******
"Mattie, come see this." Clay turned on their small black and white television.
"I'll be right there." Mattie lifted Henry out of his high chair, and set him on the kitchen floor. She swiped her hands across her blue jeans, and pulled down her thick, red sweater. The toddler stood up on his chubby legs, and walked haltingly toward his father's voice, as Mattie followed him into the living room. "What's going on?"
"Dada...dada.." Henry squealed as he saw his father. He toddled toward Clay, his hands waving gleefully in the air, as if he were seeing his father after a very long separation.
"Henry!" Clay held his arms wide to welcome him, then looked over at her. "Operation Homecoming." He laughed as Henry plopped himself down on the carpet in front of him. "The POWs are coming home."
"Oh, that's wonderful." Mattie sat next to him on the white slip-covered sofa and felt Clay's arm wrap around her shoulder as they all stared, riveted at the black and white images of the former prisoners of wars exiting the huge, C-141 transport that had just landed at Travis Air Force Base in California. Mattie sighed as she saw some soldiers being carried on stretchers.
Clay turned up the sound as the Canadian news reporter continued his description of the event.
"And the first person off the plane on this historic day for the United States - February fourteenth, nineteen, seventy-three - was Navy Capt.John Starling, who will speak momentarily."
The Captain walked with a pronounced limp up to the microphone and began by praising his fellow POWs. After watching and listening to the emotional homecoming for a few minutes more, Clay turned off the television, and put his hands on his hips as he looked down at her.
"Well, the day has finally come, thank God," he exhaled. "After the Paris Peace Accord was signed last month, things have moved along pretty swiftly. All troops and POWs out of Vietnam within sixty days."
"It's been a long time coming." Mattie reached down and ruffled her son's soft, black hair, and looked back up at Clay. "Some of those POWs had been in North Vietnam for eight years." She took a deep breath. "Can you imagine being away from your home and family for eight years, Clay? And that's not taking into account their horrific treatment while they were prisoners." She stared at their son for a moment, remembering his namesakes. "But, at least they survived." Her voice was soft.
"I can't imagine it." Clay took a deep breath, then turned his eyes to the large window behind the dining table and peered outside. "It's snowing again. No visit to Plattsburgh this week, I'm afraid, until the roads are cleared." He pursed his lips. "I'll get a fire going."
Mattie sighed, and stood up, wrapping her arms around Clay.
"This is where I'm happiest," she leaned her head on his shoulder as he rubbed her back. "If we have to wait a little longer to get back to the States, that's all right with me."
"That's fine with me as well." He wrapped his arms around her waist.
Mattie smiled and she felt his warm breath as he kissed her neck, then pulled back from him, gazing into his warm, dark eyes.
"I do have that chapter to work on," she eyed him seriously. "It has to be mailed within the week."
"I've got Henry, so go ahead and work now, if you like," he smiled down at her. "The drawings for that mountainside retreat aren't due for a few more days according to Cal, so I can work on them later."
How wonderful, she thought, as they pulled apart, that they could live such fulfilling lives, in such a gorgeous place. They'd been back several times to the States to visit their parents, but decided after they'd married that they would make Cape Breton their home. The owner of the cottage had gladly accepted their offer to buy the place, so within a few months of their wedding, they'd become homeowners as well. A few months later, when they'd discovered she was pregnant, Clay had designed and helped construct the two-story addition to their cottage which incuded a second bedroom for the baby upstairs, and a third bedroom and bathroom downstairs for family and other guests. She smiled as she remembered Fran and Jerry's second visit a few months after their wedding, when the fall foliage was at its peak. The week was filled with laughter and exploring the island of Cape Breton, with Fran declaring that Jerry could leave if he wanted, and go back to that stuffy Brooksford, but she wasn't budging from the scenic island, and she might just have to buy a property there. How fortunate they were to have such loving friends and family. She'd met Clay's Bickerton West relatives on his father's side before they'd married, and found them to be delightful, down-to-earth people.
Mattie turned to watch Clay light the logs in the fireplace, with Henry watching from a safe distance. They'd found that working from home was more rewarding than they could ever have imagined, and seemed to fit their temperments perfectly. After Henry was born, they just alternated their work schedules to accomodate each other's needs, and it had all worked out. As Clay sat on the living room carpet with Henry and stacked blocks, she walked over to the shelves and slid her favorite record of violin concertos onto the spindle, and headed back to her desk. She spied her cane against the side wall, glad that she didn't have to use it as often in the compact house. She laid out all of her papers and books, and sat down at her desk, continuing her lesson on Protest Art of the Sixties. As the soothing sounds of the violins floated through the cozy cottage, she turned and gazed at Clay and Henry, the two loves of her life, their dark heads together as they carefully stacked a block on their now precariously tall tower. She smiled softly, relieved again that the war was finally coming to an end, and a new decade was a third of the way through. Turning back to her writing, she glanced up and peered out at the snow accumulating quickly on their hill, with the white-gray clouds hanging low over the blue-gray Atlantic.
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