The Elephant in the Room
(2012)
“When I was a kid, my dad used to tell me these stories,” Jen laughed a little, and gestured with her free hand, “the kind that end with ‘and the moral is,’ or something like that.”
Wes smiled back, but he wasn’t really listening. Things were bad at work, and it looked like they were only going to get worse. Look what happened yesterday…what a lousy way to spend Thanksgiving. First the robbery, then the paperwork. He hadn’t even gotten home until after the kids were asleep.
“Mommy, Mommy!” Lisa ran into the room, a little toothpaste marking one corner of her mouth.
“Hey, sweetie,” Jen greeted as her five-year old daughter scrambled into her lap.
“Tell me a story!” Lisa demanded, settling into her favorite snuggle spot.
“Oh, well, we’d better wait for Jason,” Jen kissed Lisa’s damp hair and winked at Wes.
“Absolutely,” he responded, the image of his wife and daughter, warm and safe in their home, shaking him loose from his somber mood. Just in time, too. Other families had to buy their bed-time stories.
Jason came bounding around the corner and pounced in Wes’s lap. Wes inhaled sharply to recover the air Jason had knocked out of him.
“That was quite a jump, buddy!” He congratulated, lifting his seven-year old son into the air. “Look at you!” He held him out, hands on his son’s elbows, Jason’s legs dangling a few inches off the ground. “You are getting so tall! Mom, look at Jason! He’s grown at least…” Wes paused, pretending to be shocked, “What are you now, four feet tall? Already?”
Lisa giggled and Jen relaxed. She worried about Wes, mostly because he seemed to be taking everything so seriously these days. Once, not so long ago, he would come home tense, but it wouldn’t last past dinner. Lately, whatever was going on at work was following him home, like a tiger stalking its prey.
“Daddy!” Shrieked Jason, wriggling to free himself.
“Story, story!” Chanted Lisa, tugging at Mommy’s arm.
Somehow Jason got on his father’s lap, feet first, and began arranging his father’s arms comfortably around him.
“A story?” Jen asked, tilting her head to the side. “Let me see…would you like to hear a story about the elephant and the straw?”
Jason and Lisa clapped their hands and called for her to begin.
“Well,” Jen shifted into story-telling mode, “long ago, in a land on the far side of our world, there was no such thing as cars.”
Jason, who possibly owned every matchbox car ever made, stared at her, eyes as big as saucers.
“They used horses, and donkeys, and…”
“Elephants!” Interrupted Lisa ecstatically.
“And elephants,” agreed Jen, smoothing Lisa’s hair gently. “Elephants are big, and strong, and they work hard. But, this story is about one elephant in particular. He was born far away from people. The first time he saw a man, was when the man came to take him to school.”
Jason groaned aloud. He was on vacation! Wes’s eyebrows shot up, and it was all Jen could do to keep from bursting into laughter at the face he made.
“He was a very young elephant,” Jen continued, staring at the Christmas tree to avoid looking at Wes, “but the man knew that it wouldn’t be long at all before the elephant was so strong and so powerful that he wouldn’t be able to train him. Well, the man took the young elephant home with him. At first, the elephant didn’t know what to think about the strange place, and he got into lots of trouble. He was always stealing the vendor’s melons, for one thing.” Out of the corner of her eye, Jen saw Wes’s face harden a little. Oops…
“Mommy, stealing’s bad!” Lisa announced firmly.
“That’s right!” Agreed Jen hastily. “That’s exactly what the man told him, too.”
“Did he listen?” Asked Lisa, both eyebrows raised eagerly.
“Oh, yes,” Jen answered seriously. “The man taught the elephant to pull the vendor’s cart, and then the vendor gave him melons to eat. They became good friends.”
Satisfied, Lisa snuggled closer. It was almost bedtime, and her internal clock was slowing down.
“The man taught the elephant lots and lots of things,” Jen went on, “and the elephant grew bigger and bigger, just like Jason.”
Jason grinned, but didn’t interrupt.
“One day, the man got a job for the elephant in a town nearby. They had to walk all day to get from their town to the other town. While they were walking, they met a stranger. He was a storyteller travelling to the very same town, and they decided to walk together. The storyteller wanted to know all about elephants! How much does an elephant eat each day? How big do they grow? How strong are they?” Jen smiled inwardly when Jason looked expectantly at Wes.
“I…we better hear the rest of the story, pal,” Wes hedged, “we can look that stuff up tomorrow, ok?” Jason nodded excitedly, and turned back to listen.
“Just then, they turned a corner, and they saw a huge tree across the road! The stranger was worried, because he had to be in the next town early tomorrow, and it would take too long to walk there if he had to take a different road. So, the man and his elephant went to work! It took some hard work and some time, but the elephant moved the tree! The stranger was so impressed that he promised to buy the elephant some melons when they reached the next town.”
Lisa giggled a little.
“There was just one problem.” Jen raised both hands, palm up. “Even though the elephant moved the tree, they were still so far away that it got dark before they could get to town!”
“Did they sleep outside?” Asked Jason, ever alert for any reference to camping.
“That’s right,” Jen answered. “When they were all ready for bed, the man did something that surprised the storyteller. He reached into his pack, and took out a piece of string. He told the elephant that because they had to sleep outside, he was going to tie the elephant up so he wouldn’t run away and get lost. Then, he wrapped the string around the elephant’s huge leg, and tied a knot in it so it wouldn’t fall off.”
“And that’s all?” Jason asked, clearly confused.
“That’s what the storyteller asked,” nodded Jen. “He reminded the man that elephants are very strong, and can travel very fast, and…oh, lots of things. He was really worried!”
“What did the man say?” Asked Lisa, yawning a little.
“The man said that, as strong his elephant was, he wasn’t strong enough to break a promise,” Jen answered seriously.
Wes’ smile started slowly, spreading from one quirked-up corner of his mouth to the other. He was remembering what she’d been saying just before Lisa burst into the room. When I was a kid, my dad used to tell me these stories…
“The man and the storyteller wrapped themselves in their blankets, and slept all night long. When they woke up, the elephant was right where they had left him, sleeping by a banana tree. The storyteller visited many strange towns and saw many strange things after he met the man and his elephant, but he never got tired of telling stories about the elephant who wouldn’t break his promise.”
Later, after they had tucked the children in, Jen and Wes stood in front of the Christmas tree, thinking. Wes was wondering what the world would be like if more people were like the elephant in the story, and Jen was wondering what Wes was thinking.
“You did a great job decorating, honey,” he sighed at last, slipping an arm around her waist.
“The kids helped a lot,” she smiled, tilting her head so it rested against his cheek.
“I can imagine,” he chuckled, remembering years past. They always let the children help, and he knew perfectly well the challenges involved. “You do so much,” he continued, his arm tightening around her waist, “the cooking, the cleaning, wrapping the presents… I,” he sighed, “I almost hate to bring it up.”
Confused, Jen turned
to face him. “What’s wrong?” She asked, concerned. Longer hours? Budget cuts?
“Well, there’s nothing wrong, exactly, it’s just…you forgot.” Wes kept his tone serious, a little hurt even, despite the growing amusement he felt. “I had to hang it myself.”
“You…what?” Jen almost laughed in relief. He was being silly! He was being silly on grown-up time, with no kids around! “What are you talking about?” She asked, shaking him.
Wes looked up, and her eyes followed his. Directly over where they were standing, hung a cluster of mistletoe.
“It’s my favorite decoration,” Wes said, looking down at her upturned face.
Man Enough
(2013)
I knew there was something wrong the second the footsteps stopped, just outside my door. There was a lump in my throat even as I looked up. It was McKinley, my father’s aide, and there was a…strange expression on his face.
“He’s dead, Jack.”
Dead. Phil, my brother…my big brother. The guy who carried me home when I twisted my ankle, who taught me how to look myself in the mirror so I wouldn’t duck away from the bullies anymore. The guy with the biggest heart in the world.
“Eva know?” I asked, forcing the words around the lump in my throat.
McKinley didn’t answer.
Opening my desk drawer, I pulled out my keys and stood up.
“Tell Dad I’ll be home for dinner,” I said, as I brushed past McKinley. Something about the way he swayed when our shoulders touched, the vacant look in his eyes, caught my attention. I stopped, really looked at him. “Wilson,” I snapped, my gaze never leaving McKinley’s face, “take Mr. McKinley to my house.”
Wilson responded immediately.
“Have a seat, Mr. McKinley,” he said gently. “I just need to lock a few things up before we go, alright?”
I knew from our time in the service together that Wilson could handle things from there, so I took off. I didn’t bother aiming for my brother’s house. I just drove. As it always happened when I had a problem, I wound up there anyway. Several minutes passed while I sat at the edge of the driveway. I could see the whole front yard and porch, the garage…
It had taken us two weeks to get the garage and house painted for the winter. We’d finished a mere forty-eight hours before he’d disappeared. Subconsciously, I rubbed at the paint stain from where I’d touched my steering wheel before wiping my hands. Shifting back into gear, I eased my car into its place beneath the apple tree. The birds and the apples made a mess of things, but it was just an old beater anyway.
The front door creaked a little as Eva stepped out. She was thinner than I’d ever seen her, and looked exhausted. I could barely breathe as I looked at her, the reality of what I had to tell her pressing in on me like a compactor on an old car.
Suddenly, a baby’s wail split the silence. Eva’s head swiveled in the direction of the sound, and I snapped out of it.
“Hey, Eva,” I called as I unfolded myself, coming to my full six feet three inches. The car door slammed behind me as I vaulted the fence and strode up the walk. “How’s that boy of yours always know when Uncle Jack’s here?” A grin had started making tracks across my face before I realized it. Then I saw the hope in her eyes.
Then she saw the truth in mine. An uncommonly perceptive woman, she didn’t need any more telling than that. The light faded out of her face, and she crumpled into my arms. I winced as I lifted her. Even in her current malnourished state, her weight was enough to pull at an old souvenir from Iraq.
“Hey there, mister,” I greeted the baby as I settled Eva on the divan. “What seems to be the problem?” Scooping him up, I raised him up high. He gurgled and stuck his fingers in his mouth in delight. “Yeah,” I laughed at him, “you’re easy. It’s your mom I’m worried about. What’re we going to do about her, huh?” I gave him a quick check-up, found he was in working order, and placed him back in the basinet. Adding an obnoxiously noisy toy to the equation seemed to satisfy him, so I turned back to Eva.
Wake her? or let her sleep? It didn’t take long to decide on letting her sleep. Her pulse was a bit fast, but her breathing was normal. Between taking care of the baby and being worried sick about her husband, she couldn’t have been sleeping well.
Never one to sit still, I headed for the kitchen, wheeling Baby Jim along with me. He kept me company as I raided the pantry, started dinner, and piled into the dishes. I suppose it was my clattering about that woke her up, though she didn’t say so.
“They’re sure?” She asked simply, one hand on Jimmy’s back.
“McKinley was,” I answered briefly. “Haven’t talked to anybody else.”
She sank wearily into one of the kitchen chairs.
“What do I do, Jack?” She whispered. “I’m so…confused. I don’t know where to start.”
Drying my hands on a dish towel, I leaned back against the counter. Knowing her as I did, I knew she wasn’t asking me to tell her how to go on living without her husband.
“Start,” I answered, “with the basics.” With a smile, I nodded at the baby cup and crackers that were just out of Jimmy’s reach on the table.
Smoothing his hair a little, she handed him a cracker.
“I’ll spend the night,” I offered, “help you pack a few things in the morning. You can stay with Dad for a while.” Sensing a forthcoming protest, I added, “It’ll do him good, seeing you and the baby.” I relaxed when she nodded. “I’ve got some business that’ll take me out of town after the funeral,” we both winced at that word, “and I’d appreciate it if you’d stick with him while I’m gone, sort of keep an eye on him.”
She looked away. “And you will tell him the same thing, to keep an eye on me while you are gone.” It was a statement, not a question. “Where are you going?”
Now she looked at me, looked me right in the eyes. Even if I had been going to lie to her, I couldn’t have done it like that.
“There’s a chance they’ll catch his killer yet, Eva,” I answered honestly. “Maybe I can help.” Neither of us said anything for a while after that.
“You’re like your brother,” she said at last. “When your mind is made up…” Shrugging slightly, she stood and straightened herself a bit. “Call your father,” she nodded at the phone, “I will check dinner.”
-------------------------------------
I was startled to learn from the Officer in charge that the case was closed. I’d come nearly a thousand miles to help solve a mystery that had apparently unraveled without me. He explained on our way to the courthouse, where the first day of the trial was about to begin.
“We had a pretty good idea where to look for his killer once we found the second body,” observed the officer as he led me through the crowded halls.
“Second body?” I asked, surprised again.
“Young woman,” he acknowledged, “former girlfriend of one of our local problems. In here,” he removed his hat as he opened the door to a courtroom. “Your brother happened by while she was trying to break up with him,” he shook his head.
The explanation ended there. From the expression on his face, I could tell that defending the weak wasn’t something that happened often on his beat.
We both ducked as a shot rang out. There was blood on his shirt as he slid down the door.
Acting without stopping to think, I ripped open his holster and brought the pistol up. More shots were being fired, but not in my direction. Straightening from my crouch, I had my target, a man in a gray jumpsuit and chains, in my sights before he even saw me.
For a moment, as his pistol barrel swung to bear on me, I was a soldier again. Fighting, killing even, was like riding a bicycle. Once you’ve learned how…
Exhaling slowly, I squeezed off the shot. The gun slipped from his nerveless fingers to the floor. I was already moving, my one thought to subdue him. He was a
danger to everyone present. Adrenaline rushed through me, making the sound of his pistol hitting the floor sound like a slamming door. A splinter jabbed me in the finger as I vaulted the low, decorative fence between the spectators’ benches and the lawyers’ tables. Skidding to a halt, I noticed a picture on one of the tables.
I froze, my pistol trained on the prisoner. The picture was frozen in my mind. Phil… This prisoner, I thought dully, is the man who killed my brother.
“Finish it!” Spat the prisoner venomously, his right hand pressing against the hole in his left shoulder. “Scared?” He lunged to his feet, trying to scare me.
I didn’t flicker an eyelash. I couldn’t even move. I was caught between the overwhelming urge to apply just a little more pressure to the trigger and the knowledge that it was the wrong thing to do. I was barely aware of the rest of the room, of the sound of a guard groaning in pain, of the acrid smell of gunsmoke from the shots he’d fired. Was it my imagination, or was I the only person in the room that wasn’t injured or terrified?
“What’s the matter?” he raged at me, contempt now in his voice, “ain’t you man enough?”
Man enough… Suddenly I could breathe again. My shoulders relaxed and I almost felt pity.
“What would you know,” I asked, genuinely curious, “about being a man?” I gestured with the pistol, and ordered, “Face down, on the floor. Now.”
Venture
(2013)
Ellen took off her hat and threw it in the trash can. The funeral was over. The lawyer was setting up downstairs, and after the will was read, even the relatives would go home. Ellen smiled despite herself as she thought of the will. William O’Hara, her father, had never been a conventional man.
A firm rap on the door brought Ellen back to the present. “Come,” she responded, not bothering to try to rescue the hat.
“It’s just me, Miss,” Thomas announced, opening the door without so much as leaning in. “The lawyer says he’s ready.”
“I understand,” she acknowledged. Then, as the door began to close, she called, “Thomas? You will accompany me down, please.”
After a fractional pause, Thomas opened the door the rest of the way. Young and strong, he didn’t look much like a tutor, let alone the gifted artist that he was. Not only was he was both, he was also a valued friend, and had been since her father had brought him home almost six years ago.
Stepping into the hall, Ellen waited until he’d closed the door to her bedchamber, and then carefully straightened his tie. They were friends, strictly, but these days the house was full of prying eyes… Sighing as she heard her Aunt Bethel approaching, Ellen dropped her hands and took a step back. Cueing up a smile, Ellen turned to greet the inevitable complaint.
“Ellen,” barked the older woman, “I don’t understand it. I don’t understand it at all. When I was your age,” she shook a plump finger at her niece, “I didn’t let the servants wonder who was boss!”
Ellen blinked rapidly, trying hard not to laugh aloud. “Why,” she asked demurely, “has someone been trying to boss you, Aunt Bethel?”
“That parlor maid of yours!” Snapped Aunt Bethel. “She up and packed all my things. Without asking! Told me all the guests were leaving after the will reading.” Aunt Bethel’s demeanor changed noticeably now, and she reached out to pat Ellen’s arm. “Of course, I have no intention of leaving you here by your lonesome.” She shot Thomas a disapproving look – what had her sister’s husband been thinking, bringing a strange young man into the house, right into it, as though he were family? And then leaving the mess behind when he died. Well, Bethel wouldn’t have it. She was going to stay right there and protect her niece’s reputation! And not in that pokey old guest room, either. As soon as the will was read, she planned to have her things moved to the Sapphire room. She’d soon have this house straightened out, she would!
“Oh, but it would be quite impossible for you to stay, Aunt Bethel,” Ellen responded, trying to sound a little dismayed. “We’re closing up the house!” Ellen felt Thomas’ steady gaze on her, and wished she’d had more time to talk to him over the past few days. “I’m afraid I have urgent business with our representatives in Vega.”
Aunt Bethel’s mouth dropped open at a peculiar angle.
“We mustn’t keep the lawyer waiting,” Thomas inserted hastily, and taking Ellen firmly by the elbow, propelled her down the hallway. He’d been assisting her father with his business endeavors for so long that he knew every detail, and was perplexed at her reference to an appointment in Vega.
--------------------------------------------------
Mr. Poulton had scarcely set the computerized pad down before Uncle Bertram exploded to his feet.
“This is nonsense,” he sputtered, looking for something to slam his fist down on. A long-time Judge in the colony, he was used to emphasizing his declarations in this fashion.
Mr. Poulton didn’t even blink. He’d been expecting the fireworks, had even won a private bet with himself as to who would verbalize their disbelief first.
“It is not nonsense,” Mr. Poulton said clearly, his voice cutting through the excited chatter that had begun. Mr. Poulton was not a physically imposing man, but when he rose the room fell silent. “It is the last will and testament of Mr. William O’Hara, father of Ellen O’Hara. Miss O’Hara,” he turned to her, “if you will add your signature to that of your father’s, I shall be on my way.”
Ellen acted quickly so that none of the relatives had a moment to protest. Setting the stylus on the desk beside the pad, Ellen smiled at Mr. Poulton. That much was done. To be sure, the storm had just begun, but what a relief to be at last beyond the black clouds and distant rumblings and into the thunder and lightning stage of things!
Turning to Thomas, Ellen held out her hands. “Welcome to the family, brother.”
Thomas rose slowly, his face composed, but his eyes signaling his confusion. “Brother” was not how he would have Ellen thinking of him. Bypassing her outstretched hands, he boldly folded her into his arms. “You might have told me,” he whispered reproachfully.
“You might have said ‘no,’” she laughed softly, hugging him back. “And it meant so much to Father to have his beloved home and business in capable hands.”
“And his daughter?” Thomas dared ask. He reluctantly released her when she pulled away, but noted the color in her cheeks hopefully. The tumult around them at that point was too much to ignore, and he turned, calmly, to face the dozen or so people who, for whatever reason, had expected to be rewarded for being born into the same family as William O’Hara.
“It would seem,” he said firmly, speaking just loud enough to be heard, “that your business here is concluded.” An honest young man of exceptional character, Thomas did not flinch under the gaze of the disappointed crowd.
Realizing that they had no recourse, legal or otherwise, relatives shuffled out, muttering to themselves that it just wasn’t fair. Mr. Poulton closed his case, nodded briskly, and saw himself out, shutting the library door behind him. Privately, he thought Ellen would have to look long and hard to find a better man than Thomas.
-------------------------------------------------
Ellen took a deep breath and a few steps away from Thomas. She could see now that it wasn’t going to be easy. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him…could she make him see?
“I’ve always dreamed of visiting Vega,” she said slowly. “The spiraling mist columns, the whistling plains…and they’ve discovered a new spice field that will need developing.” She stared out the window, imagining that if she watched his face, she might change her mind and marry him, a grave injustice to them both.
“It’s too much, Ellen,” Thomas said at last. “This house has always been your home.” Stepping towards her, he held out his hands, forgetting that she couldn’t see the gesture. “Can’t it be our home?” A man with few familial con
nections, Thomas instinctively wanted a family of his own, one of which he could be proud. He could imagine no better partner in such an undertaking than his dear Ellen.
“No, Thomas,” Ellen whispered. Turning to face him, she shook her head. “I’m a fool for saying it, but no.” Studying his face, she watched as he shut himself off. Looking into his eyes now was like trying to see through blast doors. “I happen to know that you’re in love with someone else.”
Thomas opened his mouth, startled out of his calm, but could think of nothing to say.
“Soon you will realize it for yourself,” she assured him, smiling a little. It was true in a roundabout way. Her suspicions were based on past observation and confirmed by his hesitation now. He wanted to love her, but in reality her primary recommendation to his heart was that she was convenient to him. “I’ll ask only one favor of you, if you will. I cannot picture myself travelling alone from here to Vega. I have done little travelling, and never in such a provincial area. Could you secure a companion for me? Someone strong and honest, who will keep me from making too many mistakes?”
“Provincial?” he echoed, hiding behind amusement. “There’s nobody out there but a few pirates and pioneers. Law is a distant thing, one that troubles them little.” Frowning, he stopped himself mid-tirade. “You will indeed need a protector.”
Ellen wisely chose not to contradict him. Nothing she could say now would change the way he saw things and she had already said all that she intended to say on the subject.
“How will you live once you arrive?” he asked, his frown deepening. “Your father’s will left you only the income from his shipping business.”
“I shall live as simply as possible,” she answered calmly. “Father bought a house there for me months ago and put it in my name. And my new wardrobe arrived yesterday.”
“You’ll be leaving as soon as possible, then,” he observed gloomily.
“The sooner the better. Mr. Poulton will take care of any legal trouble with my relatives, and once I am out of their reach,” Ellen shrugged slightly.
“I believe I can arrange for you to leave tomorrow,” stated Thomas after several silent moments. “A school acquaintance is travelling that way and may be just the sort of person you will find useful in developing a new spice field.” At her unspoken question he elaborated, “He has recently acquired a ship and is looking for a business venture fit for an ambitious Captain.”
Ellen nodded. That was good information and a far better situation than she’d hoped for. She didn’t doubt that her father’s old friend, Elias, would know everything about everybody in the entire Vega system, but having an extra ace in the game of life never hurt.
“Wish me luck, won’t you?” she asked, holding out her hand for a friendly shake.
He took her hand gently in his own, but did not shake it. “When the solar winds howl about your cabin, draw nearer your warm coat and fear not, bold Traveler, for adventure is nigh,” Thomas quoted Rondstadt’s poem, Living by Starlight, and gently kissed Ellen’s fingers.