16

WESTBOUND

Dayton, Ohio

3:30 p.m., Saturday, November 11, 1972

Grasping a bouquet of lilies and a bottle of white wine, Ourecky lightly rapped his knuckles on the front door. He hadn’t seen Bea or Andy since returning from the final mission, and he was both anxious and apprehensive.

Bea opened the front door quietly. “Shhh,” she whispered, pressing her finger to her lips. “Jill is asleep, and the little ones are also down for a nap.”

“Okay,” he replied, handing her the flowers and wine. “For you.”

“Oh, thank you, honey,” she said quietly. “Beaujolais? My favorite!”

He stooped over to slip off his shoes and then stood to hug her tightly. “I missed you, Bea.”

“I miss you always, Scott,” she answered. “Come on in.”

In his stocking feet, he padded after her as she guided him to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry about General Tew,” she said, taking down two wine glasses from the cupboard. “I wish that I could have gone to the funeral, but….”

“It’s okay.”

“How was his wife? It sounded like it was all so sudden. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was just a wreck.”

“Not as much as you might think,” answered Ourecky, opening the bottle with a corkscrew. “I guess that you hadn’t seen him in a while. He definitely wasn’t in the best of health. As for his wife, she seems to be taking it in stride. I talked to her briefly after the funeral, and I think she was really surprised that he had lived as long as he had.”

“Well, it’s sad. He was such a sweet man.”

Smiling, Ourecky said, “I don’t know if I would necessarily describe him as sweet, but he was a good man, a good boss.”

“So, does that mean Virgil Wolcott is in charge now?” she asked, holding out the stemmed glasses.

“No, they’ve brought in a Navy guy,” he answered, pouring the wine. “Admiral Tarbox. I don’t think you’ve met him.”

“Navy? Interesting.”

“It’s part of a big consolidation,” he explained. He sipped the warm Beaujolais and frowned; he wasn’t nearly as fond of it as she was. “To save money, the Department of Defense is combining some programs. Mostly, it’s to cut down on duplication of effort. Of course, with the Navy assuming control, there will be some big changes. A lot of folks will be laid off here at Wright-Patterson, and most of the…uh…test operations here will shift to California.”

“California? Really? I suppose there are worse places to be.”

“I suppose. I’m going out there next week.”

“Permanently?” she asked, setting her glass on the counter. “I thought…”

“No, next week is just a visit. Just a couple of days.”

“Well, how about the election?” she asked, gesturing toward a dog-eared McGovern flyer taped to the front of the refrigerator. “Are you going to be able to vote?”

“Yeah. I’m not supposed to leave until Thursday.”

“So, since you finished that last big test, aren’t you done here?” she asked, filling a glass vase with water from the tap. She took an aspirin from a bottle on the counter, crumbled it in a spoon, and poured the white powder in the water. “Are they going to make good on Mark Tew’s promise to send you to MIT?”

“Not immediately,” he replied. “I have to stay here for a few more months.” He glanced at her face as she arranged the lilies in the vase; her expression clearly conveyed that she wasn’t happy.

“I suppose they have to squeeze just a little bit out of you,” she said. She drained her wine and then refilled both glasses. “Some things never change.”

“Bea, I’m confident that I will eventually go to Cambridge,” he said, changing the subject. “It will probably be around the end of March. I thought we might fly up to Boston some weekend soon and start looking around for an apartment and…”

She sighed, shrugged her shoulders. “Scott, how many times have I heard that story? And it always ends up the same: you’re right on the verge of going, and then there’s an urgent call from Virgil Wolcott, and you vanish yet again.”

“But this time it will be the real thing.”

“Sure it will be, Scott, but the Air Force has promised this same thing, over and over, but has yet to deliver. Why should it be any different this time?”

“It will be. I promise. Virgil says I’m going. We will just have to wait a little longer than I had expected.”

“I can believe you, Scott, but I don’t have much faith in Virgil’s word. Until you’re finally free of him, I don’t think that anything will ever change.”

Quickly changing the subject, he asked, “I did tell you that Drew’s gone, right?”

“You did. When you called last week. He going overseas?” she asked. “Isn’t that what you said? Vietnam?”

He nodded. “He’s training in California now. He probably won’t leave for Vietnam until next month at the earliest.”

“But isn’t the war all but over?” she asked, fingering the silver peace symbol dangling from a thin chain around her neck. “I just don’t understand why the Air Force is making him go now. Aren’t we bringing our guys home?”

He wasn’t sure how he could possibly explain to her that Drew had been relentlessly lobbying for this opportunity as long as Ourecky had known him. And the Air Force definitely wasn’t sending him. In fact, the Chief of Staff of the Air Force had personally decreed that Carson not go, so it was a safe bet that he would blow a four-star gasket if he ever discovered what was going on behind his back.

Holding the wine bottle in one hand and her glass in the other, she nodded toward the living room. He followed her, and joined her on the couch.

“If it’s any consolation, Bea,” he said, “I suppose that you can see that I won’t be working with Drew anymore, so…”

“That’s beside the fact, Scott. As much as I don’t want you flying with Drew, I don’t want him going overseas. It’s not just Drew. I don’t want anyone to go. I think too many guys have been killed and hurt over there as it is, and I don’t think anyone has any real clue what it was all for. It all just seems so tragic.”

They both turned as they heard a faint noise in the hallway. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, sucking his thumb, dragging a well-worn blanket in his wake, Andy waddled into the living room.

“Andy, look who’s here,” announced Bea.

Squealing with glee, Andy dropped his blue blanket, ran to Ourecky, and jumped headlong into his outstretched arms. “Daddy!” he cried.

“How is he?” asked Ourecky, gripping him tightly.

“He misses you. Otherwise, he’s fine. Besides, he has a new best friend. He and Rebecca are thick as thieves.”

“Rebecca?” he asked.

“Jill’s little girl. She’s a year older than Andy. I’m not looking forward to when we leave here and I have to tear them away from each other. That’s going to be traumatic.”

Ourecky smiled to himself. Her comment was a favorable sign; although she had not otherwise said anything about it, Bea was obviously thinking of the time when she would come home. Maybe there was some hope for the future. He smiled at Andy, kissed the top of his head, and held him closely.

A few minutes later, Rebecca joined them. Yawning, clutching a Raggedy Ann doll to her chest, she plopped down on the floor amidst the scattered toys. With shoulder-length raven hair, she looked like a younger version of Jill.

Andy wiggled out of Ourecky’s lap to join his playmate. “Well, that sure didn’t take much,” he commented, watching them frolic. “I guess I’m all but forgotten now.”

“Don’t take it so personally,” noted Bea. “It’s not just you. Both of us might as well be invisible at this point.”

“Boy, you weren’t kidding. Those two sure get along well,” he observed, watching as the two children noisily romped on the floor.

“That’s putting it mildly,” she replied, laughing. “They’re inseparable, like two peas in a pod.”

“So what happens to her when…”

“When Jill dies?” she asked matter-of-factly. “Jill’s mother will keep her. Jill has already been to a lawyer to draw up the papers. It’s in her will, also.”

Hand in hand, Andy and Rebecca approached the coach. “Can we have a popsicle, Aunt Bea?” asked Rebecca, grinning. “We’ll share it.”

“It’s too close to supper.” Bea shook her head. “I don’t want you two to spoil your appetite.”

“What are we having?” asked Rebecca, smoothing her doll’s crown of yarn hair.

“Spaghetti and meatballs.” Bea gazed toward Ourecky and smiled. “Can you stay for dinner?” she asked, lightly touching his forearm.

“Spaghetti and meatballs? How could I possibly resist?” Ourecky grinned at her and then looked at the children. Suddenly, he started coughing as he noticed something he hadn’t seen before. Rebecca’s eyes were crystalline blue, almost unnaturally so, just like…

“Are you all right?” asked Bea. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He gulped down the remainder of the water. “Those eyes,” he gasped, staring into Rebecca’s face. “Her eyes. They look just like…”

“That’s right,” noted Bea. “Scott, I love you, but for such an intelligent man, sometimes you’re not very observant. We’re pretty sure that Drew is her father. I can’t believe that you’re just now catching on. You’ve seen her before this.”

“I guess I just never made the connection before,” he muttered. “I can’t believe that Jill could put herself in such a situation.”

“Jill? You can’t believe that she put herself in such a situation? Like she did it all by herself? Are you that quick to let your buddy Drew off the hook?” Have you ever heard that expression ‘There but for the grace of God go I?’ Well, I’ve done plenty of stupid things myself, and I can tell you that there have been moments in my life when I could have been in exactly the same circumstances as Jill. I was just very fortunate.”

“But she never said anything to Drew…”

“Jill doesn’t want Drew Carson in her life, and she doesn’t want him in Rebecca’s life, either,” said Bea. “She regrets ever meeting him, much less having his child. It was an accident, and she’s tried to make the best of it.”

Ourecky recalled their conversation in Idaho, when Carson described his concern about the prospects of dying by himself and not leaving anything or anyone behind. “Don’t you think Drew has a right to know that he has a daughter?” he demanded. “Especially since Jill is dying? What if he wanted to raise her?”

Bea grimaced. “Do you really believe that Drew is even capable of raising a child? He has plenty of growing up to do himself. Besides, it’s not an absolute certainty that Rebecca is his daughter.”

“You don’t think it’s obvious?”

“Well, yeah, I’ll admit it looks pretty certain, but there’s no way to be really positive. They can do blood tests, but that doesn’t prove anything absolutely. Even if everything matches up, it would only prove that he could be her father, not that he is.”

Ourecky coughed and then replied, “I still think he has a right to know.”

“Maybe, but that’s Jill’s decision to make, not ours. She has to decide what’s best for her daughter, and she may not want Drew to be involved in her upbringing.”

“Would you at least talk to her about it? He should at least have the opportunity to meet her, if nothing else.”

Bea nodded. “I’ll talk to Jill, but are you sure that you want to broach this issue with Drew now? He’s going to Vietnam. I’m sure that he has enough on his mind and all this would do is distract him at the very time that he doesn’t need to be distracted. If Jill agrees, then maybe we can talk to Drew when he comes back home. He’s going to be gone about six months, right?”

“Right,” answered Ourecky. He thought that Bea was probably right; going into combat, Carson needed to focus on the immediate matters at hand. If Jill agreed, then he and Rebecca would have a whole lifetime together, if he decided to bring her into his life.

She stood up. “Look, I have to start dinner. Your garlic meatballs aren’t going to make themselves.”

He stood beside her and held her forearms. “Bea, I want you to come home. I want our son to come home. Don’t you understand that?”

“I want to come home, but it’s not that simple. I need to know that you’re going to be there.”

“I will.”

“Then when that time comes, we can all be together. You’re always welcome here, but this is where I belong right now. I need to be here for Jill. She doesn’t have long, and her mother just isn’t handling it very well. I really need to be here. Can you understand that?”

“I guess so.”

“Speaking of Jill, I have to help her with her shots,” she said, looking at the wall clock. “Oh, I hate doing the shots. I’m so afraid that I’m going to hurt her.”

“Shots? I can help you if you want,” he said. “I know how to give shots.”

“You do?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “Well, Scott Ourecky, you just never cease to surprise me with the things you can do.”