Authors: Anthony Tata
Matt composed himself, paid the bill and they walked the mile back to the Embassy Suites. In the downstairs lobby she spotted a lone woman surrounded by four men with short haircuts. She looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“
I think I see your friend, Matt,” Amanda pointed out.
“
Sharks circling. Let’s save her, what do you say?”
They approached, and two of the men eyed Amanda until they saw Matt’s steel gaze. Mary Ann was thrilled to see them, as indicated by the way she lunged from her chair the moment they were within eyesight.
“
Nice guys?”
“
The best,” she quipped.
Matt steered them to some low back chairs in a more private part of the lounge.
“
Mary Ann, this is Amanda Garrett.”
Amanda studied the woman for a brief moment. She was very pretty. Even striking, but not in a severe way. Her beauty was balanced by compassionate eyes. She was wearing a blue blazer atop a cream silk shirt with a matching blue skirt. Amanda reached her hand out only to be bypassed with a hug from Mary Ann.
“
You’ve been through so much, honey.”
Amanda surprised herself and returned the hug, saying, “Thank you.”
They sat in the chairs and began talking about Afghanistan and everything that had happened there.
At that moment, Amanda knew that she would talk to Mary Ann.
The woman would be a big help to her plan.
Arlington, Cemetery Virginia
Saturday
Amanda tuned out much of the funeral, as it was a challenge to absorb everything that had occurred in the last two weeks. She was wearing her black outfit that her mother had selected for her. “You must look the part, Amanda, so don’t let on that you don’t give a damn, okay?” she’d chimed as she dumped her at the Charlotte airport Delta Airlines baggage skycap.
She stood in the cool spring morning of Arlington National Cemetery, surrounded by hundreds of people, some in uniform, others not. She knew so few of the attendees that she clung closely to Matt, the one person with whom she was not totally uncomfortable. There was a church service at the old brick church that stood atop the hill at Fort Myers, and that was followed by a procession led by a horse-drawn carriage that carried the flag-draped casket to an open hole in the ground. Freshly tilled earth sat beside the rectangular hole in an orange and brown heap in contrast to the crisp maneuvers of the military funeral detail and the perfectly aligned rows of white crosses.
So many crosses, she thought to herself. Her mind was wrestling with issues that were so narrowly defined by her own existence that she had a hard time understanding why so many could have sacrificed so much.
But she was beginning to get the picture. The conversation with Matt and Mary Ann last night had filled in many gaps in her mind. Her sleep had been restless, though, with so many conflicting ideas and emotions. The gravitational pulls on her from multiple directions were enormous. Her mother, her grandmother, Dagus, Brianna, Matt, and now this Mary Ann were competing for her attention and energy. She had a plan, and she needed to stick to her chosen course of action no matter what.
Standing graveside, watching the funeral, she slipped into an alternate space as she recited in her mind the words to Jessi Alexander’s soothing “This World is Crazy.”
I’m a part of you; you’re a part of me, too.
Take refuge in me, ’cause this world is crazy
.
Crazy is right, she thought. In the last two weeks her world had literally been transformed when the major and chaplain had arrived at her house that Sunday morning. Now, the words had
meaning
. She had an angel watching over her, feeling her joys and sorrows, guiding her through her darkest fears and helping her confront her strongest demons.
Before she could comprehend what was happening, someone handed her something, which was quickly secured by Matt, and the casket was lowered into the rectangular hole with the awkward pile of dirt. Having only attended one previous funeral in her life, Amanda was not prepared for the emotion connected with this event. The outpouring of support and the strong, almost familial bonds evident between the soldiers and the others were contagious. She could feel the love and understand now the camaraderie of which her father had always spoken.
She recalled with ease now a time her father had pulled over on the side of the road and picked up a soldier walking upon the shoulder. His car had broken down, but he really didn’t need a ride, especially from a major. Despite the protests, her father had driven the soldier to the auto shop, back to the car, and helped him fix the problem. Amanda and he were still able to go to the mall in Raleigh and enjoy a day of hanging out, her arm linked casually through his as they sauntered along talking about nothing much . . . and everything.
There were so many other times, and she could see it now so clearly, that he had gone out of his way to help another soldier or a family member. And now she could remember clearly admiring her father’s spirit and the purity of his motives, understanding this even as a young child growing up amidst divorce. Her time with her father, she now remembered, had been a refuge for her.
Take refuge in me.
Shelter from the storm.
Eventually, though, the storm must have washed the shelter onto the rocky shores that had shattered so many dreams and hopes. She remembered the transition from admiration to ambivalence and finally to outright hatred, though she’d never felt that the migration had been natural or right. In fact, she believed it to be wrong. In the end, though, the seduction had been all too effective. So clear now, the wizardry then had been invisible to the naked eye, better than a practiced magician’s sleight of hand. At times the techniques had been blunt, locked in the back of the car. Other times they’d been more subtle, a weekend away when he was scheduled to visit.
Yet she had been just a child. How was she supposed to figure out what the hell was going on? She clenched her fists in anger. Tensing as people passed by her, she let go, as she could not hold back any longer. The pressure against the dam of her soul was too powerful. She acknowledged, and she cried, as her face wrinkled into a tortured mask.
She wept now, openly, her hand to her face. Matt’s arm slid around her back, pulling her close. She leaned into him, heaving, sobbing, completely out of control.
“
Why?” she managed in between near shrieks. “Why did he have to die?”
“
It’s okay, honey.”
More sobbing into Matt’s dark suit, staining his rep tie. Her carefully coifed hair was now no more arranged than bedding straw tossed to the ground.
She managed to gain a bit of composure. She would be strong, she determined. She had to be, for her father, if for no one else.
“
I have to do something,” she said, wiping her nose and looking up at her uncle. “Sorry.” She noticed the giant damp circle on his gray shirt. The circle was darkened with the mean streaks of mascara and foundation.
“
It’s okay, Amanda.”
She patted Matt on his chest and pulled his suit jacket lapels from either side in a vain attempt to hide the stain she’d created. “Sorry,” she said again.
“
I have more shirts, Amanda.”
Truthfully she was just stalling, as she knew what she needed to do. Mustering her courage, she walked over to the end of the row of seats and knelt next to the man and woman who were still seated. Most of the crowd had shifted toward the road that led to the chapel.
With her knee pressing into the lawn, she could feel the dampness in the mown grass as her stocking soaked in the morning dew. She looked up at the man and woman, people whom she had only recently come to know.
The woman was wearing a modest black dress with shoes that matched but somehow seemed less elegant than the occasion demanded. The man wore an off-the-rack dark suit that fit, but was perhaps a shade too tight, as if he had purchased it years ago. Amanda noticed the woman had a clear countenance in her round face, as if God was escorting her through this time and space. The man’s wrinkles and weathered skin revealed a life of working outside with his hands.
Placing a hand on the woman’s knee, Amanda paused until Mrs. Eversoll looked at her. Amanda noticed Mr. Eversoll turn and look at her as she knelt in front of the dead soldier’s mother.
Amanda looked at the American flag sitting in Sergeant Eversoll’s mother’s lap in a perfect triangle.
“
I’m so sorry your son died fighting to help my father,” Amanda said through tears that were sliding freely down her cheeks. “I promise I will never forget the sacrifice he made.”
Mrs. Eversoll looked at Amanda with the clear-eyed confidence of a woman who believed so entirely in God, whose faith was so strong, that she knew her son was in a better place.
“
Your father was the best thing that ever happened to Lance.”
Those words, spoken by the parent of a dead soldier, were perhaps the most profound words she would ever hear. Their son had died in combat trying to save her father. Their son was in the casket behind them.
She finally understood that life was about more than serving materialistic desires and hedonistic pursuits. No, serving a cause larger than herself would be her calling. Even if her father could not be present, he would be a part of it, forever.
She stood, leaning over to hug the Eversolls.
“
Thank you, Amanda, for coming. This has meant more than anything else, your being here.”
They hugged for longer than she could remember, the three of them, bonded as one forever by this most unlikely of events.
I’m a part of you; you’re a part of me too
.
Charlotte, NORTH CAROLINA
Saturday Afternoon
She had bid farewell to Matt. There would be more news about arrangements for her father, Matt assured her as he climbed in a black SUV headed to Andrews Air Force Base where he would board a Gulfstream G5 and fly directly to Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan.
Mary Ann Singlaub had proved a good companion for the return trip. She had helped catch Amanda up on some of the details that had been missing, and, in turn, Amanda had given her some good background on her father. All positive.
After landing at the Charlotte airport on an earlier flight, they had taken a cab together to her office at the
Charlotte Observer
, where Amanda had arranged for the attorney, Harlan, to meet them.
They chatted briefly in Mary Ann’s cubicle, which was as unkempt as a college professor’s office.
“
Need to do some spring cleaning, lady.”
“
Don’t get sassy with me,” Mary Ann shot back, picking up a stack of
The Economist
magazines and moving them out of a chair, “or I’ll make you read these.”
Amanda glanced down and smiled. “I’ll be quiet, trust me.”
Mary Ann’s phone beeped, and a mechanical female voice announced, “Visitor.”
They walked to the front desk and met Harlan. Amanda waved from a distance as they approached, but she noticed that he did not return her gesture. For a moment fear struck in her belly that perhaps something had gone wrong.
Her concern melted when her teenage girl instincts reengaged and she noticed that Mary Ann’s and Harlan’s eyes were securely locked in the type of stare usually reserved for high school kids who recognize love at first sight. Amanda could have fallen through a trapdoor and they would not have noticed, she thought, smiling. They were smitten with each other.
As she watched them introduce themselves, she began to think about all the positive emotions and encouragement that she had been able to experience since her father’s death. The two NCBI agents had altered their course because they knew him. The UPS guy had hugged her and grieved with her. Even Harlan had said he knew of him. Where had these positive reinforcements been in the past? Now she could feel his strength and positive energy. Karma, perhaps.
“
Hey, guys?” Amanda said and smiled, waving her hand at the pair.
“
Yes, Amanda, how are you?” Harlan acknowledged, pulling a business card from his wallet. He looked back at Mary Ann, handed her the card, and said, “In case I forget.”
“
Like I would let you,” she replied.
“
Oh, please, I’ve heard better lines in my school plays,” Amanda interjected. “Now let’s go before my mom gets suspicious.”
They entered the conference room, which was dominated by a large dark wood rectangular meeting table surrounded by high-backed black leather chairs like the Praetorian Guard standing watch.
They each took a chair, Amanda at the head of the table and Harlan and Mary Ann facing one another on either side of her. She figured they had engineered this seating arrangement quickly so that they could continue looking at one another while she tried to understand all of the paperwork in front of her.