Hidden Scars (22 page)

“I got ’em.” He took a drag from his cigarette.

I climbed onto the bench and sat beside him. “Why didn’t you write and let us know how you were doing?”

“What was there to tell? That I was still alive?” He smiled…except the smile never reached his blank, bloodshot eyes.

“That would have been nice…. Kyle, what’s wrong?”

His smile transformed to a scowl. “Why would there be anything wrong? I’ve spent twelve months fighting to stay alive. In the States, I’ve been cursed, spit on, and called a ‘baby killer’ for wearing a uniform. Idiots who don’t know a thing about Nam are marching and protesting.” He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “They don’t understand. I’m not sure I do anymore.”

Then as though he’d been drawn out of some kind of trance, he straightened and asked, “How’s Chuck?”

“He’s okay.” My voice trembled with excitement. “He’ll be home in a few weeks.”

“I hated to hear he got drafted. Man, that’s tough. I mean with everything you two have been through. I guess he’ll be headed to Nam next.”

“If God answers my prayers, he won’t.”

Kyle cocked his head and smirked. “Oh, he’s going. And you might as well get used to the idea. They didn’t draft him to stay in the States. They’ve got the Guard for that.”

Saliva flooded my mouth. My throat constricted, making it hard to swallow. I crossed my arms, dug my fingernails into the bare skin, and forced myself to ask, “What’s it like…?”

He stared at the ground while several minutes passed. What did he see? “You don’t want to know.”

His words sent an uncomfortable chill through me. I quickly change the subject. “How long will you be home?”

“I’m pulling out next week. Some buddies and I are meeting up.”

“But what about your family? Are you coming back before you have to leave again? Where will you be stationed next?”

The noise of a black GTO drew Kyle’s attention. “You better go, Morgan. Maybe I’ll catch up with you later.”

I slipped my hand in his. “Kyle, I don’t understand. What’s happened to you?”

He fixed his eyes on mine. “You can’t think about it too much and hold on to your sanity. There aren’t any answers.” He jumped off the table and weaved toward the black car. “I’ll be seeing you, Morgan. Tell my buddy to take care.”

He got in with the stranger and took off, leaving his car behind. The parked yellow Camaro brought back pictures of times past—Kyle laughing, sharing stories, even standing beside us the day Chuck and I got married. The car I’d watched leaving the park carried not one, but two, strangers. One of them only looked like someone I once knew.

Four weeks later, a light tap on the outside door awakened me.

“What in the world?” I mumbled and peeked at the clock. Six twenty-three. I tossed aside the covers and scooted out of bed, before easing the bedroom curtain back far enough to get a good look at the person on the steps.

“Chuck!” I whirled from the window, knocking the bedside lamp to the floor. It shattered in pieces, but I didn’t care. Avoiding pink glass shards, I raced toward another knock.

I swung the door open and lunged for him, wrapping arms around his neck and legs around his waist. “What are you doing here?”

He tossed his duffle bag inside. “Well, I was in hopes my wife still lived here. You are my wife, aren’t you? I wasn’t able to get a good look at you before being assaulted.” He placed his hands on both sides of my face and pressed his lips to mine.

I unwound my legs from his midsection and stood on my toes with our bodies pressed together. “How’d you get here? I thought I was supposed to meet you in Meridian tomorrow night.”

“I wanted to surprise you, so I took a bus. Marvin drove to Memphis this morning to get me. But we can talk later.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” He scooped me up in his arms, nudged the door closed with his shoulder, and headed for the bedroom. Even with all the crunching beneath his boots, he never took his eyes from mine.

The next day, I sat at my desk and stared at the calendar. Several rings of red ink circled today’s date. Looking forward to his return, I’d marked off every day since Chuck left for basic training. And here it was, bittersweet. I’d known for two weeks about his new orders. How quick the days would pass before he’d leave again. Yet I spent the afternoon posting debits and credits when I should be home with my husband. My head throbbed. I glanced at my watch. Again. Almost four. Then I remembered the phone call from Chuck’s grandmother earlier today. She’d planned a special meal to include the whole family for his first night home. All of his favorites: field peas, turnip greens, cornbread, chicken and dumplings, and banana pudding. I knew he’d enjoy the evening. And why shouldn’t he—they were his family, too. But he was my husband, and
I
needed him! Yet here I sat.

I slammed the books closed, grabbed my purse, and stormed up to the sales counter interrupting a sales clerk and customer. “Where’s Mr. Latham?”

“Back here, Morgan.”

I took long strides, following the clank of metal against metal. “Mr. Latham,” I stood facing him, “I can’t do this.”

He removed a red grease rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands. “Do what?”

“Work. I mean…Chuck’s home, and I’m here. In a few weeks he’ll be leaving for Vietnam.” Just the sound of the word from my lips twisted my emotions to the brink of insanity. “It’s not that I don’t need this job or appreciate it, but—”

“Hey! Wait a minute.” He held up his hand. “I expected you to take time off to be with Chuck. In fact, you didn’t have to come in at all today. I would’ve understood. This place won’t fall apart if you’re not here every day. Even if the statements go out a week late, so what? Go home. Take the rest of the week off. When you come back Monday, we’ll sit down and work out a schedule.”

“You mean…?”

“Shoo!” He smiled and waved the back of his hands my direction. “Get out of here. Go be with your husband.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, unable to say more.

I raced home and pulled in the driveway. Chuck and his two little sisters had set up their Slip And Slide in our side yard. Chuck made a mad dash and belly flopped onto the wet, yellow plastic sheet, sending sprays of water in the air. I laughed as Amy and Beth bowled in on top of him.

He’d always been so easy going, slow to anger, gentle, full of love, and he made life fun. Kyle flashed in my mind. Would Vietnam change all that?

Amy ran to the car, her curly, orange-red, wet hair refusing to lay docile. “Come on. Come play with us.”

As I got out of the car, Chuck called, “Go put on your swim suit and help me take some of the starch out of these two.”

He sat cross-legged in a pair of cutoff jeans. Water glistened on his tanned, bare chest. How tempting to kick my shoes off and join in their fun on such a hot September day. I’d been so busy hanging on since he left, I’d forgotten how to play. “I would, but we’re all supposed to be at your grandmother’s for supper in a little over an hour.”

“Aww!” he whined, imitating the words and gestures of Amy and Beth. “Let me help these two orangutans pick up this mess. I’ll be right in.”

After showering and getting dressed, Chuck sat on the couch and pulled me down on his lap. “I know we’re running late, but you and I need to talk.”

I exhaled. “About what?”

His expression remained serious. “Vietnam. There’s no good time to talk about it. But I want to discuss it now, and then try to put it out of our minds for the next four weeks.”

I bit down on my bottom lip and nodded.

“There are some things you need to know. The Army provides a GI insurance policy in case something happens—”

I jumped off his lap and waved my hand toward him. “No! I don’t want to hear this!”

“You have to. Morgan, listen to me. If I don’t make it back—”

“You’re coming back!”

Chuck stood and placed his hands on my shoulders. “I promise you, I plan on coming back.” He lowered his face within inches of mine. “Do you hear me? But if I don’t, you take that money and start a new life. Someplace other than Greer.”

I covered my ears. “I’m not listening.”

He gently lowered my hands and held me tight. “That’s all I wanted you to know. I won’t bring it up again. Now let’s work on making this the best four weeks we can. We’ll spend it making memories.”

Too numb to scream, my spirit cried out for God’s help. It was all too much to bear. We’d become trapped in an ugly nightmare with no awakening.

“What do you say, Morgan?”

I yank the neck of my shirt up and wiped the tears from my face, then nodded. If Chuck wanted to live the next few weeks with as much normalcy as possible, somehow, I’d make it happen.

Shades of purple, red, and orange reflected off the clouds in the western sky—the end of another day—and today, the end of another week. Chuck would be leaving next Saturday. My heart raced. My head hurt. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed myself to think only of tonight. We’d invited his little sisters to come over later this evening to roast marshmallows and hotdogs.

Chuck threw another log on the fire. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just admiring the sunset.” I sauntered over and handed him two of the four coat hangers to untwist and straighten.

“We can work on these later.” He took the potential roasters from my hands and tossed them, along with his, on the blanket next to the fire. “Right now I want to enjoy being with you…alone…in the quietness.” He plopped down and tugged my arm.

I snuggled against him, resting my head on his shoulder. “We aren’t alone. Our side yard is your grandmother’s backyard. And with the size fire you’ve built, I’m sure we’re lit up like the screen at the Skylark Drive-in.”

He wrapped his arms around me. His lips pressed against mine, stirring desires meant to be shared by husband and wife.

“I love you, Morgan,” he whispered between kisses.

A gust of wind caught up the smoke, casting it our way. My nose and throat burned, and we stood up coughing. Chuck led me away from its draft and unfolded two lawn chairs. “Are you okay?”

I nodded and rubbed my stinging eyes.

He reached toward the cooler. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Not right now.” I picked up a stick and began poking the coals, sending embers into the soft shade of darkness.

Chuck took a swallow of Coke as he lowered himself in one of the chairs. “Have you ever thought about leaving Mississippi?”

I cringed and hoped he wasn’t building up to what I should do if he didn’t make it back from Vietnam. “No, not really. Why?”

Flickers of light played across his face as he removed the stick from my hand and tossed it in the fire before patting the chair next to his. “How
would
you feel about it if we did… when I get back?”

I looked at him sideways and searched his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Why not? Think about it. Our parents chose to live in Mississippi. Their parents and their parents’ parents picked Mississippi, but that doesn’t mean we have to stay here. We can go anywhere—Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Alaska. A guy in basic training spent some time in Idaho. He talked about how beautiful the mountains were and what all there was to do: hunt bear and elk, snowmobile, hike, even whitewater rafting.”

“It’s so far away. We wouldn’t know anybody. How would we decide where to go?”

“That’s the beauty of it. We find out everything we can about each state. It would give us a plan, a sense of direction, something to look forward to. Like when we finally set a date to get married. Remember?”

The thought of planning for the future, rather than living in dread, stirred much-needed hope. “I guess we could go to the library Monday and checkout some books. You know…for the fun of it.”

“And if they don’t have what we’re looking for, we’ll find a bookstore that does. But, Morgan, I’m talking actually leaving, finding us a new home. What do you think?”

A smile tugged my lips. “It’s wild, crazy, and scary, but I like it.”

No sooner had Chuck leaned in for a kiss than a shrill voice pierced the night air. “If you don’t wait on me, Amy, I’m telling Mother!”

Chuck pushed from his chair and trotted toward the shadowy forms and voices of his sisters.

After church, we gathered at Chuck’s grandmother’s with family members, including aunts, uncles, and cousins. They all came to tell him good-bye. Difficult, since it should’ve been a celebration, only hours before his twenty-first birthday. The day stretched long into the evening. Every time someone prepared to leave, I busied myself in the kitchen or escaped to the bathroom to avoid emotional words of departure. My own emotions barely stayed intact. We didn’t make it home until well after ten. Then after quick showers, we settled in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. Sleep would be for another time.

Around midnight, I sat straight up.

“Where are you going?”

I swung my legs off the bed and pulled one of his T-shirts over my head. “I’ll be right back.”

After retrieving a small package from the closet shelf, I hopped back in bed and handed Chuck his gift, wrapped in a paper bag, displaying his two little sisters’ artistic abilities. “Happy birthday. It’s from me, Amy, and Beth.”

“Beth said they drew some pictures for me, but she wasn’t supposed to tell.” He propped up on his elbow. “I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.”

“It’s nothing grand, but I wasn’t sure what the Army would allow you to have—”

I swallowed and spoke past the lump in my throat. “This way, you’ll have all your family with you. And the last page,” I flipped to the back cover, “is another masterpiece by Amy and Beth.”

“What is it?”

“It’s you and me, silly.” I poked him in his ribs. “We’re fishing. Remember the day we took the girls to Vance Lake?”

“Right.” He chuckled. “And Beth and Amy made us paddle from one end to the other, sure the next spot would be where we’d find the bigger fish.”

“My arms were sore for three days.”

“But we did it…and we’ll get through this next year, Morgan. It’ll be painful, no doubt about it, but no matter what God has planned for us, we’ll paddle our way through life together, with His help.”