Whispering Rock

Page 39

“You have to try to hold it together for her. We can meet up and fall apart later, bud.”
“Yeah,” he said. Then he ran for Mike’s SUV.
Paul jumped out of the house rather than walking down the plank where the porch steps would eventually be constructed. He ran to Mike, Jack right on his heels, questions shining in their eyes. “The Marine Corps is at the house, Paul. It’s Matt. Car bomb in Baghdad. He’s dead.”
“Jesus,” Paul said in a breath. “Vanni!” burst from his lips. And he lit off for his truck before Mike had a chance to stop him.
“Jack, I sent Mel out to the house because of Vanni’s pregnancy. You’ll want to get over there. Brie will bring Davie in a little while.”
Tom, Mike and Paul beat Jack to the house by mere seconds, but when he looked in the door what he found was a Marine Corps recruiter and a chaplain sitting uncomfortably in the great room while Walt stood beside his daughter. Tommy leaned on his dad and Paul knelt beside the ottoman on which Vanni sat, and held her in his arms. Before Jack could even enter the house, Mel drove up, parked and walked swiftly toward the house. Jack stopped her at the doorway. “Are you up to this?”
“I’m fine, Jack. I should see Vanni.”
“Sure.”
Then he watched as his wife, medical bag in hand, went to her patient. Mel put a hand on Vanni’s shoulder and said, “I’m here, Vanni. I just want to be here,” she said. What she didn’t say was, to be sure you don’t have any problems with your pregnancy on account of the news.
Shortly the house filled up even more. Preacher and Paige with Christopher, Brie with David. Preacher brought food that had been prepared for that night’s dinner, plus a couple of bottles of good liquor.
Eventually the Marine contingent spoke with the general about arrangements and told Walt that a similar detachment had paid a visit to Matt’s parents in Oregon once Vanni had been notified. They’d be available to help with the burial, when those decisions were made.
Paul took Vanni to her room, glancing over his shoulder to Mel, indicating she should follow. Once there, Vanni lay back on the bed and cried helplessly. Paul sat beside her, gently rubbing her back. Mel quickly checked her vitals, listened to the fetal heartbeat and gave her a light sedative that wouldn’t bother the baby.
This was the first time Mel became aware of a truly special bond between Paul and Vanni even though she’d seen their reunion a couple of months before, even though she’d heard Matt ask his best friend to look after his wife. Right now, in the moment, Vanni was completely dependent on Paul. Not on her father or brother, but on Paul, who continued to keep at least a hand on her, if not his arms around her. “Paul, if you can, if it’s all right with Vanni, lie down beside her and stay close for a while. The contact,” she said. “Loving contact is good.”
“Vanni?” he asked.
She turned in his arms, nodding and sobbing, and he climbed onto her bed with her, drawing her close as she cried.
“Call me if you need me. I’ll be near,” Mel said.
It was a long while before the sobbing finally subsided. Vanni’s eyes were swollen and red, her breathing jagged. She turned to look at Paul and asked, “Did he know?”
“Know what, honey?”
“Did he know he was going to die? I heard him ask you to take care of us if anything happened. It was almost as if he knew….”
“He didn’t know. When it gets hot, you think like that. That’s all it was. You always wonder. Plus, he knew without asking I’d be here for you.”
“What am I going to do?” She wept again.
“We’ll get through it, Vanni. You have a lot of people around who love you.”
“He’ll never see his baby. His son.”
“Sure he will. You think he won’t be watching? I know the guy—he’ll be watching.”
They lay together on her bed and Paul held her. No one bothered them; no one checked to see if they were okay. Paul could hear the soft murmur of voices in the other room, but the only thing that mattered at the moment was Vanni and the baby. She faced him, her head on his arm, her belly pressed up against him, and he felt the baby move. Relief flooded him. It was bad enough that Vanni was going through this—he couldn’t have anything happen to the baby. Matt’s baby.
The room was dark. There was a soft glow from the hallway from lights in the great room and kitchen spilling over. Vanni’s breathing became even and calmer—she slept, probably due to the sedative. He eased himself away reluctantly; he knew he wouldn’t be able to justify putting himself back on her bed, at her side, his arms around her, so it was hard to leave her.
In the great room he found all his friends. Waiting.
“She’s asleep,” he said. “Mel, I could feel the baby moving, so I guess he’s okay, right?”
“She’s in her last trimester—the baby’s pretty tough. Resilient. I’m confident she’ll carry, though she’ll have a lot of emotional pain.”
“You want to call his parents?” Walt asked Paul.
“I can do that, yeah. Any idea what Vanni would want to do about the burial?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know how it’s going to sit,” Walt said. “If anything happened in Iraq, they’d decided together that he’s to come here. Not Virginia, where she’s never going to live. Not Oregon, where their child isn’t going to grow up. Do you think you can talk to his folks about that, or should I?”
“I can do it,” Paul said. “When you say here…?”
“On my land,” the general said. “I’m always going to be here. This is going to be home base for Vanessa, at least. There’s a kind of…the baby should have a link to his dad.”
“And me,” Tommy said. “And to me.”
“Yeah, of course,” Paul said. And he was beginning to long for the moment when he could be alone and grieve for his best friend. But it wasn’t going to happen soon. He knew these people needed him to be strong.
A permit had to be obtained for burial on private property and a digging crew had to be hired from a cemetery in Fortuna. A site that could be seen from the house was chosen, up on a small rise under a big tree, a place from which a person could stand and see the many acres of General Booth’s land. A contingent of Marines brought the body, a body it was not possible to view. It was never spoken of and no one really knew if it was a routine practice of the Corps to deliver an honor guard and twenty-one-gun salute to a ranch in the backwoods, or if a three-star general could whip that up with a phone call or two.
Folding chairs were placed around the grave site; Vanni sat between her father and brother right in front, Paul sat beside Tom, and beside the general sat Matt’s parents. In the gathering, besides Preacher, Paige, Jack, Mel, Mike and Brie were Joe, Zeke, Josh Phillips and Tom Stephens. They were there more for Paul than anyone, because when one of them needed to be shored up by his brothers, the Marines arrived.
The flag was removed from the casket, folded with precision and presented to Vanni, who pressed it lovingly to her breast. The rifles fired; the bugle wailed.
Mel held Jack’s hand and pulled it to her belly. There was a stirring inside and she looked up at him with a small smile. He leaned down to hear her whisper, “Darling, you will never hear me complain about this baby again. Never. I thank God I have you…and your babies.”
Thirteen
Despite everything, or perhaps because of everything, Christmas in Sacramento was filled with joy and laughter. Mel had many hands to help tend to David, allowing her to relax. Sam Sheridan’s house throbbed with noise, food, love and celebration. Mike was pulled into the throng with enthusiasm, for the happiness that sparkled in Brie’s eyes brought everyone’s gratitude and relief.
Mel’s sister, Joey, her husband, Bill, and their three kids joined the five Sheridan siblings, their spouses and, with David, nine little Sheridans, making it twenty-five in total, eleven of them camping out at Sam’s house, using every bedroom, pull-out sofa, sleeping bag and beanbag.
The first night in town was a relatively quiet one, with Brie and Jack’s sisters and spouses dropping in to say hello and welcome, heading back to their homes early, but on Christmas Eve it grew wild with everyone present at once. The street outside looked like a parking lot, dinner was big and messy and the dishes took forever to clean up, but the evening was young.
“We have a few traditions around here,” Bob, the eldest of the brothers-in-law, said to Mike. “It starts on the patio.”
“To the patio!” chimed in Ryan, the third in rank.
“This is where we come after dinner,” Jack let him know. “First drinks, then the cigars come out and eventually the brandy—after which we generally have the women completely pissed off.”
“Sounds like home,” Mike said.
As the women held their usual gathering in the family room, the space heaters on the patio were lit by Sam.
“Do they do this at the Valenzuela house—segregate by sex?” Sam asked Mike.
“Yeah, but at my mother’s home, the men take the garage, which holds a pool table and a refrigerator. In the refrigerator we have cerveza. It’s kind of like a clubhouse.”
“Hmm. I could get a pool table,” Sam said thoughtfully.
Inside, the women were focused on pie, coffee and David, who was getting around very well and trying to pull himself up on furniture. He crawled around in his pajamas, ready to be put to bed once the noise level in the house subsided a bit. No one really seemed to notice when the doorbell rang. Donna, who was sitting nearest, answered. When she came back to the family room, she leaned down and whispered in Brie’s ear. “Really?” Brie asked. “Hmm. Will you please get Mike for me?”
“Sure, kitten.”
Brie went to the door and found Brad in the foyer with a small gift-wrapped box and a large, gaily ribboned basket of wine, meats and cheeses. “Hi, Brad,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought maybe you’d had enough time to cool down now and think about things. I brought you something. This is for you, this is for the family.”
He expects to be invited in, she thought. He still thinks we’ll kiss and make up. He’s crazy as a loon. “I’ll take this,” she said, reaching for the basket. She put it on the hall table behind her. “But you should take that back. I’ll give the family your regards.”
“Come on, Brie. Give me a chance.”
She shook her head sadly. “Brad, you’re much too late.”
Mike came up behind her. She could sense his presence before she felt his hand on her shoulder. “Brad,” Mike said with a nod.
Brie reached up and put her hand over Mike’s. He slipped his other arm gently around her waist, holding her against him. Last Christmas came to mind, when Brad was with the other woman and her children and Brie was here, lonely and hurt in this huge crowd of family. And now, with Mike’s warmth against her, his arm around her, she couldn’t remember feeling more secure.
A strange look came over Brad’s face and a huff of laughter escaped him. “No way,” he said.
“You should go, Brad,” she said.
“Come on,” Brad said in disbelief. “You’re not with this guy.”
“Merry Christmas, Brad,” Brie said. “Have a nice holiday.”
Brad laughed. “God, I should’ve known. He was at the hospital. That’s why…”
Brie turned to look up at Mike. She smiled at him. She’d be damned if she’d explain anything about their relationship to Brad.
Brad looked down uncomfortably. Then meeting Brie’s eyes, he said, “You’re sure?”