The Reunion (4 page)

D
ave Russo was taking a sick day from his regular job as a wire editor for the local newspaper. He didn’t like being sick, but it gave him some time to spend the day doing the kind of writing he really wanted to do. A book about the heroes of Vietnam, in honor of his father, who died when Dave was only three.

The hardest part about writing the book was closing the door on all the memories it stirred. They didn’t shut down as easily when he closed his laptop. The memories that bothered him the most weren’t even things he planned to put in the book. It was all the personal stuff, like seeing his mother cry every Christmas and every anniversary. This went on well into his teens.

The book wasn’t even about Dave’s father, Joey Russo. It couldn’t be. There wasn’t enough information about his death to fill a few chapters, let alone a book. And his father hadn’t died in some heroic fashion. He had just blown up in a mortar barrage in one of the last battles of the war. There wasn’t even a body to ship home for a funeral. So Dave had decided to write a book about some of the heroes of Vietnam whose stories could be told, and dedicate the book to his father’s memory.

What he did know about his father came mostly from his mom, Angelina Russo. But Dave was concerned this project was becoming too hard on her. He did his best not to talk about it, but she still kept drifting down memory lane, just from seeing all the Vietnam books and resource material he’d have out on the kitchen table while he worked. Dave lived in her condo in a little town in north Florida with his son Jake. He’d been living there the past four years.

He looked up from the table toward her closed bedroom door. She was in there now, just getting over another good cry. She had come up behind him ten minutes ago, reading over his shoulder.

“Your dad was so handsome, Davey,” she’d said. “And funny. Boy, could he make me laugh. And he was romantic too, your father. And a great singer. And strong. He had these broad shoulders and big muscles in his arms.”

Dave had listened quietly. He didn’t know what could have gotten her thinking about him; it wasn’t anything Dave had just written. It was probably just the lingering emotions from this past Sunday. It would have been their forty-fifth wedding anniversary.

He’d looked up at her and smiled, watched her eyes drift toward the ceiling. She was seeing Joey Russo’s face, hearing something he’d said. She smiled. Then tears filled her eyes, rolled down her cheeks. He had gotten up and grabbed the box of Kleenex, tried to think of something else to talk about, something in the present.

He reached over now and grabbed a few Kleenex for himself, blew his stuffy nose. Then one of his own memories stirred, something that happened when he was nine years old. Two kids at school were arguing. One had just bragged that his dad was a war hero, because he’d won the Silver Star in Vietnam. The other boy said it didn’t count because his dad had told him Vietnam was a scum war, the first war we’d ever lost.

That angered Dave. Without even thinking, he slugged the kid right in the face, gave him a bloody nose. The teacher had sent him home for the rest of the day. When he’d gotten home, he ran into his room and cried into his pillow so his mom wouldn’t hear. He didn’t understand much about the Vietnam War then. Just enough to know something was wrong with it. He knew the whole country had turned against it—even against the soldiers who’d fought in it. And because they had, Dave never felt like he’d gotten the chance to grieve properly for his father. He didn’t know anyone he could talk to about it, anyone who’d understand.

He remembered as a kid how he used to envy people who’d lost fathers in other wars, especially World War II. Those men were all considered heroes, because that was a “good” war. A war we had to fight. But when Dave was growing up, no one ever talked about the Vietnam War that way. It was the scum war, the war his father fought in and died in for nothing.

He was so glad things were different now. And as painful as it was, writing this book was good for him. For some reason, it helped him feel closer to his father, helped his father seem more real than just a smiling face in a few fuzzy Polaroid photos.

A
n hour later, Dave’s mom was back in the kitchen, making dinner. She seemed totally over it. His cell phone rang. It was Harry Warden, his boss at the newspaper.

“Okay, Dave, I got the funding for the Houston trip approved,” Harry said.

It took Dave a moment to track with what Harry was saying; maybe it was the cold medicine. “Oh, thanks, Harry. You remember I’m taking a vacation day tacked on the end.”

“For your book thing, right?”

Dave nodded. “I have to confirm it, but I’m hoping to interview this oil company executive who won the Silver Star in Vietnam, lives right there in Houston.”

“And you remember the expenses for that extra day aren’t included,” Harry said.

“I do.” Of course, the per diem the newspaper gave Dave was way more than he’d need. It wasn’t hard on these trips to stretch the food allowance. He couldn’t do anything about the hotel expense, but—

“How’s this book project coming?” Harry asked.

“I’ve still got a ways to go,” Dave said. “I’m not even close to shopping it out yet. Just gathering info. I’ve got a ton of Vietnam veterans left to interview. Since I’m having to pay my own way, it’s taking forever. That’s why trips like this one to Houston are so great.”

“Can’t you just interview these guys over the phone?”

“I could. I’ve tried that a few times, but it’s just not the same. The stuff I’m trying to get these guys to talk about is heavy stuff. Stirs some bad memories, lots of emotion. I’ve found it works better if we can meet in person. Take it slow. I can read how they’re doing a lot better face-to-face.”

“I can see that. It was a horrible time. How many people you going to interview before you’re done?”

“A lot more than I’m putting in the book. I’m going to select about seven or eight men from dozens of interviews—the ones that affect me the most—and tell their story with lots of details. I’m hoping to make it read like a fiction novel.”

“So, what’s with this guy in Houston?”

“I’ve only talked with him briefly, so I haven’t heard very much. From what I read, he got his medal defending a Huey that crash-landed. Knocked the pilot out. He kept the Viet Cong at bay until help arrived. Something like that.”

“Well, hope you heal up in time for your trip.”

They hung up. Dave had two other calls to make. His son Jake was on the local high school basketball team. They’d had an incredible season last year. On the strength of that, they’d been invited to a big preseason tournament in Houston. That’s what this trip was all about. He decided to give Jake a quick call, then Mr. John Lansing, the oil executive/war hero in Houston.

He dialed Jake’s number but got his voice mail. “Hey, Jake, it’s me, Dad. Just got word that the paper’s sending me with you guys to Houston. I’m calling to see if your team already made flight arrangements. If so, can you give me the info for the way there? I’d love to ride with you if there’s any seats left. But just on the way there, not the flight home. I have to stay an extra day in Houston. Well, call me when you hear this. Love you.”

There was at least a fifty-fifty chance Jake would call him before the day ended. They had a good relationship, on the whole. And Jake was a good kid. High school is a scary time for any parent, but Jake hadn’t given Dave too much cause for alarm so far. He was a little concerned about Jake pulling away now that he’d made the basketball team. Seemed like he was. But they had talked, and Jake had convinced Dave it was just the schedule, not anything going on in his heart.

Keeping their hearts connected was the main thing for Dave. Meant more than anything else in his life. Certainly more than this job at the newspaper. Or his book project.

Jake’s mother had died four years ago in a commuter plane crash.

That’s what had brought Dave here to Florida from Atlanta. Dave’s mom had moved down from Chicago years ago; really to be closer to Jake, her only grandson. She and Dave’s ex-wife, Anne, had stayed close after he and Anne divorced. That happened back when Jake was seven. From then until four years ago, Anne had primary custody. Dave saw him at fixed times in the year, because he lived out of state.

They hadn’t been all that close. Dave now believed this was totally his fault.

Just like the divorce. He was an idiot. A selfish, ambitious fool. It took Anne’s tragic death for him to see it. Didn’t come in time to help their relationship but hopefully in time to give him and Jake a second chance.

It seemed to be working.

Dave sighed, tried to push these thoughts aside. He looked up John Lansing’s cell number and dialed. He expected to get his voice mail too. He already knew Lansing was an extremely busy man. And obviously, a multimillionaire.

“Hello? Mr. Lansing?”

“Hey, Dave. How are things? You’re in Florida, right?”

He was surprised Lansing even remembered him. They’d only spoken briefly two other times. He must have kept Dave’s name and number on his caller ID. “Pretty nice, actually. November’s a great month here. I’m guessing it’s a little chilly there.”

“Chilly and windy.”

“I’ve never lived in Houston, but I did live in the Dallas–Fort Worth area a couple of years. Do you have a minute?”

“A few,” he said. “This about the book you’re writing?”

He remembered that too. “It is. I don’t know if you recall this, but I work for a newspaper here in north Florida. They’re sending me out your way to cover a basketball tournament our local high school is participating in. I was hoping I might get with you while I’m out there, see if I could interview you about your experiences in Vietnam. Particularly, what happened that led to you getting that Silver Star.”

“Funny you should bring that up. Since the last time you called, I got an idea that won’t let me go. I called two of my best Nam buddies and talked it over with them. We get together every few years to reminisce. They liked the idea. Liked it a lot, in fact. So, yeah, I’d definitely like to talk with you.”

“Were these men with you in that battle, the one where you got the medal?”

“No. I got that during my first tour in ’67. I was stupid enough to sign up for a second. That’s when I met the friends I’m talking about.”

Dave was having a hard time following him. What could these guys tell him about John Lansing’s Silver Star if they hadn’t even been there? “Do you want these men there for the interview?”

“No, they live in different states.”

“I guess I don’t follow what—”

“No, I don’t suppose you do. But I’d rather explain all this when you’re here in person. You have my office number?”

“I do.”

“Well, you hang up and call my secretary, Ellen. I’ve already told her a little about this. You tell her when you’re coming and tell her I want to block off the better part of that day. Tell her to call me if she runs into any snags.”

“Well, that . . . that’s great, Mr. Lansing. I really appreciate it.”

“Guess you better start calling me John.”

“So the interview’s all set.”

“Interview? Well, sure. You can still interview me, I guess.”

Still?

“But the real reason I want to meet is not quite what you’re expecting.”

“It’s not?”

“Son, it’s like that old
Godfather
quote. I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

A
aron was glad that the past several days at Bentley’s Trailer Park & Campground had been relatively quiet. He’d been checking on Heather every day. So far, her boyfriend had not returned to get his things. She didn’t seem to know what he was up to or when he’d be back, and she didn’t care, either.

Aaron was pretty sure she was pregnant, and pretty sure she needed money. Before she drove off for work this morning, she’d asked Aaron if he wouldn’t mind stopping by on his lunch hour to walk Tess. She hoped to talk her boss into letting her work the dinner shift too, which meant poor old Tess would be stuck in that trailer till after 7:00 p.m.

The other person Aaron had been keeping his eye on was Billy Ames. He stopped in on Billy every day after he clocked out. Billy had tried out the new ramp Aaron built a time or two, but for the most part, he stayed holed up in that dingy little place all day and night. Aaron had been trying to get him to get outside, get some fresh air. Always did Aaron some good when he was feeling low.

On most days, especially now that the weather was nice, Aaron spent his lunch hour outside at this little hideaway he’d found on the back end of the park. It was available to everyone who lived at Bentley’s, but Aaron had never seen another soul make use of it. He liked to pretend the place was his. It was a wooden deck built out on a curve along the old Suwannee River, a section where the river faced mostly west. The tree line on the far side didn’t block the sky much. Made for some beautiful sunsets. No properties had been developed along the water’s edge as far as he could see in either direction. Made it nice and quiet. He was sure it would do Billy Ames a world of good if he’d get out there every now and then.

But getting to the deck took a little effort. It was at the edge of the property, and you had to walk a block through a marsh across a winding wooden walkway. The walkway and deck were pretty old. Over the last two years, Sue had given Aaron permission to fix it up. He’d replaced all the rotten boards, made it as solid as he knew how. But folks in the park still didn’t take to it. Aaron figured they were afraid they’d run into snakes and spiders or the wasps who built nests under the wood railings. To Aaron, this wooden deck on the Suwannee was just a little closer to heaven than most places on earth.

Aaron looked at his watch. Still had thirty minutes left on his lunch hour. He stopped off at Heather’s trailer and put Tess on a leash. Then he walked up Billy’s ramp and knocked on the door of his trailer. He waited a few moments then knocked again.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me—Aaron.”

“Be right there.”

Aaron patted Tess on the head. She sat beside him, looked up at him like they were best friends. A moment later, Aaron heard Billy’s scooter humming toward the front door.

“What are you doing here this time of day?” Billy said as he opened the door.

“I got some time left on my lunch hour, wanted to show you something.”

“You got a dog?”

“No, not the dog.”

“Then what is it?”

“You gotta come out here to see it.”

“Outside?”

“Well, of course, outside.” Aaron walked Tess down the ramp, hoping Billy would follow. He turned to find Billy sitting on his scooter half in and half out the door. “You coming?”

Billy looked around. “Where?”

“There’s a place I want to show you. It’s not far. Won’t take ten minutes to get there on your scooter.”

“Is that dog friendly?”

“Well, look at her, Billy. She’s smiling, wagging her tail. She’s part golden retriever.”

“I can see that.”

“Then you know she’s friendly. C’mon. She won’t hurt you.”

“Why you walking a dog?”

“It’s just a favor for a friend. You coming?”

“This place, is it down the main road? ’Cause I don’t want to take this thing down that road. They don’t have a sidewalk, and I don’t want to get stuck in the dirt.”

“We’re not even going to leave the trailer park.”

“So where is it?”

“It’s kind of a surprise. I’d rather show you than talk about it. C’mon. Don’t you trust me?”

“Now why should I trust you, Aaron? You been real nice to me these last few days, but I don’t know you all that well.”

“I think you know me well enough to know I won’t hurt you. You don’t like this place, you don’t ever have to go back. But I think you might like it. It’s a place I go almost every day.” Aaron turned and walked Tess in the right direction. He heard Billy’s scooter heading down the ramp.

“As a rule, I don’t like surprises,” Billy said.

“I think you’ll like this one.” Aaron slowed his pace to let Billy catch up. When they were side by side, he said, “You ever have a hiding place when you were a kid? A place you liked to sneak off to when you wanted to be alone?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so.” They walked in silence a few moments then turned left on the paved road. “Actually, I do remember a place like that,” he said. “There was this old orange orchard a few blocks from our home. I used to like to head there sometimes. Mainly to get out of doing chores or when I got in some kind of trouble.”

“A place of refuge?” Aaron said.

“I guess you could call it that.”

“Well, there’s this spot on the back end of this property that’s become my place of refuge. No one ever goes out there but me. It’s right up ahead here. I thought if I showed it to you, you could go there whenever you wanted.”

Billy gave him a puzzled look, but he kept following. Tess’s head was just about even with Billy’s hand. She walked right next to his wheelchair. “Hey there, girl.” Billy patted her head. “What’s her name?”

“Tess.”

“Kinda fits. She’s got a nice face.”

They got to a place where the paved road curved to the left, around one of the larger oak trees in the park. About fifty feet ahead, across a grassy area, the oak forest gave way to a border of scrub and cabbage palms and much thicker brush. Cypress trees began to show up too, because they were close to where the marshy area began. As Aaron and Tess stepped into the grass, he heard Billy’s scooter stop. “It’s all right, Billy. I keep the grass mowed real good here. The ground’s nice and hard.”

“Where we going?”

“See the sign?” He pointed to it up ahead. It said: Nature Trail & Lookout.

“I can’t go in there.”

“Sure you can. It’s got a strong wooden walkway, goes all the way to this deck right on the river.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t go in jungles.”

“It’s no jungle. It’s just a marsh, and it’s pretty much—” Just then Aaron remembered. Billy had a major fear of jungles, even worse than his own. That’s where Billy lost his legs in Vietnam, walking through jungles so thick you couldn’t see a man ten feet in front of you. He had been walking point and stepped on a mine, something they called a Bouncing Betty. Blew him twenty feet in the air. When he came down, his legs were gone just past the knees.

Aaron walked back to Billy and bent down to eye level. Tess came right over. Her expression changed to something that looked like genuine concern. She seemed to know Billy was struggling. “I know what you’re thinking, Billy. And we don’t have to go back there if you don’t want. I haven’t told you too much about my time in Nam, but I got the same fear of jungles you have. But this place ain’t anything like the jungles in Vietnam, I promise. That’s part of the reason I love it back there.”

Billy looked at him a few moments.

“Really, it’s okay.” Aaron stood up and walked a few steps toward the river. “Once we get down that walkway a bit, you’ll see. Just low-lying marshes, as quiet and peaceful a place as I’ve ever seen. It turns and winds a little, maybe fifty yards. Then it opens up to a nice big wood deck, right on the river. And the scene there? Well, sometimes it takes my breath away. Besides the beauty of the river, you see all the best things that grow in Florida, just the way God meant them to be seen. And no people around, just you and me.”

He looked back at Billy. He was smiling a little.

“And the wildlife,” Aaron continued, “I see all kinds of things back there, especially birds. You’ll see all different ones wading in the water here and there if you’re quiet. Like white egrets and blue herons. Even storks on occasion. Sometimes bald eagles will fly right by, ospreys too. Like your own nature show, except you’re seeing it with your own two eyes. What do you say?”

“I don’t know,” Billy said. “I’m not sure I’d feel safe riding this thing over water, and I ain’t been an outdoorsy guy, ever since I lost these.” He pointed down.

Tess walked over to Billy and sat beside him. She leaned up against his wheelchair and rested her head on his thigh. Billy looked down. “Would you look at that?” He patted her on the head.

“Seems like she’s taken to you.” Aaron looked at his watch. He only had about twenty more minutes. He wasn’t thinking he’d be spending so much time having to talk Billy into this, and he needed to put Tess back up in the trailer. But he could tell Billy was softening up to the idea. “That wood out there is solid, Billy. You’d be as safe as riding on pavement, but I tell you what. We’ll head back and you think on it awhile. I don’t want to force you into doing something you’re not comfortable with. But if you’d like to try it again tomorrow, I’ll take you out there on my lunch break or after I clock out. Will that work?”

“I think I’d like that better.” He spun his wheelchair around.

“I understand,” Aaron said. When they got back to the curve in the paved road, they heard a roaring sound up ahead. Aaron looked up to see that souped-up blue Honda racing into the park entrance then fishtailing around the curve leading up to Heather’s trailer.

It was her no-good boyfriend. Aaron tensed up till he remembered Heather wasn’t home. They walked a little farther, and his heart skipped a beat. “Uh-oh.” Heather was opening the front door of their trailer.

“What’s the matter?”

“Heather is home.”

“Who’s Heather?”

“Tess’s owner. That boyfriend of hers likes to beat her. I better get a move on it. You’ll be all right if I leave you here?”

“I’m fine. I know my way back.”

“Can you keep Tess with you?”

“Sure. You go on,” Billy said.