They seemed to be fully supportive until Dad said, “You know, Jackie, there’s something I want to talk to you about. It might mean something and it might not, but I think it’s worth bringing to your attention.”
“What? Of course! Tell me.”
“I’ve had a few occasions to talk to Charlie about going back to New York, and you know he’s not too thrilled.”
“He’s a kid,” I said. “And every day here is like Christmas for him.”
“Yes, I know, and your mother and I agree with what you say and your plan and all that. That’s not the issue. Charlie thinks that your house in New York is too sad, that everywhere he looks there’s a reminder of his dad. He’s afraid that you’re going to sink into a depression if you go back.”
“Which means he will, not you,” Mom said.
“Oh, great. So what do you think? Of course there are pictures of Jimmy all over the place. Why wouldn’t there be?”
“We understand, and we don’t disagree with you,” Dad said. “But for him it might be too much. I’m no expert on this. That’s for sure.”
“He says the house even smells like Jimmy,” Mom said. “Maybe a fresh coat of paint and new slipcovers for the sofa might help? I don’t know, Jackie.”
“Who does know?” I remarked and sighed for all I was worth. “I’m glad you told me this. At least it gives me a clue to what might set him off again. God, our life is so upside down.”
A month ago I would’ve flown into a rage at what they were saying, and now I was taking it more in stride.
“Not really, baby. You still have your momma and daddy. All you have to do is squeak, and we’ll be there.”
“I appreciate that more than you can imagine.”
“But she’s right, Annie. Jackie and Charlie are looking at some big changes,” Dad said. He was quiet for a few minutes. “So tell me, Jackie, how do you feel about not going back to active duty?”
My military career was the hot button we had so carefully avoided pushing for years. But now that it appeared to be safely and finally behind me, my father apparently felt it was all right to ask about it.
“That’s such a complicated question, Dad, because it’s not like I have much of a choice.” I thought about it for a minute and then said, “You know, my unit was all about humanitarian aid. The women I met wanted to know what they could do to improve their lives, become a little more independent financially, provide a healthier life for their children—the normal things women want. We helped them but in small ways. I sometimes wonder if we really made a measurable difference to them.”
“Well, of course you did, but I don’t know how you’d measure such a thing anyway,” Mom said.
Were we actually having the discussion I had hoped for all these years? It appeared we were.
“I guess by how much business they did? I mean, we helped them figure out how to set up a cooperative with women in other villages, to sell things they made, you know, like knitted hats and scarves or little boxes decorated with bits of turquoise and coral. For that you would just add up the sales and track them year to year.”
“You sound frustrated,” Dad said.
“Probably because I am. I mean, there were a lot of things that went on that I can’t talk about because they’re still classified.”
“Oh, honey! Your father and I don’t want you to tell one word you’re not supposed to tell, do we, Buster?”
“Of course not.” Dad cleared his throat and drained his glass.
“Look, at its most basic, the problem is trust. The Afghanis trust the Pakistanis but the Iraqis don’t trust Americans or any of the other guys and nobody trusts the Taliban. How do you get all these guys to the table to negotiate a lasting peace? Good luck. Never mind changing the way they treat their women and children. And never mind drug trafficking. It’s a mess. So you wonder, after you’ve witnessed every atrocity you can imagine, if you did any good.”
“And what have you decided?” Dad asked. “Surely you must believe our troops have done an awful lot of good for the people.”
“Oh! Without a doubt! But as a humanitarian, I’m always looking for something more. I think this is what I took away from my experience. Those women live under an oppression that is nearly indescribable, but when I show up and the other men and women in my unit show up and we take their hands and look into their eyes, they know that someone out there in the rest of the world understands their plight. And that however we can do it, we want to make it better for them.”
“Well, that’s a great reward, Jackie. I mean, that has to be very satisfying, don’t you think so, Buster?”
“Of course, but I think I understand Jackie’s frustration. I imagine that when you leave you’re just not sure if things will really change for the better. Is that it?”
“Yep. That’s the core of it, for me anyway. Listen, when you’re with a bunch of women who would be thrilled to have the least of our privileges, it stops you in your tracks and makes you think about how profoundly grateful you are to live in this country. And it is your most fervent wish, I mean, very most fervent wish that you being there has at least given them some hope.”
“Hope that change will come?” Mom asked.
“Yep. Hope that change will come,” I said. “But it’s almost futile.”
“My word, darlin’. That is so sad.”
“Your mother and I are so proud of you, Jackie. I don’t think we’ve ever told you that often enough. You’re a brave young woman. Very brave.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“She gets that from my side of the family,” Mom said.
“Naturally,” Dad said.
Of course we all laughed, but I was grateful for the darkness so my parents couldn’t see the tears that were running down my face.
Chapter 18
“That is a question I am no more able to answer than yourself. There seems, however, only one plausible way of accounting for them—and yet it is dreadful to believe in such atrocity as my suggestion would imply.”
—Edgar Allan Poe, “The Gold-Bug”
Annie
It was not a beautiful day. The skies were overcast, as though the world was huddled under a giant soup bowl of thick gray oatmeal. We were about to get a taste of what menace Mother Nature had tucked deep inside her pockets. Hurricane Candace was going to wreak havoc on the Lowcountry. I could feel it in every last one of my bones.
Deb and I decided to take a walk despite Buster’s residency in the Salty Dog. I guess I was getting so used to him being around that I finally felt like it didn’t matter if I left him for a bit. I went out for groceries, didn’t I? And Lord knows, my cholesterol needed some exercise. Besides, he was fully occupied, determined to clean the waffle iron with an old soft toothbrush, and afterward he planned to tackle the toaster oven, which was all but a lost cause it was so pitted from the unavoidable salt air. I don’t know what had come over him lately, but our division of labor had certainly flip-flopped from the old days. Basically now, if I cooked, he cleaned. He said it wasn’t fair for me to do all the work. Well, hells bells, I knew that! What took him so long to reach spiritual enlightenment? But I wasn’t going to point it out. It didn’t always pay to be right. But he was surely acting like he lived here again, and that was something over which we were going to have to have a little Come to Jesus Meeting.
I just smiled pleasantly and said, “Thanks, Buster! I’ll be back in an hour. Are you sure it’s okay?”
“Of course! Go! It’s good for you!” he said, adding that I should give Deb a squeeze for him.
I was telling Deb how Buster had refashioned himself into a domestic god while we hurried down the beach on a very high tide, trying to avoid the water that rushed to shore.
“Well, Lord love a duck, will wonders never cease? I can just see him scrubbing away,” she said.
“Honey, you should’ve seen him going to town on that grill! The darn thing looks brand new! And now some man over at Haddrell’s hardware
sold him some cedar planks that you soak in water and then you grill fish on them. Suddenly he wants to grill fish. Probably because Jackie told him it was healthier.”
“Well, she would know.”
“Absolutely.”
“They don’t catch on fire? Those plank things?”
“No, because they’re saturated with water. You soak them overnight.”
“My word. What’s next?”
“Truly. But you ought to see him jockeying for Grill King. He gets out there with Steve, and they’re comparing techniques on whether or not to flip steaks only once or over and over. And what kind of dry rub to use on ribs. All kind of fool mess. I swear, some men will argue about anything.”
“Because their whole life is one big fat stupid contest. That’s one thing I sure do miss about Vernon. He never argued about anything.”
“Yeah, he was a pussycat.”
We were quiet for a moment then because I knew she was thinking about him and I didn’t want to interrupt that private communion or whatever was going on inside her head. But I couldn’t hold my tongue until the cows came home, so I finally spoke.
“So the stupid storm’s definitely coming, and Jackie’s definitely leaving.”
“Is one related to the other?”
“Well, of course they are! She wants to get out of here ASAP. Besides the storm, Charlie has to go back to school and she’s got to get him ready, but, boy oh boy, does my little grandson ever have a hot temper? Whoo boy!”
“He’s still pitching a fit? Charlie? That sweet child?”
“Yeah, that angel. Like I never saw in my whole life! Jackie was putting some things in the back of her SUV this morning, and Charlie was arguing with her until I thought he was going to explode! It was a good thing I got up early to make waffles. Otherwise they might have really gone at it. I went out there and said, ‘All right, you two! Enough is enough! Besides, the waffles are getting cold, and Charlie? I made you chocolate milk.’ ”
“And then what?”
“Well, I told him he had to obey the Fourth Commandment. He simply has to! Finally they came to the table, but Charlie wasn’t too happy.”
“Poor thing. I don’t blame him, do you?”
“Let’s turn around.” We had reached a point where the beach was all but nonexistent at high tide, so we turned and began walking back. “Blame? I don’t think there’s blame to be laid anywhere on this one. But I think that if Jackie was the kind of girl who was more easily reabsorbed into the bosom of her own family instead of being so bloody independent, things might be different.”
Deb rolled her eyes at me as she had for years whenever she thought anything I said smacked of pretension. I simply had a love of the language, and that’s significantly different from being a Miss Fancy Pants.
“Well, Annie, you know I love you like a sister, but she’s too old to live with her momma and her daddy. I mean, she’s a woman of the world.”
“Humph. Some world she made for herself.”
“Annie! It’s not her fault Jimmy died!”
“I’m aware, but a high-risk life can carry high consequences.”
“Okay.”
“But never mind all that. Here’s the thing about her. She was in a war, a real war. You know she saw men, women, and children die right before her eyes, but she won’t talk about it. And you can’t tell me she wasn’t changed inside her heart and mind by what she saw. And then her husband dies, not just dies like a normal person would but in a terrible fire! You can’t tell me she isn’t plagued by visions of it every single day and night. But she still won’t talk about him except in the most general terms. I just think she needs to stay with us longer.”
“You might be right, but it’s still her call.”
“Yes, I respect that. After all, if she thinks that returning to New York is the best thing for her and for her son, she should do it. I’m just saying that I disagree. Nobody can hold all that pain inside forever.”
“She doesn’t tell you anything about her experiences in Afghanistan?”
“Nope. She only talks about whether or not she made a measurable contribution to the lives of the people. She’s worried about the value of her own performance. What about the horror show she lived in for months and months?”
“You know, Annie, some people can handle trauma better than others. They’re able to compartmentalize. Medical professionals are certainly on the top of that list.”
“True.”
“Think about it. What would be completely unnerving to you or me is an everyday no big deal to her. And who knows? Maybe she didn’t really witness anything that was so awfully horrible.”
“Well, I’ll give you one for my nerves compared to hers. I’m a total sissy and proud of it. But war is war, and that war in Afghanistan isn’t like the others. There’s no battlefield per se. Everywhere is a battlefield. There are no rules. You can’t trust anyone, not even children. Between suicide bombers and land mines, you’d have to be a nervous wreck every minute. Jackie may not ever want to talk about it. I read the papers and I know what goes on over there. It sure isn’t like the Battle of Breach Inlet. Or even the Civil War. Or even Vietnam. Anyway, I just wish she’d open up a little more. About Jimmy too.”
“Maybe she will in time. Or maybe she never will. I mean, I talked to her a little about staying, and she’s very determined to go back north. I’ll bet you a dollar that one reason is because she feels like that’s where Jimmy is and she doesn’t want to leave him.”
“That’s ridiculous. Jimmy McMullen is in Heaven with Vernon sipping on a Budweiser.”
“Probably, but I know how she feels. I’ve been out to the cemetery a couple of times just to make sure Vernon’s marker is swept and all that. Listen, this has to be awfully hard for her. Losing Vernon has been awfully hard for me.”
I stopped and grabbed Deb by the arm. “I know, darlin’. I think about Vernon and Jimmy every day, and I pray for them all the time.”
“I do too.”
“Listen, Deb? I have to tell someone this, and you’re my best friend.”
“What? You can tell me anything.”
“Their visit has been so important to me. For the first time in years I have had my whole little family together. And it was so good for all of us. I felt like a mother again. Do you know what I mean? It’s killing me to let them go back. I’m afraid we’ll all fall apart and go back to some fractured version of our old selves. What will I do if that happens? I just don’t think I could stand it.” I was on the verge of some very serious tears.
Deb all but laughed at me, and I couldn’t imagine what she thought was so funny.
“Oh, Annie Britt! I could just kiss your face!”
“Why?”
“Don’t you see, my dear sweet friend? You can’t undo the good you’ve done. You do so many nice things day and night for everyone that they flock to you like a moth goes to the flame. No one is going to stay away from you for too long. And if they do? Then they’re a damn fool.”
“Oh, God, Deb! Do you really think so? It’s just that I’m so nervous that they’re all going to leave me and never come back! And I know it was a tragedy that brought us all together and then Vernon’s death made us even closer. This might sound terrible, but I’ve been so deeply happy for the first time in I don’t even know how long. I just don’t want it to end.”
“Quit your worrying. Listen to me. Quit your worrying.”
“And now there’s this awful storm! What’s her name?”
“Candace. What a ridiculous name for a hurricane. Since when is there anything sweet about a hurricane?”
“I just don’t like the thought of Jackie and Charlie driving in high wind and heavy rain.”
“Listen to you! There’s not even one drop of rain on the ground yet, and you’re already thinking the worst!”
“You’re right. My nerves are acting up again. Listen, I want you to come for dinner tonight. It’s the proverbial Last Supper. They’re leavi
ng in the morning at the crack of dawn.”
“Should I bring a pie?”
“What do you think?”
By six o’clock that night, all the shutters on my house, Steve’s house, and Deb’s house had been closed. And Buster, bless his heart, had gone to Lowe’s and bought a generator for the refrigerator and the kitchen lights in case we lost power. Everyone’s porch furniture, except ours, had been brought inside, hanging baskets had been taken down, and while we worked like beavers to prepare our homes for the worst, we stayed glued to the Weather Channel on television. It appeared to me that the one-eyed evil Candace was headed directly for Sullivans Island.
Earlier, around four o’clock, I’d parked in my driveway and there was Buster, holding the ladder for Steve. Steve was pulling the shutters together and flipping the latches to keep them closed. I was coming in from the grocery store with four cases of water, a case of protein bars for emergencies, and steaks for dinner. Red meat was always designated for dinners of importance.
“The Piggly Wiggly was a madhouse!” I said. “People were grabbing for bread and milk like the Apocalypse is coming.”
“I expect it was crazy. Lowe’s was crazy too. People piling up sheets of plywood to cover windows and I don’t know what all,” Buster said. “This darn Candace has everybody all worked up.”
It was true. People in the checkout lines had panic all over their faces. I said, “Well, Buster? What if the storm blows up to Cape Hatteras or out to sea? All this worry and work for naught?”
“Then we’ll open the shutters and rehang the hammocks. I’d rather us be safe than sorry.”