Seasons of Her Life (43 page)

“Little girls like Martha?” Ruby whispered. “Why didn't you turn him in? What kind of man are you? You knew . . . know . . . and aren't doing anything about it? Then I will,” she said, jerking free of Andrew's pleading hand.

“I'll take care of him; don't you worry about it,” Andrew said in a panic. “Don't even think about sticking your nose into it like you did with Hugo and Dixie. That, Ruby, whether you know it or not, was why I had to go to that rat hole Korea.” There was edginess, a wariness in Andrew's voice she'd never heard before. Everything he said was untrue, and it sounded untrue. She felt herself stiffen.

“I had nothing to do with Hugo and Dixie. You know it, Andrew. What you just told me is so low, so ... so unbelievable, I cannot just sit still and do nothing.”

“I said I'd handle it, Ruby, and I will.” There was such desperation in her husband's voice, Ruby knew she wasn't getting all the facts. “I want you to talk to the general's wife and the Querys. Will you do it?”

“I can't. Mrs. Frankel told all of us we were never, ever to ask her to intercede with her husband concerning our husbands. Never, ever. She said if we did, it would be a black mark on our husbands' records. Be thankful he did what he did for you, Andrew. The answer is no. As for the Querys, the admiral is in the hospital. He's very ill, and I refuse to bother him with your problems. Do your own dirty work,” Ruby said angrily.

“You really want me to go to Vietnam with that pervert, is that it?” Andrew shouted.

“No, I don't want that. Go to his commanding officer and tell him what you told me. If this Corps is as wonderful as you seem to think it is, they'll handle it quietly and he's out.”

Andrew's stomach scrunched into a tight ball. A drink would unknot it. Ruby could unknot it, too, if she'd just go along with him. “I don't stand a chance if you don't help me, and you know it. You have to, Ruby. That's a goddamn order, and I expect you to obey it!” He let his eyes slowly circle the room and zero in on Martha's bedroom door.

“You louse, you'd turn on your own daughter! I knew it was too good to be true. It was all a game to you. Well, you know what, Andrew? You're going to play alone, because I don't like your rules. I've had enough. I'm leaving.”

“You try it, and you'll never see those kids again. I'll tell everyone you're an unfit mother—that you sleep around. There's a hundred guys on this base who will lie for five bucks. I made a deal with you—I give you something and you give me something. That's the way it works.”

“You're sick, Andrew. And you're rotten. How could I have been such a fool to believe you were—”

“—a nice guy? I am. Ask anyone.”

“Who? Your cronies? Maybe I should ask their wives.”

“Only glowing testimonials.” Andrew grinned.

Ruby surrendered. There was nothing else to do. She knew her husband meant every word he said.

 

For three days Ruby tried to reach Arlene Frankel but was told by one of her stewards that she was out of town. Ruby thanked God on an hourly basis. The phone went unanswered at the Query house in Chapel Hill. She refused to call the local hospital, where the admiral was recuperating.

While Ruby tried to make her calls, Andrew was upholding his end of the agreement by watching Martha roller-skate and ride her new bike, a special present he'd bought her for not wetting the bed for four days in a row. He played Monopoly with both her and Andy. Martha blossomed, while Andy went about his business, sneaking glances at his mother when he thought she wasn't looking. He was full of suspicion where his father was concerned. At night, when he buried his head in his pillow, he muttered, “I just know something awful is going to happen.”

On the fourth day Andrew's patience with Ruby ran out. “You're stalling. I'm going to stand right here while you call.” The response was the same. Andrew stalked out of the room. Ruby heaved a sigh of relief.

On the sixth day Ruby came to the conclusion that the general's wife was avoiding her. She believed the same of Mrs. Query, but she didn't tell Andrew. Because of Martha, she kept calling, praying the steward would say the same thing.

By the end of the tenth day Andrew wasn't fit to live with. Ruby no longer made a pretense of trying to call the admiral or the general's wife.

“She's on the goddamn base, I saw her myself,” Andrew raged on the eleventh day.

“That should tell you something,” Ruby snapped. “She knows why I'm calling, and this is her way of saying she won't get involved. Are you trying to make fools of both of us?”

“Call the admiral again,” he ordered. Ruby did as instructed. The phone rang twenty-three times before she hung it up. She was careful to keep her face impassive.

The days dragged on. The new month arrived, twenty-three days from the day she'd arrived home from Washington.

Andrew charged into the house by way of the kitchen door at midday, his face contorted in rage. “That bastard sailed right out the door, said good-bye, and had the goddamn gall to say he hopes I make rank. He didn't say good-bye, go to hell, or drop dead. He's out and I'm stuck. He knew I wasn't going to make it. He didn't go to bat for me. Why should he? He's out. He doesn't give a good rat's ass about me, and his wife doesn't give a shit about you.”

Ruby digested the information at the sink, where she was cleaning vegetables. She was so relieved, she felt like singing. “I'm sorry, Andrew, that it didn't work out. The admiral is too sick to help you, even if I could have gotten through.”

“Some goddamn friends you have,” Andrew snarled.

“I don't judge my friends by what they can do for me. You should be thankful they ever did anything. You could still be out there, floundering, waiting years to move up in rank. Be grateful, please, for all our sakes.”

“That's pretty easy for you to say. You aren't going to Vietnam. So fuck you!” Andrew roared as he stomped from the house.

Ruby buried her face in her hands. What should she do? Did she dare take a chance and leave? Or should she wait until Andrew shipped out for Vietnam? Whatever she did, there was no telling how Andrew would retaliate.

Overnight, the Blue house turned into a war zone. The battle lines were drawn, and Andrew was the enemy. Ruby viewed herself as a field marshal who left no stone unturned to prevent that same enemy from claiming the ultimate prize: Martha.

Ruby knew she was teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. She couldn't eat and dropped fifteen pounds from her slim frame in three weeks. Dark smudges underlined her eyes. She looked gaunt, almost skeletal. Whenever possible, she avoided looking in the mirror. Over and over, as she wrung her hands in despair, she asked herself how her life had reached this point. What had she done wrong? When had Andrew gained so much power in their marriage? When he had returned from Korea? Maybe she had overplayed her hand during the fiasco at St. Andrew's in Hawaii. Staying in touch with her friends at the parsonage was one of her few pleasures left in life. If she had to do it over again, she'd do nothing different.

Now all she wanted was for Andrew to be gone before he could do any more emotional damage to Martha. His port call was in less than twelve hours. If she could get through that time, she could survive.

Ruby made the decision to absent the children by arranging a Girl Scout trip for Martha and taking Andy to a YMCA swim meet.

It was best for everyone. Martha was wetting the bed again and spending too much time alone in her room, staring at the walls.

She was going to try one more time to reason with her husband. She didn't want him leaving with things so hateful between them, but until now, he'd refused to discuss anything except to repeat that she had refused him when he really needed help.

She wished she loved Andrew, and she wished he loved her, even a little. So many years lost, she thought sadly. Maybe now was the time to see if things couldn't be made right. They would be apart; each of them would have time to think.

 

Ruby looked stunned an hour later when Andrew walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He sat down at the table with her and cupped his hands around his mug.

“I was sitting here thinking about some of our happier times, trying to figure out what went wrong,” Ruby said quietly.

“Did you reach a conclusion?” Andrew asked just as quietly.

“Sort of. You were different when you came back from Korea. I was angry and hurt. I blamed you for all the things that went wrong for me. It wasn't easy for me, but I survived. You wouldn't let me get close to you. You didn't seem interested in Martha. I know it must have been difficult to be thrust into the role of a father so suddenly. Martha was a little person who made demands on me ... on us. I was too protective, you were right about that. For a long time she was all I had to hang on to. I was all she had. I know I tried. I'm not really sure if you did. It didn't seem like you did. You didn't like the diapers, the crying, the attention I gave our child. I tried to understand that. What I couldn't understand was why you didn't want me to go back to St. Andrew's. You fought me every step of the way over that. I went anyway because it was important to me. You refused to let me go to Kalo's funeral. I went anyway because it was important to me. Just as I sent a ten-dollar donation at Christmastime, even though you said no to that, too.

“I'm tired of this house being a battleground. Our children are supposed to come first, but they don't. If it's important to place blame, then I'll take it all. I'm a nervous wreck. I can't handle it anymore. It's getting to the point where I can't seem to help myself, and if I can't take charge of my own life, how can I take care of the children? We have to have some kind of understanding and go on from there. We have to put all the hateful things we said to each other, all the threats, behind us and look to our future. I'm willing to try if you are. The only alternative to trying is divorce,” she said bleakly.

Andrew's shoulders slumped. His voice was almost gentle. He was facing the inevitable, so there was no point in fighting it anymore. He was going to Vietnam, and there was a good chance he wouldn't come back alive. It was the first time in his life he'd ever really had to face death. And even if he survived, he didn't want to be like the other guys who returned from an overseas duty to find their wives and children gone. He hadn't had a drink in over two weeks, and he was thinking clearly for a change. Everything she said was true, so true it smacked him in the gut like a mule kick. He felt his insides shrivel when he remembered the demands he'd made on her. He should apologize. She was right about the kids, too. He wondered if there was any way he could make things up to his family. Words, he knew, weren't going to do it this time. Ruby wouldn't accept words or promises, but that was all he could give her. He nodded, his voice a hoarse croak when he spoke.

“You're right. As much as I hate to admit it, you're usually right about everything. I was wrong to order you to intervene. I was a real bastard. I never thought about you. I cared only about myself. I'm sorry. You were right about Korea. I did change. I broke the rules, Ruby. I guess you already know that. Sorry is such a trite word sometimes. Saying it as often as I do makes it trite.

“Look, I'm scared, I admit it. Korea was a nothing situation. This ... this is different. I've never been this scared. Marines are not supposed to harbor fear, but anyone who goes over there and says he isn't scared is a liar. As for my commanding officer, what I'm going to tell you now is perhaps . . . it's terrible, but you have a right to know. I lied to you when I said he liked young girls like Martha. He does like young girls, but he prefers them to be around sixteen and virgins. I helped him when I served under him. I can't . . . turn him in because he . . . I'm not proud of that, Ruby; in fact, I'm downright ashamed. That's why I had to get out from under. He scares me more than Vietnam. If I bring him down, I bring myself down. I want to put in my twenty years and get out. If you can live with all this, and if you're willing, I'd like to give it all a second go-round when I get back. We'll pack it in and settle down in a real town; we'll buy a house and I'll get a job. We'll have my retirement pay, and if you want, you can get a job, too. Financially, we'll be okay. What do you say?”

Tears rolled down Ruby's cheeks. She'd heard promises before. “The kids?”

“If I drive like a bat out of hell, I think we can make it up and back from the campgrounds in time to see Andy do his minnow swim.” He reached across the table for Ruby's hand.

Ruby didn't know if she was doing the right thing or not, but for the children she had to try. Martha would be so happy. Andy would grin and shake his fist in the air. As for herself, this was better than a hateful parting and years of recriminations. For now it was best. Best for their family.

Andrew Blue looked at his pocket calendar and ticked off an
other day. Just thirty-three more and he was leaving this hellhole, this cesspool of the universe and going home. Every day he thanked God that he was still alive. Every day he thought about Ruby and the kids. Every day that passed made it one day closer to the time when he could return to his family.

He was one goddamn lucky son of a bitch. Twice he'd almost bought it on a night patrol. He'd lost three good men, men he'd come to call friends. The kind of guys you would look up after you got home. The kind of guys you could have a beer with and not lie to to make yourself look good. Of course making friends had been a mistake. Now they were gone. Jesus, he hadn't been prepared for that. Dave Harkness had stepped on a land mine. There wasn't enough left of him to identify. And then Bic Nexus had gotten it right through the throat from a sniper's bullet. He'd held Charlie Duvalier in his arms and felt him expire. He'd talked to him, told him all about Ruby and the kids and his football days in high school. He'd bawled like a baby when Charlie drew his last breath. They had to pry Charlie's body out of his arms. He'd carried blood on himself for days. If Charlie hadn't been ahead of him, he would be the one who was dead. Jesus, how he prayed after that. He made promises to God, to the angels, to every priest and minister he could remember. And he damn well meant to keep them.

And if it was the last thing he did, he was going to stick it to Lackland. Because all Andrew could think about was the look on Ruby's face when he had told her about his part in his C.O.'s past. He'd damn well let the chips fall wherever they were meant to fall, but he was going to report everything when he got stateside. Ruby would be with him every step of the way.

Andrew swatted at the bugs bent on sucking his blood. He hated this fucking place, hated the smell, the humidity, the fighting, the dying. Charlie, Bic, and Dave had given their lives and left their families fatherless for this godforsaken place. It wasn't right. Nothing about this fucking place was right.

He wished there were a way to line up all the Cong in a long single file. He'd pull the trigger of his M-16 until his fingers fell off and then he'd stomp the rest of them to death. Fucking bastards.

Every damn day when he wasn't busy trying to save his life and the lives of his men he thought about his past and all the things he'd done wrong. He thought about judgment day and how he'd be called to account for his sins. He'd vowed to lead a better life, to correct those mistakes that still needed correcting. Maybe this was his hell, he thought; his punishment for all the wrong he'd done in his life.

Lackland had seen the change in him and had started to sweat. That made him dangerous. Andrew started to watch his own back. He confided his fears to a young lieutenant and wrote them all down. He told him to get in touch with Ruby and to tell her to get the sealed package out of their safety deposit box if anything happened to him. He wasn't leaving this earth without owning up to his part in Lackland's perverted activities. Ruby would be able to live with the shame he'd create because she loved him and they had kids to think about. Ruby was loyal and loving. Christ, he owed her so much, and he'd been such a bastard.

Andrew patted his thick breast pocket, which held letters from his family. He knew their contents by heart, and when he was scared like he was now, he ran the words over and over in his mind.

Sniper fire ripped through the thick humidity. One shot, two, three. Foliage rained down on him when his men responded with automatic weapons fire.

“I got the bastard! Jesus H. Christ, I ripped his fucking head right off his neck!” It was Stanapopolus, and his voice was hysterical.

“You want a medal?” someone barked.

“You're fucking right I want a fucking medal. Oh, Jesus, sir, you better come see this.”

Andrew joined his men and looked at where Stanapopolus was pointing. “He got it on the second pop, sir.”

“Lackland!”

“Yeah, right through the back of his head. Clean shot. He didn't suffer, sir.”

“Too bad,” Andrew said.

“Sir?”

“Too bad he bought it. He had his whole life ahead of him,” Andrew said curtly. “You know what to do,” he said, ripping Lackland's dog tags from his neck.

“This guy had six kids, did you know that, sir?”

“No. No, I didn't. I didn't know . . . I'd heard he was divorced,” Andrew said.

“He was, twice. The kids were with his first wife. He showed me their pictures. He was a good soldier. It's important for kids to know their old man was okay. You going to write a personal letter, sir?”

“You're sure he had six kids?” Andrew said.

“Yes, sir. Six little towheads. It was an old photograph. They were all spruced up and in a line. He seemed real proud of them. What should I do with his letters, sir? There's two in his pocket.”

Andrew held out his hand. Later, when it was his turn to sleep, Andrew read one. It started out the same way his did:

The letter was signed by all the children. Andrew folded the letter neatly and replaced it in the worn, tattered envelope. It, along with Lackland's other gear, would be returned to his family.

Damn, he wasn't prepared for this. If he went through with his plan, he would be destroying the trust of six children who loved and believed in their father. Better to forget it. It wouldn't take away his guilt, but it might make him a better person. The guilt he carried would be his punishment. He nodded, it seemed appropriate.

“Lieutenant!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Lieutenant, we are going to forget everything I told you. There's no reason to destroy this man's family. I want your word as an officer that it will go no further.”

“You got it, sir,” the lieutenant said, snapping off a smart salute.