******
"Thank you Fran...Jerry. You two were so sweet to do that for Clay."
"We were more than glad to help, Mattie." Fran brushed aside her bangs. "Here are the keys, and the Jeep is parked at the gas station in Edison. They said it was no problem to leave it there for a week."
"Do you two want to come in from the cold? I'll make a pot of coffee." Mattie took the keys from her friends, and eyed them as they huddled on her front porch.
"No, no." Jerry put his arm around his wife's shoulder. "We have some errands to run. Tell Clay we hope he feels better soon."
"Oh, I'm bringing over a chicken casserole later for your dinner tonight, so don't fix anything." Fran smiled at her as they turned to leave.
"Thank you again." Mattie waved to them as they headed down the steps. She grabbed the mail out of the mailbox, closed the door and laid the keys to the Jeep and the stack of envelopes on the front table, and picked up the small tray with the soda and sandwich she was taking to Clay and headed up the stairs.
She gazed at him as she entered the bedroom, and set the plate and glass on a napkin on the nightstand. He stirred and opened his eyes a bit, squinting at her sleepily.
"Hi there," she sat on the edge of the bed, and stroked his hand. He took her hand in his, and rubbed his thumb along her skin. "How are you feeling? The pill might be wearing off now."
"I can feel the pain starting back somewhat, but I want to hold off as much as possible. I don't like pills." He rubbed his forehead with his other hand. "What a night, eh? By the way, what time is it?"
"It's a little after three in the afternoon - still Sunday," she smiled. "Fran and Jerry send their best wishes." Clay nodded. "Do you know after I called Fran this morning and let them know what happened to you, they insisted on picking up your keys and driving to Lebanon to get your car?"
"What?"
"Yes, they got permission to park it in the gas station on Edison, and they just brought back your keys. Fran's fixing us dinner as well," she sighed. "They're wonderful friends."
"They are indeed. That was a lot of trouble for them."
"Jerry was afraid that your car would be towed after twenty-four hours on a side street in Lebanon."
"He's probably right about that." Clay cleared his throat and rubbed his bearded jaw. "I need to thank them both."
"You'll have plenty of time for that," Mattie directed his gaze to the sandwich and drink on the nightstand. "You need to eat something since you wouldn't touch your breakfast."
Clay pulled himself up to a sitting position, wincing slightly as he moved his leg. "Yes, it's wearing off." Mattie helped him with the pillows, and handed him the plate, and opened the bottle of pain pills as he started in on the bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich.
"All right, take this, and maybe it won't knock you out this time since you'll have something on your stomach." He laughed at that, and sipped the cola. She smiled. "I'm keeping you prisoner up here, by the way, until I feel that you're strong enough to walk downstairs." He nodded reluctantly as he chewed his bite of sandwich.
"Yes, that was a difficult climb up the stairs last night...or this morning, I should say. I don't know how you managed to get me upstairs and cleaned up and in the bed. I barely remember it."
"Well, you're here and will be for at least a week or so." Mattie eyed him thoughtfully. "How do you feel about what happened last night? I'm still livid at the way you were treated at the police station."
She saw him pause and eye her seriously as he held the pill to his mouth.
"I don't know, Mattie." He swigged his cola and swallowed the pill. "It's so important to make our views known, especially now." He eyed her seriously, as she nodded to that, and he ran his hand over his hair. "The police arrested all of us without any questions on their part. Just because we were there. The man who I tried to stop was a pro-war advocate. And the authorities didn't seem the least concerned that he had attacked the anti-war protester, who had every right to be there."
"It's so frustrating," she sighed. "Well, I'll let you rest now."
Mattie walked back downstairs and took the tray to the kitchen and put the dishes in the sink. She remembered the mail, and went to the front table and sorted through the envelopes, lifting one in particular that stood out with its red, white, and blue pattern around the perimeter of the envelope. It was from Matthew, and she set the rest of the mail on the table, and headed back upstairs.
"Clay, I just got a letter from Matthew." She carefully inserted her index finger under the thin flap, as she entered the bedroom, and opened the envelope, pulling out the letter, written on thin, almost transluscent paper.
"What does he say?" Clay pulled himself up again, and leaned back on the headboard as she sat down on the edge of the bed beside him, and unfolded the paper. She looked over at him, then took a breath and read Matthew's letter.
Dear Professor Shaw,
I've been in Nam now for two weeks and all I've seen is rain, rain, and more rain. It's about eighty-five degrees here now, so overall, pretty uncomfortable.
I've been told that my platoon will be heading up into the mountains in a couple of days, and I'm not looking forward to that. Every so often, I can hear the boom of an ordinance, but other than the rain, and an unpleasant trip later, I'm okay.
What is so strange is that I really miss Brooksford, Professor Shaw, especially your class. Sometimes, when I'm just sitting around, I go back over your lectures in my mind, and try to recall as many of the famous artists and their paintings as I can, and it helps to pass the time.
I will always appreciate you worrying about us while we were in your class, so I want to let you know that I'm okay, and that I plan on going back to college in my hometown when I get out of the service.
Sincerely,
Matthew
Mattie sighed and turned to Clay.
"Oh, Clay, that was so sweet of him to write." She turned back and scanned the letter.
"It was. I certainly hope he remains safe."
"So do I." She folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope. "I need to write him back, maybe send a package. It must be so hard being over there and dependent on letters here and there."
"I think you should. He'd appreciate it, I'm sure."
She eyed him, noticing that his deep voice was softening.
"Is the pain pill working?"
"Yes, I might take a short nap now." Clay leaned his head back. "But, I want to work on some sketches for that house later."
"All right, then, I'll let you rest." She leaned over and kissed him softly. "I'll bring your sketch pad and pencils up to you. Do you need anything else before I go down?"
"No, I'm fine." He slid back down under the covers and closed his eyes, and she could tell that he'd fallen asleep almost immediately.
She left him and went back downstairs to her desk, getting out a sheet of stationery and an envelope, and she sat down and began to compose her reply to Matthew's letter.