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Cameron
It’s a little after seven in the morning when we arrive home. Hospice is due in a couple of hours. The house is quiet.
“I’ll check on Stan.” Shirlene starts for the stairs.
“I’ll do it, and I’ll let you know if there’s a problem. Take the baby into the den. You can rest in my bed. I moved her crib over next to it last night.”
Too tired to disagree, she wanders through the living room. I go straight upstairs and notice Stan’s eyes are sharp but his face is more swollen. I worry his kidney function is worsening.
“Is the baby okay?” he asks with concern in his voice.
“Yes. She just has a bad cold. She’ll be fine.”
“Thank God.”
“How are you? Did you get any sleep?” I ask.
“Some, but I need to use the bedpan.”
After I help Stan deal with the necessities, I settle into the chair and rest my feet on the footstool.
“You look beat,” he says.
“I’m a little tired.”
“How is Shirlene?”
“She’s resting, I hope. It was nerve-racking.” I don’t mention that the stressful experience brought us closer. “Stan, thank you for asking about Arlene. Shirlene told me you lost a child, and I can’t help but wonder why you and Shirlene insist we keep Arlene away from you.”
“I haven’t been welcoming to your niece. You see, when we lost Danny, I walled up that part of my life.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t like to talk about it, but there’s something about you that makes me open up, Cam.”
“My students tell me the same thing.”
“I was terrified last night that Shirlene was going to lose another child. I’m so relieved your baby is fine.” Stan fidgets in the bed. “I need to up my meds. I’m too irritable. Shirlene was so distracted by my bullshit yesterday she didn’t have time to notice the baby getting sick. It was my fault.”
“Hey, babies can be sick.”
“Danny had whooping cough once. Scared us both to death. I don’t want anything to happen to your little girl. It’s not easy being a father. A lot of work.” Stan’s mouth tightens. “I don’t have enough time left to be a jerk. You could bring her up here sometime. I’d like to meet her.”
“I’m sure Arlene will be happy to meet you.”
Stan clears his throat. “Well, let’s change the subject.”
I take my feet off the hassock and sit up straight. “You promised to tell me more about being a fighter pilot.”
“Okay. What can I talk about?”
“Did you stay in one place? How long did it take to fly to targets?”
“We moved every three weeks. As the Allies advanced, we relocated from Belgium to Holland and to Germany. We flew in twelve ship squadrons. Sometimes, it took close to three hours to reach our targets, which were often gun bases or tanks giving trouble to our guys on the ground. Sometimes, we targeted trucks and trains. On a dive-bomb run, we’d drop from eight or ten thousand feet to fifteen hundred or a thousand feet to release the bombs.”
I shift to the edge of the chair. “It must have been hell when they fired back.”
“We flew through flak, and it was the same as flying directly into fireworks. Some pilots got ‘flak happy’ and had to quit.”
“Were you ever hit?”
“Several times. Once, my engine was hit, and on our way back, my flight leader in the ship below mine noticed oil coming out of my engine. He directed me to fly right to base. Right after I landed, the engine froze. I would have gone down.”
“That is remarkable.”
“I was lucky,” he says.
“What happened when the war ended in Europe?”
“I was shipped home in August with orders to report to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, in a month. We were to pick up new models of the P-47 and prepare for the invasion of Japan. The moment I landed in Newport News, Virginia, I found the first phone booth and called Shirlene to tell her we are having the wedding now.”
“You decided not to wait until after going to the Pacific?”
“We’d waited long enough. Anyway, the week Shirlene and I were married, the A bombs were dropped. Japan surrendered. I was discharged.” Stan laughs. “When Shirlene asked Hattie to be her maid of honor, Shirlene’s parents didn’t approve. So we eloped with Hattie in tow. It was quite a night.”
“I admire Shirlene’s devotion to her best friend.”
“Her parents were livid, but Hattie came first.”
“Shirlene is a pretty tough cookie.”
“She is, but she’s only human.” Stan sighs. “You know, you both have been through the wringer here with a sick newborn and me in hospice.”
“Shirlene could have a spa day. I can cover things here.”
“Unless you want a spa day too.”
“No, sir. I’m not a spa kind of guy.”
“You deserve a break.” Stan’s face lights up. “I’d like you to take Shirlene out to dinner when the baby is over her cold. Hattie can stay with me and Arlene. We’ll be fine for a few hours.”
Although I hope Shirlene and I got closer tonight, I don’t know if she’s able to trust me again. “I’d enjoy that, but I’m not sure Shirlene will agree to it.”
“Between you, me, and Hattie, she won’t be able to refuse.”
I hope Stan is right, but I have my doubts.