Starting Over

Chapter 4

Chapter 4Holidays for Andy were a mixed bag of conflicting emotions due to the absence of family. The question of where his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins were when he and his sister were orphaned no longer mattered. At least that's what he told himself on the rare occasions he thought about his origins.

Today, as with every Thanksgiving, he was at his sister's. Unlike every year before, they'd invited a guest. Amanda had suggested asking Jonah to dinner. At the moment, the lanky, gray-haired black veteran was isolating himself on the far end of the couch as if he were preparing to bolt at any minute.

A veteran of the Viet Nam war, Jonah had served in the same company as Andy, albeit three years before he'd touched down on its accursed shores. It didn't matter they hadn't ever met. Their experiences connected them in the silent language of memory. Just a look was enough to know what the other was thinking. But for all the strength of that bond, there were parts Andy knew Jonah kept hidden. There were things soldiers wouldn't admit to anyone.

Now Jonah was staring off through the large bay window. The man was eyeing the swaying chestnut tree in the front yard with ever-watchful brown eyes. What he was thinking, Andy couldn't guess. He was certain it had a lot to do with being around a lot of folks. Jonah didn't like crowds.

“You okay, Bruddy?”

“Uh…yeah.” He turned to his sister and eyed the table. It was set for twelve with a highchair at one end. An old wooden box sat in the center of it. The stained mahogany box had been with Amanda for as long as he could remember. As his gaze strayed back to Jonah, he wondered what he'd write on the card going into it this year.

“He'll be all right,” Amanda whispered, as if guessing his thoughts. “Why don't you come help me in the kitchen. Get your mind off things.”

“Sure, why not?”

He followed her out to the countrified kitchen. Her husband, Tom, had remodeled it a few years back under her supervision. Based on the old farm-style kitchens of the past, it had a Tom Sawyer charm. In the center of the room stood a butcher block table with white lacquered skirting. On it sat a twenty-two-pound bird in a roasting pan.

Amanda handed him a knife. “Get to work, Marine.”

He chuckled, and a few minutes later, had several slices piled onto a nearby platter. As he set the knife down, his nephew Tim stepped beside him.

“Th-th-that looks good,” Tim said, snatching a piece.

He eyed his sandy-haired nephew, whose six-two, one hundred sixty-five-pound frame swam in a cotton blue and white plaid shirt. The young man was Amanda's youngest of three. Her miracle child had arrived twelve weeks premature on the day before Thanksgiving. What Tim lacked in motor skills, he more than made up for with a keen intellect that had pushed him through OSU by seventeen and grad school a year and a half later. Now, at twenty-one, he'd achieved more degrees than the whole Atkins family combined.

He shot Amanda a passing glance. Since she had her back to them, he nabbed a piece for himself. Leaning close to Tim, he whispered, “Pretty damned good, huh? But we better not let your Mom see us doing this.”

Tim put his finger to his mouth and broke into a crooked grin.

Amanda set the casserole she'd taken out of the oven on the counter. Over her shoulder, she said, “Timothy, Bruddy, keep your mitts off that turkey!”

Tim grinned as his head wobbled back and forth. “Snagged!”

She went to the fridge and took out two bottles of beer. Bringing them to Tim, she said, “Here, make yourself useful and take these to your father and Uncle Tuck.” She turned to Andy after Tim left the room. “You're not helping. He doesn't need the encouragement.”

Andy snatched another piece of turkey and winked.

She swatted his arm. “Stop that already!”

“Ouch!” He feigned injury then laughed. “By the way: good idea inviting Jonah.”

“Tell you the truth, I didn't know if he'd come.”

He stepped back from the turkey, wiped his hands on a towel. “I don't say this as often as I should, but you're aces.”

She eyed him sidelong. “Okay, what are you up to?”

“Nothing.” He studied the fine lines around her eyes. When had they happened and why hadn't he noticed them before now?

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “You're a sappy man, Andy McNamara. But I love you anyway.”

Andy spent the next day at the VA where he volunteered in the rehab clinic. He'd enlisted for the job after seeing an ad in the local paper. Today, he'd spent the morning helping a double amputee take his first steps with new legs. Although it was triumph for the young man who was on his way to reclaiming his independence, it was also a grim reminder of what man could do to man.

He stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the first floor. As the car descended, he saw the four Viet Cong soldier boys in his mind's eye. Had killing them really been necessary? It was a question he'd been trying to answer most of his life. Sure, they were the enemy, but could there have been another way? He brushed the memory away.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Stepping out, he headed across the busy front lobby. There he saw a woman walking behind a young soldier who'd made quite a splash since coming home. The boy was a hero. Nate, he thought his name was, He waved and got a nod in return. But it was the woman behind the young man that caught his attention. She looked familiar. As he passed them, he gave her a second look. When she glanced back, he realized she was the woman he'd met at Fogarty five weeks before. He hesitated, wondering if he should call out and say hi. But he didn't really know her. Other than the chat they'd had on the beach, what could he talk about afterward – the weather? Let it go, he thought, but his legs wouldn't move. There was something about her that resonated and made his heart beat a little faster. Whether she felt him staring after her he didn't know but she looked back again.

Well, this is awkward. Now what do I do?

As recognition spread across her face, he debated if he should wave back. But she looked away just as he was about to call out.