Authors: Anthony Tata
“
And if we are going to be together forever, you need to sort out this thing with your dad.”
Again she flinched. “Let’s not talk about that, okay? There are just three weeks to graduation. My dad has only caused problems in my life. It’s like he never existed except when he was missing child support or threatening my mom, or whatever.”
“
Come on. Don’t you think that if those things were really happening, he’d be in jail?”
“
That’s where he belongs.” Amanda’s words were quick and decisive. There was no doubt about her sentiment.
“
I hear what you’re saying, but I’m here for you. And you can count on me to stand by you. My only request is that we talk to somebody about it, you know?”
Amanda pulled away. “You mean like a shrink?”
“
Something like that,” Jake said, less sure this time.
“
Get out of here.” Of course, she didn’t mean for him to leave. Rather, she was calling into question the entire foundation of his last comment.
“
If we’re going to one day get married, like we’ve talked about, I don’t want you having all these man-hating feelings.” Jake had thought his way through this part of the discussion several times, though he had not expected to have it this night. He was operating purely on instinct, and it seemed right to talk about it. He had read that most couples who fail did so because of miscommunication. And he wasn’t going to have any of that.
The headlights from a white minivan cut across them like a prison searchlight. Jake looked up and saw who it was.
“
I think you probably need to get inside. I’ll check you later.”
“
No, don’t leave,” Amanda said, pulling on his arm lightly. A matronly figure with bleached-blonde hair, not thin, not fat, wearing a matching coral pantsuit with a triple string of pearls around her neck emerged from the minivan that was now hemming Jake’s truck into the driveway. “At least say hi.”
“
Hey there, Jake,” the woman said in a whiny, Southern accent with mock enthusiasm.
Jake shuffled, looked at the ground, and then looked up at Mrs. Gabrielle Hastings—Hastings being the surname of her fourth husband. “Hi, Miss Gabrielle, nice to see you.”
“
You can call me Nina, Jake. How many times have I told you that? Anyway, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were lying to me.” The expression she painted on looked curiously like a smile, but for the emptiness in her eyes. “Are you taking care of this pretty girl here?” Without giving him a chance to answer, she continued. “Of course not. Nobody can take care of my Manda Wanda like her Nina.” With that she hugged Amanda, pulling her away from Jake. “Isn’t that right?”
“
Hey, Nina.” Amanda’s persona changed measurably, assuming the role of a child, becoming sheepish, cowing. Nina was the nickname that Amanda had known for her since she was born. Her grandmother had told her that she could never utter the words “grandma,” and it always came out “Nina.” Though she had no recollection of that, she presumed it was true.
“
Where’s your momma?”
“
Be home in a few minutes. Went to get more ice or something.”
“
With a party like this going on? What are you, crazy?”
“
They’re being good in there, Nina. Don’t worry.”
“
Let’s just go see about that.” Nina Hastings pulled Amanda away by the arm toward the porch.
“
Wait, Nina, I’m talking to Jake about something. The Citadel’s accepted him.”
The grandmother stopped walking and turned slowly toward Jake, who was sitting in the driver’s seat of his truck with one foot on the cobblestone driveway, elbow leaning on the steering wheel. Nina’s face contorted into an evil mask, the light from the porch casting across half of her face then slowly shining across the entire tortured countenance.
She locked eyes with Jake, who held her stare. He had never liked the woman. He thought she was bad for Amanda and her mother, quite frankly. He saw her as selfish and controlling, using Amanda to fill her own egotistical needs. They held their locked gaze for a moment. Nina narrowed her eyes.
Jake smiled. “I think I just made up my mind.”
Nina snatched Amanda’s arm again and dragged her toward the house.
Amanda’s eyes widened. “No!” she screamed as Nina hauled her to the porch and into the house.
Jake listened as someone had stopped the music and there was a collective moan from the party crowd. Then, he heard Nina’s voice say, “Come on y’all, let’s have a party.” The music suddenly cranked back up and thumped at the walls.
Jake slid behind the wheel of his truck, closed the door and muttered, “Citadel, here I come,” under his breath. He pulled forward into the grass and then back onto the circular driveway.
***
A leathery hand pulled apart two of the dining room window blinds, allowing Nina Hastings’ hawkish eye to watch Jake Devereaux drive away.
Spartanburg, SOUTH CAROLINA
Sunday Morning
Amanda Garrett rolled in her bed, the bright morning sun cutting like a knife through the razor-thin slits in the miniblinds. She looked at the clock and moaned.
Why am I awake at eight a.m.?
Her head pounded from the vestiges of last night’s beer, and she pressed her hands into her temples.
There was a noise from downstairs. She thought she heard two people arguing. One of the voices was her mother’s, she knew that much. Even in her groggy condition she recognized the smooth Southern drawl. When had she come home? Had Nina spent the night? She couldn’t remember. And Jake?
Oh, Jake. The Citadel.
No way
, she thought to herself. Her stomach got weak at the thought.
“
Amanda.” It was her mother’s voice.
“
Not now, Mom. I’m sleeping.” She half screamed through her closed door.
She could hear feet coming up the oak hardwood steps.
“
Now, Amanda, this is important.”
“
Nothing important happens Sunday morning at eight, Mom.”
The door cracked open, and her mother peered in. She was still mildly attractive as she neared forty. A face-lift and continuous dye job on the hair seemed to keep her looking somewhat younger.
“
No, this is important, Amanda. Now put on some decent clothes and come down.”
Amanda took about ten minutes, tolerated another visit from her mother, and then came downstairs wearing jeans and a USC sweatshirt with the silk-screened image of a rooster on the front. As she bounced down the steps, she slowed her pace as she saw two uniformed men standing in the foyer.
She looked at her mother. “Is this about the party?” With arms crossed, her mother shook her head. Amanda noticed Nina in the dining room watching the drama unfold.
“
Then what?” Amanda looked at the two men, both in green uniforms that she vaguely recognized as something she had seen her father wear at one point in time. She shrugged her shoulders and looked at them as if to say, “Okay, get on with it.”
One of the men was a tall, handsome soldier holding a green beret in one hand and some papers in the other. The other man was shorter and stout. He was clearly older, balding some, and Amanda noticed he had a silver cross on his lapel.
The tall, handsome Green Beret looked her in the eyes and began to speak. “Are you Miss Amanda Rose Garrett?”
“
That’s me, all day long. You know ARG, like a pirate,” she said impatiently, making a play on her initials.
“
Ma’am, I am Major Ross Blair, and I regret to inform you that your father has been killed in action in Afghanistan.”
Amanda stared at the man, without really seeing him. She was searching for some kind of response inside. There was nothing coming to her mind, no connection between thought and emotion. Simply, there was no emotion.
She turned to her mother for guidance and saw that she was exchanging a look with Nina. She then looked across the foyer into the dining room at Nina, who remained silent, her thin lips curled upward just a bit.
What is that look?
Amanda wondered to herself.
“
Miss Garrett, we are notifying you because your parents are divorced, and you are listed as the next of kin. I am the casualty assistance officer and will be able to help guide you through the process as we honor Colonel Garrett and lay his remains to rest. I hope you understand why we had to notify you personally and could not simply tell your mother.”
Amanda noticed the man spoke without prepared remarks; however, the words seemed well rehearsed. Perhaps he had done this before, she thought.
“
While I know you are understandably upset, Chaplain Jones and I will be outside after you have had a chance to discuss the matter with your mother. Do you have any questions for either of us right now?”
Amanda looked at Major Blair and then at Chaplain Jones.
“
No,” she responded to the major. She tapped her foot and looked at her fingernails, then turned to her mother. “Can I go back to sleep now?” She spoke with an irritated edge, as if she had been needlessly awakened.
The major and chaplain exchanged glances, and then Blair looked at Amanda’s mother. “Ma’am, we’ll be outside if she needs us.”
“
I won’t need you,” Amanda said. “I’m fine.” She turned around and ran up the steps, stopping at the midlevel landing. “Just one question.”
By now Nina and Amanda’s mother were ushering the two soldiers to the door. They stopped and looked up at her.
“
What was he doing? I mean how was he killed?”
Blair had one foot in the house and one foot on the porch. Nina stepped in front of him and continued their momentum outside, but he was a large man and didn’t budge. He looked up at Amanda. “Miss Garrett, your father died rescuing another soldier.”
“
That’s enough, major. Can’t you see she’s upset? Let’s just get going here.” Nina’s voice was loud and shrill. Finally, Blair’s good manners overcame his stubborn desire to make sure that Colonel Garrett’s daughter knew he died a hero, and he stepped outside.
Amanda turned and continued to climb the stairs. She heard the door close and glanced over her shoulder. She saw her mother and Nina leaning against the door as if to keep an intruder at bay. They turned and looked at each other, both smiling just a bit, as Amanda rounded the corner into her room.
She shut the door and stood motionless in the center of her room, staring at the full-length mirror against the far wall. She saw her image, that of a nearly grown woman, and she continued to wonder why she felt nothing at all. Surely she should be sad, upset, mad, or overcome by some other raging emotion. She didn’t even feel happy, which she had actually thought about before. Did that mean she wanted him dead?
Regardless, that day had come. Colonel Zachary Garrett would no longer fight with her mother, miss a swim meet or birthday, skip a child support payment, or inconvenience her life with unplanned visits. Well, good, she thought.
She walked over to her window and looked out at the street where the two soldiers’ car was parked. She saw the chaplain hugging the major, who had his face buried in his shoulder.
Amanda Garrett sat on her bed and looked at her clock. The entire episode had taken nine minutes, which was more time than she had thought about her father in a long while. She kicked off her sandals, slid under her sheets, and rested her head on her pillow.
***
Loudoun County, Virginia
Matt Garrett stood at the door of his Loudoun County home and stared at the man standing before him. The soldier was dressed in Army blue uniform, creased perfectly along the front seams of the pants. His face was stern, stoic, and unrelenting in its gaze.
“
So either my brother’s dead or you’re lost,” Matt said.
“
Sir, I regret to inform you that your brother, Colonel Zachary Garrett, is reported as killed in action in Kunar Province, Afghanistan.”
The rest of the visit was a blur. Matt had been down this dark trail previously in the Philippines. And now again? True, both he and Zach operated in the thin margins of life where danger continuously lurked, waiting like a rabid puma, eyes glistening, mouth foaming, ready to kill at random. His role with the CIA had put Matt in a series of difficult situations while Zach’s eagerness to get back into the fight after 9-11 had led to fights in the Philippines, Canada and now Afghanistan. Men like Matt and Zach operated in the netherworld of spies and operatives that few Americans understood but from which all benefited, whether they knew it or not.
Zach dead?
“
I’ll believe it when I see it,” Matt muttered. He dismissed the officer and walked through his small brick rambler sitting on three acres of rolling hills. He picked up the phone, thought about calling his sister Karen and his father, but then put the receiver down and decided to wait. They were probably at church anyway. Instead he grabbed a Budweiser from its dominant and nearly solitary place in the refrigerator, and walked through the back door onto his wood deck. From the deck he could see his land slope away to the south and west, toward the Blue Ridge and toward Stanardsville, his family home 90 miles away.