific battles and had won this nation’s highest award for bravery and valor, the Congressional Medal of Honor.

After the war, they came home to live in quiet obscurity. Both men worked as janitors. The people whose buildings they cleaned, whose floors they mopped and bathrooms they sanitized, walked past them every day and had no idea who they were or the amazing things they had done during the war.

One of the men’s lives ended in tragedy (you can read about Bobbie E. Brown at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bobbie_E._Brown). The other man’s life had a much happier ending (read more about Bill Crawford at http://www.homeofheroes.com/profiles/profiles_crawford_10lessons.html).

As I read their stories, I began thinking about all the people we pass by every day, who work in menial jobs (like Bobbie E. Brown and Bill Crawford did). People whose life stories we never give a second thought. I wondered how many of them might have accomplished amazing things or had fascinating stories to tell . . . if we only took the time to listen, to take an interest in them.

As a Christian, I also began to think of my Savior’s example. In the Gospels, Jesus routinely stopped to take an interest in ordinary people. A woman at a well, a blind beggar, a nameless leper. I want to be more like him in this way. And if you look at the Scripture verse I quote at the beginning of the book, it’s obvious God will measure people’s worth and value on judgment day very differently than how we measure people’s worth here on earth.

From Christ’s example in the Gospels, and the stories of men like Bobbie E. Brown and Bill Crawford, the beginnings of
The Reunion
were born. But I decided to make my hero, Aaron Miller, a Vietnam vet. This satisfied a strong desire I’ve had to honor these real-life heroes of my childhood, young men whose lives had been plunged into a dark hour in our nation’s history, an hour from which my own life had been spared.

I wrote
The Reunion
, in part, as a tribute to all the military veterans of this country. The men and women who’ve served this great nation of ours throughout the years, sacrificially putting themselves in harm’s way so the rest of us could live in freedom. But I especially wanted this book to honor Vietnam vets.

I am not a vet. I have never served in the military.

None of us can control the timing or circumstances of our birth. That decision is always left in God’s hands. The Vietnam War ended before I became old enough to be eligible.

My
Leave It to Beaver
childhood of the late fifties and early sixties was brought to an abrupt halt by a number of national events, starting with the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. Then I watched the Civil Rights Movement unfold on the network news and listened as my parents talked about “how terribly these poor black people are being treated” (as a child, I had never even met an African American). A few years later came the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Kennedy. It seemed like the nation was spinning out of control.

But nothing affected me as much as the Vietnam War.

I was terribly afraid of the draft. Year after year, it hung like a Big Clock over my head, ticking down to the moment when I would be forced to join all the other unfortunate young men who’d been thrown into this terrible war. I didn’t understand it. The whole nation seemed to turn against it. There were riots about it on the news, seemed like every night (along with constant reports on how many U.S. soldiers had been killed that day in Vietnam). My parents talked about the war around the dinner table as a horrible mistake some crooked politicians had made (they talked this way even though my father was a patriot, a veteran of the Korean War).

When the war finally ended, it was obvious . . . after all those years of bloodshed and dying, America had lost. But to me, the way we had treated the Vietnam veterans at home, during the war and after, was another national tragedy.

For the next fifteen years or so, until the first Gulf War in Iraq, people hardly ever talked about Vietnam, and when they did, it was rarely in a positive light. The veterans of that war continued to suffer neglect, mistreatment, and humiliation, as if they were somehow responsible for what happened.

I’m so glad this has changed, so grateful the men and women who fought and suffered through this time can now hold their heads up high and be properly honored for the sacrifices they made.

So . . . to all the Aaron Millers out there, the unsung warriors whose actions have made it possible for the rest of us to live free, not just in the Vietnam War but in all the wars our country has been engaged in, please accept this author’s heartfelt thanks and unending gratitude.