CHAPTER
thirty

Reed wasn’t sure why he felt so lonesome. He had arranged for this trip to Oleander Springs weeks ago, on his doctor’s recommendation. And now that it was time, he didn’t want to go. All he could think about was Daisy and the way she had looked at him when she held his head on her lap and told him about Deacon. The last thing he wanted to do right now was put miles between them, but anything that might help him heal was worth enduring.

Oleander Springs wasn’t far from the Florida line. Palm trees aside, something about it reminded Reed of an Army base—or maybe an Army hospital. He had driven through the iron gates of the resort around two o’clock in the afternoon. The sprawling, single-story white motel had green shutters and wrapped around two outdoor pools—one with steam rising above it like a fog, the other a cooling, blissful blue. Guests could relax in one till the heat overcame them and then splash into the bracing waters of the other.

Reed checked in, put on his bathing suit, and made his way to the warm, spring-fed pool. Easing into the soothing water, he took a seat on a ledge about two feet below the surface and relaxed, trying to clear his mind.

Looking around the pool deck, he saw what could’ve been one picture postcard after another: a young dad standing waist deep in the blue pool and holding his toddler, her back against his chest and her legs dangling over his arm as she kicked her feet in the water; a couple sitting together on a park bench, studying a road map; three elderly ladies wearing cotton dresses, straw hats, and sandals over white-socked feet, sitting side by side in lounge chairs with umbrellas to shade them. None of it seemed real to Reed. It was as if he were in some kind of bubble—or maybe everybody else was. He could see them and hear them. But he couldn’t touch them. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

As he watched the toddler nestled in the safety of her daddy’s arms, gleefully kicking her chubby little legs and giggling with every splash, he ran his hand along his own scarred leg hidden beneath the water and thought of another child he’d once held in his arms. He had clutched her against his chest as he sprinted from a bombed-out church, across an open field, to a Red Cross truck, where a nurse took her from him. That little girl, with her curly black hair and dark, sad eyes, couldn’t have been more than three years old. Her legs had dangled over his arm just as the little girl’s legs dangled over her father’s in the swimming pool. Reed had no idea what had become of her. He didn’t even know her name. But he could still see her little hand clutching his shirt as he ran through the blasts and the smoke with her. So much trust in a stranger. So much suffering for a child . . .

“I’d bet a shiny nickel you’re a war hero.”

Reed turned to see what Daisy would call a beauty queen sitting next to him—full makeup and perfectly styled shoulder-length blonde hair. He had been so preoccupied with the poolside tableau that he hadn’t heard her glide onto the bench next to him.

“Just a vet,” he said with a polite smile. With his leg underwater, he looked normal, and he knew what was coming—the flirty tilt of the head, the eye batting and flattery . . .

“I’m Natalie.”

“Nice to meet you, Natalie. I’m Reed.”

“You must be so brave,” she said with a pageant-worthy smile and a head tilt.

“Just glad I made it home.”

“Well, don’t be shy! Tell me all about it. Where were you?”

“North Africa and Italy.”

“Did you get to meet General MacArthur?”

For half a second, he considered explaining the geography of the war, but then she probably wasn’t listening to anything he said anyway. Girls like Natalie were usually too busy plotting their next move to get bogged down in anything as mundane as conversation. “Sorry to say I didn’t,” he said.

Here came the eye batting. “Well, now, after all you’ve been through, I just might have to let you take me to dinner.”

There was a time when he would’ve obliged a girl like Natalie. But now the thought of spending the evening with her made him tired. And for reasons he couldn’t explain, it would feel like cheating on Daisy. Telling Natalie he had a girl back home would do no good. The Natalies of the world were usually confident in their ability to take any guy away from any girl. He needed an escape hatch.

“That’s mighty kind o’ you,” Reed said. “I have to stay in the pool a little while longer—Doc’s orders. He wants me to keep my left leg strong since they have to take the right one off next week.”

“What?”

“Got hit pretty bad over there. Both legs. There’s a slim chance they can save the left one, but the right one’s a goner.”

“Oh.”

“What time did you wanna have dinner?”

“You know what?” she said, shaking her head. “I am such a goose. I forgot all about a family to-do that Mama roped me into. We’ll do it another time, okay?”

“That sounds great,” Reed said, knowing he had seen the last of Natalie as she scrambled out of the pool.

“Hey, man, you mind if I pick up where you left off?”

A few minutes after Natalie sprinted away from him, a guy about Reed’s age took her place in the pool.

“Be my guest,” Reed said.

“Where’d you serve?”

“Thirty-fourth infantry.”

“USS Pillsbury.”

Reed nodded. He didn’t want to be rude, but he didn’t want to swap war stories either.

“Bobby Stillwell.” The sailor offered Reed a handshake.

“Reed Ingram.” Reed shook his hand.

“Strange, ain’t it?” Bobby said. “Girls like Natalie flirtin’ around a swimmin’ pool when all hell’s breakin’ loose over there.”

“It’s strange alright.”

“Well, I ain’t over there no more, hallelujah, so I mean to make up for lost time. See you around?”

“Sure.” Reed looked on as Bobby strategically bumped into Natalie at the other end of the pool. He saw her head tilt and imagined her eyes batting. Watching the two of them made him feel lonesome and homesick. Right now he would’ve given anything to talk to Daisy.

As he climbed out of the pool and dried off next to a lounge chair, he could hear a couple of teenage girls loudly whispering to each other about his leg. He knew how it looked, but he was through hiding it. If people back home didn’t want to see the war, they could look away.

And another thing—he had absolutely no desire to be here.

Supper was served buffet style in the dining hall, which was a wood-frame structure as big as a barn. Tall windows overlooked a lake rimmed with boat docks and fishing piers. A screened porch held outdoor dining space for those willing to brave the south Alabama heat.

Reed half considered skipping supper altogether so he wouldn’t have to deal with a dining hall full of chatter, but it had been a long day and he was hungry. Most of the other guests had already been served by the time he stepped up to the long buffet table. Three colored ladies wearing immaculate, starched white uniforms were dishing out catfish, fried chicken, pot roast, hush puppies and cornbread, green beans, coleslaw, baked potatoes, squash casserole, fried okra, and banana pudding. He thanked them for his heaping plate of catfish and found an empty table for two beside one of the windows overlooking the lake.

The fish was perfectly fried—golden brown with nothing but cornmeal for a crust—and the hush puppies were light and airy. This was the kind of food he had dreamed of on long, hot days at the front, with nothing but K rations and water to sustain him.

Looking around the dining hall, he spotted all the people he had watched at the pool—the dad and his toddler, plus a wife and two older children; the couple; the three ladies. There were others, most of them families with kids, all with mouths moving.

“Daddy, can we go to the amusement park tomorrow?”

“You’d think, at these prices, they could keep it cool in here.”

“I just love the food, but why couldn’t we get a table with a view?”

“I’m calling the manager about that blown lightbulb in our room. I mean, at these prices . . .”

Reed found himself tuning in to a conversation on the porch, which he could hear through the open window.

“You must be so brave!”

“Aw, it was nothin’.”

“How about taking a girl for a walk under that full moon out there?”

Natalie and Bobby Stillwell. Reed didn’t even have to look out the window to identify the mouths attached to those voices. What would it be like to go through life like Bobby and Natalie—one refusing to work the puzzle, the other completely oblivious to it?

“Something tells me you’d love to serve your country.”

Reed looked up to see a wiry man in plaid pants and a red golf shirt standing over his table. “’Scuse me?”

Without invitation, the man took a seat at Reed’s table. “You just strike me as the kinda young man who wants to give something back to the US of A.”

“Think I already did.”

“Oh, I’m not talkin’ about military service. I can tell by lookin’ at you that you’ve served. But now it’s time to serve again.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d just like to have a quiet supper.”

“And wouldn’t we all? But how can we sit quietly by while our veterans suffer?”

Reed stared at him and debated whether to forsake his food just to get away.

“That sufferin’ is needless—needless. And you have the power to stop it. United America is prepared to sell all veterans—we’re talkin’ every branch o’ the service—a top-notch life insurance policy at unbelievable discounts. And we need vets like you to spread the word—wear your uniform, take our beautiful red, white, and blue sales kit to your brothers in arms, and help them get the security they so richly deserve.”

“Don’t you think we needed that insurance before we left?”

“Wouldn’a been cost effective—too much risk. But now—now—why, we can make a real difference in the lives of our servicemen. And we consider it our patriotic duty to get our life insurance into their hands.”

“Get away from me.”

“Now hold on, son.”

Reed spoke very calmly. “I’m not your son. And if you don’t get away from me, I’m gonna hit you—right in the face.”

The insurance man turned beet red and kept babbling about his patriotic duty as he backed away from the table.

Reed finished his supper as quickly as he could and headed for the walkway around the lake. He was skipping rocks off the water and enjoying the moonlit night when he saw Natalie and Bobby walk down the hill from the dining hall, hand in hand, and climb into a rowboat. He could hear Natalie giggling and flirting—“You better stop that, sailor!”—as Bobby rowed them across the lake.

The best thing Reed could say about Oleander Springs was that he planned to leave it behind early in the morning. He had found no healing here. But now he knew where to look for it.

Reed checked his watch—6:00 a.m. Dressing as quickly as he could, he packed his grip and locked the door behind him before heading to the office to turn in his key. He could see the clerk through the office window, which gave a solitary glow of light this time of morning. No doubt most of the guests were sleeping in.

“Everything okay? Didn’t you just get here yesterday?” The clerk looked concerned.

“Yes, ma’am, but somethin’ came up back home and I need to get goin’.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Let me just pull up your bill and we’ll get you on the road.”

As the clerk did her paperwork, Reed looked out the office window at the two swimming pools. The warm one was especially steamy in the dim dawn light, the cool morning air mixing with heat from the mineral spring below. Through the steamy mist, something caught his eye—something off, something not quite right. He opened the office door to get a better view, then suddenly turned to the clerk and yelled, “Call an ambulance!”

“What for?” The clerk hurried around her desk and out the office door just as Reed, fully clothed, jumped into the steaming pool. Seconds later, he climbed back out, dragging a body behind him.

“Oh, dear heaven!” the clerk cried as Reed turned over the body and tried pumping on the man’s chest to force the water out of his lungs. “What do I do? Who is that? Oh, this is just awful!”

“Call an ambulance!” Reed shouted again, bringing her to her senses enough to dial the telephone.

Reed kept up his efforts, staring in disbelief at the young man he was trying to revive—the man with the alabaster face and blue lips and set eyes staring into nothingness. Another sailor lost at sea.

Loading his grip into his truck, Reed glanced in the direction of the office and counted three town police cars—probably all they had—plus an ambulance and the state patrolman who had taken his statement and the clerk’s. A crowd of onlookers had gathered outside the office, their voices pecking at Reed like mean chickens in a barnyard.

“Oh, it’s just awful . . . so young . . . The policeman said he did it on purpose . . .”