 
### Always Faithful

by

### Meredith Morgan

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2009 Meredith Morgan

All Rights Reserved

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Chapter 1 - Detour

As the car sped south, the industrial wasteland advertisers call "Chicagoland" gave way to the green farmland of rural Indiana. Connie Rydell felt herself begin to relax for the first time in several days. She felt emotionally bruised, not to mention physically sore from lugging boxes up the stairs to her daughter's new apartment in Chicago. It occurred to her that launching an adult child was a lot like giving birth in the first place. It left her with a jumble of contradictory feelings: exhausted, joyful, and afraid. She suspected that something like postpartum blues would follow shortly.

Connie was certain that her daughter would be happy in Chicago. Jessica had worked for the most prestigious law firm in Indianapolis, but Connie knew Jessie had always dreamed of moving away from her home town and practicing law in with a national firm in a major city. When the Chicago firm, Pickering & Hart, came calling, Jessica seized the opportunity. Connie was very proud of and happy for her daughter, but she was sorry to see her move so far away.

Connie smiled to herself. She knew it was selfish, but she hoped Jessie would visit Indy often, so Connie would not have to make the trek to Chicago with any frequency. Connie did not care for big cities or long car trips, for that matter. Right now, she wanted to go home, take a bath and stretch out on the couch with the dog and a book. It was no wonder Jessie and Rick both thought she was a boring old poop!

"A penny for your thoughts."

The sound of his voice brought Connie out of her reverie. Even after thirty years of marriage, when he spoke her heart still skipped a beat. She turned to look at him and smiled, "I was thinking about how happy Jess will be in Chicago and how terrified and miserable I would be if I were in her shoes."

He laughed out loud. There it was! That face- splitting smile and the laugh that came from the bottom of his soul. When she heard him laugCCh, Connie usually found herself verging on happily weepy. This time, she joined in the laughter, "Well, I'm just being honest."

He nodded, "I know. The problem is, I have a hard time getting my mind around the thought of you being terrified of anything."

Connie noticed that he was concentrating on the road, much more than was strictly necessary, given that it was ruler-straight, perfectly dry and there was not another car in sight. Connie could tell there was something on his mind that he didn't think she was going to like. She started to make a smart remark in response to his comment, but decided to respond to what he didn't say instead, "Spill it."

He looked startled, "Huh?"

"I said 'spill it.' Something's on your mind. Something I'm probably going to hate. Go ahead and lay it on me."

He laughed again, and retorted, "I wish you wouldn't read my mind like that."

She pursed her lips and shook her head, "I can't read your mind or I'd know what you have to tell me. I read your face, which is so transparent you might as well carry a sign. It's a good thing you don't play poker. You'd suck at it.

"Don't try to change the subject on me. What's up?"

He grinned, and cleared his throat a couple of times. Finally, he said, "Okay. Here's the deal. Now that Jess is gone, I'm afraid that I am going to have a bad case of Empty Nest syndrome. You're still working – harder than ever, I might add. I'm retired. I'm afraid I'll be lost.

"I know Jess has had her own place for the last two years, but I managed to come up with a reason to go over to her apartment almost every day, either to fix something, deliver something or otherwise just make a pest of myself. I can't tell you how grateful I am that the kid humored me with such patience. Now that she isn't there anymore, I'm afraid I might get depressed and become one of those miserable, bitter old men I've always loathed. "

Connie shared her husband's feelings. She certainly shared his heavy heart at Jessie's departure , but she knew that the loss was worse for him. She and Jessie would probably continue to talk on the phone every day and they would certainly continue to e-mail each other several times a day. They would continue to share both girl-talk and lawyer-talk. Connie would still have both her Darling Daughter and her Legal Colleague. He, on the other hand, was losing his irreplaceable Little Girl. Connie's heart ached for him.

Connie knew her husband well enough to know that he would not take his fears lying down. She knew he had a plan. She suspected that plan included her (they were a team in every possible way), and she could tell that he was pretty sure she wouldn't like it.

"So what do you have planned to combat the onset of Old Codger-dom?"

He pulled a face. "Long-term, I don't know. I guess we'll have to work together on that. Short-term, I have a request, but, I don't think you're going to like it."

"I've already figured that out. Spit it out and get it over with. I want to know exactly how bad it's going to be."

"First of all, instead of going straight back to Indianapolis, I'd like to take a detour. Maybe I've already become an Old Codger, as you so kindly and delicately put it, but I want to go to a reunion of my Marine unit in Columbus, Ohio, this weekend. The WWII and some of the Korean vets at the VFW positively live for their reunions. I've never been to one."

He was animated and excited, and the words tumbled out, one on top of the other, "I recently learned that several of my old Buddies are going to attend this one. In fact, I've been emailing and catching up with a couple of them, in particular Pete Raudebush who was my radio operator for almost one whole tour...."

"You're babbling." She smiled at him.

He stopped talking and concentrated on his driving for a minute, then he went on, "Well, anyway. The reunion is this weekend in Columbus. I made reservations but I haven't paid anything yet. We've got plenty of clothes with us. Instead of going home, I propose we go to Ohio. What do you say?" He looked at her with a combination of nervousness, pleading and expectation that made her almost laugh. He was a very young 64, but at that moment he reminded her of a little kid begging his mom for a huge favor. She stifled the laugh that threatened to bubbled up, in order to avoid hurting his feelings.

Connie leaned back against the headrest, closed her eyes and considered his proposal. She couldn't decide whether she wanted to laugh or to cry. For one thing, his idea wasn't as bad as she had feared, but the prospect of going to a Vietnam Veterans reunion was about on a par with root canal work as far as she was concerned. Rick was an active member of the VVA and the VFW. She attended their functions as infrequently as possible.

Connie would have preferred to put Vietnam in the past. She didn't understand why her husband and his friends had such an obsessive need to dredge it up. But, then, she hadn't been in combat for 36 months under conditions so appalling he still couldn't discuss them nor had she spent months in a hospital recovering from physical wounds that left horrible scars on both his body and soul. The invisible emotional wounds still festered and occasionally still gave him nightmares, that caused him to wake screaming and crying.

Perhaps the most important reason she wanted to put his Vietnam experience in the past was that she had not been his wife at the time. That probably had more to do with her aversion to dealing with his Vietnam years than everything else.

She imagined for a moment what the coming weekend would be like. She would be thrown together with a bunch of women she didn't know while their husbands swapped stories, got drunk, and laughed until they all ended up hanging all over each other and crying in their beer. She looked at his profile as he stared at the road. She recalled how close her dad had been with his Buddies from WWII and Korea and how much he had enjoyed his unit reunions over the years. The bond of soldiers was something that wives and daughters could never understand. For the most part, soldiers did not talk about their combat experiences with their wives. Connie believed that was a blessing for the wives. She believed that the soldiers needed to talk about their experiences with the only people who could truly understand: other soldiers.

Even though she personally did not look forward to it, she thought this weekend could be a very healing experience for her husband. She believed wives should encourage and support their veteran-husbands' healing process whenever possible. She smiled inwardly because she knew she got that attitude from her mother, whom she always thought of as the 'Ultimate Officer's Wife'. She knew in her heart that this was an opportunity which was long overdue for Rick. It seemed a small enough sacrifice for her to make, but she knew she wasn't going to enjoy it.

She reached out and patted his leg. "OK. Let's go."

"Okay?" He exhaled sharply and relaxed. Then he shook his head as if he couldn't believe it, "Just OK? You're not going to argue and bitch about changing plans at the last minute and worry about who's going to put out the dog?"

"No. I'm not going to give you a hard time about this. We can call Rosemary and ask her to take care of Bitsy for a few more days. If this is something you need to do, fine. I'm in. Let's do it."

"I know how you hate big crowds and social events. I guess I thought you'd fight me on this."

She kissed her fingers and patted his cheek, "I know you know how much I hate crowds and social events, and I also know that you don't ask me to attend them very often. When you do ask me it's usually something very important to you. On those occasions, I feel as though I owe it to you to suck it up and go. You go to League of Women Voters events that always make you want to break something. I guess I can sit through a weekend of watching a bunch of old farts make fools of themselves."

He reached out, took her hand and kissed her palm. "Thank you, for all but the last part of that."

He smiled again. For that smile, she would go anywhere or do anything, including spending a weekend in Ohio with a bunch of strangers. She could tough this out. Maybe. She hoped. She grinned at him and said, "Tell me I'm wrong about the last part."

He grinned, but did not respond.

Chapter 2 – Reunion / Friday

They arrived at the hotel late in the afternoon. While Rick checked in, Connie wandered around the lobby. She saw a sign for the Marine reunion and headed down the hall to locate the room where the evening's events would be held. In front of the doorway was a huge banner with the logo of the 9th Marine Regiment, The Striking Ninth. Along the hall were battalion banners, ranging from the inspiring to the macabre. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

She could get through this! She was a Marine brat herself. It occurred to her that maybe that made it worse. She knew enough about Marine reunions from her parents' stories to have a very good idea of what this weekend was going to be like. She sighed. Nothing she had ever heard about those reunions made her look forward to it with any pleasure at all. However, she also knew how important the reunions were to the men.

From somewhere deep in her memory, she could hear her mother's voice telling her story after story about the joys and pains of being an officer's wife. Rick had been out of the Corps by the time she married him, so she had never considered herself technically an officer's wife. She decided this weekend would be a good time to dredge up every sermon she could remember that her mother had preached to her about being married to a Marine. If he was going to revert to being Captain Rydell for the weekend, she would have to play her role as well. The thought made her uncomfortable, but also somewhat excited.

She wandered back to the lobby where the concierge had just handed Rick the room keys. They found their room and changed clothes for the cocktail hour. She wore a simple pants suit. Rick wore what Connie always called his "Republican candidate" navy blue suit, with his campaign cap. She studied him from across the room and, when he had obviously satisfied himself that he was as squared away as he was going to get, she said, "You look right spiffy there, Cap'n."

He grinned, snapped to attention and saluted, and then they headed down the hall, hand in hand.

Rick had reserved a table with Pete, his radio man, and two other guys with whom he had served in Vietnam, along with their wives. The cocktail hour was held in the anteroom of the ballroom where the dinner was to take place. There were approximately 200 people in attendance. The minute they walked into the room, Rick was gone from her side, lost to her sight as he was drawn into the center of the pack of Buddies, all laughing, hugging and talking at once. Connie stood back and watched them. Her eyes saw them as middle-aged-to-old men, many with paunchy bellies and little hair. Her heart, however, saw them as young, handsome, combat-hardened Marines. She battled back the first tears of the weekend, and feared that this was going to be a very long three days indeed.

She scanned the room and the first thing she noticed was that, while the men all appeared to range in age from mid-fifties to late-sixties, most of the women seemed to be unusually young. Connie was ten years younger than her husband, but she estimated she was nearly the oldest woman in the room. She found that curious.

The second thing she noticed was the prominence of the 1st Battalion at the reunion. In Vietnam they were known as The Walking Dead. The battalion banner prominently featured a skeleton, cloaked in a poncho that looked like the Grim Reaper's cape, carrying a rifle. She had forgotten about that bit of Marine-style black humor. She remembered how she hated the tee-shirt Rick used to wear with that horrible picture on the back. Sitting down to eat a meal under that banner purported to be more difficult than she had anticipated. She felt a bit nauseous, in fact.

Fortunately, she did not have time to dwell on her discomfort. Soon, Rick was back at her side, surrounded by a bevy of his buddies. Introductions and background stories poured out of a half dozen mouths, all at once. She managed to ascertain that the tall rather intellectual-looking man was Pete, the radio man. At first she couldn't figure out if Billy, the clerk from Athens, Ohio, was the quiet, handsome man who shook her hand and met her gaze or the rather-worse-for-the-wear person who kept his hands in his pockets and sort of mumbled hello. Whichever one of those wasn't Billy, would be Greg, the chopper pilot to whom the rest of them all said they owed their lives many times over.

Next the Buddies herded their wives together, and more introductions followed. None of the wives appeared to be over 40. Greg's wife (Greg turned out to be the worse-for-the-wear person who apparently had a hard time handling the transition from hot-shot Vietnam chopper pilot to civilian life) appeared to be still in her twenties. Connie suddenly felt very old. That feeling got worse as they sat down to dinner and she learned that none of the other couples had been married more than five years. Greg and Sharon were newlyweds. She was his fourth wife. Watching Sharon's negative attitude to this entire proceeding made Connie suspect that this marriage probably would not last either.

Dinner came and went. Connie noticed that none of the guys paid much attention to the food, as long as the beers kept coming. That was probably just as well because the food was awful. During dessert, the organizers of the reunion made their speeches. They recognized the people who put the event together, those who traveled the farthest to attend (Pete got kudos for coming all the way from Australia), and those attending for the first time.

Rick got a huge cheer when they mentioned his name among the latter group. He had been a lieutenant, and later, a captain, serving two tours of duty in Vietnam. Quite a few of the attendees had served under his command. Before the speeches ended, they read the names of those who had died since the last reunion. The list was longer than Connie would have expected for such relatively young men. The program ended with everyone standing to sing the Marine Corps Hymn. Connie was embarrassed to notice that none of the other women at the table knew the words. How on earth could they be married to Marines and not know the words to the Hymn? Then she realized she learned the words from her dad, not her husband.

As they sat down Rick looked at her with something like awe. "You know all three verses by heart?"

She lifted her chin in a parody of a Marine at attention and looked at him through the bottom of her glasses. "You think Colonel Bernard Archer's only child would not know all the words to the Hymn?"

He slapped the side of his head. "Oh, God, how stupid of me! That gonzo old bird probably filled your head with all kinds of Marine lore, both true and untrue."

She nodded, "I suspect that most of it is probably untrue. I learned early in life that Marines have a huge blind spot where the Corps is concerned. My mother always cautioned me to listen respectfully to a Marine's stories and then discount them by about 2/3. My experience bears that out. I would say that most Marine-talk I've ever heard is at the very least 2/3 bullshit, including yours." She looked around the table at the other wives, raised her eyebrows, and announced, "We should all consider wearing waders for the rest of the weekend!"

The women looked at her as though she had sprouted a second head. The Buddies chuckled. Rick reared back his head and laughed, long and loud.

Connie feigned indignation, "Tell me I'm mistaken."

Rick wiped his eyes and said, "Darlin', if anything, I'd say you are being very generous."

They locked eyes and smiled at each other as only the long-married can: smiles full of love, laughter and decades of inside-jokes. The men at the table laughed. The other wives mostly looked bored. Connie suddenly had the strange feeling that she might possibly enjoy this weekend after all.

After dinner there was dancing. Actually, there was music. Very few people danced. The men huddled in groups at a few of the tables near the bar and in the corners of the room. The women mostly remained seated where they were, looking bored or getting drunk, or both.

Connie tried to engage the women at her table in conversation by asking how they met their husbands.

Sharon was the youngest at 29; she was a hairdresser with three children who had recently married Greg and was still trying to figure out why. They lived in Toledo, Ohio, where he drove a Pepsi delivery truck.

Monica was Billy's wife. They had been married five years. His first wife had been killed in a car accident some years before. They met at Monica's church where Billy volunteered as a bookkeeper. He was a recently-retired CPA. She was a school-teacher who was many years his junior. They both seemed very nice, but this whole veteran experience was totally alien to Monica. She wanted to be supportive of her husband, but was not sure how to go about it.

Pete's wife, Toni, was in her late 30's, a gorgeous blond from Australia. They had been married only three years. Pete was a scientist who worked for an oil exploration company. She was a geologist. He met her at a convention in Las Vegas, and followed her back to Australia, where they lived in Sydney. They had timed their annual visit to Pete's family in Cleveland to coincide with the reunion. Toni was clearly eager to get the weekend behind her and return to Australia. She did not even try to conceal her distaste for the entire business, although she did seem to be very much in love with Pete -- presumably the scientist who was willing to live with her in Australia, not the American ex-GI.

As the women shared snippets of their stories, Connie's attention shifted back and forth between the women and the men. She learned that she was the only woman at the table who had even been born when their husbands were in Vietnam. It was no wonder the other women seemed so out of synch with the experience. Connie felt positively ancient.

The men, on the other hand, seemed to be growing younger by the minute. As the beer took effect and the stories poured out, their post-Vietnam experiences retreated into the mist and, for a brief while, they were once again the warriors who went off to southeast Asia believing they were serving their country. Connie rather wished that she could join them. Conversation among the women was languishing. The men were much more animated. On the other had, she had heard enough Marine-talk in her life to know that she most definitely did not want to hear those stories.

As the band began to play songs from earlier and earlier in the Sixties, and the crowd progressed from boozily happy to drunkenly maudlin, Connie decided it was time to make her exit. She found Rick in the middle of the largest cluster of guys, narrating a detailed and complicated story of some engagement near Da Nang that happened 40 years ago but which he recalled in perfect detail. She shouldered her way through the crowd and whispered, "I'm going to bed. Stay as long as you like. I love you."

She kissed him on the cheek. He winked at her, patted her bottom, and never stopped talking. She smiled all the way back to the room, where she closed the door and melted into the silence and a hot shower.

Chapter 3 – Reunion / Saturday

The next day was set aside for outings. Most of the men intended to play golf. Most of the women planned to go shopping.

Connie woke early and drank all the coffee in the hospitality basket. She read quietly until Rick sat up and moaned. She laughed, "Well, well, and how are we feeling this morning, Cap?"

He collapsed back onto the pillow and groaned, "Oh, Jesus. Now I remember why I quit drinking when I came back from Nam."

"I thought it odd. I've been married to you for 30 years and I've seen you drink maybe three beers in that entire time. I think you doubled that total last night."

"Don't remind me."

"Take a shower. I'll get us some coffee."

When she returned with the coffee, he was coming out of the shower, still damp, with a towel around his waist. She noticed that his hair was thinner than it had been in his youth and it was almost completely gray. He had not shaved, and his whiskers were grizzled. His neck sagged a little, but the rest of him was still in great shape. He worked out every single day, ran four times a week and played hand-ball. She suspected that he could still get into his Marine dress uniform, and even breathe after buttoning it. She wondered if he had brought it with him. She hoped he had. 'God, how gorgeous he was in that uniform,' she thought, 'but then Elmer Fudd would be gorgeous in Marine blues.'

He took the coffee and sat across from her at the small table. He rubbed the back of her hand, "Hey, I'm sorry I abandoned you last night. I feel really bad..."

She tossed her head and waved her hand at him in a dismissive gesture, "Don't even mention it! There was never any doubt in my mind that I'd spend the weekend either sitting with a bunch of women being bored out of my mind or sneaking off to the room to read in peace. Last night was the former. Plan on tonight being the latter. This is your weekend. You hang with your Buddies and have fun. This is not about me."

He got up and took her in his arms. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"You don't." She snuggled closer. For a moment they paused, aware that he was naked and they were alone in a hotel room. The temperature rose for a second, and then they both realized that he was very hung-over and the coffee would get cold if they went back to bed. She kissed him on the nose and whispered, "How 'bout a rain-check?"

He kissed her on the neck and whispered, "You got it! Thanks."

They sipped their coffee and looked over the program for the day. He didn't like to play golf. She was not about to spend the day shopping with a bunch of strangers. What to do?

He stretched, scratched his chin and said, "Here's an idea. Since you seem to be destined to spend your evening alone, how's about we spend the day together before I abandon you again tonight."

"That sounds like a good idea. Let's find a lake somewhere or go to the pool and soak up some sun. You can sweat off that beer before you start over again tonight. There's one thing I would like to do: I want to hit a bookstore to buy something to read tonight. I intend to leave the banquet as early as possible without being rude."

"Darlin' on your worst day and in your worst mood, you will never be as rude as two thirds of the bitches in that room last night."

For a moment, that remark shocked her. He was usually extremely respectful of women. He swore like a true Marine, but he rarely used the "B" word. Upon second thought, it occurred to her that he was right. Many of the women did seem to resent their husbands' enjoyment of the reunion. Connie couldn't say she personally was enjoying it, but she was happy to see her husband enjoying the experience of catching up with his Buddies.

She remarked, "They should not invite the wives to these things."

He rolled his eyes, "Oh, you naive thing, you. We bring our wives along for our own protection. You saw how we all behaved last night. Every man in that room regressed almost all the way back to adolescence. I fear that but for the 100 pairs of disapproving eyes boring holes in our backs, the place would have been overrun with strippers and prostitutes."

She almost spit out her coffee. Laughing, she quipped, "At least they might have been more interesting than the women at our table! God, those women are boring! If I didn't know that I was not welcome in the all-boy story-circles, I'd have joined you. Besides, somehow I can't see you fraternizing with strippers and prostitutes, then or now."

He shrugged. "I was married then and I'm married now. I guess I'm sort of Semper Fi in more ways than one. Still, I was a commanding officer. One of my jobs was to haul my men out of bad situations. I think I was inside of every whorehouse in Saigon and Tokyo at one time or another for the purpose of dragging somebody's ass back to the base before he got put up for court-marshal."

She shuddered and busied herself straightening up the newspaper. They were venturing into very dangerous waters. The person to whom he was being faithful while he was in Vietnam was not her. She didn't like to discuss his first marriage. She brightened, "So then. Our plan is to spend the day together before you leave me high and dry again tonight. Let's go."

He cocked his head and said, "You sure you want to spend the day with an Old Codger instead of going shopping with the all those young girls?"

She lowered her head and gave him an appraising look. It was clear she appreciated what she saw, "Absolutely. Positively."

She paused. "Hey, I have a question. Did you by chance smuggle your Blues into the suitcase after you made these reservations that you didn't tell me about?"

His eyebrows went up. "As a matter of fact, I did. Since I've never been to one of these shin-digs before, I didn't know whether or not I'd need it, so I packed my dress uniform just in case. I'm not going to wear it, though. The banquet isn't formal. I'll settle for a suit and my campaign cap."

She went to the closet where his dress uniform hung in a dry cleaner bag. She turned around and said, "I don't care if nobody else wears their uniform. To be honest, I think you are one of the very few in the crowd who could even get into their uniform. I want you to wear it."

He started to shake his head and refuse, but then seemed to recall something he'd forgotten. He said, "I never took you to a Marine Ball."

"I know."

"I'll wear my uniform if you'll let me take you shopping for a something special to wear with it."

"Deal. I'd rather shop with you than those women." She paused and grinned, "You pay for my purchases."

He threw a pillow at her head and then ducked back into the bathroom to shave.

Since the banquet wasn't formal, they had a difficult time finding an outfit that Connie thought would be elegant enough to go with his blues without being totally over-the-top. They settled on a dark rose-colored silk pantsuit, which cost considerably more than anything she had ever owned before. It was plain but very elegant. Connie felt a little guilty about the price, but she would have paid even more when she got a glimpse of the look on Rick's face when he first saw her in the outfit.

Next they stopped at a bookstore where Connie picked up what she called a "pool book" and then returned to the hotel. They spent the rest of the day lying in the sun by the pool, alternately talking about nothing in particular and napping.

Late in the afternoon the golfers and shoppers began to trickle in. The men picked up where they had left off the night before. The women dozed on the chaises; they appeared to be saving whatever conversation they might be able to manage for the banquet.

When they returned to their room, Connie suggested that Rick get dressed first and go down to the bar while she showered and dressed. "I promise I'll be there in time for dinner."

She curled up on the bed with her book while he dressed. She purposely did not look up while he was dressing. She wanted to see him fully decked out; she did not want to watch the process of his transformation from civilian to Marine. At last she heard him close the closet door, and snap his hat under his arm. Only then did she look up.

She didn't even attempt to fight back the tears. Her heart saw him not as an almost-old retiree, but as the handsome young man she married. In her eyes, he was once again the proud-bordering-on-arrogant high school star quarterback who had survived two tours of duty as a Marine in Vietnam -- barely. He looked fantastic, and he knew it.

She let out a long, low wolf whistle, "Not too bad for an Old Codger." Then she crossed the room without touching the floor and was in his arms. They embraced for a long time.

Finally, she pushed him away, "Get out of here, so I can get beautiful, too." She narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down, "Not that I could ever be that gorgeous, of course."

Forty-five minutes later, when she walked into the bar, he looked at her across the room and she knew that in his eyes she was the eighteen-year-old virgin he married and not a fifty-something matron with gray in her hair and bags under her eyes.

He lifted his glass and motioned for her to join him. She was at his side in a second. It may not have been a Marine Ball, but they were together and still in love, and that was good enough for her. The fact that there were so many men and women staring at Rick with naked envy was purely gravy -- luscious, wonderful gravy!

Connie slipped her arm around Rick's waist and settled herself comfortably against his shoulder as he continued to regale the group with a detailed story about a long-ago patrol through a far-away jungle... She didn't listen to the details of the story; she was totally focused on the sound, smell and feel of the man telling it.

The cast of characters at the dinner table that evening was the same as the night before. It was obvious to Connie that at least two of the couples had been fighting. The initial table-talk was mostly rather uncomfortable chit-chat. The men bragged about their golf scores. The women made vague references to bargains found at nearby malls.

Connie had a hard time not staring at her husband. She kept reminding herself how undignified she always found Nancy Reagan's "adoring gaze." She kept trying not to look at Rick in that way, but she could not help herself. She noticed with satisfaction that, while she may have been one of the oldest wives in the room, it was her husband, the tall, elegant, erect and very proud Marine, who was drawing most of the stares. She thought she should feel a little jealous, but she actually found it exciting. They could look all they wanted, but she knew he was hers. She sat up straighter and held her head high. She wanted to project the image of an officer's wife the way her mother had done.

She was thrilled to discover that there was a professional photographer in the crowd, taking pictures for Leatherneck magazine. She slipped him $20 and her business card and asked him to take a picture of her and her husband at some point during the evening and to send her an 8x10" print with a bill.

He laughed, "Ma'am, I'll make you a print for free. I served in the Marines, too, in Desert Storm. I'm inspired by a Marine who still looks that fantastic and can button up his blues and still breathe after decades of civilian life. I'm going on a diet. I'll send you a free picture by way of thanks You tell the Cap'n the picture comes from an appreciative Grunt."

After the small-talk wound down, Pete lifted his glass of wine and offered a toast to the Captain and his lady. "Captain, you're the ranking officer at this reunion and you do us all proud. It sure is good to see you."

Everybody drank that toast. The tension seemed to lessen ever so slightly, but it did not abate entirely. Connie looked around at the wives and decided that if one of them so much as made a remark that could possibly ruin the evening for any man at the table, she would drag the wench out of the room by the hair and thrash her in the hall. Connie suspected with amusement that the idea probably came to here from her long-dead father.

Monica leaned across to Connie and asked, "How did you and your husband meet, Connie? You didn't tell your story last night when we were getting acquainted." Monica looked genuinely interested; Connie liked her a lot. She liked Billy, too. He was quiet and steady. Toni rolled her eyes. It was obvious he didn't care to hear the story; but, then her body language made it clear she did not want to be there at all. Pete, however, leaned forward with obvious interest. Greg and Sharon, who were barely speaking to each other, signaled their willingness to listen, if only to avoid having to talk to each other. Connie looked at Rick, letting her eyes rest on him long enough for everyone to see how proud she was of him and how much she still loved him.

Rick smiled back at her, and then turned to Monica and said, "Connie couldn't possibly remember when she met me. I was her brother's best friend from childhood. (He and I are still good friends.) I was there the day her parents brought her home from the hospital. I remember her as a little kid running around being a pain in the ass. She's known me all her life."

Connie cocked her head and fixed him with a long stare, "You might be surprised about what I remember, Captain Rydell." She scanned the table and raised her eyebrows. "Would you like to hear the story?" There were a couple of nods and a few blank stares. She took that for a green light. Connie smiled at Rick and said, "I hope this doesn't embarrass you. I'm in the mood to elaborate.

Chapter 4 – Connie's Story

Rick's right about the fact that I don't remember a time when I didn't know him. But, I do remember the very instant when I fell in love with him.

I have to give you a little background. Rick and I are from the same small town near Indianapolis. My brother, David, was ten years older than me and Rick was (and, as he mentioned, still is) David's best friend. David was a sort of math-nerd who was also a sports fanatic, a common sickness in our little corner of the world. Rick was the quarterback of the football team and he played varsity basketball, which means he was pretty close to a god in our sports-obsessed town. He also happened to be good-looking and had a great personality. He was a regular chick magnet but he was cool enough that guys liked him, too.

David was the equipment manager for the football team and the statistician for the basketball team. Most people thought that he and Rick were friends so David could help Rick with his homework. The fact is that Rick was always something of a closet nerd. He got very good grades, and would have done better except he purposely kept his grades just beneath the honor roll level so as not to screw up his jock image. He and David didn't socialize much in public because David didn't move in Rick's jock circles. I think Rick loved to come to our house where he could relax and just be a kid instead of always having to play the role of the Big Man around town. He was such a fixture in our house that we all treated him like a member of the family.

Generally, I behaved like a typical little sister to both of them. In other words, as I am sure my husband would love to tell you in excruciating detail, I was as much of a pain in the ass as possible. They would tolerate me for a while, and then they would do something to make me mad so I would leave them alone. The quickest way for them to get rid of me was for Rick to call me Sweet Cheeks and patronize me. If we were inside, I would run off to my room and cry. If we were outside, I would throw rocks at him first and then go home and cry.

Until I was six, Rick was sort of like another brother. He hung out with David. They both treated me like a pesky bug. I sort of semi-idolized and semi-resented both of them. In a way I think that up until that time they were more or less interchangeable as far as I was concerned.

One day Rick and David came into the house while I was helping my mom set the table for dinner. It was just before my seventh birthday. Rick walked into the kitchen behind David. They had come from summer football practice and Rick still had on his pads over a tee shirt. He was dirty, sweaty and his hair was a mess. I guess I must have said something rude about how dirty he was or how bad he smelled. He looked at me strangely and walked up to me, put his face right up against mine, smiled his glorious grin and said, "You know what your problem is, Bright Eyes? You're cranky because of that thing in your ear." He reached out and pretended to pull a quarter out of my ear. He handed me the quarter, patted me on the head and said, "Here ya go, maybe now you won't be so crabby. Smile once in a while!"

Then he chucked me under the chin, and marched through the house and into my brother's bedroom like he owned the joint. Any other day, I would have been mad as hell at being so patronized. I probably would have followed him down the hall yelling at him and calling him an asshole. (I had a bad potty mouth even as a little kid, which my mother tried to beat out of me and my father thought was very funny.)

But that was not just any day. That was the day the sun rose in my life. That was the first time I looked into Rick's eyes and saw them smiling back at me. It was the day I fell madly, crazily and stupid-in-love with him. After all these years, I still am.

She paused for a long moment to let that sink in. She took a sip of water and looked around the table with satisfaction. She had her audience right where she wanted them. She did not look at Rick. She had never told this story before and she didn't want him to put up a stop sign. She plunged ahead before he could stop her.

It was a "long and winding road," as they say, from that moment in September 1964 until our marriage in June 1975. I would like to tell you about it.

Nobody moved. She continued.

Rick graduated from high school in the top third of his class. He wasn't ranked high enough to be considered a nerd, but he did well enough to get into college, which I thought was great because even though I was just a kid I knew about the Vietnam War and I preferred him to be safe in college than headed off to war, like practically all of the guys who didn't go to college. Rick got a football scholarship to Indiana University. It turned out he was too skinny for college football and he was not tall enough to play varsity b-ball at basketball-obsessed IU.

After he lost his football scholarship he joined ROTC to help with tuition. Even to my kid's mind that seemed like a pretty damned bone-headed thing to do given what we were seeing on the nightly news, but I knew it was the only way for him to pay for his education.

After he graduated from college Rick went directly to active duty. He was in naval ROTC, but by the time he got through basic training and OCS, he ended up in the Marines. My dad, who was a retired Marine Colonel, was thrilled. David had taken a draft deferment and gone to architecture school after college. As much as he loved David, I think Dad always felt that David was little better than a draft dodger. Dad respected Rick because he got his education and then volunteered for the service. The fact that he ended up a Marine was a huge bonus. My guess is that was a major factor in my dad's decision to let him marry me ... but that is getting way ahead of my story.

Anyway, as some of you know, Rick went to Vietnam in 1969. I was twelve at the time. My family was not religious, but I made something like a shrine in the top drawer of the desk in my bedroom. I had a picture of Rick, a cross I had found somewhere, a birthday card he sent me from OCS and one of his socks I found in David's room. Every day while he was in Vietnam, I spent a half hour in the morning and a half hour before I went to bed praying passionately for his safe return.

When I was little, my family knew I had a crush on Rick. Initially, that was sort of no big deal. Every girl in our town under the age of 40 had a crush on him, and my guess is there were a few would-be Mrs. Robinson's around who wouldn't have kicked him out of bed, either. By the time he went to Vietnam, however, I had learned to hide my feelings. I was tired of my family teasing me about the torch I was carrying. It infuriated me when David teased me about my feelings for Rick. So, by the time I was twelve I had developed the ability to hide them very well. I don't think anyone in my family knew how obsessed I was with Rick while he was overseas. I carried my fear for his safety alone and in silence.

He came back home on leave in early 1970, but he didn't come alone. He brought with him a Vietnamese wife, Li. She was very tiny and quiet and heartbreakingly beautiful. I hated her. It was nothing personal, but she stood between me and the man I loved. Never mind that I was only teenager and he was a married combat veteran.

He went back to Vietnam for his second tour and Li went to stay with relatives in San Francisco. I redoubled my prayers. This time I prayed for an hour a day for his safety with some additional prayer-time begging for God to find some way he could come back without Li. I didn't wish her ill and I didn't want her to hurt him, but I just wanted her to disappear.

I was overjoyed when Rick came home for good a couple of years later. I was not so happy that the reason he was out of the service was because of a serious injury which had put him in the hospital for months. During the time he was in the hospital, I prayed more than an hour a day, let me tell you. I think every spare thought I had was for his recovery. The worst part was that I did not really know what had happened to him. I knew his injuries were serious because David and my parents spoke about it in hushed voices and they would stop talking when I was around. As you can guess,my imagination ran wild, and everything I imagined was grotesque. I think I breathed deeply for the first time in months when I heard the news that he was home with all major body parts more or less intact.

I was not so happy that he brought Li with him. I went out of my way to be nice to her, however, perhaps because I hated her so. I felt guilty about that. She was a nice person and she appeared to love him, so I felt guilty about the fact that my guts positively twisted every time I saw her.

Rick and other vets have told me I couldn't possibly understand the kind of feelings soldiers have for the Enemy. I beg to differ. I know exactly what it's like to hate irrationally. My animosity for Li made me feel really bad about myself. It was my first introduction to my dark side, I guess. It wasn't a pleasant discovery, but I guess it's a good thing to know about yourself.

Rick got a job working at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway in the marketing department and he and Li moved to Indianapolis. I didn't see much of them. After a few months, I learned from David that Li had returned to San Francisco. There were virtually no Vietnamese people in Indianapolis at that time. Her English was good, but culturally she was adrift. Moreover, while the people of Midwestern America have a lot of good qualities, racial broad-mindedness is not one of them. I guess somebody called her a Gook to her face once too often. Once she got her Green Card, she left for San Francisco. To my knowledge Rick never heard from her again. I never really understood why he didn't go after her. I never asked. I have to confess, I was grateful as hell that he didn't.

You would think I would have been happy about Li's departure, and I was, but I knew that Rick was hurting and I can't stand for him to be in pain. I probably cried more over the breakup of his marriage than he did. He was still in the habit of being a tough-guy ex-Marine. I was a girl, so I could cry on his behalf. And I did. For days and days and days.

I didn't see much of him for a while because he lived and worked in Indianapolis. I heard he was sort of the man-about-town. Between his jock background and his recently-returned-from-combat-wounded-veteran status, I doubt he ever paid for a drink and I am pretty sure he never wanted for female companionship. Fortunately I was a kid who had led a very sheltered life, so my imagination could not go very far down that road. If it had, I probably would have been furious.

I, on the other hand, was facing a sort of family crisis. I was sixteen and showed absolutely no interest in boys. It was not enough that I was a straight-A student and a varsity basketball player. My parents thought I should have a well-rounded social life as well. They put a lot of pressure on me to go out on dates. I was willing to be the perfect daughter in every other respect. I drew the line at dating when my heart was elsewhere. Eventually, my parents figured out that I had what they considered to be a crush on Rick. My entire family kept an eagle eye on me whenever Rick was around. I think they thought that I would throw myself at him or something.

I probably would have done just that, too, except that I had absolutely no idea how a sixteen year-old virgin could go about seducing a 26 year old man who had been married and who had probably experienced a thing or two in the fleshpots of southeast Asia.

Everybody at the table laughed, except Rick.

She looked around the table with a sheepish grin, and said,

Oh, did I mention that I was terribly, terribly naive?

Anyway, for the next year or so, I saw Rick only from a distance and always with lots of people around. I still worshiped him from afar, but I feared he had totally forgotten I existed.

One day in the late summer of 1974, I went to the library to get a jump on a current events research paper I knew I would have to write for my senior government class. I had decided to do my report on the Vietnam War which by then had devolved into total disaster over there after it had ripped America apart at home. I dragged out every book the library had on Southeast Asia and proceeded to attempt to figure out what the war was all about.

At one point, Rick walked up to my table – to this day I have no idea what brought him to the local library that day – and asked me what I was doing in the library on such a beautiful summer day. When he noticed what I was reading, he made a face and asked me why the hell I was wasting my time on that shit. I told him I wanted to understand what the conflict was about. He laughed hoarsely with a bitter look on his face and told me that I wouldn't find the answer to that in any of those books. I asked him if he couldn't tell me what the war was about, could he at least tell me what it was like.

He seemed to want to talk about it. He suggested we go outside where he could smoke. We sat outside in the library's interior courtyard and he talked non-stop for about three hours. It was clear that it was the first time he'd spoken about many of his experiences. I'm sure that he censored what he told me. It's clear from watching you guys that you share a bond of experience that we who love you will never be able to understand. I was honored to be the one he opened up to that day. In many ways I think laid a foundation for our future relationship.

When the library closed, they kicked us out and we walked out into the parking lot. He patted me on the head (God, I hated him for that!) and said, "Thanks, Connie. I appreciate your listening to me. I guess I didn't realize how much I needed to talk about it." That was the first time in my life he had ever called me by my name!

I did not eat or sleep – at least not very much – for days. I felt that somehow I had been raised from the level of David's-pain-in-the-ass-baby-sister to a Person with a Name. I considered that a bit of progress in my campaign to snag the man, and I was ecstatic.

We ran into each other occasionally over the next few weeks and always stopped to chat. Whenever I found out he was going to be visiting David, I would come up with any kind of lame excuse to drop by. I felt as though we were becoming friends in a way I could never have imagined.

For my 18th birthday, my parents planned a cookout for friends and family. My birthday is at the end of September which is usually a beautiful time of year in Indiana. It was a great time for one last picnic before the cold weather set in. Besides, my parents were the kind of people who would use any excuse to throw a party.

I was looking forward to it, but I wanted Rick to be there. Despite all my parents preaching about how good girls should never, ever under any circumstances "throw themselves" at a guy, I wanted him to be there for my birthday bad enough that I did what was supposed to be the unthinkable: I called him on the phone and invited him. I told him that it was very important to me that he be there. I let him draw his own conclusions about why. I didn't care how he interpreted the invitation as long a he showed up. He promised to be there, and I was in Heaven.

My plan was pretty straightforward. Since I would be 18, and therefore "legal", I intended to openly flirt with him if I could figure out how to do that. I guess I did flirt with him a bit, but I didn't know what I was doing, and it turned out to be a total disaster. He didn't react at all, and I didn't know what else to do, so I ended up spending most of the afternoon watching my family and friends playing volleyball in the back yard, feeling utterly miserable, not to mention completely frustrated, if you know what I mean. She smiled and winked.

Between then and the holidays, it seemed I ran into Rick more than usual. A few times I almost thought that the encounter was not completely accidental, but that was probably my imagination. We only exchanged pleasantries, but he did continue to call me by my name which never failed to give me a thrill. He spent Christmas with David's family, and we saw quite a lot of each other. We were the only "unattached" people in our circle, so we ended up being paired with one another at several holiday dinner parties. It was probably the only holiday season in my life I lost weight. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I was more love-sick than ever. It was so pathetic, I'm embarrassed even now to talk about it.

On New Year's Eve that year my parents had reservations to attend the party at the VFW. Everyone in town went to the VFW for New Year's Eve, mainly because it was the only big New Year's Eve party there was. I didn't want to go, but my parents refused to let me stay home alone. They dragged me with them. I felt that, as a dateless seventeen year old, sitting home alone would be a hell of a lot less humiliating than going to a public dance with my parents, for God's sake. I felt I had no choice because, up until that point in time, nobody had ever won an argument with the Colonel, and I was such a goody-two shoes, It had never occurred to me to try.

I went to the party and spent the entire evening sitting alone at the table watching my parents and their friends dancing and having a great time. I don't think I ever felt more miserable in my life, before or since. It was a BYOB affair, and Mom and Dad had a bottle of Crown Royal in a valise under the table. I kept sloshing whiskey in my pop when nobody was looking. By 11:45 I was about three-fourths in the bag.

For a minute I thought I was hallucinating because I suddenly found myself being lifted up bodily and dragged out onto the dance floor. Rick, who had materialized from nowhere, had me by the arm and whispered in my ear, "C'mon, darlin'. Since you and I are the only unattached folks here, let's say good by to this shitty 1974 together and hope for a better year in 1975."

By the time we got to the dance floor my ears were roaring and I was dizzy. It was probably the liquor, but I thought it had more to do with my being in Rick's arms. When midnight struck and they started playing Aulde Lang Syne, we kissed. It was sort of your basic she-who-has-never-been-kissed-at-all-meets-he-who-hasn't-had-sex-in-way-too-long kind of kiss. Mixed with liquor and the romance of the dawning New Year, it was what you might call a special moment -- sort of like you might call Chernobyl a little incident. She chuckled and paused for a few minutes savoring the memory.

We danced the first dance of 1975 together. I clung to him like a drowning person, which was what I felt myself to be. As the dance ended, he put his arm around my waist and led me to the table. Then he leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I have to go now, Connie, before your dad sees us together. Don't worry. I'll figure something out. It'll be okay. I promise. I swear to you, somehow it will be okay." He kissed me quickly on the temple and whispered, "Happy New Year, Darlin'." Then he was gone.

He might as well have punched me in the stomach.

I went to the bathroom and threw up. Nobody seemed to think much of that. Actually there were a couple of other novice-drinkers puking, too. To this day, I don't think it was the liquor that made me sick. Rick had picked me up and taken me to a place I had only dreamed of and then rather unceremoniously dumped me back down on Earth. Immediately thereafter, he deserted me. I was totally in love with him, but at that moment I sort of wanted to strangle him.

I didn't see him or hear from him again for a couple of weeks. I wrote him a letter every day. I managed to try to call him a few times from my friends' homes, but I never seemed to find him home. I was a wreck. My grades even started to fall, but I quickly managed to suck it up and get that back on track. I was not going to let even love-sickness get between me and a law degree. My parents were worried about me, but I insisted that nothing was wrong.

The good part was that I was so frustrated and angry and I had lost so much weight during the holiday season that my basketball skills soared. I had always been a solid varsity player. During my senior year, I became a Star. Looking back, I think that I must have become a sort of the female version of Rick: The Golden Girl athlete in our town. Our team won the regional championship that year and came in third in the state finals. Sadly, I took almost no pleasure in any of that. In fact, at the time, I was more or less oblivious to it.

One day in late January, I came home from basketball practice -- sweaty, dirty and a mess -- and found Rick sitting in the living room with my mom and dad. Dad was wearing his most intimidating I-am-a-full-bird-Marine-colonel-and-I-am-not-going-to-put-up-with-any-bullshit-from-you look. My mom looked like she was going to explode from trying not to laugh. Rick looked like a recruit who just fucked up, and the DI was headed his way. The men shifted in their seats and chuckled uncomfortably. They had each had that feeling at one time or another.

My dad motioned for me to sit down on the couch next to Rick, which I did, trying not to get close enough for him to get a whiff of me. Dad stared at us for a long time. I was familiar with, and usually unaffected by, that particular intimidation tactic. I could tell that it was working on Rick. I felt bad for him, but there was nothing I could do.

When my dad reached back and put his hands behind his head, I relaxed completely. When Dad was mad he leaned forward and bored holes in you with his Paul Newman blue eyes. When he had made a decision that was going to fix a bad situation, he put his hands behind his head, leaned back and looked at you through the bottom of his glasses. Then he cleared his throat and paused. That was another good sign: he never hesitated when he was going on the attack. Conciliation was much more difficult for him. I held my breath, even though I didn't really know what the conversation was about. Rick appeared to be about to turn blue from holding his breath.

With some difficulty, Daddy basically told us that he and Mom had decided that since I was so god-damned stubborn and pig-headed and had been single-mindedly determined to have this man for years and since the man in question had been gentleman enough to leave me alone until I was of legal age and then to honestly and directly approach my parents to discuss his intentions, they felt that they owed it to us to give us the opportunity to see if our feelings for one another were real or just the attraction of "forbidden fruit". They would permit us to date, provided that I proceeded on course to graduate at the top of my class and I continued to play basketball at my present level through the end of the season.

It had always been my intention to go to Northwestern University and then, hopefully, to the University of Chicago law school. My dad made it clear that he expected me to follow through with my education, or else. He told Rick that he was welcome in our house so long as he behaved like a gentleman, but if he hurt me in any way there would be serious consequences (which didn't need to be described for Rick to go pale). By the time Dad was finished Rick looked like someone who had been run over by a truck. My mom and I were both almost dizzy from trying not to laugh.

The second the door closed behind Rick, my mom fell into hysterics.

I whirled on my dad and said, "You should be ashamed of yourself scaring that nice young man like that."

My dad stood up and looked me in the eyes and said, "My dear, there is no such thing as a 'nice young man' when it comes to your daughter." (Now that I have an adult daughter, I think he was right.)

Anyway, I joined in my mom's laughter, more out of relief than anything else. That pissed Daddy off and he went to bed mad. Mom and I were the only two people in the world who weren't afraid of him. Most of the time he respected us for that, but it often irritated him as well. That night was one of those times.

Rick and I went on our first real date the last weekend in January. He gave me an engagement ring for Valentine's Day and we were married the weekend after I graduated from high school. I didn't go to Northwestern or the University of Chicago Law School, but I did go to college locally and I earned a law degree from the University of Indiana Law School in Indianapolis. Jessica was born the year after I graduated from law school.

From my perspective, my life with Rick has been totally wonderful.

She stole a quick glance at Rick. His face was in a shadow so she could not see his expression.

There is one thing I always wanted to do but never had the chance, which makes tonight feel so special to me.

I never went to a prom or a high school dance. I never wanted to because I could not attend with Rick. The one event I did want to attend was a Marine Corps Birthday Ball.

The Marine Ball was the high point of the year in my parents' lives. My mother's most treasured possession was a gorgeous photo of her and Dad at the Marine Ball at the base in San Diego in 1950. They looked positively regal and they were surrounded by gorgeous men and beautiful women. The Ball was about Marines in their dress blues, romantic music and champagne. My mother basically raised me to believe that a Marine Ball represented the apotheosis of romance. She convinced me that it was the real-world equivalent of Cinderella's ball.

The Marine reserve unit in Indy always held a Birthday Ball and my parents went nearly every year. For weeks before the event, my Mom would bustle around like a prom-queen, shopping and making appointments for perms, haircuts, manicures and what-not. Every year she took the buttons off Dad's Blues and sent the uniform to the cleaners. While the uniform was at the cleaners, she would polish the buttons and then sew them back on again when she got the uniform back.

The night of the Ball was always magical. Dad would come downstairs with his hat under his arm and David would hand him his saber. I would stand in the doorway adoring him. Then my mom would float down the stairs in a cloud of chiffon and Estee Lauder parfum and they would disappear into the night, laughing.

From the moment I first found out that Rick was going to be a Marine officer, I dreamed of going to the Marine Ball on his arm. Even if it meant going to the ball at a VFW hall in Indy instead of a huge ballroom on some military base, I imagined it would be the most special and wonderful night of my life.

When the Corps' birthday rolled around the year we were married, I dragged out Rick's dress uniform and proceeded to take off the buttons. He asked me what the hell I was doing and I told him I was getting his gear squared away for the Ball. I had simply assumed we would go with Mom and Dad. Rick growled at me and said he wasn't a Marine any more and he wasn't going to any damned fancy dress-up affair at some crummy VFW hall.

My dad was right: I am stubborn and bull-headed. I got pissed off, and I sort of cut off my nose to spite my face. Instead of calmly explaining to him why it was important to me to go to the Ball with him and my parents, in which case I am sure I could have talked him into humoring me, I simply dropped the subject and never brought it up again. I have to confess I sort unfairly of harbored a grudge about it for all these years.

I did subsequently find where Rick stashed his Blues after he took them away from me. I have had them cleaned and polished the buttons annually ever since, just on the off chance he ever changed his mind.

Until tonight, he never wore his uniform again except for my dad's funeral, and he only wore it then because I threw the biggest fit of my life and then called in the really heavy artillery: my Mom, who added her own little hissy fit. Even Rick couldn't resist her request that he escort her to the funeral in his uniform.

Being here tonight with Rick looking so fabulous in his dress uniform and surrounded by his Marine buddies is about as close as I've ever been to a Marine Ball. It feels very special.

She looked around the table. The men were smiling broadly. Two of the women had tears in their eyes. She looked at Rick who still sat in the shadow. She was unnerved by his silence.

Chapter 5 – Rick's story

Rick waved at the waiter and ordered a bottle of champagne. Then he leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. He didn't look at Connie nor did he look at the others at the table. He stared at his hands and pursed his lips for a long moment. For a minute, Connie feared that he was angry. Then she noticed the redness around the rims of his eyes and the two tear-streaks down his cheeks. He raised his eyebrows and looked around the table. Then he drew in a long breath and smiled crookedly.

Well, folks, you might as well get comfortable because after that spiel, I feel entitled to tell you my side of the story.

First of all, just for the record, I heard almost all of that for the first time sitting here tonight. I am truly shaken by all the things about my wife I didn't know. I guess she thinks David told me about her early struggles, but David has never once discussed his sister with me. Quite honestly, I think most of that would come as a surprise to him, too. David loves Connie but she is his much-younger baby sister and I don't think he paid very much attention to her when she was a kid. Connie's story came as a complete surprise to me. Forgive me if it takes me a minute to regain my composure.

He paused and took a drink of his beer. He looked at Toni's cigarettes for a few seconds, obviously considering and then rejecting the notion of bumming one. He continued,

I became friends with David when we were in elementary school. We have been fast friends ever since. David was like a brother to me long before I married his sister. His family always treated me as one of them. I will never cease to be grateful for that.

The Archers were very different from my own . My dad was an employee in my mother's father's company. I don't think a day passed in his life that someone in her family did not remind him of that fact. Even my mother treated him like the hired help. He was a nice man, but he was almost completely without backbone.

My mother was a society girl whose only real loves in life were clothes and social clubs. I swear my dad was there only for stud-service. He was a good-looking man. Mom had three children with him, but I don't think they ever cared about one another. My brother, who was the oldest, left home the day after he graduated from high school. We never heard from him again; to this day I don't know if he is alive or dead. My sister got married after high school and moved to Wisconsin. She sends birthday and Christmas cards. I haven't seen her in person in more than 40 years. Dad died when I was a sophomore in high school. Supposedly he had a heart attack. Given the life he led, the closed casket and the quick and quiet funeral, I have always suspected he committed suicide.

Ironically, my mother didn't outlive him by long. She died of ovarian cancer in the fall of my senior year in high school. For some reason I have never understood, mom's extended family didn't have anything to do with us. After Mom died, I was totally on my own.

I spent the last few months of high school bouncing around between the homes of the Archers and a couple of teachers who had taken an interest in me, including the football coach and basketball coach, both of whom had vested interests in keeping me on an even keel.

I considered the Archers' home a haven from my otherwise rather dysfunctional life. Mrs. Archer was a sort of stereotypical housewife in the June Cleaver mold. She was a great cook. She was pretty. She loved nothing better than having David's friends hanging around her house to sample her cooking. Connie was right about the parties. It seemed that Mrs. Archer was always either planning a party, throwing a party or cleaning up after one. I spent as much time at David's house as I could manage because there was usually something interesting going on there, and there was always some thing good to eat.

Colonel Archer was intimidating as hell, but I adored him. He was everything my dad wasn't: opinionated, tough, strong and he didn't take any shit off of anybody. He became my role model. I adored him as much as Connie and David did. When I went to OCS I requested to be posted to the Marine Corps because I hoped that the Old Man would be pleased by that.

As I mentioned earlier, I remember the day her parents brought Connie home from the hospital. In fact, David stayed at my house while Mrs. Archer was in the hospital delivering Connie. As a little boy, of course, babies did nothing for me. Basically Connie initially struck me as a sort of noisy, smelly, squally thing not worth paying much attention to.

As she got older, she became harder to ignore. For one thing, she was like the little girl in the story To Kill a Mockingbird. She was full of questions: what is it; how does it work; what does it do; why, why, why. Dear God in Heaven, she was a pain in the ass!

David and I would take it as long as we could stand it and then we would decide to get rid of her. Typically I was the one who had to do that. David adored her and never wanted to hurt her feelings. Since the only way to get rid of her was to do just that, that became my job. All I needed to do was insult her. She would get mad, cuss me out and storm off in a huff. David and I both thought that was a hoot.

The girl could curse like a Marine before she went to kindergarten, much to her mother's consternation. Her mother frequently washed her mouth out with soap, but it did no good. To this day I think she could embarrass a sailor when she gets mad.

Anyway, she would call me names and throw rocks at me. I never once saw her cry until the night I proposed to her. I can't tell you how awful it makes me feel sitting here today to know how often I made her cry.

He paused for a long moment, and took a sip of water.

I don't remember the incident with the quarter, although I do remember when a barker in a traveling carnival taught me to do that trick. I used it on a lot of little kids, usually to their delight. I guess you could say that where Connie was concerned the trick was a spectacular success. He laughed, and so did everyone else at the table – except Connie.

I remember another incident, however, that she didn't mention. It was the first time I got a glimpse of the fire she has in her. She was eleven or twelve. I was home on leave and wanted to spend time with David. Connie kept hanging around, peppering me with a million questions and basically making a pest of herself. I said something like, "Hey, Sweet Cheeks, why don't you just go play with your dolls or something." She whirled on me, planted her feet and ended up in a posture similar to parade rest, except she had her hands on her hips and her chin jutted toward the sky. She glared straight into my eyes and said, " For chrissake, Rick, if you want me to go away, all you have to do is say so. There's no need to insult me and treat me like a fucking girl."

I thought David would pee his pants laughing about that. I rather admired her spunk. Something in the back of my mind said that she might be quite something in about ten years.

When I was in Nam, Connie wrote to me almost every week. She wrote long, newsy letters in pencil on notebook paper. She never even hinted at any feelings for me beyond the fact that I was her brother's friend. She even wrote several generic letters and sent them to me to give to my guys who didn't receive mail from home. My entire unit loved those letters. Pete and Billy both nodded. You guys will recall, but Connie doesn't know, that she was not the only girl who wrote to me. I received letters from a lot of girls. The guys all teased me about my harem. Even then, Connie's letters were different, and special. They were the only ones I shared with my guys. Quite honestly, there were some others I didn't even bother to read myself.

I am shocked to learn how Connie felt about Li. In point of fact, Connie was absolutely the only person in my home town who even tried to be nice to Li. Connie was taking French in high school and she made it a point to speak French with Li because Li spoke better French than English. Connie even asked Li to teach her some Vietnamese.

Li said she was touched by that. I told her it was just Connie being Connie: always full of questions and wanting to know everything. Li said she didn't care why Connie did it. It meant a great deal to her that Connie made the effort to speak to her in French and even more to try to learn a few words of Vietnamese which Li said she pronounced abominably. Li was too polite to correct her.

Whatever her personal feelings for Li may have been, her behavior was never anything but kind and compassionate. She may have been only a teenager, but she was a class act even then.

He reached out and took her hand, holding it between both of his, but without looking at her. That has never changed.

He paused for a long time, stroking the back of her hand and staring off into space. I remember that afternoon in the library, also.

As I said, I bounced around between various families after my mom died, but Mr. Barnes, the football coach, and his wife sort of unofficially adopted me. They continued to be my surrogate parents for as long as they lived. That day I had stopped by their house to drop off something Mrs. Barnes had asked me to pick up from one of the department stores in Indy. As I was leaving, she asked me to return an overdue library book for her. I beefed about it because it would require me to get out of the car and go into the library and I had a date that night in Indy, but I went to the library anyway.

Connie was the only person there besides the librarian, and she was lost in her research. That was a foreshadowing of her concentration when she was in college, law school and even now. I practically have to shake her to get her attention when she is concentrating on something.

When she asked me to tell her about Vietnam, something happened to me. It was as though floodgates in my heart burst open, and the words came whooshing out. Connie correctly guessed that I censored what I told her, but I told her enough to give her a flavor of what I experienced, and enough to get me started on the long, difficult road to making peace with my memories, at least enough to function in civilian life.

Her interpretation of my reaction to that conversation was right on target. That day, Connie Archer became a Person to me. She was still a kid, but she was an interesting kid. She was smart and perceptive. For the first time I saw her questions as probing and provocative instead of annoying. That was our first real conversation. I came away impressed by her intelligence and maturity. I wasn't surprised by that because her whole family was like that.

Connie had been growing up under my nose and I barely noticed her. That day she hit my radar screen.

After that, she never dropped off. I can't say I was "interested" in her at that point. For one thing she was only 17 and I was 27. For another thing her dad was one of the few people on the planet who could intimidate me and whose approval I coveted. I can say that was when I started intentionally watching her for future reference, if nothing else.

For the record, I stood up the girl I had the date with. I can't remember going out with another girl after that, although I'm sure I must have.

I had plenty of opportunities to watch Connie. She played in the band and I often attended high schools sports events since I still hung around with the football coach and the basketball coach. She played on the girls' basketball team, and I occasionally went to watch her play with David and her family.

Connie was very strong and she moved with the confidence and grace of the athlete she was. She was very smart and it showed. Her intelligence and talent as well as her upbringing made her more confident and more assertive than most girls, at least in our town. She would not take condescension from anyone. When boys made untoward remarks, other girls would either giggle or ignore them. Connie challenged them.

There was an incident at a b-ballgame that stands out for me as the best example of her toughness and unwillingness to put up with bullshit. She blew a rebound and some asshole boy in the second row behind the bench made a remark. David and I were sitting higher up in the stands. We couldn't hear what he said, but we could tell from the reaction of the people around him that it was very rude. David started to get up and go after the kid. I stopped him when I saw Connie whirl around in the middle of the court and march over to the sidelines.

She got right in the kid's face and asked him to repeat what he said. He mumbled. She told him to say it again louder. God, she was magnificent! Like the best bad-assed drill sergeant you ever saw, she stood there in the middle of that auditorium and made the kid call her a "stupid cunt" several times until he said it very clearly and plainly so everybody could hear it. Then she simply said softly but still loud enough to be heard around the gymnasium which was, by then, dead quiet, "In the future, I suggest you make absolutely, positively certain who you are dealing with before you call people crude names." She turned around on her heel and went back to the bench as though she had just stepped on an ant.

David looked a me and grinned. He said he sort of wish the Old Man had been there to witness that little show (.... except that she'd have never had the chance to tell the kid off because the Colonel would have ripped the kid's balls off before she could get to him). That little exhibition definitely piqued my interest in her in a totally new way, which I refused to think about at the time because it made me uncomfortable.

She was a smart girl and an athlete but she didn't really pay much attention to her looks. She didn't wear make-up and most of the time she wore her hair in a pony-tail that made her look even younger than she was. At that time I tended to date really beautiful women. Working at the Speedway, I occasionally dated some of the race car drivers' leftovers. Those women were all gorgeous and most of them were surprisingly smart, too. They were also generally manipulative, aggressive, selfish and greedy. Connie was tough and strong, smart and single-minded. I guess until tonight I had no idea how truly single-minded she is.

She was not and is not, however, greedy or manipulative. She has always been completely honest and trustworthy. She may have been a girl but she has always been more like a Buddy. She is somebody I can trust to watch my back. She's a tough broad in the very best sense of that expression, because that's what her Old Man brought her up to be, but she is utterly fair and has the biggest and best heart of anybody I have ever met. Even at the time, Connie's combination of toughness and purity of heart contrasted dramatically with the artifice and manipulativeness of the women in my world.

After our encounter in the library, I did intentionally come back to town more often. I knew the high school routine. It was never hard to "run into" her. She was always delighted to see me, which did a lot for my ego. Even though I totally understood why Li left me, I was still bruised from that experience. It was nice to have someone in my life who lit up like Connie did whenever she saw me. Frankly, she still does that, and it still thrills me.

As I got to know her better as a person, I found her fascinating. She was a voracious reader and even though she was young and naive, she had a lot to say about many subjects, and some of it was surprisingly mature. Mostly she continued to ask questions. By then, David and I had started calling her Socrates behind her back. This is the first time I have dared say that to her face. He grinned, but did not look at Connie. His focus was clearly on the girl, not the woman.

I remember her 18th birthday party somewhat differently than she does. She said that she tried flirting with me but didn't know how. She said I didn't react. If she only knew how I reacted!

She told you that she didn't know how to flirt. That is absolutely the gospel truth. Flirting is a harmless game, but she didn't have a clue how to play it. What Connie did bordered on out and out seduction. She waltzed up to the love-seat where I was sitting, planted her butt next to mine in such a way that we made full body contact from shoulder to ankle. Then she looked at me with the most naked desire you could imagine.

I have no idea what she said to me. I couldn't hear her words for the sirens going off in my head. She sat there on her father's back porch and all but propositioned me virtually under the Old Man's nose. I thought I was going to pass out. I reacted all right. I reacted with a terrifying combination of lust and fear of what could happen to me if I did not handle the situation correctly. I spent the rest of the day playing volleyball without mercy and trying not to get within 50 feet of her. I also tried to make damned sure that her father and mother didn't notice anything amiss.

We continued to see each other that fall. By then, I reluctantly admitted to myself that I was interested in her. Looking back, I know I was already in love with her, but I couldn't face that fact at the time. I didn't want to be interested in her. I kept telling myself I was crazy. She was too young. I was too old. She was practically like a sister to me which made it feel somehow incestuous. I thought that was sick.

I went so far as to start looking for jobs far away from Indy. Every time I thought about moving away, I realized how much I could not imagine my life without Connie in it. Over the holidays that year, I realized that being friends with her, as I was friends with her brother, was no longer an option. I guess I learned tonight for the first time that it never really had been an option.

He closed his eyes and seemed to be reliving the things he spoke of.

On Christmas Eve I joined her family for dinner at David's house. I think that was the first year he and Sarah were married. Connie and I sat next to each other at the table. She chattered happily about her plans to go to Northwestern and then to the University of Chicago law school. She had such grand plans, and they did not appear to include me. By the end of the meal, I felt sick. I don't know exactly when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, I had fallen in love with her and that night I acknowledged the fact, along with all its implications. I could not imagine my life without her.

I started half-heartedly looking for jobs in Chicago, even though I hate Chicago. Instead of moving away from Indianapolis to get away from Connie, I intended to follow her when she went off to Northwestern. It seemed to me that would have the added advantage of getting us out from under the Old Man's eagle eye. I did not mention my plans to anyone, including Connie.

I remember the New Year's Eve party Connie told you about in almost every detail.

I arrived rather late. Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and their friends were sitting at a table near the rear of the hall. Connie's family sat near the bandstand. Her parents were great dancers who liked to be close to the music and hardly ever sat down. I watched Connie sitting at the table alone. I don't know why I didn't go to her. Maybe I felt that she was so obviously miserable, I was afraid if she knew I saw her there, she would feel worse. I considered leaving quietly before she saw me. Instead I sat there like a lump watching her get quietly drunk on her dad's booze.

(Outside of one magnificent night on our honeymoon, that was the only time in her life she ever drank too much. She's way too much of a control freak to be a drinker.)

Anyway, I could see that she was miserable. I sat there and felt my heart filling with love. There was no going back. Right or wrong, stupid as it seems now, I was in love. I was determined to do whatever it might take to overcome objections from her family or the disapproval of the town folks, even if it meant doing the most terrifying thing of all: sitting down with her father and declaring my interest in his most precious treasure.

As an aside, I have to tell you this. You might think that my own experience with her father would make me go easier on Jessie's boyfriends. Not so. I have always been as tough on them as the Colonel was on me. It goes with the job of being a dad, I suppose.

Anyway, on impulse, I dragged Connie out on the dance floor and kissed her for the first time at midnight in the privacy of the crowd of New Years' merry-makers.

From then on our stories are the same because from then on our lives have truly been one.

She did not go to Northwestern, which actually precipitated the first huge fight of our marriage. I assumed that we would move to Chicago over the summer so she could pursue her education in accordance with her parents' wishes. One day a few days after our honeymoon I suggested we take a couple of days and go to Chicago to look for apartments. She asked me why, and I told her it might be nice to have a place to live when she went to school. She waved her hand in my face and replied that there was no need to worry about that. She said she had already been accepted at the University of Indiana, so we didn't need to move to Chicago after all. I could continue to work at the Speedway and she would go to school in town. That was that. She would not discuss it further.

I was so pissed off at her, I screamed and yelled for hours. She just went about her business and ignored me. Her dad held that against me for years. I never told him that it was strictly her decision.

I want to say this about the Marine Ball. The reason I did not want to go to the Ball was partly because I was still bitter and angry about my military experience. I had a Purple Heart in a box but I also had a bruised heart in my chest. He looked from one to another of the men at the table. We got the shit kicked out of us for years up and down the Quang Tri province, but when we left Vietnam, the area was secure. Less than two years later Charlie had taken it all back. I felt like I had lost a bunch of men for nothing. Frankly, I still do. Fifty four thousand American lives were lost, for squat.... His voice trailed off for a minute but he quickly picked up the thread of his story.

At that point, I didn't want to associate with a bunch of gonzo Marines. I needed some time away from all that.

Moreover, I had made the mistake of taking Li to a Marine Ball when we first came back to the States. I thought she would like it because she was used to being around soldiers. It was a disaster. It was one of the few years that Colonel and Mrs. Archer did not attend the Ball; I think they could have helped salvage the evening for us, but unfortunately they weren't there.

Li and I stayed less than an hour. The women wouldn't talk to her and the men called her a Gook behind her back, but loud enough for her to hear. Unfortunately she didn't have the spunk to turn around and say something to the effect of, "Who are you calling a Gook, asshole?" like somebody else I can think of probably would have done. He patted Connie's hand.

Anyway, Connie only mentioned the Marine Ball once and I told her I didn't want to go. She never mentioned it again. If she weren't so stubborn and bull-headed she might have told me that it was something that was really important to her. She's right. I would have relented for the sake of giving her the opportunity to go to the Ball with her parents. Hell, that reserve unit in Indy virtually worshiped the ground her dad walked on. If we had paraded in there en famille with the Colonel and Mrs. Archer leading the procession, followed by the Golden Daughter, whom everybody adored, and her Marine husband, whatever crummy VFW Hall that hosted the event would truly have been transformed into Cinderella's ball. Unfortunately, Connie got her Irish up over one off-the-cuff remark from me. I swear to God I'd have changed my mind if she'd let me know how important the Ball was to her.

He turned and looked at Connie for the first time and said, "I'm sorry, but you know if you would just once in a while tell me what you're feeling instead of expecting me to read your fucking mind all the time we could avoid some of those misunderstandings." The smile on his lips and the tenderness in his eyes moderated the toughness of his words.

Then he stood up and asked her to dance.

As they glided around the dance floor the years melted away and the Marine and his Lady danced the night away, sipped champagne and laughed at all the old people who one-by-one pooped out as the night grew late.

In the elevator on the way to their room they laughed and wondered if they should go to an all night pharmacy to buy Ben Gay for the sore muscles they would have in the morning. They decided they weren't sober enough for that.

As the elevator stopped on their floor, he kissed her and said, "I love you, Bright Eyes."

She tousled his already messed-up hair, what little there was, and answered, "I love you, too, you old Codger."

Chapter 6 – Reunion / Sunday

The next morning Connie woke to find Rick sitting in a chair watching her. He had ordered room service. A tray of scones, juice and a pot of coffee sat on the table.

She leaned up on one elbow and looked at him with only one eye open. "What time is it? I can't ever remember you getting up before me."

He looked at her, grinned and said, "Well, on the one hand, I couldn't sleep because I had such a great time last night, I wanted to stay awake and savor it. Then I started thinking about all the stuff I want to say to you now that you opened the door a crack, and I spent the rest of the night thinking about that. Finally, I just got up and ordered breakfast. I've about polished off the first pot of coffee. I think I'll order another."

He went to the phone and Connie went into the bathroom. She came out a few minutes later still disheveled, but feeling a bit fresher after brushing her teeth.

He raised his eyebrows and looked at her over his glasses, "You feel ok?"

She shrugged. "I hate champagne. I love the idea of it, but I hate beverages with bubbles. I have a headache."

He handed her a cup of coffee, "How much did you drink, a half glass?"

"Actually, Mr. Smarty Pants, I had drank two glasses. I guess that is not too bad for once every 30 years or so."

"You're a regular booze hound, you know that?"

She sipped her coffee and watched him. He looked his age this morning. The pixie dust from the night before had apparently worn off and they were back to normal. She rather liked that. She sighed, "I hope you are not upset with anything I said last night. That was a lot of personal beans to spill in front of a bunch of strangers."

He shrugged and made a face, "We'll never see them again. Actually, sitting there last night I was, of course, blown away by the things you said, but I have to confess I was also a little pissed off. I cannot believe that you could have kept all of that from me all for these years. I thought about it a almost all night. It makes me feel as though you somehow don't trust me with your feelings. I know it's irrational, but it sort of hurts my feelings."

She rushed to him, knelt down in front of him and put her hands over his. She looked into his eyes for a long time, trying to communicate her feelings telepathically, and said, "I'm sorry you feel that way. I understand how you could get that idea, but I have to tell you that I trust you more than anything or anybody on the planet. I was shocked to learn you didn't know all of that already. I would never have spoken about it in front of other people if I had any inkling that you were hearing it for the first time. I guess I feel that my emotions are so powerful that they are obvious to the whole world."

He raised her up from the floor and sat her on the edge of the bed. He took her hands in his and said very gently, "I hate to burst your bubble, Darlin', but that could not be farther from the truth. The only time Jessie and I ever know how you really feel is when you're mad. You manage to express anger very effectively. As for every other emotion, you might as well not have any. You are like the Sphinx.

"I suppose that is a useful talent for a lawyer, but it makes it kind of hard for the people who love you to figure out what is going on with you. You don't show your feelings and you rarely discuss them. Living with you involves a lot of guess-work, which can be exhausting. Last night, it was wonderful to see you open up and let me see the person who is in there. I hope you will be happy to know, I think I like her -- a lot." He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek.

Room service knocked, and he went to answer the door.

He came back and sat down at the table. Connie was sitting cross-legged on the bed munching on a scone and watching him somewhat suspiciously. He was nervous. That made her nervous. She knew there was a big "BUT" coming.

He sat back down in the chair and looked at her levelly. "Here goes. You opened the door last night. I'm very afraid you'll close it again today, so there are a few things I want to say quickly before that happens. I'm pretty sure that you're not going to like a lot of what I have to say. Please try not to interrupt – for once in your god-damned life."

He poured hot coffee for both of them, sat down on the bed next to her and laid his hand against her cheek. "The first thing I want to say is thank you. Thank you for the wonderful gift of last night. You so rarely let your hair down. You have never before opened up that much on so many different levels. I think that yesterday may have been one of the most wonderful days of my entire life. You gave me the opportunity to fall in love with you all over again.

"You are usually so regimented and even a little rigid. Yesterday you were like a different person, eager to try new things, adventurous, fun, flirtatious, romantic and sexy. It was wonderful."

They looked at each other a long time. They marveled at the fact that after knowing each other for more than 50 years and being married for more than 30, they could still surprise one another so. They both knew their relationship was their greatest treasure and they each cherished it above everything else.

As if they had been speaking those thoughts aloud, he continued, "Anyway, as wonderful as it was to hear all that great stuff, as I told you, I felt a little irritated to be hearing it for the first time. Still, I guess it's a case of "better late than never" so I won't hold it against you.

"I would like to ask you to please remember that you do not telegraph your emotions to the world. I would really, really appreciate it if you would try to communicate a little more about how you feel about things. Not what you think about them. You are pretty good about providing your opinions. I occasionally would like to know what's going on in here..." He touched her chest.

She nodded. She knew he was right. She also knew that it would be very hard for her to do. She had trained herself from childhood to hide her emotions. She was determined to try if for no other reason than to continue to see the loving gentleness she had seen that morning in his eyes.

"There is also something that I need to tell you. I'm really afraid you are not going to be happy about this, but we're sort of on an honesty-roll here, and I want to keep it going. It seems you spilled all your secrets last night. I have only one secret and I need to share it with you now. You said something last night that was inaccurate. I didn't stop you at the time because I didn't want to break the flow. I owe it to you, however, to clear it up.

"You said that you didn't think I heard from Li after she left me. Actually, that isn't correct."

She flinched and her eyes grew wide; she looked at him as though he had slapped her. He started to reach out for her hand, but stopped, afraid she wouldn't take his hand.

"The fact is, I have spoken to her and I have even seen her a couple of times. Please hear me out before you blow your stack. I know I should have told you. I'm sorry. I really am. It was wrong of me not to tell you. But, as you'll see, I do not and will not believe it was wrong of me to do what I did. Are you willing to listen to the story to the end without interrupting?"

She studied her coffee and refused to look at him. She was shaking, but she nodded. He took a deep breath and forged ahead, speaking just a little too fast at first.

The first time I went to Sausalito years ago, it was to arrange a marketing event for the first IRL road race held there. I went out as the advance-man to arrange the amenities for the event. That included making arrangements with caterers, florists, furniture rental places and all that. You know the event-planning drill.

"Anyway, the first day I met with caterers and florists. As the meeting broke up the vendors sort of filed out shaking my hands and thanking me for the opportunity to do business. Mr. Truong, a caterer, lingered until everyone else had left. He walked up to me and smiled broadly. I was about three heads taller than him, but he seemed to grow while he was standing there in front of me.

He said, "Mr. Rydell, I am pretty sure you are the only Richard Rydell from Indianapolis who works for the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, but just to make sure, my wife asked me to show you this picture." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a picture of himself with two beautiful little girls and a woman holding a baby in a christening dress. The woman in the picture was Li. I was flabbergasted.

Mr. Truong told me that he had met Li through relatives shortly after he arrived in the States. His first wife and two children were killed in the last days of fighting before Saigon fell. He worked as a cook for the US military, so he was eligible for evacuation during the air lift. He arrived in San Francisco with no money, no friends, no work, very little English and a grief I don't even want to try to imagine. Li's family took him in and helped him start his life over.

At the time, Li was working as a cook in a Chinese restaurant, but like virtually every self-respecting Vietnamese woman I ever met, Li wanted two things: she wanted children and she wanted to own her own business. She and Mr. Truong made a sort of arrangement: Truong had a head for business; Li could cook; her uncle had some money. They borrowed some money. Li did the cooking. Truong handled the sales for what very quickly became a successful catering business.

Truong and Li worked well together. They liked each other. They were also thrifty, in the manner of immigrants, and they thought they could save money by sharing an apartment, so they got married. He said that at first they were awkward with one another. He was still getting over the tragedy of the loss of his family. She had still not reconciled herself to being divorced. And, being Catholic, there were some hoops to jump through.

Apparently they had a few rough years at first but eventually both the catering business and the marriage prospered. At the time I first met Mr. Truong, they had three small daughters. Mr. Truong was obviously thrilled to pieces with his family, and very proud to share his pleasure with me.

He told me that Li always spoke very highly of me and that both of them were grateful for the fact that, as they saw it, I rescued her from Vietnam, ultimately making it possible for them to meet in America. He was a gracious, kind and happy man and I absolutely could not turn him down when he said that it would be an honor and privilege for his family if I would have supper with them.

I went to their house at the appointed time. Mr. Truong answered the door. In the manner of many Vietnamese families, there were several generations of people who lived in the house and other relatives who were visiting. That night there were about 20 people for dinner. Li cooked the meal and bustled around giving orders to various helpers in rapid-fire Vietnamese. She greeted me with a silent bow when I arrived. She bowed to me when I left. We did not so much as exchange two words the entire evening. Mr. Truong did the only talking that took place in English. The rest of the conversation at supper was in Vietnamese. I talked exclusively to Mr. Truong because my Vietnamese was never very good.

The next time I was in Sausalito was a couple of years after that. Apparently the speedway people there still used Truong's Caterers. That time Li was supervising the luncheon service. We had a chance to talk for a minute. We exchanged pleasantries, which was awkward for me, so I said something very lame about how well it appeared her business was doing and how much I appreciated the fact that our company had such a reliable caterer to depend on. Before I walked away she pointed at my wedding ring, and asked me about my family. I showed her a photo of you and Jessie, who was about five or so at the time.

Li exclaimed about how beautiful Jessie was. Then she looked at the picture more closely and giggled, "Your wife. Isn't that the little girl who spoke French to me and wanted me to teach her some Vietnamese?" She laughed, "I remember that she was very nice to me. I hope you are happy."

I told her that I was very happy, and asked if she was as well. She grinned from ear to ear and said, "Oh, yes. Truong is a wonderful husband. We have beautiful, smart children. We have a good business. I am very, very happy."

I shook her hand and left.

Since the Speedway did business with Truong caterers for years, I was on their mailing list. The y sent Christmas cards every year, and Mr. Truong would usually add a personal note bringing me up to date on his family. After we "moved up" to e-mail, he and I exchanged photos of our families once or twice a year. He sent me pictures of his daughters. Li was sometimes in the pictures; sometimes she was not. I sent him pictures of Jessie. Somehow it always made me feel good to know that Li was happy and had such a wonderful family.

The last time I went to Sausalito before I retired, I called Mr. Truong. I told him I was planning to retire and I doubted I would have another occasion to visit. I invited him and Li to be my guests at dinner in a restaurant of their choice. We went to a Vietnamese restaurant owned by Li's cousin or somebody, and which was run almost entirely by family members.

We had a nice dinner but it was a bittersweet experience. Li was not in the best of health due to a heart condition. I don't think I ever mentioned to you that Li is several years older than me. I hadn't seen her in ten years or more. During that time her difficult past caught up with her, and in place of the strong, hard-working woman I had last encountered, she had become a frail and unsteady old lady.

For once, Mr. Truong didn't monopolize the conversation. He was even gracious enough to get up once and go to the bathroom. He stayed much longer than was strictly necessary, so Li and I had a chance to speak privately, even if it was in the middle of a bustling restaurant with about a dozen of her relatives falling all over themselves to try to listen in. Given that window of opportunity to talk, neither of us could think of anything to say. We just looked at each other and smiled. We knew we would probably never see each other again. It was sad to see her so fragile and ill-looking, but it was very good that we had the opportunity to see each other again and to know that both of our lives had turned out well. I would have liked to take her hand, but I was afraid the whole family would swoop in and ruin the moment.

When we parted in the parking lot, I gave Mr. Truong my home email address. I told him if he ever needed anything he should contact me. He looked at me very sadly and nodded. Li and I bowed formally to one another and I watched them walk away, holding onto each other and walking very, very slowly.

I guess the good news is that I have not heard from him since. When she dies, I think he will let me know.

He searched Connie's face for clues as to how she had received his story, and this time he reached out and took both of her hands in his, bent over and kissed her palms.

"I know I should have told you, but I just never could find the time or place or situation where I could bring it up. On the one hand, it seemed so innocent, and yet on the other so deeply personal, I could just never find a way to tell you about it. I hope you will forgive me."

Connie leaned forward and kissed the top of his head, "No forgiveness is necessary. I'm not mad. On the contrary, I'm unbelievably grateful you had that opportunity for closure with Li! I always felt awful for you about your divorce. You're one of those people whom everybody loves. You take love for granted. You're not conceited or egotistical in any way but you know you are adorable and you expect people to love you. Everybody knew that the problem with Li wasn't that she didn't love you. She was just too culturally out-of-synch with the life she was living in Indy and she couldn't cope. I've even heard you say that but I never thought you really believed it. I had the feeling that you took her departure as a personal rejection.

"I always felt guilty for hating her so much. She was a nice lady who never did anything to me – other than marry the man I loved, of course –, but she didn't know that I loved you and neither did you.

"Over the years, I guess I sort of tried to make amends in a strange kind of way. I have a client who was a war bride like Li. She, also, left her first husband after a very short time. It sounded like a similar situation. She didn't fit into his life once they got to America. They divorced and soon she started her own business, learned English, and the war faded into the past. She ultimately married a man whose business brought them to Indiana.

"Somehow once we got into a conversation about her first husband. She told me that she was always grateful to the GI who married her and brought her out of Vietnam. She said that every year on his birthday, she had a Mass said for him. I don't know about the Mass thing, but I liked the idea of intentionally thinking good thoughts about someone on their birthday. I don't know when Li's birthday is, so I decided that every year on my birthday I would spend a few minutes thinking of her and wishing her well. I rather doubt that it had any effect on her life at all, but it certainly has had a beneficial effect on me. Gradually all my animosity towards her faded and I ended up feeling very affectionate toward her.

"In a way I feel that we are sort of a sisterhood of two: the women who have been your wife.

"I'm very glad you had a chance to get some closure with her. It was good for you.

"And I understand completely why it was difficult for you to tell me about it."

He visibly relaxed and stretched out on the bed. His robe came open. She rolled her eyes, "Why don't you get dressed?"

He pulled her down beside him, "I don't want to get dressed. As disgusting you may think it is, many men, and I am one, like to be naked. I could be a nudist I think. I like to feel the air on my body and to feel unconstrained. I think I would like to wander around naked, smelling the roses and scratching my balls when I get the urge. Oh, don't get all prissy on me. I know you don't understand. It's probably one of the things that makes our marriage so amazingly special. I'm the kind of guy who would be happy sort of ambling through life picking daisies and mooching meals and drinks instead of working for a living. My job was fun and exciting, but hardly challenging. I made decent money but not as much as I could have if I'd had any real ambition. I sort of happened into everything I ever did in my life. It's just the way I am. I'm sort of a naked, 'out-there' kind of a guy who takes great pleasure in simple things.

"On the other hand, there is nothing naked about you, my dear and beloved wife! You go through life like a god-damned armored tank with all the hatches down, racing at full-speed trying to see how much ground you can chew up in a day's advance. No stopping or even slowing down. Full-speed ahead all the time.

"You set your cap on having me, and you got what you wanted. I hope to God you think it was worth it.

"You decided to defy your father's wishes and threw away the chance to go to Northwestern and the University of Chicago Law School. You are the only person I ever met who ever won an argument with that old bird! You went to college locally and managed to get virtually perfect grades in every class all four years and then you managed to somehow repeat the feat in law school. Granted you didn't go to the University of Chicago, but you made such a splash at the University of Indiana law school that you got offers from every firm in town, and a bunch in other cities.

"I was sad when you moved from litigation to tax and estate-planning. Your dad and I expected you to be the next Clarence Darrow or something.

"You were a wonderful mother, even if you were a bit on the over-protective, over-scheduling, over-everything (to put it bluntly) side. Jessie adores you. She not only had a mother and a friend, she now has a career mentor who never once pushed her toward the law, but who was able to help in the best possible way when she asked for your help.

"Answer me a question, by the way: did you ever tell Jessie any of the stuff you talked about last night?"

"No, I haven't. It occurs to me that perhaps I should. All except for one thing."

"Which is what?"

"I don't want her to know that I wanted to go to the University of Chicago for law school."

"Huh? First of all, I had no idea she didn't know that. Why would you not want her to know?"

"I don't want her to think that I ever tried to manipulate her into following the path that I abandoned. It is a no-brainer that a would-be lawyer from Indiana would want to go to the Chicago law school. It's only one of the best law schools in the country, and it's close by.

"When Jessie told me she wanted to go there, I never discouraged her, but I also did not mention that it had been my original choice as well. I guess it doesn't matter now that she's graduated and practicing." She paused and pulled a face at him, "I may have been an over-scheduling and over-everything-else kind of mom, but I tried very hard not to be over-controlling. I guess I save my over-control for myself."

He raised his eyebrows and said, "You should lighten up on that."

She broke off a piece of scone and shoved it in his mouth. "So you have said in several different ways this morning, enough times for me to get the point. So far I'm taking it well. You might want to avoid pissing me off."

"That is one of my main goals in life."

"Good. We understand one another."

"I keep thinking of that poor sucker at the basketball game."

"He deserved it."

"He did, but one thing I failed to mention last night was that it was very clear that you enjoyed it ."

Sigh. "You knew me that well even then?"

"Yup."

"For the record, I note that you were not only not intimidated by that, but positively attracted by it."

He nodded.

She poured the last of the second pot of coffee in her cup. She shifted around to face him as he stretched out, the picture of relaxation. He had been nervous about telling her about Li. Now that he had gotten that out of the way and she wasn't mad, he was back to his usual self. He looked as though he was made of elastic. It occurred to her that she would kill to feel that utterly relaxed even for a few minutes. But, she was just naturally wound too tight for that.

"We need to get dressed and packed. It will soon be checkout time. Aren't you going downstairs for the farewell breakfast?"

"Nah. I accomplished what I came here for, and then some."

"What did you come here for, if I might ask?"

"I came to see how I would react to seeing the guys again. I know too many Vets who live for their reunions. They only feel truly alive when they're with their Buddies. Granted, it's important for soldiers in combat situations to have that kind of relationship because trusting and depending on your Buddies keeps you and them alive. But, it seems a little sick for them to still feel that way 40 years later.

"I've participated in the VFW and VVA organizations with local guys who were not in my unit. That's not quite the same, I guess. I never went to a unit reunion. I wanted to see how I would react seeing the guys I actually served with."

"And how did you react?"

"Friday night was a total blast. All that reminiscing and story-telling was fun. By Saturday I was pretty much done. I was very glad you wanted to hang out with me instead of going shopping with the girls. Happy hour last night started out okay, but at one point I realized I was a little bored. About two minutes later, you marched into the room like some kind of Goddess and proceeded to take my breath away for the next several hours. From that moment on, as far as I was concerned, you and I were the only people in the room. The others were merely a backdrop.

"I guess what I learned was that I loved these guys in Nam. It was cool to email them and catch up. It was fun to drink beer and tell stories on Friday. But, I know now for certain what I suspected even before I came here: I have really and truly begun to put Vietnam in the past. I don't feel that I need those guys anymore. You are my lifetime Buddy. I certainly feel most alive when we're together, no matter what we are doing."

She stretched out beside him on the bed and laid her head on his chest. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. One of the things I have always noticed about so many Vietnam Vets I've met is how damaged they are. Even this weekend it has been hard to watch. So many of them are so screwed up. Are we the only ones who have been married more than a few years? Some of these guys just never adapted to civilian life. I know I'm rigid and inflexible, but I can adapt when circumstances change, if I absolutely positively have to – and when you make me.

"Some of these guys are pretty pathetic. They have never gotten past the Sixties. This weekend you stood out in more ways than just your usual gorgeous sexiness. I know there are still wounded places in you. Some of them may never heal completely. But, to my mind this weekend you stood out as a guy who is okay living in his skin."

"I guess the reunion was a sort of check-up. I thought I was doing good. Now I know I am doing better than I thought!"

"Let's see. You have a wife who adores you beyond all reason. You have a daughter who graduated second in her class from the best law school in America and just took a job with a blue stocking firm in Chicago and who worships you. You retired from a wonderful career with a great company. You have even finally made peace with a dog who didn't like having you around the house all day. You are a good man, Charlie Brown. A really, really good man.....

"Now would you please put on some clothes so we can get out of here and go home to face the wrath of said dog who is very likely one pissed puppy."

He rolled off the bed and dropped the robe and stood there totally naked and scratching, just to make a point, it seemed. He muttered, "I'd like to turn that mutt into a mop."

"You're so full of shit. I've heard the way you talk to her when you think I'm not listening."

He made a disgusted sound, but he didn't deny it.

While he showered, she packed the suitcase. She then showered and was dressed in a flash.

He looked up from the newspaper. "I know I dished out some tough love here this morning, but I do want to say one nice thing to you while I'm thinking about it. I've always been grateful that you are not one of those women who makes a damned production out of getting dressed. You can get dressed faster than me. I really do appreciate that."

She grinned. "I agree that it's one of my better qualities."

She stood in front of him, took the paper from his hands and plopped down on his lap. He "ompfed" a little too loud so she tweaked his nose.

"I have one last confession for your ears only before we leave this enchanted place and return to our up-tight lives in Pleasantville."

He searched her face, and said, "Yes?"

"What I felt for you as a child was some kind of infantile hero worship; there's probably some psychoanalytic word for it. I know that it was not 'real' love. What I felt for you as a teenager was purely a matter of hormones. It wasn't Love. It was Lust. The two of those things together might have given us about 18 months of fabulous sex before our marriage would have ended on the rocks of reality. You would have ended up like one of these guys at the reunion, on your fourth or fifth wife. I'd be the first female chair of the litigation department at Jones Day in Chicago, and I'd be single and childless.

"I fell in love with you as a child. I seduced you as a teenager. Once we were married and started building a life together I discovered the quality in you that I cherish the most and which helped bring me to the place I am now. I was delighted to learn this weekend that I can still look at you with little Connie's eyes and adore you. I can still occasionally (and don't you dare qualify that by adding "very") conger up a little lust. Last night was about that. You said this weekend was about regression for you. It was for me, too. I regressed to the teenager who married the Marine, and it was wonderful.

"But today we're back to our real world. Today we are back to being a couple of long-married, old farts. Today, the feeling I have for you is nothing less than mature love, built up over decades of fighting and making up, of dreaming and planning, of working at jobs and working at parenting and working at our marriage. My old-lady, mature love for you leans very heavily on one thing you can do that no one else can. It is the quality about you I love the most, more than your looks, your intelligence, and even your oh-so-sexy-smile. It is my favorite thing about you."

She paused and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Want to know what it is?"

He nodded.

She whispered, "You make me laugh."

He looked at her for a long time and then he whispered back. "Beyond your fire and your intelligence, your work ethic, and all your other wonderful qualities, you want to know what I love most about you?"

"What?"

"You are the only person I have ever met who thinks I'm funny."

She put her head on his shoulder. "I said something else wrong last night."

"What?"

"I said you didn't deserve me. That was inaccurate. That was inaccurate. In truth, we both totally deserve each other."

He laughed and stood up suddenly, dumping her on the floor in a heap.

"That's good, because nobody else in their right mind would put up with either one of us. Let's hit the road before they charge us for an extra day."

Chapter 7 – The Walk

Several weeks later, Connie came home from work one afternoon and found Rick sitting in his chair, with the dog in his lap, flipping channels on the TV. He barely looked up. She stood in the doorway and glowered. "Hey, there. What are you doing?"

"Nothin'. Just watching TV."

"Did you play handball today with Harry?"

"Nah. I didn't feel up to it." He continued to flip the channels, avoiding her glare.

She pursed her lips and turned on her heel. A few minutes later she was back, wearing sweats and pulling her hair up into a pony tale. She shooed the dog and dumped Rick's running shoes in his lap. "Put your shoes on. We're going for a walk."

"You go. I'll start dinner."

"We'll both go, and we'll either stop down the street for a sandwich or order a pizza later. Get a move on."

He still didn't look at her. She knew that he could tell she wanted to break a chair over his head. He bent over to put on his shoes while she paced impatiently in the front hall. At last, he stood up and joined her in the hall looking as though he were going to an execution. Connie could tell from his body language that he assumed he was about to catch holy hell. She felt a little sorry for him, but she still wanted to clobber him. And she did intend to give him a talking to, only not the kind he was expecting.

They walked for a couple of blocks. She was obviously upset and she walked hard and fast, trying to get a grip on her emotions. He doggedly kept up with her, but he started huffing a bit after a while. She slowed down. "It's been a while since you did any roadwork. I usually can't keep up with you."

"I've been feeling a little tired lately. I'll get back in the swing soon."

"I hope so. I think you have ended up sliding into that depression you told me that you feared would happen when Jessie left."

"I don't think so. I don't feel depressed."

"You mean you don't feel sad or sit around and cry? There are other ways of being depressed. You, the greatest fitness freak since Jack LaLayne, the man who flipped out when he gained a couple of pounds a few years back after you broke your leg and couldn't run for a while, the man who never gets on the scale but uses a tape measure to make sure he's staying with in certain limits. In the last few weeks, I think you've gained five pounds. I personally don't care if you look like Jaba the Hutt, but I know that the 'you' I love would care passionately, if there were not something else bothering you even more.

"You've lost interest in the things you love. You're not going to the gym. You're not running. The garden looks like hell. And today I come home from work and you're sitting there watching Judge Judy, for Christ's sake! I am sorry I'm yelling, by the way. But that was the last straw. I had to say something."

She slowed down even more, and took his hand. He didn't squeeze her hand back, but he didn't take it away either. She said, "I want to talk to you, but I guess I have to sort of give you some background. I'm choosing today to tell you this because you scared the shit out of me just now. I absolutely cannot allow myself to think about you sitting around the house and going to pot. I'm telling you this now because of what appears to be going on with you. But, the impetus behind my decision has everything to do with me and it's something I've been working on for months.

"You told me that weekend in Columbus that you wanted me to open up and tell you how I feel about things. You told me you wanted me to express myself. Well, all I can say is, you asked for it, so here goes."

She took a deep breath. "I think you're depressed. We can deal with that. We'll start with sunshine and exercise. If that doesn't work, we'll resort to a doctor. Whatever we have to do we will do to make it better, for you and for us.

"Now I want to tell you what I've decided to do for me, and why. I want you to know this is not a snap decision made because of your depression. I'm choosing this opportunity to tell you because of that, but I've been actively researching and planning this for several months. You know I never make rash decisions. That goes double for a decision this important.

"On the way to Columbus, when you mentioned your concern about how you would deal with our newly empty nest, I knew I needed to make a decision pretty soon, and I made my decision over that wonderful weekend. I started the ball rolling immediately after we got back. In recent weeks when I've felt you pulling away from me and from everyone, I knew I was making the right move. When Jessie called me today and told me you hadn't left a message on her machine in three days, I decided it was time to talk to you urgently.

"For starters, I want to tell you this about my job: I absolutely love what I do. You've made several references in recent years to your cockamamie belief that somehow I threw away a great legal career to marry you. As much as that may do for your ego, it's far from the truth. For one thing, I've had a great legal career. For another, you, my love, had nothing to with my decision to move from litigation to tax and estate planning. Jessie and my postpartum hormones were the reason I switched.

"I had a baby at home and I was nursing her. I couldn't tolerate the crazy hours in the litigation department. Moreover, I was in a nursing and nurturing phase of my life. I didn't want to build a career on legal combat, even though I knew that was what you and Daddy wanted me to do. I usually tried to please the two of you, but motherhood made me understand that it's more important to take care of people than to fight all the time. I moved to tax and estate planning because I wanted to help people take care of their kids, just like I wanted to take care of, shelter and protect Jessie and to provide for her future, and for ours.

"Tax and estate planning is not as sexy as litigation. It has its compensations, however. For one thing, I was able to go into private practice instead of spending my life in a big firm. In not too many years, I had so many clients, I was faced with the prospect of taking on a partner or cutting back on my clientèle. I chose the latter. In business, I operate like a man, so I didn't want to take on a female partner. Women fight dirty; I'm a punch-you-in-the-kisser kind of person, as you well know. I didn't want to risk taking on a potential female back-stabber.

"I already had one male partner in my life with whom I was engaged in almost constant battles for turf at that stage of our lives. I didn't want to take on a male partner at work who would drive me insane trying to become the dominant partner there as well. I guess I'm a natural lone wolf but it has worked for me.

"Years ago, I stopped taking new clients except by waiting list. When I closed an estate or a client left me, I would invite someone from my wait-list to come aboard. About eight years ago, I stopped taking new clients altogether. Some of my older clients were beginning to die and many of them have large, complex estates, which take a lot of work to close. I've been very, very busy in recent years despite fewer clients. Thank God I had Becky. She was absolutely the best decision I ever made in my life."

"Better than me and Jessie?" At least, he was clearly engaged in the conversation. This was the first spark of interest in anything she had seen out of him in days and days. She almost felt hopeful.

She snorted, "You, my love, were an obsession not a decision. And Jessie, if you will recall, was the result of pure and simple carelessness on my part that resulted in a diaphragm that was in Indianapolis when it was very much needed after a certain NCAA playoff game in Chicago."

He made a sheepish face, "Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that."

"Becky, however, was an objective decision that has paid off magnificently. She can handle the trust and estate paperwork almost totally without me, so I have been able to concentrate on dealing with the clients and their investments.

"I did not 'give up' anything when I moved from litigation to estates. I gained a different career, one that has been both satisfying and very, very successful. I didn't know about the economic principal of scarcity when I stopped taking new clients. But, subsequently, I learned that it enhanced my value as an attorney for some clients. I was attractive and in-demand because I was 'hard to get'. It caused the clients I had to stick with me, if for no other reason than it made them part of the 'in' group. My clients have tended to be typically conservative and hard-working Hoosiers who saved their money. Some of them have amassed fortunes that would surprise you.

"One of my clients tipped me off to the fact that some of my richest clients felt as though they might not be getting the best legal advice they could because my rates were so low. He suggested that I needed to raise my rates. I spoke to some other people and confirmed that as crazy as it sounded, that was true. They all agreed that I was selling myself short.

I raised my rates dramatically and didn't lose one client. My rates have continued to drift up over the last few years. I make as much money now as many partners in large firms, and I don't have a fraction of their overhead. Becky is my single biggest 'expense'. She is the highest paid paralegal in the state of Indiana. Her base salary is set at 2% more than the starting salary for newly minted lawyers at the biggest firm in Indianapolis. That's before profit-sharing bonuses. I have always told her that I think a good paralegal is worth more than a baby associate any day of the week, and I pay her accordingly. Becky appreciates both the money and the vote of confidence. She's been worth every penny I have paid her, and then some.

"Anyway, I love my job. I have been doing it for more than 20 years, and I have several clients who have been with me the entire time. My clients have, in a manner of speaking, invited me into their families. They used to bring in photos of their new babies when they came in to change their wills. Now they occasionally bring in baby pictures of grandchildren for whom they want to set up trusts. More often, these days they come to me to report diagnoses of cancer or other terrible diseases and we work through the sad but terribly important work of making final plans. That is sad, but I am always very proud of my clients who do that. It is such a loving and wonderful thing that they face their own fear of death and provide for their families.

"It never fails to inspire me when one of my clients sits down in my office and says, 'I am dying. I want to take care of the people I love after I'm gone.' In the last six months, five of my long-time clients have died. I have mourned for each of them and have tried to do my part to ease the burdens of the family members during their grieving time. It's hard, but it's part of the job.

"Even more of my clients are retiring. I've been surprised to learn that lots of terrible things seem to happen when people retire if they are not careful. I never expected that. I thought retirement would always be a good thing. For many people it isn't. They plan and save their entire lives for their retirement, but when they stop working bad things happen.

"One couple who was with me for years got a divorce when he retired because he drove her so crazy trying to take over the house and boss her around. They had been married for 52 years and they got divorced because he was a pain in the ass about the housework. The divorce cost him several million dollars. She isn't happy without him either, by the way. It was a tragedy.

"Some people retire and then they die almost immediately. It's as though their system can't take the shock of not going to work every day. I have one client who is in Southern California right now trying to sell their 'dream house.' She and her husband spent years saving for their retirement at a golf community in California. The husband lived in the house for eight months before he died of a heart attack on the golf course. His wife told me that her only comfort lay in the fact that she knew he died happily engaged in doing something he loved. The tragedy for her is that she hates California, and now she has to create a new life. She is 75. That won't be easy.

"I could go on, but you get the point.

"The saddest cases for me, however, are the ones where one party is retired and the other still works. Too often, unless the retired spouse plans carefully and keep himself or herself very busy, they get bored waiting around the house all day for the other one to come home. Instead of keeping busy, which is what you would expect, they often do absolutely nothing. Very often they get depressed. Sometimes they get sick. Too often they die........"

Her voice broke. She paused and took a long, ragged breath before steadying herself and continuing,

"They too often die before the other spouse can retire, too." She tossed her head and cleared her throat a couple of times.

"There are, however, success stories that thrill and inspire me. Right now I have three clients who are my role models and inspirations. All three of them were careful with their money. They put their kids through school and got them started in life. Then they decided to crock back and enjoy their lives. One couple decided they were going to play golf around the world. Since then, they have spent every winter planning trips and every summer traveling to exotic places to play golf. They are just hysterical. I'm told that they both suck at golf. But they are having a wonderful time in their senior years. He is 86. She is 83. I think they've been to something like 25 different countries in the last few years. Lately they have started taking their various grandchildren with them to haul the golf clubs around. Think of the wonderful memories those kids are building up!

"Another couple took a drastically different but equally happy tack. They decided they had spent their entire lives taking care of themselves and their own family, so they have devoted their retirement to charity work. He's a doctor. She's a nurse. They got involved with Doctors Without Borders and have traveled the world saving lives, and having a great time working together, even though they both admit they fight like cats and dogs most of the time." She smiled at him, "For some reason, I relate to that.

"My favorite couple is my oldest client couple. He is 93. She turned 90 a couple of weeks ago. They were both school teachers. They never made a lot of money, but they were careful with what they had and they have been able to live comfortably in their retirement. They are both musicians. They both still teach private lessons not so much for the money but because they love it. He teaches violin. She teaches piano. In addition to lessons, they play music together. Every day. For hours. I have seen them play together. It is almost painful to watch how happy they are when they play together. They are the same even when they are not playing music. They hold hands and finish each others' sentences and then argue about whether or not that was really what they were going to say. They are a hoot. I love them.

"I want us to be like them."

She paused and wiped her wet cheeks. She glanced at him and knew that in some way, he was 'back'. She had his full attention.

"Money and material things have never been very important to either of us. For all our huge differences that was one very important thing we have in common. We have always lived modestly. We never spent a lot of money. You made a decent living from the Speedway. What money I made over my expenses, I saved for Jessie's education. As it turned out, she got so many scholarships we didn't need to spend very much of our savings on her education.

"If I am proud of one thing in my life it's that our daughter graduated from college and law school without owing a dime in student loans. You have no idea how rare that is these days. She is starting life with a clean slate, not a tens of thousands of dollars in debt. It was worth whatever personal sacrifices we might have made in order to make that possible. And, frankly, I never felt that it was any real sacrifice, anyway.

"The bottom line is that I ended up saving a huge percentage of my earnings for most of the years I have been in practice. Most of the money was put aside in tax deferred investments, and I frankly tried to pay as little attention to the account balance as possible. I looked at it as money for 'The Future' and tried as best I could to sort of forget it was there. I know that money is far from the top of your priority list, too. I doubt you even know how much I make. Since I started filing a separate return after I started my practice, you've never asked. I guess I was always a little embarrassed to bring it up."

"Embarrassed?"

"Yes. Almost from the beginning, I made a lot more money than you did. To be totally honest, I was afraid you might feel bad about that. Now is that an old-fashioned, sexist and chauvinist thing to think or what?? I can't believe it came out of my mouth! But, it's true. I just never wanted to bring it up because in our little corner of the world, husbands are the breadwinners and working wives bring in supplemental income. I didn't know quite what to do with all of that money, so I simply invested it.

"I also didn't care for Jessie to know that we had another substantial source of income besides your salary because I was afraid that as a kid she might not understand why we wouldn't buy her a lot of the luxury items some of her friends had. It wouldn't have mattered how much money we had, I would not have just handed her a lot of 'stuff' anyway, but it was easier for me not to let her know how much money we had. It occurs to me that is terribly dishonest.

"Anyway, ever since you retired, I've been thinking about packing it in myself. My original plan was to let my business sort of dwindle to nothing as my clients died off. Some of them are dying, which actually makes a lot more work for me because some of the estates are large and complex. But most of them are hanging in there, into their 80's and even older. As I said, some are bouncing around the globe and having a ball and others are simply staying at home and spending their time together with the person they love most.

"I'm thrilled for them. I have also come to understand that I can profit from their longevity in another way than simply the pleasure I take in being associated with these wonderful people. Instead of a business that is gradually petering out, it turns out that I have a valuable asset I can sell. I've been making inquiries around town for a few months. I knew my practice was valuable. I've been astonished at the offers I have received.

"After thinking about it and weighing all the options, I've decided to sell my practice to Patrick Budgens and retire. Patrick was actually the lowest bidder, but I chose to sell to him because he is also in a private practice and he will be able to give my clients the kind of individual service they have come to expect.

"What is more, he agreed to hire Becky and continue her salary under the same arrangement she has with me until she is ready to retire in about 10 years. The clients will like that; they adore Becky. I have to confess, that part of the deal cost me $350,000 off the selling price, which was total robbery. She's worth every penny he'll pay her and then some, but he wanted a concession off the selling price for paying her so well. That pissed me off so much I was ready to tell him to go to hell and sell to the highest bidder, which was offering nearly twice what he agreed to pay.

"I talked to Becky about it. I offered her the $350,000 cash to walk away so I could sell the practice to a big tax firm downtown. But, Becky is in a different phase of her life from me. She is younger than me, divorced and her son lives far away. Taking care of her 'People' is her life. She wasn't ready to walk away from it just yet. She's been with me for 15 years and she plans to work another 10. I felt I owed it to her to provide for her insofar as I could. Lord knows, she helped me get where I am. I don't need the extra money and she's too young to retire.

"Anyway, the deal is done, and everybody is happy, although I have a bit of a sour taste in my mouth about the way Patrick tried to screw me at the end. I hope he doesn't expect me to actually give him any referral business.....

"And so, my darling, effective on December 15, I will officially join you as a full-time retired old-fart.

"I don't know what we will do with ourselves, and I'm really scared because I know that if we are not careful, bad things could happen. But, I also know that bad things can happen no matter how careful a person is, so we'll just have to do what we think is right and hope for the best.

"I'm sure we'll make all kinds of plans and probably change them a million times, but I can tell you now that our retirement will not involve sitting on the couch getting fat and flipping channels in the middle of the day, if you get my drift."

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he walked alongside her. She could feel him walking faster. She was getting tired, but he was perking up. He reminded her of a plant that had been without water and was now being revived by a drenching rain. He had been lonely! In his work he had been surrounded constantly by people at racing events and marketing promotions. Immediately after his retirement Jessie had let him help her during the days. He worked on her car, puttered with the appliances in her apartment and ran errands for her. Since Jessie had moved away he had been adrift. Connie had been too busy lately to help him fill his empty hours. He was not used to being alone, and he didn't like it. His fears on the subject immediately following Jessie's move had proved well-founded, but now Connie had offered him a way out of his conundrum.

As the consequences of her announcement became clear to him, Connie could almost watch the dark cloud of depression begin to lift. She knew he might not be totally out of the woods, and he would bear careful watching in the coming months, but she knew that they would get through this as they had always gotten through everything else, together. She felt that more "togetherness" was precisely what he needed.

She was a little afraid he might get more of that than he bargained for

She knew in her heart, but could not have expressed it to him at the time, that it was what she needed too. What she did not say out loud, but wanted to, was that she needed to be with him every bit as much as he needed her, maybe more. Five of her male clients had died in the last six months, all of them leaving widows who were alone for the first time in their lives -- and they were all devastated.

The very thought of having to draw breath in a world without Rick made her feel panic like she had never felt before. Her mother had warned her about marrying an older man. Recently she allowed the consequences of that decision to sink in for the first time, and the picture terrified her. She wanted to tell him how much she needed him. But she knew if she opened her mouth to say it, she would dissolve into tears and beg him not to get old and die. She didn't think that would do much for his depressed state. She opted for silence. Besides, she did not think she could talk around the lump in her throat.

Instead, she picked up her pace, too, and matched his stride. It felt good to be outside in the fresh air, walking hand-in-hand with her husband. She looked forward to making plans for what they might do with the rest of their "new" future together.

C **hapter 8 – Retirement Preparations**

The weeks that followed went by in a blur for both Rick and Connie.

Rick pulled himself together and resumed his former routine. He started exercising again and shed the pounds he had gained, plus a few more for good measure. He worked tirelessly in the yard, getting the flowerbeds ready for winter. He played handball several times a week with his friends. He started having lunch a couple of days a week at the VFW. He seemed his old self again.

Connie had never been busier.

She had several estates in various stages of closing. She tried to make personal contact with all her clients to explain her plans to them. She had promised Patrick that she would personally introduce him to her most wealthy and/or most "high maintenance" clients in an effort to ease the transition. As a result, she had more appointments on her calendar than she had in years.

At the same time, she was faced with the prospect of moving out of her office, which entailed not just transferring her files to Patrick, but selling or otherwise disposing of furniture, office equipment and computers that Patrick did not need. Connie decided to turn Jessie's room into a home office, and brought home a couple of computers, a fax machine and a good printer.

One evening at dinner, Connie asked Rick if he would be free later in the week to meet with her financial advisors. He looked up at her quizzically, "How come?"

She made a face. He had always left financial arrangements to her. Like many people, he was somewhat intimidated by the financial world. He was happy she could handle that aspect of their lives. He always told people that he handled the cars, the yard and home repairs. She took care of the inside of the house and the finances. It was a more or less equitable division of labor that had always worked well for them. He didn't really see the need to change it.

She said, "You don't have to say anything or even particularly pay attention, but you do need to sign some papers and it would be nice if you would at least act like you were listening so my lawyer can note his file that you were advised of the changes we're making that affect your pension."

He felt a little as though she was accusing him of being financially irresponsible because he didn't care about that stuff. He didn't think he was irresponsible about money. Quite the contrary. He felt he had always been super-responsible: He had put his money in the most capable hands he knew, Connie's. If she told him to sign something, he signed it. He never paid much attention to what the documents said. His trust in her was complete. He also knew, but never admitted it to her, that he probably wouldn't have saved any money if it weren't for her. He wasn't the type to plan for the future. With Connie around, he didn't need to be.

As he thought more about it, however, he did find himself a bit curious about their finances for the first time. After she mentioned that she had been socking away the majority of her earnings for more than twenty years, he had done some mental calculations. Even if she had the lowest hourly rate in town, she was still probably billing well over $100 an hour. Even accounting for what she paid Becky and her other overhead, he suspected she probably had a sizable nest egg.

He knew it probably wouldn't change anything for them even if they had millions. They lived in the same home they bought the year they were married. They had redecorated only once. Jessie had pointedly suggested that her departure would be a good time for them to modernize the place. Neither he nor Connie thought it really needed it. Connie had hired a decorator when they updated the last time because she wanted to buy good quality furniture with very generic, classic lines that would last a long time. All they had needed to freshen the place up from time to time was new paint and, once or twice, to buy new drapery. They were happy with their home. Rick doubted that a major re-decorating project would be in the works.

Connie hated to travel so he doubted they would go on any world adventures.

He couldn't think of anything else he particularly wanted to do or to buy. He knew that Connie felt the same. They were essentially people with simple tastes. He rather believed that their retirement would be very similar to the rest of their lives, except for the going to work part.

Rick had never worried about money, because he never thought about it much, but, for some reason, he found himself liking the idea of being really comfortable in retirement.

He told her he was free, and would be glad to go with her. She added, "Oh, and one more thing. I wonder if I could prevail on you for a favor. On our last day at work I want to take Becky out for dinner. Actually, I want to take Becky and her boyfriend and I would like you to come with us. I want to give her a special gift, and I have been wracking my brain to come up with just the right thing. I think I have come up with it, but I need your help.

"Becky and Pete are big race fans. They like just about any kind of racing from motorcycles to Formula One to NASCAR but, being from Indy, IRL is their special passion. They never miss a race at the Speedway and they often go to races in other places on their vacations. I was wondering if you could pull some strings and get them a sort of knock-your-socks off kind of package for next year's 500. I really don't care how much it costs."

He grinned. "Sure, I can help with that, but I need to know more. There are a couple of ways you can go with that kind of thing. There are fabulous packages for people who want to sit in the sky-boxes, drink expensive liquor and eat gourmet food while schmoozing with the rich and famous. Then, there are the garage passes where people can go into the garages and down by the pits where they suck exhaust all day and get up close to the action. Which do you think they would prefer?"

She thought about it for a while. Either of those options sounded like pure torture to her, but this was not about her. "Well, my first guess is that they would probably prefer the latter, but I can't say for certain. They seem like ordinary folks, but sometimes ordinary folks can have fantasies that might seem out of character. I know how we could find out if you are willing to help."

"Absolutely! I don't know Becky well, but she's always been nice to me and, Lord knows she's been wonderful to you. What do you have in mind?"

"If I ask her probing questions about her preferences in racing experiences, she'll know I am up to something. We've worked together too long and too closely. She reads me like a book. Here's my idea: Pete"s been doing some work around the office, you know, taking stuff apart, delivering furniture I've sold to the buyers and things like that. He is a construction worker and has a big truck, so he's been a great help. I asked him to come in and help pack up the books and what-not. If you wouldn't mind, you could come by and help out, too. While you're at it, you could talk racing with Pete. It would be the natural thing for you guys to talk about, and Becky wouldn't suspect a thing."

"That's a great idea. I'd be glad to." He asked, "How long has Pete helped around the office?"

"Oh, almost as long as they've been dating. He's been our sort-of unofficial handyman for years. The building owners take forever to fix anything, so Becky always calls Pete when we need repairs of any kind. "

"How come you never asked me?"

"I guess for one thing because Becky usually handles those kinds of things, and it was natural she would ask Pete instead of my husband. I guess for another, you traveled a lot and Pete was always in town."

"Oh."

She laughed. "What's the matter, are you disappointed I never took advantage of you for free labor at my office?"

"No, but I guess it occurs to me that Pete knows more about what you do at work than I do."

She thought about that for a while. "Well, I guess I am different at work from the way I am at home. I'm not sure you would like it."

He grinned. "You mean you are not bossy and controlling at work?"

She threw a dish towel at him. "I am not bossy and controlling! I am assertive and in-command... or at least that's what they would call it if I were a man."

"You are probably right, although for women like that, there's generally another term used." He chuckled and went on, "Even so, I guess now that you're winding down your career, I suddenly have an urge to see you in action."

"Fine. Why don't you plan to come back to the office with me after we meet with Darryl. I am shooting for Thursday. I'll let you know tomorrow after I confirm with his office."

"Why do you have a tax and estate lawyer?"

"Why don't doctors take care of their families? Darryl and I have had a deal for 20 years. I do his estate work and he does mine. It's a barter arrangement that works for both of us."

"That makes sense. Okay, I'll go to the meeting with you and then go back to your office to do a little espionage."

On Thursday, they drove downtown to the office of one of the larger firms in Indianapolis. As they pulled into the parking lot, Rick noticed a subtle but visible change come over Connie. In football, they call it "putting on your game face." She was getting ready for a power meeting with another lawyer.

Rick followed her into the reception area. She marched into the reception area as though she owned the place. She always walked straight and fast in a flagrant display of confidence and even power. For this meeting she was not merely The Lady Lawyer; she was also the Rich Client. Rick watched her with admiration.

It turned out there were several people at the meeting. In addition to her lawyer, there was a stockbroker and a CPA. They sat at a large conference table. Connie sat to the lawyer's left, with Rick on her left. The others sat across the table. The preliminaries dealt with changes in their wills and trust arrangements. Rick only about half listened to the conversation. He never took his eyes off Connie. Her manner was crisp, efficient and competent. The stack of signed papers grew and the unsigned stack dwindled to one last page.

The lawyer put his hand over the page and said, "Connie, as we've discussed many times, you have never co-mingled your money. It's a big step. You know I recommend against it."

She smiled. "I know that to you this is a big deal. You and I have argued about it for years. You don't believe in couples co-mingling their money. I think your reluctance comes from the fact that you also handle divorces." She shuddered and grimaced, "I only kept our funds separate for tax reasons. There is no reason to do that any more. There is every reason to put all the money in one trust which will provide for both Rick and me while we are alive and then take care of Jessie when we are gone. I have no problems with this at all."

The attorney looked at Rick and raised his eyebrows. Rick lifted his own brows, turned his palms up and said, "I would be an idiot to object, don't you think?"

The attorney looked at him with mild disapproval. Connie's eyes twinkled and she tried hard not to smile. When the attorney looked down at his papers, Connie winked at Rick and he smiled back at her.

Connie signed the last document, and they were finished with that stack. They had often joked about the fact that both of them worked in jobs where they dealt with very wealthy people. They had learned to move in those circles, talk to their clients as equals and not seem to be intimidated by people with the kind of personal confidence that comes from power and money,even though in actuality they both were occasionally a bit intimidated by their clients. With the signing of these papers, they had joined the ranks of the "comfortably retired." Connie smiled and sighed.

The stockbroker and CPA left. The lawyer exchanged some last pleasantries with Connie, and then turned to Rick saying, "My wife sends her regards."

"Your wife?"

"Oh. You didn't know? I am Renee Sandborn's husband. She uses her maiden name professionally, and I forget that she probably doesn't go around bragging about me to her co-workers. After all she works the VIP tents at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway rubbing elbows with America's rich and famous. I'm just a lowly tax lawyer." He grinned. It was obviously an inside joke. Connie and Rick both chuckled; they understood that kind of humor.

"Oh my gosh?! How's she doing? I think of her often."

"Well, she had a tough time at first. As you no doubt know, she is great at all the technical stuff about event planning and marketing. She just had a problem once the events started. She has trouble closing deals."

Rick laughed, "She was fabulous with all the preliminary stuff. You want to serve lunch and dinner, plus cocktails and heavy hors d'oeuvres to 1500 people day after tomorrow? Renee can do it. I used to call her 'N.P.' for 'No Problem' which was always her answer when I laid a big, hairy project on her. She was a magician when it came to pulling off preparations for huge, fabulous marketing events. You're right, though, she had trouble with the glad-handing that was required once the event started and we were supposed to start talking people out of their money. I used to tell her that she should take a lesson from Scarlett O'Hara."

Both Connie and the attorney simultaneously raised their eyebrows at him. Rick chuckled and went on, "I used to tell her, 'Stick your hand in a man's pocket and don't pull it out without the money.' Problem with Renee was she was too nice a lady to work people over the way we sometimes had to do."

The attorney nodded. "For months after you retired she was afraid they were going to fire her. Things were going really badly for exactly said the reason you mentioned: she could get the people in to the tent, but she couldn't get them to fork over the money once they were there. She said she didn't have the 'T factor' that you did."

"What?"

"Testosterone."

"Nah. It's not testosterone. Actually, the best marketing people I know are women. I learned at the feet of the best. She was incredible. Marketing is not about testosterone, it's about B.S. And, as we all know," he looked at Connie and grinned, "some women – present company excepted – are the best bullshitters on the planet. They know how to make men feel like they are smart and in control. That's usually completely untrue, but we love to feel that power. Women can make a man feel like white is black, up is down and we are gorgeous and desirable. All of which is total bullshit most of the time.

"The job of a marketer is to make the target give you money, mostly by bullshitting them into wanting to give you the money. Renee couldn't do that for two reasons. For one thing, Renee is as straightforward as Connie. She couldn't suck up to people who were creeps and tell them they were wonderful. She used to get down about herself because of that. I told her I thought she should consider it a mark in her favor as a human being. It told me she didn't have the makings of a snake-oil salesman, which is quite frankly what I sometimes felt we were supposed to be.

"Like Renee's, my favorite part of my job was the advance planning and moving things and people around. It was like planning a football game or a military campaign. My least favorite part was the schmoozing and picking people's pockets. But, I learned to be pretty good at that part too. Maybe that made me sort of a whore, but I looked at is as taking care of my family. Whatever it was, Renee couldn't do it. Frankly, I respected her for that, but it was certainly a liability in her career in the marketing department."

He paused a moment and then brightened, "I have no doubt whatsoever that old N. P. came up with a creative way to solve her problem. How'd she do it?"

The lawyer was obviously pleased with both the vote of confidence from Rick and the opportunity to share the answer, "She talked them into hiring an ex-driver to do the schmoozing and glad-handing. He's fabulous: gorgeous; tall; Italian. He looks like a fashion model. I'd be jealous except that Renee doesn't like him very much personally, due mostly to his enormous ego. Since he's been on board, however, their revenue has risen back to almost what it was when you left. She says she hopes to exceed your top quarter in six months."

Rick grinned. "I hope she does in next quarter. You tell her I said that."

The lawyer said he would, then added, "You know, Rick, I was always a little jealous of you."

"Me? Why?"

"The two women whom I admire most in the world adore you: my lawyer, who is your wife, worships the ground you walk on. And your former assistant, who is my wife, pretty much thinks you walk on water, too. I have to admit I was a little afraid to finally meet you in the flesh. I didn't know what to expect. I'm delighted to discover that you seem like a regular guy."

"I really am a regular guy. Connie's not objective on the subject of me; that is her biggest fault in life. You probably shouldn't tell your wife you told me that she held me in any kind of esteem. Renee never gave any sign that she thought I was anything other than a huge pain in her ass. I'm surprised to hear that she appreciated working with me as much as I did her."

Darryl commented, "I think it was all part of her act. Self protection, or something."

"Imagine a woman with a very public job in the macho world of auto racing putting on a persona for self-preservation! I always did admire that gal! Give her my best regards."

"I think sometimes she misses just bouncing ideas off you."

"Tell her to call me anytime. I'm usually home and very soon it appears I'll have my wife around the house under foot all the time. I would probably enjoy talking to a real honest-to-God productive working woman for a change."

They all laughed, shook hands and said their goodbyes.

Rick and Connie got in the car and he asked her whether she wanted to go straight to the office or stop for lunch first. She leaned back and sighed. "I'm hungry. Let's get lunch."

He pulled out of the parking space and asked where she wanted to go. She said she didn't care. He said, "Well, you know, here's the way I see it. I have to confess I was not paying attention to all of that conversation nor did I really read the papers I was signing because I was way too dazzled by your amazing presence, my dear, but I think that with a wave of your hand and a single signature, you just turned me from a sort of we-can-make-it-if-we're-careful retiree to a rather rich old dude. Am I correct about that?"

She made a face. "In a manner of speaking, I guess you could say that."

"Then let's go to Peterson's."

"Whoa?! I've never been there! How do you know that place?"

"There were certain team owners who loved it. We used to hold a lot of small functions there. It's late for lunch. We should be able to get a table even without reservations. They may even remember me. God knows, I dropped a ton of dough in that joint over the years. Not my own dough, mind you, but green money nevertheless."

They managed to get a table without waiting, even though it was rather close to the kitchen. Connie didn't care. It was supposedly one of the best restaurants in town. She had just assured their financial security for life. Best of all, she could feel Rick sliding into what Connie thought of as his Command Mode. He ordered lunch with just the right mix of confidence and condescension to make the waiters respect him without being resentful enough to spit in the food. Connie totally relaxed and let Rick take charge. She loved it when he did that.

He said, "You know, when I retired, they threw me a huge party and gave me an engraved gold watch. When you retire, you'll lock the door and that will be that. We should plan a party."

She glowered at him. "Yeah. Right."

"Oops. Sorry. I momentarily forgot who I'm dealing with. I suppose your idea of a retirement party is a quiet dinner with Becky and Pete and then call it a career. If you don't mind my saying so, that is horse shit. Let's at least have Jessie come home and join us. We could even invite Darryl and Renee. Maybe some others. How about David and Sarah?"

Connie looked as though she wanted to crawl under the table. "Please. Let's not do that."

"OK. OK. I won't say I understand because I don't, but I will respect your wishes. We will however come here for your farewell dinner. We will come in a limo so we can have wine or champagne, and the driver can take us home."

"Becky and Pete would like that. I think they like parties. Would you make the plans?"

"With pleasure, my dear.

"Now, I have what may seem like a crass question, but I think it is important. You told me recently we need to make plans for what we are going to do with this retirement we plan to spend together. In order to know what kinds of plans we can make, I sort of need to start with the first question I always asked at work when they wanted me to plan an event: What's my budget? What can we expect by way of income?"

Connie smiled and said, "The way we have it set up is that the Trust will pay us twice what your monthly pension has been paying." He looked pleased. She went on, "In addition, after many long discussions and arguments we decided that for tax reasons it would be better for Patrick to pay me for the practice in 15 annual installments instead of financing the purchase and paying me all at once – and if he reneges on the deal, I'll kill him – he is supposed to pay us $150,000 a year for 15 years."

"Holy crap! On top of a double pension????"

"Yep."

"Whoa! What happens if we croak before 15 years are up."

"He owes the balance to Jessie, in cash, immediately."

He raised his water glass by way of a toast, and positively beamed, "Congratulations, my dear. It seems to me that you have done yourself and your family very proud. I salute you."

They ordered lunch and continued the joshing and fooling around through dessert of white chocolate mousse with strawberries.

Connie leaned back against the banquette, put her hands on her stomach and said, "Oh, God, that was good. I hate to go to work now."

Rick grinned and replied, "You have to go. I have a spying job to undertake and you are my accomplice."

She grinned, too, "Do you know, I think we're going to have a lot of fun being retired together."

"I agree, although with you around, I have my doubts about either of us doing much relaxing."

They drove to Connie's office. Connie introduced Rick to Pete and the two guys went off to pack books into crates for donation to a library. Connie had no intention of keeping her law library now that she could access the material much more easily on the Internet.

She returned a few calls, attended to correspondence, and signed some probate paperwork. She could hear the guys chatting companionably in the next room. She was pleasantly surprised to discover that she loved having Rick there. She leaned back in her chair and sighed. She was still full from lunch and feeling lethargic. She wanted to go in the other room and help the guys pack the boxes, but that would ruin Rick's plans to investigate Pete and Becky's ultimate racing fantasy. Even so, she was considering knocking off for the day when the phone rang.

She answered the phone on the second ring. In a moment she went pale. She listened for a few minutes and then said, "Thank you for calling. Would it be possible for you to fax me a copy of the complaint? Oh, okay. Again, thank you very much. I appreciate the heads up."

She felt somewhat lightheaded. She rose from her desk slowly and walked out of her office. She stopped at the door, looking bewildered. Becky was typing. The guys were discussing the relative merits of various IRL drivers.

Connie said, "Becky, please drop whatever you're working on and go to the county court clerk's website. Download a copy of a newly filed complaint styled Andrew Benedict v. the Estate of Edmond Benedict."

Becky looked up with a horrified expression and put her hands over her face, "That god-damned rat-bastard did it!"

"Yes, he did." The sadness in Connie's voice was tinged with the beginning of something that might at any moment flare into rage.

"What are we going to do?"

Connie shook her head as if clearing cobwebs, and said, "Well, a part of me wants to take this one on myself. I would love to defend this case for free. But, I am not a litigator, although given the merits of the case, I feel confident that even I could whip that little rat-bastard, as you so appropriately referred to him, by myself. Nevertheless, I have a fiduciary duty to the estate to bring in a litigation lawyer. We need to hire one pronto. I think a lot of your colleagues in the paralegal association work for litigation attorneys. I would like your recommendation. I want one who is a killer. I don't even particularly care about his or her honesty or integrity. I want to crush this bastard. If it takes every dime in Mr. Benedict's estate plus money from my own pocket, Andrew Benedict will never, ever touch a penny of his dad's money. Get me a copy of the complaint and then put on your thinking cap about a lawyer. In the meantime, I'm going to call his dirty, rotten slime-ball of an attorney and give him a piece of my mind."

"Maybe you should read the complaint first."

"I don't need to read the complaint to say what I have to tell him. I am going to simply tell him what he needs to know up front: (a) settlement is not an option and (b) I intend to pursue the defense of this lawsuit like I play tennis: I am going to run his ass ragged. "

Becky asked, "Did anybody ever tell you, you are fabulous when you are pissed?"

A deep voice from the other side of the room said, "Yes."

Connie glared at Becky and Rick,, "Don't break my mood. Becky, get me a copy of the complaint."

She went back into her office and slammed the door.

Pete looked at Becky. "What the hell was that about?"

Becky replied, "I'm not supposed to say. But...." she made sure Connie's door was closed, "one of Connie's favorite clients died recently. He had a ne'er-do-well son who was the bane of his life for many years. Andrew was in and out of trouble for years. You know that kind of story. The old man kept bailing his son out of one jam after another. Finally a few years ago, Andrew needed money to cover his gambling debts. His mother had been dead only a month or so. Mr. Benedict had not yet cleaned out her things. Andrew came into the house one night and stole all her jewelry. He hocked it and then left town. Connie hired a private investigator and the three of us searched every pawn shop in Indiana for the jewelry. We got most of it back, but we never found her wedding set or a necklace that had been Mr. Benedict's mother's. Mr. B took out a restraining order preventing his son from ever coming near him, and he changed his will. Since he did not have any other children, he left his entire estate to the Indianapolis Children's Museum. Connie talked him into adding a provision in the will, however, to fund a defense in the event of a challenge from his son. The bastard filed suit this morning."

Connie came out from the office a few minutes later. She looked a bit disheveled but relieved. Becky grinned at her. "Didja hurt him?"

"Let me just say, I feel considerably better having gotten that off my chest. It was probably somewhat unprofessional, but given the fact that the head of the local bar association's ethics committee is Mr. Benedict's nephew, I don't feel in any danger of censure. And, besides, I'm retiring so what the hell do I care?"

She turned to Becky and got serious again, "OK, Beck. Who do we call?"

"You want legal excellence or a down-and-dirty, win-no-matter-what-it-takes kind of attorney?"

"What do you think? This is a slam-dunk case. That file is documented better than any record we ever laid down. We prepared this file for litigation from day one. Hell, I could take that sucker to trial. I don't need Alan Dershewitz. I need an ass kicker."

"I've got just two words for you: Dennis Phillips."

"No. Even I can't go that low!"

"Hear me out. Yeah, he's a slime ball. But, the word is that he also happens to be a pretty decent lawyer. Other lawyers say they hate him because he's such a stereotypical shyster, but sometimes I wonder about that. In actuality, I think his slime ball lawyer routine's mostly an act. His reputation makes other lawyers lazy. They think they don't have to work very hard to beat him. They are wrong. He comes prepared. Sometimes he wins on the merits. Sometimes he wins because the other attorney didn't try hard enough. The judges actually sort of like him. The point is: he wins, and sometimes he wins big.

"Andrew's lawyer is Don Jamison. He's a lazy semi-incompetent lawyer on his best day. He won't try very hard at all if Dennis is on the other side. We could easily suck him in and squish him like a bug." She slapped her hands together. That was one of Connie's favorite expressions and it had become a sort of running joke in the office.

"But, there's an even better reason to hire Dennis." She paused for effect.

Connie waved her hands in the air urging Becky to get on with it already. The men leaned forward; they did not even pretend not to be listening, "So, let's hear it!"

"Well, I don't know this for an absolute fact, but I've heard it from two different people at different times. Dennis has a brother who was the black sheep of the family. Their parents were both killed in a boating accident. The estate subsequently received quite a large settlement from a product liability claim. The parents' wills left half the estate outright to Dennis and the other half was put in trust for the brother. Under the terms of the trust the brother would have access to the money only with the approval of the trustee, so he couldn't blow it all. He apparently asked for money for a car or something and the trustee wouldn't give it to him. He filed suit to challenge the terms of the will. Dennis supposedly spent most of his half of the estate defending the lawsuit. When it was over, the court found in favor of the estate. Dennis had very little money left. The brother still had all of his trust fund, most of which went to pay for his legal bills. The estate ended up virtually broke. Dennis loathes, hates and despises anyone who would sue a family member. It is one hallmark of his practice. He may take a lot of questionable cases, but he won't even talk to anybody who wants to sue a relative."

Connie said, "Well. Well. Even that skunk apparently has some redeeming features. Get him on the phone, please."

She went back in her office and did not come out for a couple of hours. At last, she strolled out into the front room, which was now quite bare. Pete had left to take the books to the library. Rick was sitting on the couch thumbing through a magazine.

Becky looked up. "Well?"

"Dennis is in. Actually I discovered another reason to hire him. He knew Mr. Benedict and liked him very much. Mr. Benedict was apparently a coin collector. He and Dennis were both members of the local numismatic society, as hard as it is for me to believe a guy like Dennis would be into that sort of a thing. Dennis was positively outraged when I told him Andrew was suing his father's estate. Not only is Dennis going to take the case, but out of respect for his friend, he's going to give the estate a 30% discount on his hourly rates. Go ahead and knock off for the day, Becky, but do an engagement letter in the morning, and get the file ready. I have an appointment with Dennis at 10:00 a. m. Please reschedule my appointments for the rest of the day. I plan to spend a good long time with Dennis. It is important that we understand each other from the get-go."

"Do you need me to go with you?"

"No!"

"Dern. No witnesses, huh?"

"Go home!"

Becky laughed. She stopped in front of Rick, "Good-night, Mr. Rydell. It was nice having you here today. I'm sure you are very eager to have Connie home with you full time. You should know that a whole lot of people are going to miss her terribly."

"I sort of had that impression. It's too bad she won't let me throw her a big retirement party. It would be such fun. But, she's an old party-pooper and won't let me do it."

"If she would let you throw a party, every one of her clients would come. Given the make-up of that gang, it would probably be the social event of the year in Indianapolis. That's not likely to happen, though, huh? I'm sure you know you'd be wasting your time to try to change her mind."

He rolled his eyes, "Perhaps you and I should talk."

Connie interjected, "I think not!"

After Becky left, Rick put his feet up on the coffee table. "This was most interesting. Do you have any more work you need done around here?"

"I'm sure we could keep you busy from time to time for the next few weeks. By the way, I need to caution you, I believe you overheard a lot of privileged information here today. We've never behaved that unprofessionally before. I think we were in shock. Please forget what you heard."

"I swear I won't breathe a word of it to anybody else. But, I will never, ever forget it. It was great! You really are fabulous when you're pissed."

Connie laughed. "I guess if you wanted to see that kind of action, you came on a good day. This was the most excitement I've ever had in this office. Wouldn't you know I've represented hundreds of estates and I've never had anybody challenge a will before. Now, right before I'm scheduled to retire, I get hit with a damned lawsuit!!"

"Will it prevent you from being able to retire?"

"No and yes. I'll still transition all the other files to Patrick. Dennis Phillips will handle the litigation. I'm going to keep that one estate. Patrick won't want it if it's in litigation. I want to see this one through out of respect for Mr. Benedict. I'll probably be the key witness. Imagine that!"

He nodded. "That could be good. Retiring cold turkey is a little hard. This way you can kind of gradually ease into it. Can I come watch you in court?"

"I am sure we will dispose of this case well before it gets to trial. But you may be right. Maybe it will be good for me to keep my hand in one matter. Sort of like a nicotine patch for law addicts. And sort of one last tiny taste of the kind of rough and tumble sort of stuff that I thought I would be doing when I went to law school. It could be fun. We could consider it 'Connie's Last Hurrah.' I can win one for the Gipper and all that."

When they got in the car, she asked him, "Well, what did you find out about Pete and Becky?"

"I found out quite a lot, actually. I really like them. I bet I found out some stuff you don't know."

"Like what?"

"Like I ain't sayin', but it was all good. They are very, very nice people. For some reason that I can't understand, they both think very highly of you." He smiled at her, "I think that for their Fantasy 500 Gift Package we should shoot for something that sort of goes down the middle. They will love garage passes, but they would also enjoy getting a peek inside the VIP tents. I think I can manage both. I'll call a friend in event sales tomorrow."

"Just out of curiosity, how much will that cost? Not that I care."

"I think I can set them up with something that will delight them to pieces for about $2000."

"Whoa! That's a lot of green."

"Too much?"

"No. I said money was no object and I meant it. I'm just surprised."

"You'd be appalled at what people spend on those races."

"You're no doubt right about that. You know what a skinflint I am."

"I most certainly do."

Chapter 9 - Plans

Thanksgiving was right around the corner. Jessie planned to come home for the holiday and both her parents were counting the minutes. Connie invited her brother and his wife for dinner. They declined due to other commitments.

One evening a couple of weeks before the Holiday, Connie stretched out on the couch and said, "Looks like just the three of us and Bitsy for Thanksgiving."

"How boring."

"I was thinking, 'how nice'."

"You are boring. To a boring person, boring holidays are nice."

"I am not sure how to take that."

"Don't get mad. I got over being irritated by it decades ago. Now it's just a fact of life for me. Some people like a lot of folks around them, and some people don't. You are one of the latter."

She replied, "But you are one of the former. Hence the problem."

He shrugged. "It used to be a problem. Frankly, I've gotten used to it and I even sort of like it now that I am, as you like to remind me a little more often than I think should be necessary, an Old Codger. I like the fact that we don't make a huge deal out of everything. You never stress out over the holidays like a lot of other people because you don't do things much differently during the holidays than the rest of the year. That used to irritate the bejesus out of me. Over the years, I have come to respect it a great deal. People go crazy over the holidays, spending money they don't have, buying gifts nobody wants or will ever use. It's a racket. You've always managed not to get caught up in that. I have grown to appreciate and respect you for that."

"Thank you, I think."

She sat up and took the paper out of his hand. "Actually, that brings up something I was going to suggest about Christmas. I know that for years we've spent Christmas at David's because Mom and Dad were there. Even after they died, we spent the last few Christmases at David's, I think more out of habit than anything else. I don't want to go there this year. I just cannot bear one more Christmas with his in-laws. Sarah is a nice person. We've always gotten along well, but I cannot abide her parents.

"I want to do something different for Christmas this year. What do you say we go away for Christmas? We can't stay home or David will be hurt if we don't go to his house. He'll understand if we go away. I know you don't see as much of David as you would like, but would that be okay?"

"Excuse me, have we met? What have you done to my wife who hates to travel?"

"Don't be a wise-ass."

"I am serious. I think you must be a pod-person."

"You're correct. I do not like to travel and I'll probably regret this, but I just don't want to spend another Christmas listening to Doris and Walter bitching and moaning and criticizing Sarah, David and their kids. Not to mention me and my kid."

"I wholeheartedly agree with you there. Your dad could usually shut them up, but after he died, they got much worse. And, for your information, I actually see David more than I used to. When Sarah was taking her cancer treatments, David use to take her to the hospital and then he and I would hang out. Even after she finished her treatments, he's been coming into Indy about once a month and we have lunch or meet for a drink at the VFW. Therefore, I would be delighted to skip Christmas with his hyper-critical mother-in-law and her insufferable husband. If he were honest, I think David would give anything to go away for Christmas, too."

"That is sad."

"It is very sad. I've thought for years how lucky I was with your parents as in-laws. They were wonderful people and I loved them a lot." He paused for a moment, cleared his throat and swallowed hard; then he asked, "Where do you want to go for Christmas?"

"I honestly don't care. Someplace warm might be nice; I really hate cold weather. What I sort of had in mind was that you and I could go someplace soon after I close the office, and then Jess can fly in for a few days at Christmas. I doubt she'll be able to take much time off having just started her job a few months ago."

"That sounds absolutely wonderful. I still want to know what you did with my wife. I think I will want her back, but you can keep her until after this trip."

"Very funny! You've made your point. Why don't you and Jess get your heads together and find someplace fun and exotic."

"I think we could manage that. We can send Connie postcards from wherever we go. I hope you'll let us know where you have stashed her after we get back."

"Oh, knock it off!"

He smiled and leaned back in his recliner. There was hardly anything he loved more than planning trips. His wife knew that. She hated to travel, but occasionally she indulged him and turned him loose with a vacation to plan. Sometimes she didn't even ask where they were going until it came time to pack her suitcase. The fact was that it didn't matter to her where they went. She didn't enjoy the experience of travel, but she loved to watch Rick and Jessie enjoying new and, to them, delightful adventures.

She lay back down on the couch and prepared to doze.

He babbled, "Jess and I will get our heads together at Thanksgiving...No, I can't wait for that. Maybe I'll call her tonight....

"Oh, by the way, I have Becky and Pete's tickets and credential passes for the 500. I also made reservations for the five of us at the Peterson's on your last day at work."

"Five?"

"Jessie is coming. She told me she didn't give a damn whether you wanted her there or not. She grew up with your practice. She said she was there for the beginning of it and she will damned well be there for the end whether you like it or not. Sometimes she reminds me of another lady lawyer I've met, but I can't recall just who."

"How lovely! I'm glad she's coming. Let's give her a present, too."

"Like what?"

"I have just the thing."

"What?"

"I'm not going to tell you because she'll weasel it out of you, and I want it to be a surprise."

"How's the lawsuit coming?"

"It's going great, which is kind of bad. I am afraid we may get out of this one on a motion to dismiss. I don't think we'll ever make it to the 'fun' part where we get to wear them out with discovery. That is good for the estate. That's bad for my desire to mete out some serious pain and suffering on the plaintiff."

"I guess that's good, sort of." The mysteries of litigation were beyond him but he loved to listen to her talk when she was passionate about something. Her whole body became animated. She seemed younger somehow. It occurred to him that she'd have made a great soldier if she had been a man.

He changed the subject again, and said, "Why don't you make out a shopping list for Thanksgiving dinner. I'll go to the store tomorrow and save you the hassle of shopping in the evening with the crowds."

She stretched out further, "Remind me I owe you a kiss, but I'm too comfy to get up. Have I told you lately that I love you."

"Seems that I recall you mentioning it a time or two."

"Good. I'd hate to have you think I don't appreciate you."

"The thought never crossed my mind."

She closed her eyes.

"One last thing before you start dozing and I start bitching at you to go to bed, my 'puter died today. Can I use one of the ones you brought home?"

"Of course. Your hard drive had been sounding like a washing machine stuck on the spin cycle, so I brought home two computers: His and Hers. No fighting over who gets to check e-mail first when we're cooped up here in the wintertime."

"Great. In the morning I'll search for some travel spots for Jess and me to look at more closely while she's here."

"Think she'll like what we did with her room?"

They had replaced the bedroom furniture in Jessie's room with a hide-away couch-bed and set up an office with two workstations and two computers, a fax machine and a printer-copier. Jessie still had a place to sleep when she came home for visits, but basically they had taken over her space.

"I doubt it," he said.

Connie smiled, "She'll get over it."

Chapter 10 Thanksgiving

Jessie had decided to avoid the pre-Thanksgiving traffic by driving home on Thursday morning. Connie didn't mind that. It would allow her to putter in the kitchen all morning and then be ready to sit down and focus on visiting with her daughter. Connie was excited.

Rick was bordering on hysteria. Approximately every fifteen minutes he looked out the front window. Connie was grateful that she had the cooking to keep her busy. She decided to ignore him. He was driving her crazy, but she knew he was happiest when he was excited about something, so she tried to ignore him.

Late morning, Rick came into the kitchen and asked, "You need help with anything?"

"In all the years we have been married you have never offered to help me in the kitchen. I have no idea what you know how to do."

"I guess I don't really know how to do anything in the kitchen but fill my face. I'm just going stir crazy. She won't be here for a couple of hours, and I need to find something to do."

Connie looked around the kitchen. Everything was under control. She could afford to take a break.

"C'mon. Let's take a walk. I have a little hole in my time-table."

They donned sweaters and running shoes, and left a note on the door in the unlikely event Jessie arrived earlier than expected. They had their regular route, so there was no need for discussion about which way to go. The only decision would come two miles out when it would be time to take the short route or go on the long way. They walked along companionably, hand-in-hand. They walked in silence for a long time. Sometimes they would walk the entire four mile route and hardly talk at all. Other times they chattered like school kids the entire time.

After walking quietly for a while, Connie said, "Rick, has Jessie said anything about a man to you?"

"A man? You mean like a boyfriend?"

"It seems undignified to call a 25-year old woman's beau a boyfriend, but yes."

"No. She hasn't said anything. I didn't know she had a boyfriend."

"I don't know for sure either, but I think she may. And, I think it may be very serious."

"Hum. She has never mentioned a man. You have no clue who it might be or even if there is such a person, but you think it's serious. Would you mind explaining to me by what incredible path your lawyerly brain figured that one out?"

"Mostly it's a hunch. Call it woman's intuition. Call it motherhood. Jessie always told me about her boyfriends. Frankly, she's always had a tendency to tell me a whole lot more than a mother really needs to know, if you get my drift. Since she moved to Chicago she has never once mentioned going out on a date."

"And instead of interpreting that as a very long dry-spell for a pretty lady about whom you might need to worry, you interpret it as she's got a serious boyfriend that she is not telling us about? That's just so obvious, I can't believe I didn't think of it."

"Cut the sarcasm. It could be, as you so indelicately put it, a 'dry-spell', but have you ever known her to have any problem getting a date?"

"Nah. You've got me there. Usually she has to beat them off with a stick."

"Exactly."

"But that was in Indianapolis not Chicago."

"Okay. You win. I was just curious if she had said anything. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think you should be prepared for her to drop some kind of bomb in the not-too-distant future."

"A marriage bomb?"

"I am not prepared to let my imagination run quite that wild, but I think she's got something up her sleeve."

"Like mother, like daughter."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that the older she gets the more she is like you."

"Except that she is more of an extrovert like you."

"That, and she has my bird legs."

"Sad but true."

"At least with those legs, I've always known I was really her dad."

"Did you ever get a load of our old mailman's legs?"

By the time they got home, Rick had settled down slightly and Connie was behind schedule. She bustled around the kitchen to catch up, and he busied himself surfing travel sites on the Internet and printing out information on resort destinations for Jessie's consideration.

Jessie arrived early in the afternoon. They were all together again, and they all behaved as though they felt everything was perfectly right with the world. Jessie adored both her parents in different ways. She enjoyed spending time with them, preferably separately. She often told people that when they were all together, she felt a little left out because her parents were always so wrapped up in each other. When Rick and Connie were together, they tended to be oblivious to the presence of other people, often including Jessie. When either parent was alone with Jessie they focused completely on her.

Connie had already decided to let Rick take the first shift with Jessie. She knew that she and Jess would get up early in the morning for their special "girl-time." As soon as Connie finished hugging her at the front door, Rick shepherded Jessie off to her old bedroom where they huddled for several hours until dinner was ready.

Connie called them for dinner and they came clomping down the stairs like a regiment. They walked into the dining room with their arms around each other. Connie thought she had never seen two more happy people. Rick was ecstatic to have his beloved daughter once again under his roof. Jessie positively glowed. Connie couldn't shake the feeling that not all of Jessie's joy at the moment was due to her return to the family nest. Whatever the cause, Connie experienced that curious mixture of joy and pain that comes from watching an adult child who has found happiness after leaving home.

Dinner was an unqualified success. They did the turkey justice but paid special attention to the really good stuff like the dressing and casseroles. When they thought Connie wasn't looking, both Rick and Jessica slipped food to the dog under the table.

Finally, Jessie pushed back from the table, got up and walked around to Connie's chair. She leaned over, hugged her mother and kissed her. "God, Mom, that was the best meal I've had in five months. I'm a good lawyer, but as a cook, I suck.

"Why don't you two go in the other room and let me clean up here. When I'm finished I'll bring dessert into the living room."

They both objected, but she insisted, "I did nothing to help prepare the meal. I didn't even bring anything. The least I can do is wash the dishes. Go watch football, Daddy. You go for a walk or something, Mom. Leave me and Bitz to the dishes."

"Do NOT give that dog any table scraps or you will clean up the floor when she throws up!"

"Mom, that dog has been eating table scraps for years and she's fine."

"Nobody has fed her from the table since you left home."

"Yeah, right!" Jessica looked at her father and raised her eyebrows.

Rick tried to look innocent, "Are you accusing me of having anything other than contempt for that mutt?"

Jessie rolled her eyes and shook her head. Rick burst out laughing, "You look just like your mother."

Jessie looked at her dad and then her mom. Then she looked back at her dad and said very slowly, "Coming from you, I consider that the highest possible compliment."

Connie felt tears welling up, so she turned abruptly and said over her shoulder. "I am going to take you up on your offer to let me take a walk. I already had one long walk today, but after that meal, I need another short one."

Rick smiled at Jess and winked. "I'll be in the living room, dozing. I'd hate to waste a perfectly good overdose of tryptophan by exercising. If you need any help with the dishes, holler."

"I won't, but thanks."

Later, Jessie brought a tray into the living bearing three very generous servings of pumpkin pie. After they finished savoring the sweets, Connie asked Jessie to tell them about her new job and life in Chicago. The television provided background noise. Jessie made them laugh with tales of the things that went on in the firm. She told them about the shows she had seen and the restaurants she frequented since she didn't cook at home. Story after story about life in the city tumbled out, to her parents' delight and fascination.

When she was finished, she leaned back and said, "Okay, now what's been up with you two."

They looked at each other and laughed. Rick said, "Well your mother goes to work. At least she will for another three weeks. I hang out here with the mutt most of the time. Sometimes I hang out at the VFW or play handball with the guys. Occasionally your uncle David comes into town and I hang out with him. When your mother comes home, we have dinner, then we go for a walk. After that, I watch TV while she sleeps on the couch. And the next day we do it all over again."

Jessie feigned rapt fascination. "After all that excitement, what do you do on the weekends to rest up?"

Rick thought about it for a minute. "Your mother gets up at the god-damned crack of dawn and bangs around in the kitchen like a herd of elephants. Eventually she settles down to read the paper and I go back to sleep until a decent hour. When I get up we have breakfast. Then we run errands and go shopping sometimes. We come back home and I watch sports while she does whatever she does while I watch sports, which amounts to staying the hell out of my way and being quiet. And then we have dinner. She sleeps on the couch – due to the fact that she gets up so damned early – until I chase her to bed."

"That would be Saturday. What do you do on Sunday?"

"Exactly the same as Saturday except a lot of the time we go out for lunch. We have it timed so we arrive and get our orders in before the church people arrive."

Connie chimed in, "Being heathens has its compensations, you understand."

Jessie giggled, and asked, "What do you plan to do when Mom retires?"

Rick looked pensive for a moment, and said, "The way I have it figured, we will pretty much do what we do on the weekends now at least for a while. We have a great time doing nothing as long as we do it together. After a little while, I suspect that your mother will decide that we've had about enough of this lolly-gagging around and we better do something useful, so she'll sign us up to volunteer for a bunch of charitable organizations. For a few years she'll run my ass ragged with volunteer work all over town. After a while, I'll start to get really old and put down my foot and object. At that point, I figure we'll revert to doing a lot of nothing, together. In about 20 years if you drive down this street, I hope you'll see us tottering down the sidewalk holding each other up and arguing about whose turn it is to push the other one up the front steps."

Jessie was laughing silently, but tears were streaming down her cheeks. Connie was not 100% sure they were "laughter" tears.

Jess said, "I am delighted to hear you have a plan. I was afraid you'd just sit around and grow moss or something."

Rick made a poofing noise, "With your mother around? Moss wouldn't grow moss!"

They started to change the subject but Connie piped in, "Doesn't anybody want to hear what I have in mind?"

Rick and Jessica both looked surprised. It was obvious that they both simply assumed that Connie would concur in Rick's "plans".

"What do you have in mind?" Rick asked, with genuine interest.

Connie sighed. "Actually, I was rather thinking of writing a book. I mean I love everything you just described and I am sure that is exactly what we will do, but I thought that while I'm staying out of the way during football games and/or when you're out with David or your VFW buddies, I can spend my time writing."

Jessie looked transported, "What are you going to write about, Mom?"

"For starters, I want to write a book about financial planning. I want to dispense all the legal advice I've been giving my high-paying customers to ordinary people for free, or at least just the cost of the book. I know that may sound silly, but I have always looked at what I did for a living as helping people take care of their families. I guess I am interested in reaching a wider audience.

"It may be stupid, but it is something I'd like to try. I figure that and your dad's companionship will keep me from just sitting around and going to pot."

Rick and Jessie exclaimed simultaneously, "That is a positively fabulous idea!"

They chattered on for a while but, since Jessie and Connie were both very early risers, the party fizzled early.

The next morning Jessie strolled into the kitchen at 6:00 a. m. to find her mother already at the table drinking coffee and reading a book (she had long since finished the newspaper). Jessie could smell scones baking. "I didn't hear you banging around like an elephant."

"The man's a pain in the ass. He is such a light sleeper, I can't roll over in bed without him growling at me."

Jessie grinned, "You two crack me up."

"I'm glad we provide some levity to your dismal life."

They talked lawyer-talk for a while. Jessie was as furious as her mother that about the Benedict lawsuit; she had met and liked Mr. Benedict. She was a little peeved that Connie didn't call on her to handle the lawsuit. "I'm still licensed in Indiana, you know."

"Yeah, and I have a fiduciary duty to the estate not to spend its money on high-priced Chicago lawyers when we have perfectly good attorneys here in Indy?"

"Perfectly good attorneys like Dennis Phillips? What were you thinking, Mom?"

Connie looked sheepish for a minute, "Well, actually, he would be pissed if he knew I told you this but I think that a lot of Dennis's public persona is a total act. In any case we have an understanding: I am driving the bus. He does what I tell him to do when I tell him to do it and how I tell him to do it. He doesn't file a motion or open his mouth without clearing it with me."

Jessie grinned, "And people say you are bossy and controlling. I just can't imagine what would make them think that! You remind me of grandpop."

Connie harrumphed. "I won't dignify that remark with a response, on the one hand, and on the other hand, I guess I could do worse than to be like the Old Man. Anyway, I think that any lawyer could win with the case I've handed Dennis. I just want him to win big."

Jessie grinned, "You know you may legitimize the creep, hiring him for such a high-profile case involving a prominent person who was so well-loved in the community."

"That thought has crossed my mind. Maybe that's what Dennis needs. I think he's really a pretty good lawyer and, even more surprising, a decent human being. He just stepped into this persona of the shyster lawyer early on and I don't think he knows how to get out of it."

"I hope you're right. I'll reserve judgment."

Jessie poured them each more coffee and started to say something. She stopped, considering whether or not to continue. Finally, she said, "Mom, I know you don't like to talk about your feelings much, but would you mind sharing with me why you became a lawyer and what it has meant to you?"

Connie looked at Jessie, "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No, absolutely not. It might sound corny but for me the law is more of a vocation than a career choice. I really love it. I guess I would like to know if I'm just a knuckle-head or if that has been your experience as well."

Connie thought about it for a minute. "I would love to answer your question, probably in some detail. I can feel a lot of 'stuff' that I've never talked about welling up. Your father has been on my ass about bottling up my feelings. It's a little scary for me to open that gate. I'm afraid my response may amount to more than you want to hear."

Jessie smiled. She didn't know where her mother's comments about being more open about her feelings came from, but she was very glad to hear it, "Try me."

Connie continued. "Before I launch into my story, tell me the 5-cent version of why you want to know."

Jessie said, "I wanted to be a lawyer for as long as I could remember because you were a lawyer. You were passionate about your job. You made the law seem important. You cared about your clients and you helped them through important and often difficult times in their lives, the changes that occur with marriage, childbirth, college, old-age and death. You made me believe that the law matters in the everyday lives of ordinary people.

"I went to law school because I wanted to do what you do. After I graduated from law school and started practicing the profession, I encountered some people who love the law the way you do. At that point I really started to fall in love with the law itself.

"I came to understand how you could be so passionate about your job, but I am not 100% sure that litigation is what I want to do. Maybe that's why I asked you to share your story. You started out in litigation and moved out of it. I guess I'd like to know why you did that and how you feel about it."

Connie leaned back in her chair and fiddled with her coffee cup. She was almost afraid to start talking for fear that she would not be able to stop. She had intense feelings about her profession, virtually all of which she had never attempted to verbalize. Her feelings for the law were so tangled up with a lot of other things, she was not sure she could tease out only the essential points. She was a little afraid to let the genie out of the bottle, but she wanted to try to answer Jessie's question honestly.

"Okay. Here goes. God knows if I can make any sense of this, but I'll try.

"I can't remember a time when I didn't want to be a lawyer. What I do not know is exactly why. No one in our family was a lawyer. None of Mom and Dad's friends were lawyers. I have always joked that I learned about being a lawyer from watching Perry Mason on TV. There may be some truth in that. Actually, I think it was more the experience of reading To Kill A Mockingbird which was my favorite book as a child. Recently your dad told someone that as a child I was like the character, Scout. I don't think he ever said anything that pleased me more. I never set out to be like that, but I am delighted to know that was the way I came across to him.

"Anyway, Atticus Finch was my first literary hero. Maybe reading that book was when I became interested in being a lawyer. I am not really sure.

"You will recall your grandpop's fascination with James Madison and his reverence for the Constitution. He made me into a history buff, and Madison remains to this day perhaps my greatest historical hero. The Constitution has always fascinated me, and continues to bedazzle me.

"Other things caused me to bump up against the usefulness of the law itself, sort of as a general category of knowledge. My family watched the news and read the papers; today you might call us news junkies way before there was CNN. I think I learned to read by sitting on my dad's lap while he read the newspaper. We subscribed to several newspapers. We watched Walter Cronkite on TV. We talked about current events.

"I was a child in the 1960's. I was very young but there were a lot of things going on that were terrifying and memorable to a kid. I remember the Cuban Missile Crisis mainly because my dad was convinced we were headed for another war. I had no idea what it was about, but I remember being afraid.

"The second major event I recall from early childhood was the Civil Rights Movement. That was confusing to me. We lived in an all white community. I doubt that I had ever seen a black person who was not engaged in a job as a servant of some sort. I certainly never had a conversation with a black person until I was in college.

"Don't look so amazed! I'm serious. The first black person I ever associated with socially was in my freshman English class. I was the first white person she ever really talked to as well. She used to come to our house for dinner and she and I would sit up late at night and talk. Rick would fall asleep in the chair and we would go on talking. That friendship was an eye-opening experience for both of us. It made a huge difference in how I saw the Civil Rights movement in retrospect.

"When I was little, though, watching it all play out on the TV news, I was completely mystified. I could not understand how America could be so divided. My parents and teachers told me that everyone was equal in America, that everyone was free in America. I watched the news and saw images that gave lie to those statements. I wondered what to believe.

"I hate to sound like Oliver Stone, but the most overwhelming thing of my youth, maybe my entire life, was The War. At first, it sort of sneaked up on me. I think I really first started paying attention to it in the late 1960's, maybe in around 1967 or so, when the number of troops really began to build. As the Civil Rights demonstrations abated, they were replaced on the news with disturbing stories from Vietnam. By 1967 there were hundreds of thousands of American troops over there and the news was mostly bad. David and Rick were headed toward draft age, I began to worry.

"I felt confused by the disconnect between the messages I heard about America from my family and my teachers compared with the images I saw on TV. Was America 'the land of the free and the home of the brave' or was it a place where entire groups of people were intentionally left out of the picture? Was this a country of, by and for all the People, or just some of us? I couldn't avoid the questions, but I was afraid of the answers. I was just a kid and you would think those things would not concern me. Maybe I didn't have enough other things to think about, so I obsessed about the events I saw on the news.

"As it progressed, the War raised another even more troubling question. Who can we trust? Can we believe the president and other government officials? There was a lot of evidence that we could not. Can we believe our military leaders? There seemed good reason to wonder about that, although I will tell you that in my dad's house, I never once even thought about saying that out loud." They both chuckled. "The natural consequence to that line of questioning was to ask: can I believe my teachers? And, even, can I believe my parents?"

"The answers to all of those questions turned out at one point or another to be: 'No.'

"The next logical question was: were they intentionally lying or were they simply mistaken?

"That array of issues drew me to an interest in history -- encouraged, of course, by my dad, the history fanatic \-- and history drew me to consider the law. Many of the questions I was pondering involved legal issues. What constituted civil rights? What did the president have the right to do and not to do in connection with prosecuting the war? How far was it okay for people to go in protest? How far was it okay for the government to go in investigating protesters? Every question gave rise to a whole series of more questions, many of which had answers that were rooted in history and in law.

"In addition to having parents who were True Believers in what some call the American Civil Religion, I was blessed with several teachers in school who challenged me and caused me to look carefully at what was going on in our country. I think that I was drawn to the law not so much because I wanted to be a lawyer but because I wanted to study about the law. I think I envisioned spending three years studying Constitutional Law and the philosophy or the etymology of the law."

Jessie leaned her back head and hooted; her law school experience was recent enough for that to sound utterly ridiculous. Connie laughed too, a bit sheepishly . "Recall that I didn't know anyone who had ever actually been to law school! I didn't know what a meat-grinder it was. Had I known what law school was really like, I assure you I would never have tried it. I would have taken a graduate degree in political science or history and gone into academia.

"Anyway, I studied history and political science in undergraduate school because that was what I loved. I went to law school to learn more deeply about the law. By the time I realized that was NOT what law school was about, I was in too deep to extricate myself, so I did what I always do: I put my head down and kept moving forward. Your dad says I'm like an armored division, chewing up turf in an almost non-stop advance. He did not mean that particularly as a compliment. It does have its downside with respect to interpersonal relations, but it was that dogged determination that got me through law school.

"I guess you could also call it pure stubbornness. I was determined not to let those bastard professors intimidate me or scare me off. For a long time I thought that I just had really bad professors because I went to a second tier law school. I wondered if perhaps I had gone to a better school, I would have had a better experience. I learned from every conversation I ever had with a lawyer afterwards that it is like that everywhere." Jessie nodded. "It's no wonder there are so many twisted lawyers. I think law school is designed to test a person. Many don't make it. Even some who do make it are not exactly better people for the experience.

"By the end of my second year in law school I had pretty much decided that hell would freeze over before I would ever practice law. I hated the professors. I hated the whole idea of becoming a lawyer. I refused to quit because I didn't want to feel as though I wasn't tough enough or smart enough. You know perfectly well that being tough and smart were cardinal values in my family. Wimping out or not cutting it enough were never options.

"Besides, my dad and my husband were so inordinately proud of me, there was no way in hell I was going to let them down. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to go to school every day, hating every minute of it. I am grateful I had your father to lean on because I never could have made it through those years without his love and support.

"The first year, I participated in a couple of study groups, but that was a disaster. I am not a study-group type of person, in case you hadn't noticed. By the second year I hated everything and everybody so much, I never spoke to a soul except when the professors called on me in class. I was always prepared. I always had a plausible answer, although it wasn't always the "right" answer. Sometimes my responses were totally off the wall, but I could support them. By my third year, the professors hardly ever called on me. They knew I was prepared. They also knew that I would throw them a curve if I could and, by then, I had figured out the game well enough that I often could throw them curves. I don't think I spoke on campus more than a half dozen times that entire year.

"I graduated first in my class with practically perfect marks. When they posted the class rankings, I was standing in the crowd. Some guy next to me looked at the list, turned around with a bemused look on his face and asked, 'Who the hell is Constance Rydell?' I shrugged and said, 'Damn if I know,' and walked away. Law school was absolutely the most miserable period of my life.

"Since I had come to hate the law and lawyers, I decided not to practice law at all. Instead, I wanted to be a high school civics teacher. I wanted to preach the Gospel of America to our youth and do my part to bring about the America my parents taught me to believe in, but which did not appear to actually exist. I guess my response to the fact that what they taught me appeared to be incorrect was to spend my time trying to make America become what I thought it should be. I thought my parents' version of America sounded good enough to be at least worth trying.

"I signed up for a couple of the classes I needed in order to get my teaching certificate. Rick was furious. I didn't have the guts to tell my parents.

"As you know from experience," Connie beamed and patted Jessie's hand, "When you graduate at the top of your law school class, you get attention in the legal community. Several firms ardently recruited me. Rick threw a huge fit and, after we had the worst fight of our marriage, he made me promise to at least interview with some of them. The first two firms I spoke to didn't even bother to finish the interviews. I pretty much let them know that I thought the whole legal profession sucked and I had no intention of being part of it, so they sort of said, 'OK' and I left.

"My third interview changed my life. I didn't know it at the time but the man who interviewed me was the brother of the only professor I had in college who I thought was worth a damn. He taught Constitutional Law, naturally, the only class I really enjoyed. Today, looking back, I think that professor was probably not a very good lawyer, but he was passionate about the Constitution. I don't have to tell you how I feel about the Constitution!" They both laughed. Jessie rolled her eyes and put up her hands as if to say, Don't go there.

Connie went on, "Anyway, apparently Mr. Brighton spoke to Professor Brighton before the interview and he was ready for me.

"He asked me why I was there, and I told him I was there because my husband had plunked down the cash to put me through law school and he insisted that I at least interview for some jobs in the profession before I pig-headedly charged off in another direction."

Jessie interrupted. "Daddy paid for your law school?"

"The Archers don't have a monopoly on pig-headed stubbornness. The Rydells have their share. (You, my darling, got a double dose. I pity the poor bastard who falls in love with you.)" Connie noticed that Jessie blushed. "Your dad paid for both my college and law school. He wouldn't take a dime from my parents. He told my parents that since we were married, I was his responsibility. He and I had some major, major battles over that remark, let me tell you.

"You should know that when my mother died, there was a specific bequest in the will leaving Rick the exact amount he had paid for my tuition for undergraduate school and law school. He wouldn't take their money while they were alive, but when they died my parents reimbursed him for the education they had planned to provide for me. I guess you could say there is a a whole hell of a lot of stiff necked stubborn in your family.

"Anyway, I was prepared to sabotage this interview like I had the others, but Mr. Brighton asked me a question that I couldn't blow off. He asked me my opinion of James Madison.

Jessie laughed, "Oh, Jesus!"

Connie laughed, too. "Later on, I learned I had been set up. When I was in law school I had a paper published in the Indiana Law Review on the subject of James Madison. Professor Brighton was one of the readers for that paper. Mr. Brighton knew what he was doing when he asked the question. I babbled on about how Madison is the greatest man in the history of the world and yada yada. You've heard that speech a few times. Finally, he interrupted me and asked me if I had such respect for the author of our system of laws and the Constitution he created, why I could have such contempt for lawyers, of which President Madison was one.

"Whereupon I launched into a tirade on the subject of how law schools turn out twisted human beings who spend their lives twisting the laws to suit their client's present necessities without taking into consideration the big picture, the 'good of the people' and all that. I told him that I felt that lawyers were wrecking the country and I didn't want to be a part of the profession.

"He listened much more patiently than I would think was humanly possible.

"When I started winding down a bit, he asked me to name three types of lawyers that have some even minimal redeeming value. I had to think about it for a long time but I finally said: 'Adoption lawyers, when they are not selling babies, because they bring families together; probate and estate lawyers, when they are not ripping off their clients, because they help people navigate the hurdles of life; and criminal lawyers because even the most black-hearted criminals deserve due process under the law.'

"The old dude leaned back in his chair and positively beamed at me. He said, 'Mrs. Rydell, I am not going to offer you a job in my firm because you showed a great amount of disrespect to me, to my firm and to the profession I love by coming in here with that huge chip you have on your shoulder. You don't deserve to work here. However, I will tell you that if you can put aside your resentment of your law school experience and commit yourself to being part of the solution rather than part of the problem with the law and with our country, I frankly think you have the makings of a superb lawyer. I recommend that you start in litigation because it will teach you discipline. You won't stay there long, but try it for a year or so.' He stood up to escort me out of the room and added, 'I think you would make a spectacular criminal lawyer. However, I am not sure that someone with your sheltered background and certainly not a young woman who will no doubt soon want to start a family .... '"

Jessie interjected, "He said that??????!!"

"Hell, yes. Recall, this was before there were a lot of equal protections for women in employment. Someday remind me to tell you about sexual harassment in the legal profession...., but I digress...

"He went on, 'You will want to start a family, so you will no doubt not be up to the challenge of criminal law. I predict, however, a great career for you as a tax lawyer.'

"Taxes and estates had never occurred to me as a professional option. I discounted the suggestion at the time. Taxes and estates were the boring part of law. If I was going to practice law, I was going to be a litigator. I was raised to be a fighter in life. I expected I would be a fighter in my career.

"Ultimately, I did knock the chip off my shoulder long enough to get a job at Peak, Smith, Hardebaugh and Jensen. It was a nice firm. I had a mentor in the litigation department who was great as long as I did nothing to rock the boat. At first I enjoyed the rough and tumble of litigation. I had all the makings of a great litigator. Hell, growing up with my Old Man was the best possible training ground, and being married to your father gave me daily practice in standing my ground against a tough bastard whom I respected and loved but who I was not about to let push me around.

"It was fun for a while. Daddy and Rick were both embarrassingly proud of me, which was important to me. They were the people I loved most in the world. I wanted to please them. They were very largely responsible for the fact that I was there – for good or ill. Interestingly, I never got the feeling my mother was on board with it. She was proud of my academic success, but I never got the positive feedback from her that I did from Daddy and from Rick once I started practicing law. Maybe she figured they were so crazy about what I did, she didn't need to puff me up any further. Then again, maybe she just wanted me to give her some grandchildren.

"Soon after that you were born. First of all, being pregnant in the litigation department was awful. There was only one other female lawyer in the firm. She was 40 and unmarried, and not likely to ever be married. They made it clear they would not cut me any slack at all due to my pregnancy. And they didn't.

It was rough. They let me take off six whole entire weeks after you were born. Whoop de dooo! A couple of weeks before you were born I had to produce a bankers box of documents. Associates were expected to take their copying to the copy room; there was not an option of calling someone to pick it up. I couldn't lift the box, so I pushed it with my feet, one step at a time all the way from my office to the copy room. Nobody offered to help me.

"One day when you were about six months old, we had to work late on a summary judgment motion. I got lost in concentrating on my work and forgot to go to the bathroom to express milk. My breasts began to leak through my blouse. The partner on that case found that so revolting he wanted to fire me on the spot. I don't think he ever spoke to me again. I was embarrassed, sure, but it was not that big a deal, in my opinion. I was a nursing mother. That kind of thing happens. It happened at 10:00 p. m. when I hadn't had a chance to nurse you since early morning! I couldn't get too worked up about it. I was a minority of one in my take on the situation.

"A few days later they gave me an ultimatum that today would have me running to an employment lawyer. They told me that I either needed to wean you immediately and focus on my job, or I would have to switch to another department, such as probate or tax where the hours were more predictable. Of course, I was also welcome to leave the firm, if I preferred.

"It was the weirdest thing. By the time the litigation chairman finished speaking, my heart was pounding so hard I thought I would have a coronary. I knew that if I challenged them they would probably back down. Even at the time, the law was on my side. But, I also knew that I was no longer happy in the litigation department. I wanted to work at a job with more regular hours. I wanted to be home with you and with Rick. Most of all, I wanted to use my profession to benefit people. It was my opinion that litigation benefits primarily lawyers and has very little to do with justice.

"By the way, that remains my opinion.

"So, for the one and only time in my life, I backed down from a confrontation in which I was in the right, both morally and legally.

"I transferred to taxes and estates, and immediately knew that I had found my niche. I loved it from the very first day. Everybody else thought it was boring. I found it fascinating. There are some amazing things in the United Stats Tax Code, my dear! Your father says I am a boring person. Maybe I am. Whatever it makes me, I liked working on estate plans. I liked helping people build up savings to buy homes and businesses and to save money to educate their children and take care of themselves in their old age. I liked being part of the process of building wealth for families in our community. I felt as though I was finally using my legal training to do good things for people while at the same time contributing toward my own family's financial future. I felt that I was providing a genuine service to people.

"Unlike the litigation clients who were forever bitching (rightly) about the high cost of legal services, my estate planning clients seemed to feel I earned the money they paid me, because they saw their fortunes growing.

"After a year, I left the firm and became a sole practitioner. That was a wonderful decision which I have never regretted. It gave me the freedom to run my practice my way. I had total control. You and your father always tell me I am bossy and controlling and you are probably right. I guess going into business for myself was a way for me to be the boss and be in control. If you tell your father I said that that, I'll deny it," she laughed.

"I've never regretted that decision for a minute, and I have always been grateful to the old lawyer at the Paisley firm for knocking me off my high horse.

"As for how I feel about the law in general, I think the American legal system is an amazing and powerful tool. It can be used for good or for ill. Too often it is used for ill. It can also be used for great good, and we should do that more than we do. I wish our legal education system could be changed in some way to really teach lawyers what they actually need to know in order to practice law." Jessie nodded enthusiastically at that.

"I wish the litigation process were not so cumbersome. I would make a lot of tweaks to the system, but at bottom I consider our Constitution something of a miracle. I love the entire American system of government – not the people who run it, but the system itself.

"I love living in a country where the rule of law applies to everyone, including people who are not citizens.

"All that may sound kind of Pollyanna-ish, I am sure. But, look at places like Somalia, Afghanistan, or many other places where there is essentially no government. Chaos reigns and everybody suffers. The people are vulnerable to exploitation and attacks by their neighbors, outside forces and, even, by their own governments. It's impossible for me to fathom.

"Maybe being a lady lawyer doing rich-folks' taxes in Indianapolis doesn't exactly qualify me as the humanitarian of the year, but I was taught that it is important for each of us to do our best to serve our community and our country. My dad didn't like President Kennedy much, but he did like that 'ask not what your country can do, ask what you can do for your country' line. He believed it. He practiced it in his life and he convinced me that I should do the same.

"I couldn't serve my country by going off to war like my dad or my husband. I chose to serve my community and my country by assisting citizens, who are my clients, to navigate the web of tax laws in order to protect their wealth and allow them to provide for their families and contribute to their communities.

"I started working with the League of Women Voters when I got out of law school. I continue to work with the League because I believe that everybody should be involved in the political process. Those of us who understand the process have an obligation to teach and to train the uninitiated. Thomas Jefferson was right about the critical need for an informed electorate in a democracy. I think we are paying a dear price today for NOT having an informed and involved electorate.

"Bottom line: I hated law school, have seriously mixed feelings about most lawyers, but have even more passion for the law itself today than I did a quarter century ago when I began my legal career, because I believe that the body of American law is perhaps the most evolved form of governance humanity has yet imagined.

"I'm sorry if I got carried away. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes it did, thank you. It is just what I needed to hear." She paused. "Mom, before we stop this awfully-deep-shit-for-so-early-in-the-morning, I have one more question?"

"What is that?"

"How did you handle it when you figured out that so much of what your teachers and your parents told you was untrue?"

Connie looked at her for a long time. She wanted desperately to ask a few probing questions of her own, but decided to just answer the question that was asked, "I was very angry for a long time until I came to understand and accept that they told me what they believed. I believe that neither my parents nor my teachers intentionally lied to me. They were simply mistaken. They told me what they had been taught. That helped assuage the anger a bit. It didn't help with the sadness and disillusionment that came with learning that the world was not as nice as they told me it was and as I still think it should be. I guess I have still not completely gotten over that. I suppose I am sort of a Pollyanna. I have decided that I don't think that is a bad thing, by the way."

"How did you feel when you learned the government was lying?"

"Which time?"

"Any time."

"Every time the government lies to us, I feel personally betrayed. I hate our so-called leaders for using the government system that I love and respect in ways that are contrary to the good of all the people. I hate them. This is our country. It doesn't belong to the people whom we entrust to run it. It belongs to all of us. When our leaders lie to us and violate the trust we have placed in them, it makes me angry.

"And since you opened that door, I will add this before I go drag your father's ass out of bed in time for lunch: My parents were part of a generation in which the overwhelming event was a popular war. Our country sent its young men overseas to fight a very real enemy who had actually threatened our way of life. Those soldiers came home and were treated like heroes, whether they deserved it or not.

"In the Sixties, our government sent another generation to fight in another war, one that proved unpopular. They lied to get us into it; they lied to us about what was happening the whole time. We should not have been involved in the war in Vietnam. Unfortunately, too many people in our country blamed the soldiers who fought in that war both for being involved in the first place (which wasn't their decision) and also for losing the war (which wasn't their fault). The fact is our government officials went into that war without understanding what they were up against and they had absolutely no plans to win the war. Consequently, the entire effort was doomed to failure. The soldiers on the ground in Vietnam didn't lose the war, but they took the blame. Too many of them internalized that guilt. Many of them have never totally gotten past that guilt.

"Those are two radically different experiences. Maybe it's because I love Rick so much and I have known many other good and wonderful Vietnam Vets who have been as wounded as he is, but I feel that our country failed the Vietnam veterans in ways that can never be redeemed. I hate and resent that on their behalf, .

"Our system provides for dissent. Dissent is important. Hell, I wish there were some dissent going on now! It is important to protest government policies by calling the government officials accountable, not by blaming the soldiers who are just doing their jobs!

"I bring this up now because I look at what is happening in our country with the war in Iraq, and I am once again feeling betrayed, angry and terrified. Our leaders lied us into another war. I see them trying to cloak themselves in the flag and convince America that we must support the war in Iraq in order to support the troops. Nixon used that tactic in the 1970's and it was bullshit then. It is still such unadulterated bullshit, I can't believe anybody buys it! They are sending hundreds of thousands of men, and now women, into combat with no clear enemy and no clear purpose. When the body count builds and the country turns on the war, these same leaders will very likely stand aside and attempt to let the soldiers take the blame once again.

"What galls me most is that some of the people who have supported this war are Vietnam veterans who, by God, ought to fucking know better!

"Sorry.

"They're flouting the law, they are lying to us and -- call me paranoid -- but I fear they are setting the soldiers up once again.

"As a lawyer I am appalled at the way our leaders are treating the Constitution. As a citizen, I haven't felt this raped since the 1970's when I watched the implosion in South Vietnam, after all those years and thousands of American and Vietnamese lives lost or, at least, scarred for life. As a mother, I thank God, you're a lawyer and not a soldier. Rick went to Vietnam a whole, healthy and cocky young man and he came back permanently damaged, physically and emotionally. I don't think I could send a child into harm's way, at least not to a war I believe is wrong."

She started to cry. "That may be off topic, but I'll end up on the same corny note on which you started: the whole reason I became interested in the law in the first place was because I was raised to love and honor my country. I became a lawyer in order to somehow do 'what I can do for my country.' I love the law and I am proud of the job I have done and what I believe to be my contribution to my community and, thereby, my country. However, I feel that the leaders of our country have let us all down. That makes me angry sometimes. It makes me afraid sometimes. But, mostly it just makes me sad."

She brushed the tears from her face and tried to laugh. "I used to get so mad at my mom when she would go all patriotic on me and cry about how America was going down the tubes in the 1960's. Dad was the decorated Marine in the family, but Mom was the Über-patriot. She was the one who bled red, white and blue. I used to think she was just silly. You may feel the same about me right now.

"Maybe a person just has to have a real stake in the country to feel that deeply about it. Maybe you have to have sent the man you love more than life itself off to war to feel that passionately. In addition to that, I have a home and a business and a child, I guess I've built up enough of a stake that the welfare of this country matters to me. It matters very deeply. Very personally."

She laughed through her tears, "Oh, dear God, I think I'm turning into my mother!

"I'm sorry about this rambling speech. I told you I was afraid that I would get carried away. It's your dad's fault. He's made me start opening the spigot of my feelings, and, when I do that, sometimes all kinds of shit comes out.

"One last thing: you are not a knuckle-head for believing the law is more of a vocation than a simple career. I wish more lawyers felt that way."

They hugged for a very long time. Jessie held her mother while she cried. She thought about what Connie had said about comforting her own mother in that way. She suddenly felt the kinship of womanhood. Perhaps it is women's lot to comfort one another in their pain.

Jessie said, "I am sorry this upset you so much, Mom, but I really appreciate your candor. In a way, you said almost exactly what I expected. It was also what I needed to hear."

They sat in silence for a long time. Finally Jessie looked at her mother and continued, "Well, I might as well give you the satisfaction of knowing that I suspect that the apple may not have fallen too far from the tree."

Connie beamed and said brightly, "You know, that is what mothers live for."

They changed the subject and chatted casually for a while until Rick got up. Then they went for a drive and had lunch at an inn in the country. At the end of the meal, Rick patted his belly and said, "After yesterday, I didn't think I'd be hungry for a week, but that was good."

Jessie laughed, "There is absolutely nothing better in this world than Indiana fried chicken."

Connie chimed in, "Yeah, and we all need to eat nothing but carrot strips and broccoli for a week."

Jessie made a face, "Don't remind me. That's pretty much what I eat now in between eating out in restaurants. It gets old."

Jessie returned to Chicago on Saturday. She said she didn't want to get caught in the Sunday night holiday traffic. Connie and Rick were sad to see her go, but they planned to be together again for Connie's retirement party and at Christmas, so nobody got too emotional.

After Jessie left, Connie did some cleaning while Rick read the paper. Then Rick suggested they drive to a park and take a walk in the woods. It was a clear, crisp not-too-cold November day. Soon it would be too cold to walk outside and they would have to resort to the gym which they both hated. Connie thought it was a great idea.

They were practically the only people in the park. They crunched along through the dry leaves, in perfect step. After a mile or so, they slowed their pace. Connie asked him, "Where did you and Jessie decide to go for Christmas."

"Cabo San Lucas."

"Whoa! I won't ask how much that will set us back."

"Good, 'cause you do not want to know! We aren't going to exchange Christmas presents this year, by the way. We're shooting our wad on the trip."

That was fine with Connie, she hated the whole gift-giving thing anyway. She thought it odd that he did not go into detail about the resort or the plans. She had expected, and rather looked forward to, a monologue that would take up the rest of the walk. He was quiet for a long time.

After a while, he said, "You were right."

"About what?"

"There's a man in Jessie's life."

"Oh?"

"She didn't go into any detail, but she did say that she would like to bring him with her at Christmas so we can meet him."

Connie sighed. She didn't know if it was with relief or consternation. "How many rooms are we reserving?"

"Are you a prude?"

"I hope not."

"Two."

"Well, if you didn't throw a fit, I guess I won't. She's an adult. She didn't give you a name or any other details?"

"No, and she told me to tell you not to ask any questions either. She said she doesn't want to tell us anything to us about him. She wants us to meet him with no preconceived notions and make up our own minds. She said that the fact that she wants us to meet him should tell us all we need to know about how she feels. Beyond that, she ain't talkin'."

"Perhaps you should give her that little lecture you gave me about the importance of sharing feelings."

"As a matter of fact, I already did. I told her I didn't really care if she shared her feelings with us, but she'd better damned well start off on the right foot with what's-his-name."

Connie grinned, "How'd she take that?"

"About the same way you did."

"I've heeded your advice, have I not?"

"Yes you have, and I'm proud of you for it."

"Now, I am really excited about Christmas!"

"Really? I feel like I've got a bowling ball in my gut."

"That goes with being a dad, I think. I expected I would react that way, but watching her this weekend and seeing her positively glow from her own internal fire, I find myself happy for her. I know that feeling. I'm thrilled to see it in her. I can't wait to meet the man.

"And if he doesn't measure up to our standards, well, we'll just have to kill him."

Rick laughed in response, but Connie could tell that he thought that sounded like an excellent idea. Apparently to avoid further discussion of Jessie's love-life, Rick changed the subject, "Now about that book you plan to write...."

Connie spent the rest of the walk chattering about her plans and giving him a detailed outline. It was obvious to her that he was only half listening to her words, but as usual, he concentrated with his whole being on the emotion and intensity of the feelings she expressed. She loved it when he did that.

Chapter 11 - Last Day/Dinner

The plan for the last day of business at the Law Office of Constance Rydell was to be business as usual until 5:00 p. m. At that time, Jessie, Rick and Pete would join Connie and Becky at the office for champagne and the ceremonial locking of the door. After that, they would all pile in a limo and head off to Peterson's Restaurant for dinner.

Neither Becky nor Connie did any work that day. For one thing, they had no files left to work on. For another, the phone rang off the hook with clients calling to say good-bye. About noon a florist truck backed up to the front door and offloaded more than a dozen large sprays of flowers. Since there was very little furniture left, Becky placed them around the room on the floor. Connie walked out of her office after a phone call and laughed, "It looks like a damned funeral parlor in here! I'm retired, I'm not dead. What in the hell am I going to do with all those flowers?"

Becky laughed, "Pete and I will pick them up tomorrow and take them to the hospital. I'll have the candy-stripers deliver them to people who don't have any visitors ."

Connie smiled and put her arm around Becky, "What am I going to do without you?"

Becky put her arm around Connie's waist said, with a catch in her voice, "What am I going to do without you?"

Connie backed up and said, "No! No! NO! We agreed. No tears. At least not until after dinner when we can use the excuse that we were sloppy drunk. I am not going to let you make me cry, at least not yet."

Becky laughed and bucked up. "Yeah. You're right. It's too early for that. Let's have a good time tonight. I'll worry about how I'm going to work for somebody else tomorrow."

"You'll do fine. Patrick is notoriously lazy. He promised to assign you to all of our clients. You can just handle them like you always have. Patrick will sign whatever papers you tell him to."

"I hope you're right. It's a little late in my career to be breaking in a new lawyer."

"You broke me in pretty quickly."

"I think we sort of broke each other in. It's been a good run."

"It has at that. I couldn't have done it without you."

"You made it not only worth my while, but most of the time you made it a pleasure. You should know that I am positively the envy of the entire paralegal community."

"That was by design. 'Most of the time.' What about the rest of the time?"

"The rest of the time, you were a pain-in-the ass lawyer like all the rest of them." Becky said, winking.

"Oh. I was afraid it was something bad," Connie laughed.

They stood arm-in-arm companionably laughing. On impulse, Connie said, "You want to open the champagne now?"

Becky laughed. "As usual, boss, I am one step ahead of you. I thought we should have a girl-toast before the testosterone arrives. Since I know you don't like champagne and to be honest neither do I, so I bought a split of white wine that I like. Let's open that and save the bubbly for the boys."

When Pete, Rick and Jessie arrived, Connie and Becky were sitting on Becky's desk, which, for the first time in 15 years, revealed its surface, looking in wonder at the flowers, after a second florist had delivered another truckload of arrangements. Their arms around each others waists, they were sipping wine and giggling.

Rick crossed the room in two steps and said, "Well, if that don't beat all. She's been retired all of fifteen minutes and she's turning to drink already."

Connie kicked a shoe at him and said, "If I'm not a drunk after 30 years of marriage to you, I think I'm safe."

Rick shrugged and headed for the fridge to get the champagne.

Becky introduced Jessie to Pete and the three of them chatted amiably. Connie walked into the kitchen and stopped in the door with a look of complete panic on her face. Rick asked her what was wrong. She said, "I'm suddenly terrified. I've never in my adult life been without a job. What am I going to do?"

Rick took her in his arms and held her very tightly. "Welcome to retirement, darlin'. It's a scary place. But, you'll do fine. You have plans. You have financial security. For whatever it may possibly be worth, you have me."

She relaxed against him and breathed deeply, loving his smell, "Thanks. That'll get me through the evening, I guess."

"Do you remember that little lecture you gave me that day about all the bad things that can happen when people retire? First of all, I would like to tell you that it may not have been the most appropriate thing to talk about to a depressed retired person, but it ultimately had what I presume to have been the desired effect of scaring the living hell out of me. Second, you were right on all counts. It is amazing how you look forward to retiring your whole career and then the day it arrives, you're terrified."

"You might have warned me."

"It would have done no good."

"You're probably right, but I hate to be scared. It's not something I feel often."

"Really?"

"Yeah. There aren't very many things that scare me."

"Then you're a better 'man' than me. I am afraid of a lot of things."

"I would never have guessed."

He kissed her on the head and whispered, "That is purely by design, my dear. Let's get this party started. We can discuss our fears tomorrow when you wake up to the awful reality of what you have done."

He picked up the champagne and the tray of glasses, she padded along behind wondering what in the world he could ever be afraid of ... but then the party mood took over and for once in her life she allowed herself to be caught up in it.

As was typical for her at parties, Connie she stood to the side while the others clustered in the middle of the room, laughing and telling stories. Becky and Pete were very sociable and they seemed to have a wonderful relationship. Before long they were laughing and joking with Rick and Jessie as though they'd been friends for years. Becky regaled the group with stories, mostly humorous anecdotes about Connie's foibles. Rick and Jessie thought the stories were hilarious. Pete, who had already heard them all (probably in unexpurgated form), laughed too and obviously enjoyed being part of the group. Connie simply watched from the sidelines, enjoying the sight of virtually all of the people she loved most in the world having such a great time together.

It occurred to her that she wished she had let Rick talk her into inviting David and Sarah. They should be here, too.

Someone knocked on the door. A third florist came in with more arrangements. The place not only looked like a funeral parlor, it smelled like one too. The hilarity increased. Jessie carefully took the cards off each arrangement, and tucked them in her purse. She knew her mom. She'd have thank-you notes in the mail before the weekend was over.

Before anyone was ready, Rick announced that it was time to leave for the restaurant. They took the champagne with them and piled into the limo. Connie's panic had lessened somewhat, but had not completely disappeared. When they got into the car, she squeezed in next to Rick, put her hand in his and held on tight. He did his best to comfort her while playing his assigned role as the Host.

There was a traffic jam in front of the restaurant. Cars were lined up for the valet parking. Rick said, "That's odd. When I made the reservations, they told me tonight was a very slow night."

Becky looked at the traffic, leaned back in the seat and put her hand over her eyes, "I am so fucking dead."

Connie glared at her, "What did you do?"

"I swear I didn't do anything, but I think I know who did."

"I repeat: what did you do?"

"I think I let the cat out of the bag about where we were going tonight. People asked what we were doing to celebrate your retirement and I guess I told them."

Connie leaned forward further until she was nose-to-nose with Becky, "People like who?"

"I guess people like Betsey Painter."

Connie flung herself back against the seat and closed her eyes, "Oh, shit!"

Jessie, Rick and Pete watched this exchange. Pete asked Becky, "What is going on?"

Becky put her hand on his and said, "I think I told the wrong person. Betsey Painter is one of Connie's clients. she's kind of a doyenne of society who lives to throw elaborate parties. Has more money than the Vatican. I suspect Peterson's is probably full to overflowing right now with Connie's clients."

Rick laughed uproariously and Jessie joined in.

Connie glared at them, and asked, "Just what the hell is so funny?"

Rick wiped tears from his eyes, "For once, for just once in 30 years, you are going to a party and I am not the one responsible! Oh, thank you, Becky."

Becky wrung her hands in her lap and looked as though she might cry. She said, "I am so sorry. I swear I didn't do it on purpose."

Connie sighed. "It's okay, Beck. Really it is. We'll just have to have fun despite everything." She turned to Rick and said, "Alright, Mr. Party-Man, do your thing and get me through this."

"You got it!"

Connie saw Jessie watching them with pride shining in her eyes. Rick looked as though he was about to float away. She knew this would be a tough night for her. She suspected it might be one of the happiest nights of Rick's life. Nothing pleased him more than a big party. A big party honoring the woman he adored would be extra-special for him. She decided to make the best of it.

When they finally entered the restaurant, every table was filled except one table that was set for five in the very center of the dining room. As they entered the room, Connie noticed that her clients sat at every single table. There were whole families: parents, children and even grandchildren. She also noticed that there was no food other than appetizers on any table. She looked around and saw Betsey Painter grinning from ear to ear at a table near the center. Connie understood immediately what was going on and she was so grateful she thought she might cry. She stopped and took Rick's hand and said, "We need to work this room. Now."

Rick started to object. His preference would have been to have dinner first and then work the room.

Connie insisted, "We need to do it now."

Becky and Pete proceeded on to the center table and sat down. This was not about them; Becky would continue to service the clients' accounts. She did not need to say good-bye.

Connie, Rick and Jessie backtracked to the very entrance. They stopped at every table. Connie introduced her husband and daughter. Her clients made polite conversation. They praised Jessie for her success in Chicago. They said kind things about Rick's work at the Speedway. They thanked Connie for the care she took of their assets. At several tables where the family of a recently deceased client sat, there were a few tears. The conversations ended with congratulations and best wishes for Connie's retirement. Kiss. Kiss. Hug. Hug. The Rydells moved slowly around the room. They did not linger too long at any table, but they stayed long enough to speak to every single person at each table. By the time they reached the table where Betsey Painter waited, the rest of the room was completely empty. Connie chatted briefly with Betsey's children, and then turned to Betsey with a huge smile. Betsey stood up and embraced her. "I hope you are not mad at Becky. You should know I had to pry it out of her."

"Do you care if I'm mad at you?"

"Not particularly. You'll get over it. Most of your clients were disappointed you didn't plan a party or at least an open house. I decided this would serve everybody's needs. We had a chance to say goodbye and you don't have to go through the ordeal of a big party."

The tears that Connie had kept in check as she worked her way around the room spilled over. She took Betsey in her arms and hugged her for a long time. "Thank you. It was a kind and wonderful thing you did, for all of us."

Betsey patted Connie on the back. "Please don't tell anybody I can be so decent. I have cultivated my reputation as a Dragon Lady far too long to ruin it now."

Connie hugged her again and laughed, "Don't worry, if anybody asks I'll tell them you're a complete bitch."

"I would expect nothing less of my long-time attorney who is in the position to know. Best of luck, my dear."

"Thank you Betsey. I will never forget tonight. Never."

Betsey beamed. She turned to Jessie, "So you are the Golden Child. It is a pleasure to meet you before you move on to the Supreme Court." Jessie shook her hand and blushed.

Betsey then turned her attention to Rick. She made it embarrassingly obvious she liked what she saw. She was a very wealthy widow, who was still quite attractive. She rarely lacked for companionship. Rick met her gaze, and held it for a long moment. His meaning was clear. He very politely but oh so coolly said, "Thank you for arranging this wonderful tribute for my wife. It was a very kind thing to do. My family is very grateful. My wife is not much for parties, but this was perfect. We thank you." Betsey got the message. It didn't matter how rich or attractive she was. This man was totally taken.

Betsey shook Rick's hand and answered, "It was truly my pleasure. Connie has been wonderful to my family. She took such good care of me when Warren died. I will be forever grateful."

Rick softened a bit and shook her hand with slightly more warmth but the coolness remained in his eyes.

Connie and Jessie watched the interplay with full understanding of what was going on. Connie was amused. She knew that Betsey had never met a man she didn't flirt with. She thought Rick handled it with remarkable finesse, which led her to think that it had probably happened to him many times over the years he worked with rich VIP's at the Speedway. She caught herself smiling. She thought that he might have some interesting stories to tell about that. She reminded herself to ask him the next time they went for a long walk.

Jessie was incensed that the hussy would flirt with her father in front of her mother, but then again the woman had just done something very nice for her mom. Jessie decided not to rip her hair out. Instead, she inserted herself between them, and thanked Betsey again for her kindness. Jessie was young and guileless. All three of the older people understood the body language very clearly. Rick, Connie and Betsey all exchanged smiles over Jessie's head. The tension between Betsey and Rick was gone. In a moment so was Betsey and her party. The restaurant stood completely empty but for the five people at the center table.

Connie relaxed completely, and sank into the deep upholstered chair. She leaned back against the chair, turned to Rick and said, "You are in charge. You decide what I eat, what I drink and you pour me back in the limo when the night is over."

The dinner and service were superb. It was amazing how well Becky and Pete hit it off with Rick and Jessie. Connie had the sense that perhaps they might become friends now that she was no longer Becky's boss. She rather hoped so.

Jessie was rather uncharacteristically quiet. She seemed to be enjoying her mother's moment of glory. Jessie, who had her mothers brains, her father's personality and the looks of a model, was typically the center of attention of any gathering. For once she seemed to enjoy being at the edge of the action.

Rick was obviously in heaven.

After they finished dessert, Connie pushed aside her plate and said, "Now, for the good stuff."

She motioned to the waiter, who pushed out a dessert cart bearing several objects.

Connie looked around the table and took a deep breath. "I am not going to cry! I am not," she said, as she dabbed her eyes with a napkin.

"Earlier this evening, I had the unexpected opportunity of basking in the love and appreciation of my clients. It was very special. Much as it pains me, I will always be grateful to Betsey Painter for planing that portion of the evening. I will probably have to even break down and take the witch to lunch one day." Becky and Connie both chuckled; that was clearly an inside joke.

Connie took another deep breath and went on, "But now it is time for me to thank the rest of the folks who made my success possible."

She reached over to the cart and picked up a large envelope. "Becky, we have worked together for 15 years. I wouldn't be where I am today without you. I've done my best to make sure that your job is safe going forward, and I hope you and Patrick will work well together. Still, I wanted to do something special for you. Something that you and Pete can enjoy together, because he's helped a lot in the office, too. I hope this will let you know in a small way, how much I appreciate all you have done for me. I hope that we can continue to be friends even though we'll no longer be working together."

She handed Becky the envelope. Becky opened it, and she and Pete both gasped. Connie couldn't tell which of them looked more thrilled with the gift. She knew Rick had hit it just right.

She waited a few minutes to let things settle down a bit and then she turned to Jessie. "You, my precious one, were the reason I went into the estate management business in the first place. It was one of the best things I've ever done. I'm so proud of your academic success and now your legal career. You are already a good lawyer. I have no reason to expect that you will not one day be a great lawyer. The key, however, is to remember to balance your life. Do not let your career have a negative impact on the rest of your life, or vice versa! Work hard; Play hard; Love passionately."

Jessie's eyes filled with tears. She tried to blink them back, breathing deeply and raggedly. Connie smiled and let her own tears run freely down her cheeks. She reached around to the cart and picked up a small box which she handed to Jessie. As soon as Jessie opened it, Rick obviously recognized what it was and shot Connie a look of such naked adoration it took her breath away. Jessie drew a necklace from the box. It was a gold chain with a small round medallion. On the one side was a book. On the other side was a heart. Jessie instinctively understood the message. Connie was overcome and could not speak. Rick interjected softly, "I gave that necklace to your mother the day she graduated from law school." Everyone was quiet for a moment. Even Pete tried to dab at his eyes unobtrusively. Jessie held the necklace in her shaking hand for a minute and then asked her father to help her with the clasp..

It took a few minutes for everyone to recover. The waiter seized the opportunity to clear away some dishes and pour more champagne. Eventually, Connie reached around to the cart one last time. She put her hand under a napkin that lay flat on the top of the cart and drew it out slowly, holding something small hidden inside her fist. She clasped the object between her two palms, and opened her hands so that only she could see what she was holding. She looked at it for a long moment with tears shining in her eyes. She held her clasped hands to her heart for a brief moment, then she took Rick's hand and said, "This is just between us." She let the object fall into his palm. He lowered his hand below the edge of the table so the others could not see it. She asked, "Do you know what it is?"

He looked at her with brimming eyes and croaked around the lump in his throat, "Yes."

In his open palm he held a 1964 quarter.

Connie pushed back her chair, blew her nose and sniffed. "I think this would be a good time to call it a night." The others agreed. There were hugs and kisses all around. This time when Connie and Becky embraced, they both let go of their self-control and cried in each others' arms.

Eventually, Rick motioned to the maitre d' and asked for the check. He shook his head and said, "The check has been taken care of, sir." He handed Connie an envelope and said, "Those of your friends who attended and shared in the cost of your party signed this card for you."

Connie thanked him and Rick slipped him a generous tip.

When they reached the sidewalk, there was one last surprise. Instead of one limo to take them all home, there were two.

Jessie piped up, "This was my contribution. I know what a party-pooper you are Mom, so I thought maybe we could go on home. Becky and Pete might want to hit the town."

Connie grinned. "Right now, I have to tell you I may appreciate this as much as anything. I am exhausted."

They piled into the limo and headed for home. Connie fell asleep almost immediately, with her head on Rick's shoulder.

Jessie asked her dad, "What did Mom give you?"

He smiled and said, "Two bits."

Jessie waited for an explanation. It did not come. She raised her eyebrows seeking an explanation He said, "You'll have to ask your mother."

Chapter 12 - Sausalito

The first couple of days after the party, Rick and Connie took it easy. They did some shopping for their trip. They took long walks when the weather permitted. Since they hated going to the gym, they decided to buy his-and-her treadmills, which they set up in the basement. when the weather was bad outside, they spent hours alternately walking and running, listening to rock music cranked up very loud. Sometimes they talked for hours. Sometimes they went for hours without talking at all. A serenity descended on their home and their relationship like a balm. They both felt it and both were amazed by it. Connie's fear subsided. They discovered that they truly did enjoy one another's constant company as much as they hoped they would.

As the time for their vacation drew near, they shopped for a few odds and ends.

A couple of days before they were scheduled to leave for Mexico, Connie had a League of Women Voters meeting at lunchtime. When she returned home, she could tell something was wrong the moment she walked in the door; she could feel it in the air. She called to Rick but he didn't answer. She raced from room to room, her heart pounding, fearing the something had happened to him. She found him in Jessie's old room staring at his computer. He was pale and shaking. Connie came up behind him, put her arms around his neck and leaned over to read the e-mail over his shoulder. She said softly, "Oh, God."

He looked utterly forlorn, and asked, "What do you think we should do?"

She took charge. "Here's what we'll do. We will cancel Cabo San Lucas. You and I will fly to San Francisco on the first available flight. We'll go to Sausalito for a few days. Jessie and her young man can meet us in San Francisco for Christmas. How does that sound to you?"

He nodded glumly. "Yeah. That should work. I'll make the reservations."

"I'll call Jessie. She can handle the hotel reservations. Any idea where I should suggest we stay in San Francisco?"

"Ask her to see if we can get rooms at the Hyatt Embarcadero. The view is spectacular."

"Will you be okay by yourself here for a bit."

"Yeah. I think I'd like to be alone for a while."

"I'll be in the other room if you need me."

She knelt down in front of him and hugged him long and hard. He kissed her absently and told her to go call Jessie.

She went into their bedroom across the hall, listening with one ear for any indication he needed her. She dialed Jessie's number at work. "Hey, Jess. It's Mom."

Connie never called Jessie in the daytime because Connie disapproved of personal calls at work. Jessie immediately asked, "What's wrong, Mom?"

"Honey, we need to change our Christmas plans. Instead of Cabo, would you mind spending Christmas in San Francisco?"

"San Francisco? I've always wanted to go there! Sure. I'm up for that. Why the sudden change in plans?"

"It's a long story and we'll fill you in on the details later, but your dad's first wife is very ill. She lives in Sausalito just north of San Francisco. She wants to see him before she dies. We are leaving as soon as we can."

"Dad's what?!"

"Jessie don't tell me you didn't know he'd been married before. I know we told you about that."

Jessie was quiet for a long time. "Yes. I guess I do remember someone mentioning that once a very long time ago. I guess it never registered. I can't even imagine Daddy with anybody but you. I guess I totally forgot about it."

"I guess given how we are together, I can understand that. But, it's true. They were only married a couple of years, but they sort of stayed in touch.."

"How do you feel about that, Mom?"

"Twenty years ago I'd have dug in my feet and thrown a total fit..' Today, I am touched and delighted that she still cares enough about him to want to see him. I knew her too when they were married. She was a nice lady. I want to pay my respects too."

Jessie was quiet for a long time. "I think you owe me a story."

"I think you're right. We'll do a very, very early morning one day in San Francisco."

"Where should we stay?"

"Dad suggests you see if you can get us all rooms at the Hyatt Embarcadero."

"OK."

"Oh, and Jess."

"Yes."

"I think you owe me a story, too."

"I guess you're right about that. We may have to have a couple of very early mornings on this trip."

Connie and Rick managed to get on a flight to San Francisco the next day. Li's family had made reservations for them in a bed and breakfast in Sausalito. They called the hospital as soon as they arrived. The floor nurse gave them directions and told them that Li's entire family was at the hospital. Connie could feel Rick relax ever so slightly. This would still be hard, but at least they arrived before she died.

When they arrived at the hospital, Li's oldest daughter's husband greeted them warmly and thanked them for coming. He introduced them to Li's other sons-in-law who were waiting in the hall. The youngest one went into Li's room. Presently, Mr. Truong came out followed by his three daughters. They all looked wan and tired, but they were kind and polite. They made introductions and shook hands all around. Mr. Truong told Connie and Rick that Li wanted to speak to both of them.

They approached the door, holding hands. Neither of them was very good around sick people, but this was something they had to do.

They approached the bed where Li lay. She was so tiny and frail, she looked like a child except for her papery skin and thin gray hair. Connie had always thought of Li as the beautiful raven-haired young woman of 40 years ago. She was shocked, but tried not to show it. Rick hung back and caught his breath. Connie decided to go first and give him time to recover his composure.

She leaned over the bed and greeted Li in Vietnamese, saying, "Hello, honored sister."

Li smiled wanly, and said in English, "You remembered?"

Connie took Li's hand in one of her own and smoothed her hair with the other. "Actually, I couldn't remember the words so I called a local Vietnamese restaurant and asked the owner to help me."

Li smiled again, "Your pronunciation is bad."

"So I've been told." She squeezed Li's hand.

Li asked, "You have been happy?"

"Oh, yes. And you?"

"Yes. I've had a most happy life. I carry only one regret in all of it."

Connie took a cloth from the side table, dipped it in a bowl of water and wiped Li's face. "What would that be?"

"That I hurt Rick when I left him."

Connie continued to wipe Li's face and made no effort to stop her tears. She leaned close to Li's ear and whispered, "Perhaps it hurt you both at the time but that decision ultimately allowed for all of us, you and Rick and Mr. Truong and me and all of our children to have a happiness we never would have had if you had toughed it out."

Li drew a shallow, raspy breath. Connie dipped the cloth in cool water again and brushed it across Li's lips. Li licked the moisture gratefully. She looked up at Connie and asked hopefully, "He believes this, you think?"

"I am quite certain he does."

Li signed and relaxed. "Then I have no regrets at all."

Connie leaned over her and kissed her lightly on the cheek, "Be at peace."

Li lifted her hand to Connie's cheek and said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being so kind to me when I knew you hated me. I could tell you loved him even then."

Connie smiled through her tears and whispered, "It was the least I could do. I'll let you visit with Rick now."

Connie stood aside and Rick stepped forward. He held onto her hand and she slid her hand away. "I'll be just outside."

For a moment, he looked panicked, but immediately he seemed to understand that she was giving him a gift. He looked at her with love shining in his eyes along with tears, and then he turned to Li, taking her hand and leaning over close to her.

Connie slipped out into the hall. She exchanged quiet conversation with Mr. Truong's daughters and sons-in-law.

In a little while, Rick joined them, looking wretched. Mr. Truong and the girls thanked them for coming. They gave the son-in-law their phone number at the hotel and explained that they were staying in the area through Christmas. The young man obviously understood. If Li died while they were still in the area, which it seemed was likely, they would attend the funeral.

Rick and Connie did not talk much on the way back to the hotel. They showered and changed and then went outside to walk and explore. There was little to say. Later, they drove by the speedway which Rick said had not changed since his last visit. He took her past the Truong's home, or at least the house where they lived the last time he had been there. They had dinner at a small winery, but they ate little and enjoyed it less. They went back to the inn and went to bed almost immediately.

The next day Connie went out for an early morning walk. When she came back, the owner handed her a phone message from Li's son-in-law. It was over. The funeral would be the two days hence at a nearby Catholic church. They changed their reservations in San Francisco and extended their stay in Sausalito for two more days.

They spent the days exploring. They drove through Napa Valley and purchased wine to ship home and taste later when they could enjoy it. They visited the redwood forests, which gave Connie the creeps. It reminded her of the ominous "deep, dark forests" in fairy tales. They drove up the Russian River and stopped for lunch at a little bohemian restaurant that had apparently been a "fringe" establishment since before either of them was born. The country was beautiful and they would have had a wonderful time, but they felt so emotionally numb they couldn't really enjoy themselves. They were more or less killing time.

The morning of the funeral, they dressed and packed their suitcases. They had arranged with the owner of the bed and breakfast to deliver their bags to their hotel in San Francisco. They did not intend to drive into the city. They planned to turn in their rental car and take the ferry to the city and then walk to the hotel.

Connie had never been to a Roman Catholic funeral. She found it beautiful. The vestments and altar hangings were white and gold. The music was dignified but not maudlin. Connie didn't understand much of what went on, but in a way she felt comforted by it. She could tell that the Truong family was deeply grieving, but their dignity and faith held them up and their love held them together. Connie held Rick's hand through the service. When it was over, they shook Mr. Truong's hand, and he bowed to them and thanked them for coming. Before they walked away, the oldest daughter stopped them. She handed Rick a small bamboo box and said, "My family is honored that you came to be with us and to say good-bye to Mother. She loved you very much, and we were all raised to be grateful for the fact that you rescued her from Vietnam and brought her to the US. We think you should have these things."

Rick bowed deeply to her, and so did Connie. They drove to the Sausalito ferry station. Rick asked Connie to put the box in her purse. He said he'd rather look into it later in private. Rick was lost in thought and private grief. Connie might have been as well until she looked up and saw the City drawing near in the window. She excused herself and went outside. She was mesmerized. Just before they arrived at the dock, Rick walked up behind her. She said, "My God, would that not be a fabulous way to get to work every day!"

He commented, "If you don't mind the traffic getting to the ferry."

She hugged him, "Yeah, there is that," thinking she might be willing to make the sacrifice.

They wandered around Fisherman's Wharf for a while and then went to check into the hotel. Connie wanted to explore, but she also wanted to be sensitive to Rick's needs. She had never been as thrilled about traveling as Rick and Jessie, but there was a magic to this city and she was caught up in it. She couldn't wait to ride a cable car. It was midday. Rick suggested that she explore on her own for a while, provided she stay in the shopping and business district. They agreed to meet for a drink at the bar at 5:30. Before she left, she silently handed him Li's box.

She wandered around more or less aimlessly. She knew Rick would take her on a guided tour the next day. He had been to San Francisco many times and knew all of the "must see" places. She rode a cable car to the top of Nob Hill, and then walked back down. She had never seen a place so beautiful. She thought even the people were beautiful. It was like a wonderful dream, and she was utterly enchanted.

At 5:25 she walked into the bar in the lobby of the Hyatt. Rick was already there. An untouched beer sat in front of him. He had ordered her a glass of red wine. They didn't talk for a while. Finally, he said, "Thank you for coming with me and for being there for me and for Li. This was harder than I expected. I don't know how I'd have got through it without you here with me.

"I want you to know that the box contained only a few things, which I think I will give to Jessie at some point. There were some photos of me in Vietnam and in San Francisco when we visited here on our way home from Nam. There were our wedding rings; I don't know what to do with them. And there was a packet of letters that I wrote to her from Vietnam. Those, I think I will burn."

Connie held up her hand, "Please don't do that. Let me have them. I promise I won't read them. I'll put them with the letters you wrote to me. Someday Jessie may appreciate both sets of letters."

"I wrote you letters from Vietnam? I don't remember that."

"A few. They were the typical GI-to-little-girl letters, but I kept them. I think we should keep your letters to Li also. And I think we should keep your wedding rings with the letters, also. I have no idea what Jessie may want to do with them, but I think she should have them."

He nodded.

They sat in silence for a while. Finally, he drew a ragged breath and said, "I am very glad we came. It meant a lot to Li that we did, particularly that you came too. It was the respectful thing to do. One thing I do know, I'll never, ever spend a day without telling you I love you and I'll never be separated from you unnecessarily."

She took his hand. "We are embarking upon a new phase of our lives. When we were young I was in school, and focused on getting my degrees. Then Jessie came along and we were busy working parents. We never really lost touch with each other, but somehow we were not totally focused on each other. Now we have the luxury to spend time exclusively with one another. Let's take full advantage of it."

They had dinner at a restaurant on the Embarcadero, and walked back to the hotel. She got ready for bed and bustled around the room putting things away and putzing while he was in the bathroom. He came out of the bathroom and told her to sit on the bed. "Huh?"

"For once in your life will you just do what I ask you to do without arguing!"

She looked at him and couldn't quite decide whether to be angry or laugh, she muttered, "I'm a lawyer. It's what we do."She climbed up in the middle of the bed and sat there, cross-legged with her hands folded in her lap. "OK I'm sitting. Now what?"

His smile was radiant. He raised his arms dramatically and announced, "Just you wait."

She half expected him to rip off his robe and jump on top of her, but instead he turned off all the lights in the room and stood by the window, saying in a dramatic stage whisper, "Check this out."

He opened the drapes quickly like a theater curtain. The room overlooked San Francisco Bay. The view was spectacular. Connie sat transfixed. Rick joined her on the bed, and they sat side-by-side watching the twinkling lights of the boat traffic in the Bay, the car traffic on the Golden Gate and the distant lights of Oakland. Connie could feel their hearts beating together and their souls melding, and mending.

For Connie, the next two days were a blur of exotic sights, smells and tastes. They walked everywhere. They were used to walking on the flat roads of central Indiana. The hills of San Francisco made their legs hurt. They walked up the hills until they worked up an appetite. They ate fabulous meals and then walked back down the hills again.

The second day they rented a car and took a drive south of the city, crossing the Golden Gate and going south on the Coast Highway. Connie had thought the City was beautiful. The coastal California countryside was even more incredible. She decided to quit using the word 'beautiful'. It had lost its meaning. She could find no words to describe the glory of the California coast so she simply leaned back in her seat and enjoyed it.

They ate lunch in Monterrey and then drove back into San Francisco.

They decided to pack it in early that evening because Jessie and her young man were arriving the next morning, which was Christmas Eve. Rick said he had made reservations at a special place for dinner but wouldn't tell Connie where.

Jessie did not want her parents to come to the airport to meet her and her beau. She told them to go about their business and they could meet up later for lunch Rick suggested they meet at Pier 39 for lunch. He said you couldn't be a tourist in San Francisco without going to the Pier. He and Connie wandered around the downtown and harbor area for several hours, including a long time at the docks watching the ferries come and go. They didn't talk about it but they were both nervous about meeting Jessie's beau.

Chapter 13 – Christmas Eve

Jessie and Rick had agreed to meet at Neptune's Palace for lunch. The restaurant was not crowded, and they were seated at a window table with a spectacular view of the Golden Gate and the Bay. Connie could not take her eyes off the view. She and Rick both noticed that Jessie seemed oblivious to the view. All she could look at was the handsome young man she introduced simply as Jeff.

Connie was way too distracted to conduct a proper interrogation of her daughter's boyfriend at lunch. Rick cautioned everyone not to eat too much because he had a special dinner planned. They exchanged small-talk and marveled at the view. After lunch, they strolled around Pier 39 and then they went to Fisherman's Wharf. After that, they meandered back toward the hotel to dress for dinner. The afternoon had served very well as an ice-breaker, allowing them to begin to get acquainted with Jeff in a non-threatening way, consisting mostly of small talk and sharing the sights.

It turned out that Rick had made dinner reservations at the Stanford Court. Connie asked, "What are you trying to do, spend all our retirement money at once?"

Jessie said, "Relax, Mom, this is a LOT less than we were planning to spend in Cabo."

"Just whose idea was Cabo anyway?"

Jessie said, "Actually it was mine. It's a place I've always wanted to see. But, this is pretty spectacular, too."

Connie leaned back in the cab and sighed, "I am so sorry for the reason we came here, but I am delighted that we are here. This place is unbelievable."

Rick poked Jessie with his elbow and winked, "After all these years, we finally found a vacation spot your mother actually likes. Is that amazing or what?"

Jessie pretended to faint.

Jeff was very quiet. He seemed to enjoy the interplay of humor and love between Jessie and her parents. Rick was uncharacteristically quiet. Connie could tell that the men were sizing each other up. She remembered the way her dad had worked Rick over when he came to call on her. She wondered what Rick had in store for Jeff. She began to look forward to this Christmas Eve dinner.

The maitre d' showed them to a table with a spectacular of the city and the bay. The restaurant was crowded, but not noisy. The waiter offered the specials and suggested a bottle of wine. They ordered a bottle of white wine, with no bubbles in honor of Connie's tastes. She felt a little like a hayseed because the Stanford Court was a champagne kind of restaurant. Jeff seemed to read her mind. He leaned across the table and said, "I don't like champagne either."

Connie thought that was sweet. She smiled at him. She wanted to hate him, but there was something about him that she liked. She decided that the time had come to get serious about getting to know him. She forced her mind to forget about the scenery and focus on the interrogation that was in order for any man who would dare to court her daughter. Jessie seemed to pick up on the change with her own Mom-radar. She immediately went on alert. It didn't take long for the two men to notice the change in the atmosphere as well.

Phase Two had begun, and everybody knew it.

No one looking at them from a distance would have guessed that anything had changed. They sipped their wine, ate their appetizers and chatted amiably. Jeff was a lawyer who worked in the same firm as Jessie. They were obviously very much in love. They tried not to look at each other directly because when they did the temperature in the room rose a few degrees and they seemed to go into a sort of Vulcan mind-meld. Connie knew that experience. She knew that when they looked at one another, the rest of the world disappeared. That still happened to her when she and Rick locked eyes. At one point, Jessie reached over to pour more wine, and Jeff inadvertently touched her hand. The electricity was palpable even across the table. Jessie and Jeff were lost in the moment. Rick and Connie glanced at each other and smiled. How many times had that happened for them?

They learned a little background. Jeff Burger was from Northern Ohio. He had gone to Columbia School of Law. He did not like to talk about himself very much, but was very voluble on the subject of the law, on which he was, not surprisingly, very eloquent. He was also something of a sports nut, and loved auto racing, or at least convinced Rick he did. He clearly adored Jessie. Rick was obviously sold on Jeff very quickly. Connie wanted to smack him for giving in so easily. She was determined to hang tough.

Connie kept watching Jeff as he talked. There was something oddly familiar about him, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Finally she blurted, "Jeff, excuse me if this seems like an overly personal question. Believe me there is no political reason for it. Have you ever been in the military?"

He smiled, "Yes, ma'am. I went through ROTC in college. Uncle Sam put me through law school. I spent 10 years of active duty in the Marine Corps as a JAG. I am presently in the Reserves. I serve as a judge for the courts-martial in the Midwest." He looked a bit sheepish. "My maternal grandfather was an appeals court judge in Ohio. I have always sort of had my eye on the bench."

Connie snapped her fingers, "First of all, I knew there was something familiar about you. It's the unmistakable bearing of a Marine. I hope you get to be a federal judge. Now wouldn't that be a hell of a thing? A federal judge who is a Marine. That would be the ultimate combination of power and sex appeal."

Jessie laughed, embarrassed, "No more wine for you, Mother!"

Connie tilted her head and challenged her daughter, "Tell me you disagree."

Jessie did not respond. Connie said, "I rest."

They all laughed.

Jeff asked Rick, "Were you in the Corps, Sir?"

"Yes. I served in Vietnam."

"That was bad. I know guys from those days who have gotten over it. I know my dad has never recovered."

"It was bad alright. Where have you served?" Rick expected him to list a bunch of stateside postings.

"I was with the JAG, in Somalia, Afghanistan and, most recently, Iraq."

Connie looked up, "Whoa! How on earth did you meet Jessie if you were on the other side of the world?"

"She didn't tell you?"

Connie cocked her head and waved her arm, "Jeff, you need to know that our family includes some rather cussedly closed-mouthed women. I am saying this before my darling husband has the chance to chime in. To be honest, until recently Jessie never mentioned your existence."

For a minute he looked hurt and Jessie looked as though she wanted to clobber her mother. Then Jeff looked at Jessie with a mixture of hurt and curiosity and asked, "Why not?"

Connie interrupted and answered in a whisper, "I suspect it had something to do with the difficulty of speaking aloud about the most wonderful thing imaginable."

They were all quiet for a moment, and Jessie shot her mother a look of forgiveness and wonderment.

Jeff caught the glance. He didn't understand what had just happened, but he knew that he needed to talk fast and answer the question that was on the table. He said, "The military was trying to figure out what to do with all the captives we suddenly had in the wake of September 11th and the fall of Afghanistan. We didn't know what to do with them or how to prosecute them. The Corps sent me to the University of Chicago law school on a research fellowship to try to figure out how to proceed. Jessie was in her third year at the time. We were introduced by one of our professors. I think I fell in love with her the minute I saw her. We dated while I was in Chicago, and we corresponded after I went back to Iraq.

"When I returned overseas, I was assigned to defend some of the soldiers charged with prisoner abuse at Abu Ghrab prison. After reviewing their files, I decided that a firing squad was too good for most of my clients. Jessie was moving to Chicago to begin the next phase of what purports to be an amazing career.. I was stuck in Baghdad defending people I considered to be the scum of the earth. I decided to request permission to rotate to Reserve status and come home. Since I had been on active duty for more than 10 years and in various combat zones for the last five, the Corps reluctantly honored the request. I moved to Chicago, and amazingly got a job at the same firm as Jessie. I seized the opportunity to pursue her relentlessly. Occasionally I have to go on assignment as a judge for a stateside court-martial. Our managing partner is a gonzo Vietnam Green Beret; he gladly allows me whatever time off I need."

Connie smiled. She knew that she had spent a lifetime assuming that no man Jessie ever brought home would be good enough. This one struck Connie as a keeper. She glanced at Rick out of the corner of her eye. She could tell that he felt the same way.

Rick asked, "Do you work together on the same cases?"

Jessie bristled. Jeff laughed softly, "No, sir, we don't. We have what you might call conflicting litigation styles. I tend to like to try the soft approach. I don't like to bring in the heavy artillery unless it is necessary. Jess likes to start with the big guns."

Jessie sat up and protested, "I like to win quickly. It saves my clients money."

"Darling, you will never make partner at a big firm with that attitude."

"I win!"

He looked at her with exasperation and shot a "help-me-out-here" glance at her mother, "Honey, the partners don't care if you win or not. They just want you to make your cases last as long as possible so you can bill your client as much as possible."

Jessie sniffed. "That"s just stupid."

Connie lost it. Blotting her eyes while still laughing, she said, "Jessie, I may have invented naive but you appear to be trying to perfect it. You might want to consider moving into private practice." They all joined the laughter, including Jessie.

Jeff looked at Connie and Rick, "I think that ultimately we may end up branching out on our own. I can't see either of us in a big firm for long."

Connie nodded, "Going into private practice was the best thing I ever did."

They chatted lawyer-talk for a while. At some point, Rick asked, "Jeff, if you don't mind my asking, why did you to join the Corps?"

Jeff thought about that for a while. "My dad was a Marine in Vietnam. He was on one of the last choppers to leave the embassy compound in Saigon. He said the chopper was so overloaded, he flew all the way to the aircraft carrier sitting on the runner. He said it was the most terrifying day of his life until the day I was born."

Rick laughed and nodded. "I can relate. I wasn't in Saigon. I spent my time around Da Nang and Quang Tri. I was stateside before Saigon fell, but I know it was bad. it was not as bad as watching your wife give birth to a baby for whom you are responsible, however." Rick raised his glass to Jessie; she toasted him in return.

Jeff continued. "Anyway, Dad was a Marine. Grandad is an Iwo Marine. I guess the Corps is in my blood."

Jessie looked up. "What's an Iwo Marine?"

The rest of them looked at her as though she had just landed from another planet. Connie leaned forward and said, "Jessie, your father and I appear to have seriously neglected your education. Here's a tip: for the rest of your life whenever you are around Jeff's Marine buddies" -- she was surprised to notice that she already assumed this was a permanent relationship \-- "you tell 'em your grandpop was an Iwo Marine, and you watch their reaction."

Jessie still looked confused. "Iwo?"

Connie looked impatient, "Iwo as in Iwo Jima. One of the bloodiest battles in World War II. It lasted a month. You've seen the picture of the Marines raising the American flag on Mt. Suribachi? Your grandfather was there. He wasn't one of the flag-raisers but he was somewhere on that mountain when that took place."

Jeff smiled and said, "So was my granddad He was a staff sergeant in the 5th Marine Division, the one that took Mt. Suribachi."

Connie looked at him incredulously, "Your granddad was in the 5th?"

"Yes."

She looked at him with a strange expression. Rick smiled. Jessie looked confused. "Would it mean anything to you if I told you that my father was Colonel Bernard Archer."

Jeff gasped, went pale, and said, "Oh. My. God."

Connie looked surprised. "You actually know the name?"

"Do I ever! Colonel Archer is virtually a god in my family."

It was Connie's turn to look confused. "Why?"

Jeff smiled directly into her eyes and raised his eyebrows in a look that reminded Connie of Rick. "Did your dad ever tell you about his visit to Mt. Suribachi?"

Connie shook her head sadly. "My dad never, ever talked to me about the War. I didn't even know he was at Iwo Jima until his funeral. I was standing near his coffin and two of his buddies stood there sobbing. They told me he was there. They didn't give any details. I guess that day I was in no condition to hear them." Connie shuddered.

Jeff smiled. "Would you like to hear the story now?"

"How do you know about my dad's experience on Iwo Jima?"

Jeff looked at Rick, "Did Colonel Archer talk to you about the war?"

"No. He never did. He always had a little difficulty dealing with Vietnam Marines. He never seemed to quite know what to say to Marines who lost wars."

They were all quiet for a very long time. Connie took Rick's hand, which was shaking. Jessie looked like she was going to burst into tears. Jeff nodded, "You know, sir, I have heard my father say the same thing many times. There's an undercurrent of pain that the Vietnam vets share that the rest of us will never know."

Rick looked at Jeff and something wonderful happened. Jeff was a non-Vietnam veteran who fully, completely and totally accepted Rick into the Brotherhood. Something hard and painful he didn't even know he harbored in his heart began to melt. He looked at Jeff with gratitude.

They sipped their wine for a while and looked at the scenery as the waiters brought the next course. It took a little while for everyone to regain their composure. Jessie seemed not completely sure what had happened, but she understood that her father was not going to give Jeff a hard time. That was all that mattered to her.

Presently, Jeff said, "Mrs. Rydell, I know that it is not really a story for the dinner table, least of all on Christmas when we are all supposed to be getting acquainted, but with your permission, I would like to tell you what I know about what your father did on Iwo Jima. I think Jessie should know that her grandfather is not just any Iwo Marine, which would be amazing enough, but a genuine 100% hero of the first rank. With your permission, I would like to tell you the story as I heard it."

Connie looked at Jessie. Jessie reluctantly nodded. Connie looked at Rick. He smiled and took her hand. Rick said, "If you're sure you're up for it, I think it would be interesting to hear what phenomenal stuff the Old Man pulled off on Suribachi. Lord knows, he was the most amazing person I've ever met. It doesn't surprise me to hear that he was a hero."

Connie took a deep breath. She put down her fork and took Rick's hands with both of hers. "OK, Let's hear it. By the way, what is your rank?"

"Jeff smiled. Lt. Colonel, ma'am."

Rick laughed, "Then you'd better quit calling me 'sir', Sir. I topped out at Captain."

Jeff smiled at Rick and met his gaze, Marine-to-Marine, man-to-man, and said the magic words that swung Connie all the way into his corner, "Captain Rydell, in uniform I may outrank you. But you are Jessie's father, and, hence, you will always merit my respect, and I'll always call you 'sir'."

Connie beamed. Jessie completely relaxed for the first time all day. The men laid down the guard they had been holding for hours. They spent a few moments in happy enjoyment of the new family that had just been born.

After a few minutes, Connie said, "OK, Colonel, let's hear your story."

"Granddad's unit landed on D-Day, 19 February." He turned to Jessie and offered a little background. "On February 19, 1945, 880 vessels loaded with 110,000 United States Marines from the 5th and 9th Regiments landed on the beaches at Iwo Jima. The 9th was assigned to take the airfield that lay at one end of the island. The 5th was assigned to take the mountain at the other end of the island.

"There were 22,000 Japanese soldiers already on the island. They were dug in and heavily armed, with gun emplacements in caves and pillboxes everywhere on the island. They could see the Marines, but the Marines could not see them. The landing was a bloodbath. Virtually all of the blood that was shed during the first few days of the battle was American blood. Ultimately more than 6600 Americans died and more than 20,000 were injured. Eighteen thousand of the Japanese soldiers were killed as well.

"My granddad's unit watched the initial slaughter from their landing craft. He said it was the most horrific thing ever saw. Every man on that craft was scared positively shitless. The C.O. was an arrogant and talented officer from Indianapolis named Ronald Archer. His men already loved him and often said they were prepared to follow him to hell and back. It appeared they were about to get the opportunity to prove that.

"The Old Man stood up in the front of the landing craft and slowly rolled a cigarette as though he were sitting in his office. Granddad said that had an immediate calming effect on the men. After he finished rolling and lighting the smoke, he looked around with scowl, staring down each and every GI in his unit. Then he made a speech Granddad says he remembers word for word. It went something like this, 'Well, girls, Admiral Nimitz says we have got to take that mountain from the Japs. Name of it is Suribachi if you don't know. Remember that in case you live to tell about what is about to happen. It should be an interestin' story for your kids, if you live to have any.

"'Anyway, Admiral Nimitz wants us to go up that mountain and take it so the air corps boys can land their planes on that airstrip over there that the 9th is going to take. We have a very hard assignment. The Japs are dug in deep. They're well armed. They're now surrounded by Americans so they'll be desperate. You been watching the landing. This ain't no church picnic, ladies.

"'Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna run off this boat and get across that beach as fast as our asses can go. Then we are gonna march up to the top of Suribachi, killing or capturing Japs along the way. When we've secured the mountain, we're gonna march back down and move on.

"'Not all of you will make it up the mountain and back down under your own power. I want to remind you of the cardinal rule of the Corps. We do not leave our buddies. Dead or wounded, we do not leave our men. If somebody goes down somebody else will pick him up. You have my word that any one of you who is wounded or killed will not be left behind.

"'Let me be clear about this. If any of you fails to help another Marine, you'd better damned well hope the Japs shoot you because if they don't, I will kill you with my bare hands if we both make it back to the beach at the end of this fucking battle.

"'Do you understand me?'

"No one answered and he screamed it again, until all the men yelled back, 'Sir, yes, sir.'

"When it came time for them to land he instructed the captains and lieutenants to go first. He joined them in the first row. In his unit, the leaders would lead their men into.

"About a third of the way up the mountain a grunt from another unit, took a bullet to the head right in front of Colonel Archer. The bullet blew the guy's head completely off. The Old Man grabbed the body before it hit the ground and threw it over his shoulder. The Colonel didn't turn around and take the dead Marine back down the mountain, he kept moving forward encouraging his men to keep moving and stay together. The Japanese were hidden in caves and trenches. The Marines were nothing but cannon fodder. Colonel Archer kept his boys moving forward. When the lines started to get straggly, the Old Man started to call out cadence. Carrying a dead Marine up the mountain, he was gonna march in cadence! His officers joined in and pretty soon so did some of the men. They didn't keep it up long because the fighting was too furious, but it kept everybody moving more or less together.

"Colonel Archer carried that dead Marine for hours before a medic caught up with him to take the Marine off his hands.

"When it was time to come back down the Old Man picked up a different burden, a staff sergeant from his own unit with a very serious leg wound. He half-carried, half-dragged the sergeant all the way back down to the beach.

"That staff sergeant was my grandfather.

"I have never been able to find out who the dead private was."

Connie leaned back against the chair and fought for air. Jessie's eyes were huge and bright.

Rick was grinning from ear to ear, "I honestly do not mean to make light of that, but you know, I can see the Old Man doing that. It was the kind of stand-up guy he was."

Connie narrowed her eyes and looked almost pissed off. She glared from Jeff to Rick and then sighed. She pursed her lips and everybody at the table knew she was about to say Something Significant.

She looked at Jessie and said, "The gentlemen will have to forgive me if I interrupt this gonzo program to put in a word from the women. Jessie, since you have evidently decided to cast your lot with a Marine, it is time that you come to understand a few things. These are things that officers wives need to know. They will save your husband's life because they will prevent you from killing him with a frying pan to the side of the head. I feel suddenly as though I failed you as a mother because I learned them from my mom growing up. I guess it never occurred to me that you would need the information.

"I have no doubt that what you just heard is as gospel-true as any war story you are ever likely to hear from a Marine, which means that it is at least 1/3, if not more, complete bullshit. I know my father well enough to know that he probably did do at least some of those things, and he probably did them with some of the bravado and swagger that you just heard about. He was like that.

"However, Marines tend to leave out important details of hero-stories. They also frequently leave off the endings. Here's the way that one ended. When the battle was over, I feel sure Dad vomited prodigiously and then sat down and wept for a very long time. I know for a fact that he had nightmares several times a month for decades. When I was little he used to wake me up at night with his screaming and crying. My mom would hold him and rock him and, when the terrors were really bad, she would even sing to him. After he finally went back to sleep, she would go to the kitchen, make coffee and sob, sometimes for hours. Sometimes she couldn't stop crying. On those occasions, I would get up and sit with her. Maybe that's how I got in the habit of getting up at such ungodly early hours.

"Daddy brought back one dead and one live Marine from that battle. That made him a hero. For the rest of his life Dad carried a terrible burden of guilt and pain over the men he couldn't bring back. That made him a man. A very, very good and decent man who eventually came to understand that sometimes NOT fighting is the best thing to do.

"Pain, guilt, and lots of second thoughts. That is the way hero-stories usually end.

"While we are on the subject of educating you on the life of an officers wife, I have a few more things to add.

"It is important to remember that stories of heroism are for the most part stories about people who are just doing their jobs under difficult circumstances. Marines follow orders and they never leave a Buddy. Admiral Nimitz said to take Suribachi. They took Suribachi.

"The Corps trained them to bring back their dead and wounded, so they brought back their dead and wounded. My dad did what he was trained to do. My dad was a good soldier. He would complete that paragraph with a shrug and his favorite crude expression: 'B.F.D.'

"Yes, he was a hero in battle, but he was an even bigger hero in the rest of his life. He fought the demons of nightmares, pain and guilt and what we call today post-traumatic stress for years, but he still managed to hold down a job and support his family. He was a good and faithful husband to a woman who positively worshiped him, although she tried not to let him know exactly how much. He was a great dad. Was he a hero? You bet. Like Rick, I am not surprised by the story. But, the dad I loved was a regular guy. It is important to remember that. Rule Number One: Do not ever let your Marine get too big for his britches.

"As an officer's wife, too often his demons become your demons. Watch that. Understand that you can only help him if you can keep your distance and perspective. Rule Number Two: Be loving and supportive but know when he has to face certain things on his own. That one is hard because it occasionally means you have to stand back and watch him suffer and you can't help him.

"Rule Number Three: sometimes you have to forget all about rules number one and two and just love him in whatever way seems appropriate at the time. Sometimes that may be tough love. More often it means bending to his needs."

She paused as if considering whether to continue. She took a deep breath and forged ahead.

She smiled at Jeff and reached across the table. She picked up his hand and put it down on top of Jessie's. "We have all been blessed here this Christmas Eve. We are blessed to welcome a new member of our family. We have been blessed with the opportunity to remember a man we all loved," She glanced at Jeff, "or at least admired from afar. God, how I miss him!" She swallowed hard. "I have been blessed to have the opportunity I thought I never would have of bringing my daughter into the Sisterhood of officer's wives. I'm sure that tonight my mom and dad are, to use another of my father's crude expressions that I hate, the 'happiest corpses in the graveyard.'

"Oh, before I forget: Rule Number Four. Never trust another officer's wife except your mother or your daughter. There are never any exceptions to Rule Number Four." Jessie looked totally bewildered. Her mom added, "You'll understand soon enough.

"Jeff, your response to Rick's comments about the Vietnam vets went a long way towards healing a wound that has festered in his heart all these years. Thank you for that."

Rick's hand trembled slightly.

"While we are on the subject of heroism, I have a story to share about another hero. This is a story my father and I pieced together from things he knew and things I knew. He heard parts of it from a doctor who visited him in the hospital in Chicago when he was first diagnosed with cancer. I have never found a time or a place or a way to tell this story to Jessie, but she needs to hear it. I agree with Jeff that tonight seems to be a totally inappropriate place, time and occasion for stories like this. Nevertheless, I am going to tell it anyway because it's along the lines of the rest of our inappropriate story-telling. And it cries to be told.

"The year was 1971. It was spring in the jungle in Quang Tri province. The spring/summer monsoon had not yet begun. It was hot, humid and miserable. A unit had been on patrol, and they were waiting near the LZ for the chopper to pick them up to return to base. They had not taken any casualties in 24 hours in the jungle but they knew there were VC in the area. They were tense and scared. Getting into and out of the choppers was the most dangerous part of patrols.

"They heard the chopper coming, but they heard something else, too."

Connie was holding Rick's hand. She could feel it start to tremble. She looked at him. He was pale and his skin looked clammy. He shook his head. She leaned her head against his shoulder for a minute. She made it clear, however, with her body language and the vice-like grip with which she held his hand that she intended to continue. Jessie squeezed Jeff's hand for dear life. Connie went on:

"What they heard was a small child screaming and his mother screaming back in absolute terror. Somehow the kid had been separated from his mother and had wandered into a mine field. The panicked woman was screaming at him to sit down and not to move. The child knew where he was. He had seen mines explode. He knew what could happen. He was jumping up and down, pleading for someone to help him.

"The chopper landed and the Captain told his men to get on board. He asked the chopper pilot to come back for him later. Several men insisted on staying behind with him. He agreed to allow only the interpreter to stay.

"The Captain and the interpreter approached the woman and tried to calm her down. They asked her to tell the kid that the Captain would not hurt him. They told her to instruct the kid to lie down on the ground and cover his head with his arms. She did that, and the child obeyed, still crying and trembling.

"The Captain collected some long sticks and made his way very slowly and carefully across the minefield, tripping mines with sticks. He managed, somehow, not to blow himself to smithereens." Her voice went ragged and she swallowed a large swig of wine. "Nevertheless, there was a lot of shrapnel flying around out there. By the time he reached the kid, the Captain was covered in blood from dozens of wounds, most of which were relatively minor but which were all full of dirt and bled like hell. A wound on his leg was serious. The entire outside of his left leg from just below the hip to just above the knee was laid open nearly to the bone, but somehow he managed to stay on his feet. By some unbelievable miracle, he made it to the kid, picked the child up and carried him back to his mother, stepping carefully in his own footprints on the return trip.

"The chopper returned later, by which time the Captain was unconscious from loss of blood. The interpreter and the chopper crew got him into the bird with the help of some of the child's mother's relatives and then they flew him to safety. The doctors extracted more than 700 individual pieces of shrapnel from his body. Many of his wounds became badly infected. The injury to his leg required more than five re-constructive surgeries. The doctors wanted to amputate it, but the captain threw such a fit they agreed to try to save the leg. They managed to do just that, but the results of all the surgery turned out to be an unholy mess. He spent months in the hospital.

"He received a Purple Heart for his wounds which were officially recorded as being received when a land-mine exploded near him. The official report of the incident says nothing about why he was in the mind-field in the first place. I would add that it is no surprise to me that the captain never amended the official incident report, but I do not understand why the interpreter never filed a proper report.

"Over his objections, the Corps rotated the captain stateside due to the severity of his injuries. Despite intense therapy, which he insisted be designed to get him back in fighting trim so he could rejoin his unit, the doctors were unable to get him back in combat-condition, so he was given a medical discharge.

"The kid's mother was actually a Viet Cong sympathizer. Sometime after the land-mine incident she was shot to death by a Viet Cong soldier who accused her of collaborating with the Americans because she let them evacuate the wounded captain. She was supposed to have either killed him herself or turned him over to the VC for interrogation." Connie paused and clenched her jaw until she could regain control of her voice.

"After his mother's death, the child was sent to an orphanage. He ultimately left Vietnam about four years later on a U. S. military transport plane during Operation Babylift. He was adopted by an American family and grew up in Arizona. He went to medical school and became an oncologist. He was one of the doctors who treated my dad at the hospital in Chicago.

"He had forgotten most of his native language and could not remember the name of his village. He knew his original name and his mother's name, but most of the rest of his memory of Vietnam was a huge void. He did, however, vividly recall the face of the captain who saved his life. In addition, he had a found something on the ground that had apparently fallen out of the captain's pocket when they lifted him onto the chopper. It was a photograph of a woman.

"One day the doctor saw a photograph on dad's nightstand in the hospital and reacted with great agitation. He told Dad he would be back later. He returned a couple of hours later and told Dad his part of the story. He showed Daddy the picture that belonged to the captain and that he believed would verify his story. The photograph the doctor showed my dad was a picture of Li taken at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Then he pointed at the picture of me and Rick on Daddy's bedside table and indicated that was the soldier who saved his life.

"My dad asked the doctor if he wanted to meet the captain. When the doctor learned that the captain had never seen fit to even mention the incident to anyone, he declined. He told my dad that he had talked to a lot of former GI's and believed that there are many similar heroes who choose not to share their stories for their own personal reasons. He said he didn't want to dredge up painful memories if the captain had chosen to put the incident behind him.

"That encounter with the doctor occurred very soon after Dad got sick, and Dad kept the story to himself until shortly before he died. Initially, he shared the doctor's opinion that perhaps it was something Rick would not want to be brought out after all this time. Daddy finally told me the story near the end of his life because he said that he felt Jessie should hear it someday when the time seemed appropriate.

"I would add this commentary: first, some heroic acts take place while people are doing their jobs under difficult circumstances. Those acts have great merit.

"But, I think, the truly great heroic acts are the ones that people do simply because it is the right thing to do at a given point in time."

Rick's trembling was gradually subsiding, but he gripped Connie's hand so tightly it hurt her. She leaned against him with her body and held his hand between both of hers.

Jessie whispered hoarsely, unsuccessfully fighting back tears, "Now, it is my turn to tell a story about something Granpop told me when he was very sick. I think it may have been during that same visit.

"Mom, do you remember what Grandpop always said about how you can tell if you've found a good man?"

Connie nodded. She could still feel Rick trembling. She continued lean against him and to hold his hand in both of hers, trying to pour all her love for him into the gesture in the hope it would comfort him.

"Tell it to them."

Connie recited something she learned as a teenager, "A good man has Honor, Pride, Dignity and Respect."

Jessie nodded, "And how do you know if a man has those things?"

Connie recited, "He has Honor if he tells the truth both about the easy things and the hard things. He has Pride if his weapon is well cared for; if he is not carrying a weapon, check the shine on his shoes. He has Dignity if he looks people directly in the eye regardless of their rank or station in life. He has Respect if he treats you like the most precious thing in the world. Never waste your time on a man who doesn't have all of those qualities."

Jessie smiled, "Very good, Mom. Grand pop beat those things into my head, too, and made me repeat them over and over just like he apparently did you. The last time I visited him, he made me recite them again. And then he added something new that I had never heard him say before. He said, 'If you can't remember all of that, I'll give you a sure-fire short-cut that absolutely will not steer you wrong.' I asked him what that was. He said, 'Just look for a man like your father.'"

Connie smiled at Jessie and nodded her agreement, still massaging Rick's hand.

Then she looked at Jeff and did some obvious mental calculations about when that conversation took place. She cocked her head, looked at Jessie and asked, "And how, pray tell, did you respond to the old bird?"

Jessie could tell that her mother had figured out that she had already met Jeff by the time that conversation took place. Jessie winked at her mother and replied softly, "I told him I had my eye on one who looked like he had possibilities."

No one had anything left to say. They were drained. The restaurant was closing. Rick paid the bill and they left in silence. When they arrived at the hotel, they said their good-nights quickly and retreated to their rooms.

Rick took off his clothes and fell into bed without saying a word. Connie crawled in beside him and put her arms around him. She let him quietly cry himself to sleep. Then she cried herself to sleep, too.

Chapter 14 – Christmas Day

The next day, they avoided heavy subjects. None of them had eaten much at dinner the night before, so they were ready for a big breakfast of sourdough pancakes.

As they finished their breakfast, Rick leaned toward Jeff and said pleasantly enough, "May I assume that somewhere along the line you intend to make an honest woman of my daughter?"

Jessie puffed up like a blowfish. Her mother's baleful look prevented an outburst.

Jeff replied evenly, "As a matter of fact, we've talked about it. A lot of the guys in my unit have been married around the time of the Marine Corps Birthday when we tend to congregate for the Ball. The reserve unit in Chicago has a large ball at the Waldorf. Jessie and I hope to get married at the chapel at the University of Chicago the morning of the Ball next year, assuming that can be arranged. We would be honored if you would not only attend the wedding but also attend the Ball with us."

He paused and added, "If we can't work it out to get married in November, we still hope to get married in Chicago."

Connie started to say something, but Rick interjected, "We would be delighted to attend wherever and whenever. If you can work it out to have your wedding coincide with the Ball, all the better. I owe my wife a Marine Ball."

Connie glared at him and said, "But the reunion..."

Rick waved his hand in her face in a dismissive gesture that was similar to the one she so often used, "Trust me. That was most assuredly not the same."

Jeff looked at Connie and Jessie. "A lot of the older guys in that Reserve unit are from the 5th. They'll be thrilled to have the daughter and granddaughter of Colonel Archer with us." He brightened. "In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if you they don't invite you to be our Honored Guest, Mrs. Rydell."

Rick reacted with a beatific smile, and then asked, "Jeff, is your grandfather still alive?"

"Yes, he is."

"Your grandmother?"

"No. She died several years ago."

"In that case, if you have no objections I would suggest that perhaps my wife should escort your grandfather to the Ball. It would be a privilege for me to serve as the honor guard for them. He will likely be the Oldest Marine."

Jeff grinned. "That would be a most satisfactory arrangement, Captain. If we can work it out, I would like to take you up on that offer. Thank you."

Jessie and Connie were both completely baffled by the entire conversation. The men just smiled.

Connie pushed back her plate and grinned at her family, and then shook her head, and said to Rick, "Captain Rydell, I have to confess, I am exceedingly disappointed in you."

He looked hurt for a moment but then realized she was teasing, so he went along, "What in the hell did I do – or not do – now?"

"You let that boy off way too easy. I was all set to watch you work him over like my dad did you."

He shuddered at the memory. They filled Jessie and Jeff in on a bit of Rick's conversation with Connie's dad that January so long ago. Rick said, "You know the thing I remember most about that was your mom. The whole time she looked like she was going to burst into tears. I was as mad at him for upsetting her as I was for him being such an asshole to me. I have to admit, mostly I was just scared shitless."

Connie laughed. "You dear, sweet man. My mother was not crying. She was trying desperately not to laugh. That whole scene was a set-up. While you were outside puking in the flowerbed, and I was screaming at my dad for being an asshole to you, my mom was practically rolling on the floor laughing. The whole thing was a little show my dad put on just because he felt he had to. I am pretty sure my dad was positively delighted to have you woo me, all but for the part about me not going away to school."

"He had a damned funny way of showing it. How did you know I threw up in the flower bed?"

"The next day my dad beat the dog for yakking in the yard. From the look on your face when you left the house I have always been pretty sure it wasn't the dog." They all laughed.

Connie said, "Well, in any case it seems to me you have abandoned tradition and accepted Jeff way too easily."

"You rolled over a lot easier than I thought you would, too."

"Yeah I know. I tried to hold out when I realized you were falling in love with him," she looked at Jeff and then turned back to Rick with a huge shrug, "but he's so damned adorable, what could I do?"

Jessie and Jeff looked into one another's eyes, and totally relaxed. They had received yet another Christmas blessing.

That lighthearted conversation set the tone for Christmas Day, which they spent sightseeing, walking miles and miles up and down the hills of San Francisco.

As evening fell they were very hungry. They considered whether to go back to the hotel and dress for dinner in a nice restaurant or simply pick up something casual. Rick and Connie looked at each other and yelled simultaneously. "Chinese!"

Jessie stamped her foot in the middle of the sidewalk and looked like she was ready to throw a tantrum. "No! Absolutely not! We go to Chinatown tomorrow, but not today. You two absolutely cannot be trusted."

They tried to look innocent but they kept giggling.

Jeff looked confused. Jessie explained. "Are you familiar with the movie 'A Christmas Story'?"

Jeff thought about it for a moment and then nodded but still didn't seem to understand. "Well, my otherwise quasi-sane parents, are goofy for that movie. They watch it over and over every year and they laugh until they cry. They both know all the dialog and recite it along with the actors. Every time we even go near a Chinese restaurant at Christmastime they burst into song."

Jeff brightened. He got the joke. "FA RA RA RA RA."

They all laughed. Jessie shook her head. "They cannot be trusted. We can eat anything but Chinese tonight."

Connie and Rick tried very hard to act offended, but they were laughing too hard and couldn't pull it off.

They decided on Italian. They were the only people in the restaurant, and the owners were delighted that they seemed to be settling in for a big meal and a lot of gabbing. The owners apparently hoped that would also involve selling a lot of food and wine. They were to be disappointed.

They stuffed themselves on pasta and garlic bread. At the end of the meal, Jeff asked for coffee, pushed back his plate and looked at Jessie and her parents. Jessie took a very deep, loud breath and put her hand on his arm. The mood at the table shifted dramatically.

Connie and Rick waited quietly for him to begin. He seemed to be having trouble getting started. Jessie took his hand between hers and said softly, "Go on."

Connie suddenly felt the need for some support, too, so she took Rick's hand.

Jeff looked from Jessie to her parents and started speaking softly, almost gently. "First of all, I want to thank you for accepting me so readily into your family. Jessie warned me that I could be in for a rough time. She said that she thought you two believed that nobody would be good enough for her. I think I agree with that. Nobody is good enough for her." He looked at Jessie with shining eyes filled with love. "But I am determined to try to grow into the role.

"Mrs. Rydell, you spoke last night about the blessings that our conversation brought to your family. I was blessed by it too, and I would like to elaborate if you don't mind.

"You spoke about the down-side to the military and the aftermath of heroism. That's very important and I'm glad you brought it up. For one thing, I wish my mother had known you or someone like you. I wish another woman had told her the things your mother passed on to you and that you have begun to share with Jessie. When my dad came home from Vietnam, he was very seriously wounded, not physically, but emotionally. Post-traumatic stress is a terrible thing, and my family didn't believe in psychiatrists. My granddad is a wonderful man, but his answer to dad's trauma was to 'suck it up and be a man.'

"My mom didn't know how to help him, either. Mom and Dad fought bitterly for years and finally divorced. Today, she hates him. He hates her and pretty much everything and everybody else. Fifty four thousand Americans died in Vietnam. Hundreds of thousands were physically wounded. I believe that virtually every one of the millions of people who served there came back with some deep emotional wounds. Many, like my dad, have never recovered.

"I joined the Corps because my grandfather inspired me to do so. My dad has barely spoken to me since, and when he does speak to me, what he says usually isn't very nice.

"As you correctly pointed out, Captain Rydell, my grandfather served in a war to save the world. The men who served in WWII were treated like heroes when they returned, whether they deserved it or not. They came home and built a new America. What we don't hear about in that generation are the stories about the deserters, the thieves, the murderers, and the baby-killers that were among the American soldiers. I have read some of the investigative transcripts. They're not happy reading.

"The generation that went to Vietnam had a different experience. You came home to a nation that was at war with itself, and you were the lightning rods. Even the older veterans didn't completely accept you into the Brotherhood. In my home town the WWII vets tried to keep the Vietnam vets out of the VFW. To his credit, my grandfather welcomed them, although he never was able to understand why they were so damaged.

"My dad could never get Gramps to understand how awful it was to come home from being in combat for 18 months, where the guerrilla war tactics were such that even when the guys were at their bases somebody could come in and blow themselves up in the canteen. These days people forget that suicide bombers are nothing new.

"You returned to the US and were welcomed by your fellow citizens throwing blood on your uniforms and calling you a baby-killers." Connie could feel Rick trembling violently. She wished Jeff would move on.

As if he heard her, he added quickly, "I'm sorry to bring that up, sir.

"The fact is, in some cases there was truth in those allegations. In every war, and Vietnam was no exception, there have been soldiers who commit crimes. The soldiers who fought in Vietnam didn't know why they were there. They often didn't know who their enemy was. They couldn't trust anybody. A lot of them took drugs. My Lai was not the only atrocity in Vietnam. I've read some of the investigations and trial transcripts. They are awful.

"What America doesn't understand, however, is that there was probably as much pure, unadulterated balls-out heroism in Vietnam as there was in WWII. I've witnessed too many instances where even today Vietnam veterans are treated like second class soldiers in the military. Too often as civilians they have been treated as little better than criminals. I have the distinct impression that you've experienced that kind of treatment, Captain Rydell. On behalf of the Corps and all Vets, I regret that; I sincerely do. As far as I'm concerned some of the finest officers I served under were Vietnam vets. I've never been anything but proud to serve with them.

He looked directly at Rick. "Some of the finest human beings I know are Vietnam vets.

"I joined the Corps because my grandfather convinced me that every generation is required to guard the freedoms our fore-fathers died for. I believed him. Amazingly enough, given my present disillusionment with America, I guess something in me still does believe that. God only knows how I can possibly cling to the tattered shreds of that conviction, but I do.

"I ended up in the JAG corps instead of combat. Sometimes I have thought about transferring to the infantry. Very often I wished the Corps would just give me a weapon and point me at an enemy, any enemy! That would seem preferable to my job.

"I've followed the military around the world, dealing with what happens when soldiers go bad. Fortunately, most of the time I have served as a prosecutor. I've prosecuted deserters, rapists, thieves, and murderers. Other officers lead good soldiers into battle and try to bring them back alive. It seems to be my lot to have to deal with the dregs of the military. Some of them have been Marines. These days when I hear the Marine Corps Hymn I can't help but think of all the Marines I've encountered who have not 'kept their honor clean' and don't 'deserve the title of United States Marines' – or in some cases even 'human being'. It sickens me.

"Occasionally I was assigned to serve as a defense attorney for some asshole. I hated that. The military does not bring charges against its own unless it absolutely has to. I never once defended an accused soldier who was innocent. I can't remember a case where there were even any mitigating circumstances. Most of the time instead of defending them I wanted to tell the court to simply toss the bastard in the brig and throw away the key.

"In Iraq, I learned things about the dark side of America that gives me nightmares today.

"For the last year in Iraq at least, I wanted nothing more than to resign my commission and walk away from the Corps. One terrible day, after reviewing the file on a particularly dreadful case, I actually considered deserting. I wanted to just get on a plane and go to Canada or some other civilized country. I could almost understand why my father hates the Corps so much.

"The whole focus of military training is to train soldiers to obey and to kill the Enemy. When the war is over or when something goes wrong, the military tends to leave people high and dry with no support. When soldiers commit crimes, the military tries its damnedest to cover it up. If it can't do that, it wants a quick prosecution and a quiet conviction.

"Instead of deserting, I decided to hide out in the Reserves for as long as my grandfather lives. He's so proud of his Lt. Colonel grandson, I couldn't face telling him that I wanted to bale out. It was my intention to resign my commission as soon as he dies."

He paused and drew a ragged breath. Jessie bowed her head and Connie could see tears falling into Jessie's lap. Jessie leaned her head against Jeff's shoulder. Connie's heart ached for them both. She noticed his use of the past tense. She could feel Rick sit up straighter next to her. He evidently caught that as well.

"In recent months, I've wondered if that was the right thing to do, but I was so busy mounting my campaign to capture Jessie's heart and getting acclimated to practice of law in a civilian setting, I managed to keep the wolves of doubt at bay. Last night's conversation let them out. Jessie and I sat up all night talking.

"One reason the Vietnam vets were treated badly by the military was because the military has never been honest about its own dark side even before Vietnam." He looked at Rick. "You guys were the first soldiers ever to go to war on television. That was the first time the public got to see what combat is really like. It wasn't your fault that war isn't like a John Wayne movie. It isn't right that you got blamed for disillusioning America.

"Today, the government and the military would have America believe that the men and women in our military are all heroes fighting for some glorious cause in a faraway land. They most definitely are not. There are heroes among them, just as there are heroes in every war, and heroes who live in the civilian population, but the war in Iraq is a lot like Vietnam, and I hope that Vietnam vets will somehow come to understand that and will rally around the returning Iraq veterans. I think they are going to need all the support they can get. The situation over there is bad, and getting worse by the day. The soldiers are ill equipped, inadequately trained for the situation they find themselves in, and they hardly ever know who the Enemy is or where he is. There is no such thing as a safe place away from the battle zone. Suicide bombers and snipers are everywhere. The Enemy is hardly ever another military person in a uniform. The Enemy is often old people, women and even small children. The soldiers live in a constant state of alert and they are always afraid. It's a lot like stories I have heard about Vietnam.

"It's like Vietnam in another significant way. It's wrong for us to be there. The soldiers know that. That hurts morale, as you might expect. But, like their fathers who went to Vietnam, for the most part they stay and they fight and do what they can because that's what they promised to do when they signed on to be soldiers. America asked them to lay their bodies on the line, so they do. I hope and pray that every president and secretary of defense who has ever sent American men and women into harm's way for no good reason will answer for it in some way or another. The service men and women in Iraq are just doing their jobs. It isn't up to them to determine whether it's a just war or not. Whatever the hell the conflict is about is not clear, at least not to me.

"But, I'm a soldier, too, and it's not up to me to decide whether the war is a just war or not. It doesn't matter whether I understand it or agree with it.

"America blamed the Vietnam vets for doing their jobs. I fear that America will turn on the Iraq veterans also once it sinks in to the general population how wrong this war really is."

He took another deep breath. "As in every war, there are certain soldiers who don't do their jobs or who prey on others in some way or another. The government gives the military the privilege of policing itself. It is the military's obligation to do just that."

Connie had figured out where this was headed already. She and Jessie locked eyes across the table. Along with Jessie's obvious pain Connie could see the shadow of an amused look. Jessie had heard a similar speech recently. Connie suddenly understood who those "people" were who loved the Constitution like she did. Her eyes filled with tears. The women held one another's gaze as the painful words continued.

"I wasn't cut out for practicing law in a big firm like Pickering & Hart. I took that job because Jessie was there, and it gave me the opportunity to throw myself at her on a daily basis. My campaign to capture Jessie's heart was a success, thank God." He kissed the top of her head as tears continued to drip into her lap. "Now that I have that out of the way, I have had to face the fact that I hate my job.

"When I consider what I should do next, one option keeps coming into my head. It's crazy, but I know it's what I need to do. I left Iraq with a job unfinished. It was my job to prosecute bad guys within the ranks of the American military, to punish them for their crimes as a deterrent to others. It was my job as an officer to model the kind of behavior that befits a real Marine. There are a lot of confused kids over there who need leaders. There are a lot of leaders in our country who are confused.

"I find myself not confused about a couple of important things: First, I think the war is wrong, but that isn't up to me.

"Second, I feel as though I abandoned my post; that is up to me. There is a job to be done over there for which I am uniquely qualified because my country sent me to school and trained me to do it. It may be the miserable work of dealing with the dregs of the military, but it's my job.

"The Corps has offered to promote me to full Colonel and assign me to a post as a chief judge in the military court for the Iraq theater of operations." He laughed ruefully. "At least instead of trying to defend the indefensible, I will have the opportunity to throw some of the bastards in the brig. I'd like to think that somehow we can redeem some of them. If we can't, at least we'll do the right thing by punishing them for their crimes."

He sighed. "When we return to Chicago, I intend to resign from Pickering & Hart and take the Corps up on its offer. I wish I could offer Jessie a better future than that of an officer's wife, but I think that it's important for her and for you to know that appears to be what she's in for if she persists in choosing life with me."

There was no doubt in anyone's mind from Jessie's erect body and tear-drenched cheeks what choice she had made. She tore her eyes from her mother's face and turned to meet Jeff's gaze with radiant love.

After a respectful silence, Rick offered a tongue in cheek affirmation. He said, softly with a twinkle, "That's just what this family needs, another full-bird Colonel to drive everybody crazy." But the pride in his eyes as he said it belied his words.

Then he added the magic words, "If you believe that's what you have to do, we will all absolutely support your decision, son."

The gratitude and love in the eyes of both young people as they stared back at him filled Connie with pride .... and broke her heart.

It seemed she would send a son to war after all.

She and Jessie looked into one another's eyes, and shared the odd mixture of pride and pain only women who love soldiers can know.

Chapter 15 – A Visit in January

Jeff received orders to leave for Iraq by the third week in January. The family joked about how the Corps had managed to put that move into high gear when so often it seemed to take forever to implement decisions. The entire family was delighted that Jeff had succeeded in negotiating an agreement with the Corps to allow for a leave in early November so he and Jessie could be married in Chicago on the occasion of the Birthday Ball.

The weekend before he was to leave for Iraq, Jessie and Jeff visited her parents. They arrived mid-morning on Saturday and planned to drive back to Chicago on Sunday. Jessie spent the day on Saturday showing Jeff around Indianapolis. Connie pulled out all the culinary stops for dinner with thick steaks and all the fixin's. Cold as it was, they fired up the kettle grill outside on the patio to grill the steaks. Jessie and Jeff laughed at Connie and Rick, standing on the patio, bundled up in coats. Rick held up a flashlight, shining its light on the steaks as Connie turned them.

Jeff asked, "Are they always like that?"

Jessie shrugged, waved her arm and said, "They are hopelessly nuts, but you've just gotta love 'em. Actually as much as they would like you to think they started this grilling in the wintertime nonsense, they didn't. Mom's parents used to do it all the time. Grandpop loved his charcoal grilled steaks and he couldn't make it all the way from fall to spring without them, so Gram would sometimes stand out in the snow grilling him steaks! If possible, those two were even crazier than my parents, which is saying a lot."

He put his arm around her and said, "I hope we're just like them."

She leaned against him and listened to her father bitching at her mother to hurry up so they could go inside out of the cold, and whispered, "Be careful what you wish for!"

Dinner was an unqualified success, followed by a few hands of poker. They played for toothpicks. Jessie won every hand but two and her mother won those two. The men professed to be duly and properly humiliated, with a few remarks thrown in by Rick about hustling women taking advantage of poor, honest Marines. The party broke up early.

Connie and Jessie got up hours before dawn as was their custom. Connie planned to make sourdough pancakes for breakfast. Jessie set the table. Jeff got up about 8:00 a. m. The three of them talked for a while. Finally, Connie stood up and started the griddle. "I am going to go drag Rick's ass out of bed..."

Jessie interrupted, "... before lunchtime. We know."

Connie rolled her eyes, and ran lightly up the steps, encountering Rick on his way down. The pancakes disappeared as fast as Connie could take them off the griddle. They were all stuffed and happy when Jeff leaned back in his chair, patted his stomach and said, "First time I come home on leave, I want to come here for breakfast and I want this again."

Connie positively glowed, "You're on!"

They were all quiet for a while. No one wanted to leave the table. They picked at crumbs, fiddled with coffee cups and pushed silverware around.

Rick suddenly pushed back from the table, picked up all the plates and dumped them in the sink. He put the coffee pot in the middle of the table and sat back down. He looked slowly from Connie to Jessie to Jeff. He and Jeff looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. There was much to be said between them and no words to say it. Finally Rick said, "In what I have begun to consider to be our family tradition of inappropriate story-telling that ruins perfectly good meals, I'd like to tell you a story of my own.

"I've been thinking about this ever since Christmas. Connie laid into Jeff pretty hard for not telling the end of her dad's story. I guess in retaliation for the skunking the males took here at poker last night, I owe it to her to turn the tables and call her on the fact that she left off the ending to the story she told you that night as well. I intend to rectify that right now.

"We've told you enough about our courtship to let you know what a hard time the Old Man gave me at first, but once he gave us permission to date, things moved pretty fast. In January 1975, Connie's parents gave us permission to date. We were engaged by Valentine's day. We planned to marry the weekend after she graduated in June." Jeff's eyebrows went up.

"There is a long story that precedes this one. You should ask Connie to tell that one another time; she owes it to you both. At this point, suffice it to say that our courtship wasn't as fast as it sounds. Connie and I had known each other forever. There was no need to get acquainted. We were in love. We wanted to get married quickly, so we did. Interestingly, the Colonel and Mrs. Archer never even batted an eye about it."

Connie interjected quietly, "That particular episode of bloodletting took place outside of your presence."

He replied, "You won two arguments with the Colonel?"

"Two arguments over you. Both times I had him over a barrel and he knew it." She patted his hand.

Rick went on, "Anyway, our wedding was scheduled for Saturday, June 14, 1975. I lived in an apartment in Indianapolis. Connie was going to move in with me after we were married. In the meantime, I spent most weekends and many nights during the week either at the Barnes' or sometimes bunking in David's old room at the Archers on the rare occasions when I could talk my way into a week-night date with Connie. It made for a long drive to work in the mornings, but some evenings I just couldn't tear myself away."

"April, as you might imagine was positively hellish in my job at the Speedway. In preparation for the 500, we typically worked 18 hour days starting in early-April and often I never had a day off from the first of April until the after Memorial Day weekend. Everybody in Marketing took their vacation in June. None of us ever went anywhere; we mostly just collapsed at home. That worked out perfectly with the wedding plans we had made. I figured it would get me out of virtually all of the womanly fussing and shopping, and I would be rested and relaxed for the ceremony and our honeymoon in Mexico. That was the plan anyway.

"Then came April 30, 1975." Jessie did not react, but Jeff blanched.

Rick nodded, "You know what that date means, don't you, son?"

Jeff nodded.

Rick turned to Jessie, "Beginning on April 30 and into the next day, the City of Saigon fell to the North Vietnamese Army. Vietnam was totally lost to the communists. The Marines guarding the American Embassy compound in Saigon oversaw an evacuation that was unbelievable. He may not be particularly proud of the fact but your future father-in-law was part of that." He shuddered.

"Anyway, the whole god-damned mess was televised live. I was at work when the first pictures came in. Somebody told somebody who told my boss. Busy as we were, he sent me home. He knew I wouldn't be able to function that day.

"I sat on the floor in my apartment with my face against the TV for several hours. I wanted to cry and wail, but I couldn't. All I could do was watch. I couldn't help those Marines, but by God I could sit there and be with them. I was devastated. Everything we had worked for ... all the lost lives, and damaged forever ... all the suffering so many people had endured all those years turned out to be for nothing! In the 36 months I was in Vietnam, five of my men died in my arms. More than 30 were wounded, some seriously. I spent months in the hospital myself. And it had all been a total waste. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. All I could do was sit there and watch in horror.

"For one thing, I was so damned proud of those Marines who were handling the evacuation. They were in an impossible situation. They were scared, surrounded and totally overwhelmed by panicked people trying to climb aboard their choppers. Those guys were tough and strong and they did what they had to do. They were there to help the people as best they could, but they couldn't help everybody. They couldn't take all the people who had worked for the Americans. To avoid overloading the choppers, they had to literally beat people off the runners with the butts of their rifles. I had seen more blood and gore in combat. I had never seen anything that shocked me as much as watching the United States Marines retreating from Vietnam and leaving behind so many people who would probably die later that day because they had helped us.

"As awful as it was, I couldn't make myself move. I simply sat there and watched.

"Suddenly I heard a commotion in the hall. Maybe somebody knocked. Maybe it was just people talking. I am not sure. I couldn't rouse myself to open the door. I just continued to sit there watching the TV.

"Then, I heard a familiar voice say, 'You're either going to unlock that door, or I'm going to break it down. It's your choice, but I'm going in there after than young man.

"The door swung open and Connie came into the room, followed by both of her parents. As I learned later, Mrs. Archer saw the news on the TV and called the Old Man at his office. He called my office and they told him that I had gone home. He left immediately and picked up Connie from school. They stopped for Mrs. A and then bested all land speed records between their house and my apartment in Indy.

"While Connie sat on the floor and held me, her parents threw some clothes into a bag and unceremoniously announced that they were taking me home with them. Somehow they got me on my feet. Connie led me to her dad's car. Mrs. Archer followed in my car. I stretched out in the back seat of the Colonel's Ford with my head in Connie's lap. I ranted and raved and swore all the way from Indianapolis to their house. Both Connie and her father told me later they thought they learned some new swear words that day. I didn't believe them because they both could always out-cuss me. Connie still can." He patted Connie's hand. Everybody at the table smiled, just for a second.

"Almost immediately after supper, Connie put me to bed in David's old room. She sat in a chair by the bedside and held my hand until I went to sleep.

"I'd suffered from some nightmares when I was in the hospital, but had not had a problem with night terrors after that. I had flashbacks in the daytime sometimes, and had developed some weird phobias, but I thought I had escaped the worst of the post-traumatic disorders that plagued so many Vets I knew. The night terrors caught up with me that night.

"Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up screaming and I couldn't stop. Connie flew into the room, jumped in bed and held me in her arms, rocking me, cooing to me, kissing me, stroking my face and arms. She held me so tight it almost hurt, and she whispered non-stop nonsense, not words just sounds to calm me. Still I couldn't stop screaming.

"There was a piece of my mind that was sort of lucid while the rest of my mind was a blackness of total panic. That lucid part of my mind was embarrassed that I had lost control like that. That part of my mind saw the Colonel and Connie's mom, standing in the doorway. I willed myself to stop, but the screaming – which seemed to be coming from someplace else – continued. The old man started to enter the room but Mrs. A pulled him back into the hall. She looked at us with the saddest expression I have ever seen before or since.

"She pushed the Old Man into the hall and said, 'Leave them alone. God knows, she knows what to do. She's been through it with me enough times.' Just before she left the room she turned to Connie and said, 'I'll make the coffee, sweetheart.'

"Connie was singing some wordless tune directly into my ear with one arm around my neck and the other hand stroking my arm. I felt her nod her head in response.

"After that, they were gone and Connie continued her efforts to calm me down. The song she sang was a wordless tune she later sang to Jessie when she fussed as a baby. Eventually I went back to sleep. When I woke later, Connie was in bed with me. She never moved back into her own room.

"It should go without saying, but in the interest of upholding my wife's honor, I will tell you that the Colonel's presence down the hall with the pistol by his bed and the Marine saber on the wall made certain all we did was sleep between the episodes of terror during those next few weeks. Total exhaustion helped.

I went to work and worked 16-18 hours a day. Then I drove back to the Archer's and crawled into bed beside Connie, who was usually already asleep. After only a few hours sleep, we got up and had breakfast with her mother. I drove to work and began another long day. I was so exhausted that I had relatively few nightmares in the ensuing weeks. Most of the time, Connie would feel me start to thrash around, which signals the onset of the nightmare. She would wake me up and then put me back to sleep. Most of the time she could head off the screaming terrors before they got started. In a very short time, she looked as exhausted as I felt.

"We drastically cut back the wedding plans because neither of us had the energy to go through with a big party. Mrs. A was disappointed because she loved nothing better than to plan parties, but it didn't seem appropriate to throw too much of a celebration with all of us being such a mess.

"I think the Colonel was almost as devastated by the downfall of Vietnam as I was. America had never lost a war. He didn't know how to take that. He and I spent many evenings that summer watching the news and crying in our beer.

"I stayed with Connie's family until our wedding. After that, Connie moved into my apartment in Indy. We, or perhaps I should say she battled my night terrors for years. For a long time they came several times a week. Sometimes several times a night. After a while they became less and less frequent. I still have occasional terrors, especially if I've been under a lot of stress. Connie knows the signs so well, she can almost always stop the nightmares before the screaming starts.

"Interestingly, I used to travel on business. At first I was very nervous about that. I was afraid I would have a nightmare on the road. I didn't know how to stop them on my own. But, you know, I never once did. I would almost always have an episode within a few days of coming home from a trip, but I never had a nightmare when I was alone in a hotel. It' as though my subconscious knows when it is safe to let go and when it isn't. I've heard other people who suffer from nightmares say similar things. My subconscious seems to know it's only totally safe to totally lose control in Connie's presence.

"Connie's care for me was always effective, but it wasn't always gentle. When Jessie was a baby, she went through a colicky spell. Connie had already gone back to work, over everybody's objections, I might add. One particular night that stands out to me, it took her hours to get Jessie to go to sleep. Shortly after Connie finally collapsed into our bed, I started thrashing around with the beginnings of a nightmare. Usually when that happened, Connie would hold me and stroke me and murmur comforting things until I went back to sleep.

That night she jumped on top of me and pinned me down like a wrestler. She put her mouth against my ear and positively hissed. "If you wake that baby I will stop that nightmare by strangling you with my bare hands, I promise you. I need some sleep and so do you. You are OK. I am here. Go to sleep. NOW!" She draped her body across mine as though protecting me from incoming artillery, and instantly fell asleep. I stayed awake for hours, afraid to move or to disturb her. I think I was afraid of what she would do to me if I woke her up.

"At some ungodly hour in the morning, she got up, apologized for being mean, kissed me, nursed the baby, made breakfast and left for work by 7:30 a. m.

"In recent weeks, we've talked a lot about heroes. We left out a few. We left out the ones who send their children and husbands off to war, and who stay behind praying and worrying alone in their rooms with no one to comfort them. The ones who were there for us when we came back and who helped us pick up the pieces of our lives. The ones who put up with our bullshit on a daily basis, bear our children, cook our meals and still somehow, for some unknown and unbelievable reason, love us.

"My history buff wife and daughter have often reminded me that Mrs. Adams told her husband, the President, not to forget the ladies when making policy decisions. I think it's important in our stories of heroes to remember our heroines. They are invisible and unsung. They don't receive medals or memorials. They're so close to us we sometimes don't see how great they are."

He looked at Connie with love. She was, uncharacteristically, not weeping. She had reached that place that was "too deep for tears."

Rick then turned to Jeff and added, "Based on her pedigree, I would venture to say you've picked a winner, too."

Jeff covered Jessie's hands with his and then looked with glowing admiration from her to her mother and back, "I couldn't agree more, Captain."

Chapter 16 - Marine Corps Birthday

After Jeff left for Iraq, Jessie visited her parents often on the weekends. She missed Jeff, and took comfort in going home where her parents pampered and spoiled her. They all communicated with Jeff by email on an almost daily basis. He wrote long, wonderful missives to Connie and Rick which they read to one another and to Jessie. No one was surprised that she didn't share the messages she received from him.

Shortly after Jeff shipped out, Jessie left Pickering & Hart and took a job with a small boutique firm that specialized in veteran's issues. She worked exclusively on matters involving the odd sicknesses that the veterans of the Gulf War were experiencing. The pay was about half what she had made at Pickering & Hart, but she loved her job. She often felt that by helping her clients navigate the bureaucratic nightmare that was the VA, she was doing her part to support her husband. Like her mother, she had found her niche in the legal profession.

Connie worked furiously on her book, which turned out to be much labor intensive than she had anticipated. She also continued to do volunteer work for the League of Women Voters and, during tax season, she volunteered, with other CPA's and tax advisors, at local libraries providing free tax assistance to the poor and elderly in her community. She had never been happier.

In March, Rick missed a VFW meeting and the membership took advantage of his absence to elect him Commander. He took the job seriously and launched a campaign to revive the flagging post by reaching out to the Gulf War Vets and the soldiers returning from Afghanistan and Iraq.

Somehow the long months passed, and November rolled around at last.

There were five weddings on the calendar at the University of Chicago chapel on the day Jessie and Jeff 's wedding was scheduled for 9:00 a. m. Connie got up early as usual and went for a walk through the deserted and frigid streets of Chicago. When she returned to the hotel, she found Rick fully dressed in his Blues, and ready to go. She showered and dressed with her typical dispatch and joined him in the lobby. They took a cab to the chapel.

The wedding was elegant and simple. Connie and Rick exited from the chapel ahead of the bridal couple. Two ranks of Marines with sabers drawn stood at parade rest outside. The C.O. looked at Rick who nodded. As one, the Marines raised their sabers and Rick and Connie marched out under their canopy.

Connie whispered, "Were they supposed to do that?"

Rick answered, "I have owed that one to the Old Man for a very long time."

At that moment, Jeff and Jessica appeared in the doorway. He took his hat from under his arm and set it on his head, just so. She radiated joy in lace, with a bouquet of lilies of the valley cascading from her waist to her knees. Connie thought she had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. The newlyweds walked under the gleaming sabers and approached Connie and Rick. The men saluted one another. The women embraced.

They planned to meet in the hotel bar before the Ball.

Connie and Rick spent the day sightseeing in Chicago. It was bitterly cold even in early November, but they bundled up and walked as long as they could stand it. When they got cold, they hopped in a cab to warm up.

At one point in the late morning, they passed the hospital where Connie's father had received cancer treatments. Connie didn't even notice. Rick asked the taxi-driver to stop. He paid the driver, and got out. Connie followed along, confused. Rick marched into the lobby and turned to Connie.

"What is his name?"

Connie looked at him in bewilderment. "Who?"

Rick looked at her impatiently and said, "The Vietnamese oncologist."

Tears sprang to her eyes. "I don't know. Daddy didn't tell me. I was so overcome by the story, I don't think I even asked his name. I'm so sorry."

He shrugged. "How many Vietnamese oncologists can there be at this hospital? Wait here."

He went to the main desk and spoke for a while with the person on duty. He obviously was not getting anywhere and asked to speak with a supervisor. He spoke patiently with that person also. In a few minutes, a third person joined them. That lady handed him a piece of paper. He wrote something down, and returned to Connie's side.

"Let's go."

They hopped a cab and continued on their tour of the city. Connie asked him what happened. He told her that Dr. Herbert was not on duty that day. The manager he spoke to promised to relay his message to the doctor.

Connie hoped that the manager would keep her promise.

After lunch, they returned to the hotel in time for a nap, showers and dressing for the Ball. Rick asked Connie if she wanted to go first. She said no. She told him to get dressed and then get the hell out of her way.

Rick dressed carefully and waited in the bar where many other Marines were congregating. He found Jeff, and the two men amiably sipped beers. Amazingly, Jessie was ready even before her mother. She had changed from her white lace wedding dress to a stunning blue off-the-shoulder evening gown that accentuated her amble bosom and small waist, and matched Jeff's dress uniform perfectly. Her joy was palpable. As she practically floated across the room to meet her new husband there was a ripple of appreciative murmuring. Jeff silenced it with a glower. She kissed her husband and her father and asked for a glass of wine.

A few minutes later, the bar fell silent. Rick, Jessie and Jeff turned to see Connie standing in the doorway, a goddess in ivory satin with aurora Borealis beading afire across the bodice. The dress showed off her straight, narrow shoulders and small waist, and then it cascaded to a full skirt with just a hint of a train. Her bearing was nothing less than regal. Rick caught his breath.

Connie glided across the room and smiled radiantly at the family group. Jeff grinned, "Captain Rydell, I think we are the two luckiest men at the Ball tonight."

Rick looked at Jessie and then at Connie, "Hell, Colonel, I think we are the two luckiest men in America tonight."

About that time a Marine lieutenant walked up to the group and said to Connie, "Are you Mrs. Rydell?"

"Yes."

"Ma'am, I have the privilege of advising you that you are our Honored Guest tonight."

Rick and Jeff grinned at each other.

Connie whispered to Rick, "What does that mean?"

"I'll explain later," he replied.

About that time, Jeff's grandfather entered the room. The Rydells had met him that morning at the wedding. At 85, he was feeble, but alert. Jeff's mother followed her ex-father-in-law. She was radiant in royal blue. His father wore his lieutenant's uniform, which was very tight but at least buttoned. He seemed very uncomfortable, but he was there. Connie was grateful that Jeff's parents had called a truce in their personal wars in order to share this day with him. Connie greeted them each warmly.

Someone handed the elderly man a drink. There was laughing and joking all around. Soon someone mentioned that it was time to go to the ballroom. Rick moved forward and took the old man's arm. He leaned forward so the hard-of-hearing old guy could understand him. "Sergeant, I would like to present your escort for the evening, my wife, Constance Rydell."

The old man looked at her with naked appreciation, and arched his eyebrows, "Captain, you wouldn't be so free with your lovely wife if I were younger, I presume."

"Probably not, sir. However, it seems appropriate that you should be escorted to the Ball by Colonel Bernard Archer's daughter." Jeff and Rick had conspired not to mention Connie's pedigree to Jeff's grandfather before that moment. The old man's eyes opened wide. Huge tears welled up but did not quite spill over. He took Connie's hand and kissed it formally.

"I am here today because your father saved my life."

The bar fell silent. Connie stood as tall as she could and said, "Sir, it will be a privilege to escort you to the Ball."

The old man looked around and asked his grandson, "Am I the Oldest Marine?"

His grandson said, "I think so. I'll check."

Before they left the room, Rick whispered to Connie, "Follow instructions very carefully."

As others drifted into the room, two lieutenants stood guard over their small group. Soon an active-duty enlisted man joined them. They chatted amiably. He was on leave from Iraq. His dad was a Reserve officer who dragged him to the Ball more or less against his will.

While the others chatted, Rick pulled Connie aside and showed her a script for the Ceremony. She scanned it quickly and grinned, "I guess I didn't really experience a Marine Ball at that reunion, did I?"

He said, "Hardly. And you'll now experience a Marine Ball as the Honored Guest. I think your father must be doing back flips in his grave."

She grinned. In addition to the Old Man doing back flips, she knew her Mom was in ecstasy in a special corner of heaven. Connie rarely wore perfume, but she had purchased a bottle of Estée Lauder for the occasion in honor of her mother.

Soon, it was time to begin the ceremony. Jeff and Jessie were not participants, so they went into the ballroom and took their places at the table with his mother and father.

The honor guard assembled and the Special Guests prepared to enter the room. The ranking officer was a brigadier general who had served in the first Gulf War. He introduced himself, paying special attention to Connie and Sgt. Burger. As they lined up, Sgt. Burger said, "I don't want to use this walker. Mrs. Rydell, do you mind if I lean on you."

She grinned, "You lean all you need to, Sir."

Rick moved in close on his other side and unobtrusively took the old man's elbow. Between Connie holding him up on one side and Rick on the other, the old man walked across the ballroom without a walker.

They proceeded slowly into the ballroom following the Ranking Officer.

The scene was exactly like her mother's picture of the Marine Ball in San Diego. Rank on rank of gorgeous men in their dress blues, accompanied by glittering women, stood around the room. Connie felt her mother's Presence in the room, and understood why these events were so special to her mother. To be honest, it was not Connie's cup of tea, but it was the kind of thing her mother had lived for. Connie was thrilled to experience it this once, under such special circumstances. Even as she glided proudly across the ballroom as the Honored Guest, she knew once would be more than enough for her.

The ceremony participants arranged themselves in accordance with the program. They turned to watch a contingent of Marines bringing in the birthday cake.

The ranking officer made an opening statement introducing Connie as the Honored Guest. A cheer rose from the crowd. He then introduced Sgt. Burger as the Oldest Marine. There was another huge cheer. Finally he introduced the youngest Marine. As an active duty Marine who would soon be headed back to combat; he got the largest ovation of all.

The officer read a message from the Commandant of the Corps then he read a speech by Commandant LeJeune from 1919.

A Marine cut the cake with a Mamluke sword. He handed Connie the first piece. She passed it to Sgt. Burger, who passed it to the private. The Marine handed her the second piece, which she passed to the Sgt. Burger. The Marine handed her the third piece, which she kept.

They played the slow version of the Marine Hymn. Every Marine in the ballroom was standing at perfect attention. The women, too, stood tall and proud, especially Connie.

Connie was transported to her childhood, sitting on her father's lap. Her father could not sing a note, but he loved the words to the Marine Corps Hymn. He taught her the words to all the verses, without the music. He taught her to say them slowly and meaningfully, almost like a prayer.

Connie looked around. Tears rolled down many a cheek, sparkling like diamonds in the bright lights. Somehow, she managed to keep her own emotions in check.

The ranking officer finished his remarks and encouraged everyone to enjoy the Ball. The Special Guests retreated across the floor. She and Rick were all but carrying Sgt. Burger by the time they reached the entrance. When they reached the foyer, the old guy began to weep openly. He hugged and kissed Connie and then he thanked Rick, first with a salute and then a bear hug. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that this Ceremony had meant the world to him. The Oldest Marine went off to bed. They all knew they would attend his funeral before long, but they were comforted to know he would die a totally happy man.

The Rydells joined Jessie and Jeff and the rest of the Burgers at their table.

The music began and Connie whirled around the floor in the arms of her husband. Every now and then, she caught a glimpse of her gorgeous daughter twirling in the arms of her new husband. They were so wonderfully young and in love! Connie smiled. She hoped that someday Jessie would be blessed with the opportunity to watch her own children fall in love.

She sagged against Rick.

"You're tired, aren't you?"

She chuckled, "I passed tired hours ago. I am completely overwhelmed. Fact is, I have decided that the Marine Ball is a lot like champagne. I like the idea of it better than the reality. And a little goes a very long way with me."

"Let's blow this joint."

"You sure you don't mind?"

"Absolutely not. We accomplished what we came here for. You got your Marine Ball, and then some. Honored Guest, indeed! We launched a marriage that I have every reason to believe may be as spectacular as ours. You know, we could die tonight and it would be okay. I'm tired, too. I still hate Chicago. I want to go home."

She leaned against him. "I am not 100% sure I believe that. I think you're just telling me that so I won't feel bad about making you leave a party early, but since you offered I'm going to take you up on it."

They caught Jessie's eye and waved. She blew them a kiss. They said good night to Jeff's family. Connie was gratified to note that they appeared to be having a good time or at least putting up the appearance for Jeff and Jessie's sake.

The couple walked across the lobby slowly, with their arms around each other. They appeared to be what they were: an almost-elderly couple, tired and wrung out after a long, emotional day.

A man stood up from a couch in the lobby and watched them for a minute. He stared hard at Rick and then walked up to them, and asked, "Are you Captain Rydell?"

Rick looked startled for a moment. The man was a very small Oriental person with gray streaks in his hair. Rick said, "Yes. I'm guessing you would be Dr. Herbert."

"Yes. Patrick Herbert. I believe we've met before, sir."

"I believe we have."

Connie fought back tears. If those two were going to be dignified about this, she would too, but she was so tired and emotionally overwhelmed, it wouldn't be easy.

The two men simply stood there and looked at each other.

Rick said, "May I introduce my wife, Connie."

Dr. Herbert shook her hand and tilted his head, "Your father...?"

Connie smiled, "My father lived six months longer than his prognosis. He lived a good life and died well. Thank you for taking such good care of him."

"I've always had a special fondness for patients who are veterans. He stood out even among them. Such a card. He was not an easy patient. He drove the nurses nuts, but somehow we all loved him."

Connie laughed out loud, "That pretty much sums up the reaction everybody had to the Old Man. He was a pistol, but you just had to love him."

She looked from the tall Marine to the tiny doctor. "Let's get some coffee!"

They both grinned. Rick said, "Please excuse my wife. She should be hooked up to one of those IV bags that she could wheel around all day dispensing coffee. She lives on caffeine."

Dr. Herbert grinned back, "Don't tell anybody, but a lot of doctors do, too. Including yours truly. I would love some coffee!"

They went into the coffee shop and drew stares. The lovely woman in her elegant gown, the elderly Marine and the small Vietnamese man seemed out of place in the informal glare of the hotel coffee shop. Since they were oblivious to their surroundings, they didn't notice.

None of them showed any inclination to reminisce about the past. Connie was grateful for that. She was not up for a long story about Patrick's life. The men seemed to be satisfied with sharing a bit about their present lives. Patrick showed them a photo of his family. He had a lovely wife and two teen-aged boys in soccer uniforms. They told him about Jessie's wedding that morning. Soon, the conversation lagged. It was getting late.

Patrick pushed back his chair and then stopped. He pulled an old photo out of his wallet and handed it to Rick. "I have one question. Who is the woman in this photo and where was it taken?"

Connie looked at the photo over Ricks shoulder and burst out laughing. "You took her to the 500?"

Rick looked at her indignantly, "Yes, I did. And as a matter of fact, she – unlike you, my darling – loved it."

He looked at Patrick, "Li was my first wife. We were married in Vietnam, and divorced about three years later. We happened to be home on leave and I took her to the Indianapolis 500 in 1970. I took this picture of her that day."

"Do you know what happened to her?"

Rick's face clouded. "We divorced. Later she married a wonderful man in San Francisco. They ran a catering business in Sausalito for many years. They raised three beautiful daughters who are all married and have children. Li died last year of complications due to heart disease."

Patrick looked at the picture sadly. "I never had a photo of my mother. This lady looked enough like her that in my mind she somehow became my mother. I have no recollection of my birth father; he was a VC soldier who died when I was a baby. In a very real sense, the man who was this lady's husband gave me my life. While I lived in the orphanage, in my mind I somehow turned that man and this woman into my Vietnamese parents. My American parents are wonderful people and they gave me an opportunity to have the life I have today. I speak to them every day and tell them I love them. I try in every way I can to convey to them how grateful I am for the gift of our family. I have always longed for the opportunity to do the same for my Vietnamese parents."

Connie's emotional control was flagging, but the dignity with the doctor and the Marine faced each other kept her in check.

Patrick said simply, "Thank you."

Rick simply put his hand over the doctor's and said, "There was nothing else to be done."

They shook hands and parted in the lobby.

Rick and Connie went to their room in silence and crawled into bed. She snuggled close and put her head on his shoulder. Neither spoke or moved for a long time. Finally she felt his body relax. She thought he had fallen asleep. She started to relax too.

"You know you don't need to do that anymore."

"Yes I do."

"Why?"

"Because I can't sleep until I know you are okay."

He grunted. "I think that it is safe to say that in the past year and a half or so, you and I have knocked off all the demons that have disturbed my sleep. I think we can both sleep soundly from now on.... and you can quit clucking over me like a damned mother hen."

She clucked a couple of times and snuggled closer, "That's not likely to happen any time soon."

She snuggled even closer and whispered, "Have there ever been two luckier people in this world?"

He settled himself, gathered her into his arms and mumbled sleepily, "I seriously doubt it."

She wrapped her arms around him and murmured, "Now for the hard part. Mom always said getting old was not for wimps."

He pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, "We've come this far together, I think we can go the distance."

She whispered, giggling, "Semper Fi."

He murmured, "Something like that."

※ The End ※

**Meredith Morgan** is a pseudonym for an author who grew up in the Midwest and now lives in Florida.

Born at the apex of the Baby Boom wave in the mid 1950's, every time she thinks of some great new, original idea or plan, she knows that next week it will show up on the cover of "Time" Magazine as the "Next Big Thing." She exhibits all the narcissistic Boomer neuroses, plus a few extra just to make things interesting, all of which she pours into her writing.

She enjoys walking the beaches, cooking (in theory if not in actual practice), and collecting odd, unusual and utterly useless bits of knowledge.

Writing has been her animating passion since Mrs. Heil's fourth grade English class, but she only recently has begun to share her work.

Find her other books at:

Her website is at: http://sites.google.com/site/meredithrmorgan/home

She blogs about her work at: http://meredith-morgan.blogspot.com/
