It Burns a Lovely Light (5 page)

"I heard my mom telling someone on the phone," said Loretta.

Farley listened, horrified, as Loretta repeated her mother's one-sided conversation.

"...Mrs. Allen opened the front door and there they
were: the Wing Commander, his wife, and the Chaplain. She tried to shut the door but the Chaplain stuck his foot in the way. Mrs. Allen fainted, flat out."

"Wings at the door," whispered Farley.

That was what the base mothers called it. The mere whisper of 'wings at the door' always triggered knocks on wood, signs of the cross, and prayers for the sorrowful trio to stay away.

Loretta nodded, holding up her finger. There was more.

"Get this," she said. "Tammy and her mother can't live here anymore. They have to move off base. From now on, they'll be
civilians
."

At the main gate, Farley considered the guards with their
starched uniforms, serious expressions, and perfect salutes. Her mother liked to say that the armed guards and wire fences at the base represented safety from the civilian realities of traffic, the high prices of supermarkets,
anti-war protests, and the god-awful notion of living in one place for too long.

Jack gave Farley a gently nudge. "Too loud."

"Sorry."

Farley had a habit of reciting prayers at the top of her voice when she was in church. She loved the way everyone turned around, looking to see who knew that prayer so well. But Major Allen's memorial mass was solemn, certainly not the time for showing off.

It seemed like the whole base went back to the Allen's house after the service. Tammy and her mother accepted hugs, words of encouragement and sad smiles through a teary line of neighbors, friends, and classmates.
Loretta and Farley inched forward, watching a hugger reluctantly release her grip and wander away to get a plate of food.

"Poor Tammy," sighed Loretta.

"Yea, poor Tammy."

The girls watched as Miss Marks, the cruelest teacher in the school, embraced Tammy. Farley leaned in close to Loretta.

"You have to admit, though," she whispered, "it must be nice to have all that attention and sympathy."

"That's sick," said Loretta, louder than she had to.

"I didn't mean it," Farley mumbled, her cheeks blazing.

She really didn't. Arbitrary thoughts constantly flew
straight out of her mouth before she had time to think them through. Her father called it her "Achilles' heel." He said she would outgrow it, once she learned to filter.

On the ride home William half screeched, half sang, '
"See,
I been through the lettuce on a horse with no name
!'"

Farley was not in the mood. "Dad, do we have to listen to him sing?"

"William..." said Jack, never taking his eyes off
the road.

William sang louder. "
It felt good to be out of the ra-ain!"

"Son, modulate your voice."

"
In the desert!"
he screeched.

Farley slapped her sweaty thighs, leaving bright red palm imprints. She'd had it up to here - mostly with herself. "Mom! Please?"

Pauline turned around and tapped William's knee. "Tell
you what, kiddo. If you can keep it down until we get home, your dad and I have a surprise for you."

A surprise. Farley narrowed her eyes. Come to think of it...her mother did seem oddly pale for someone who was constantly working on
her tan. She tapped her mother's arm. "We're being transferred, aren't we?"

Silence.

Farley crossed her arms and stared out the window.

"Perfect timing," she muttered. "I'm in dire need of some new friends."

Jack opened his heavy atlas on the dining room table.

"I've been assigned to a base in Udorn, Thailand,"
he said, turning the oversized pages.

"Thailand!" William clasped his hands together and bounced on the balls of his feet. "We're moving to Thailand! Is Thailand near Disneyland?"

"Not quite, professor." Jack tapped a spot on the atlas. "It's in Southeast Asia...here."

Farley and William moved in for a closer look.

Thailand was oceans away from America. In and around its
border were names like Laos, Cambodia and Bangkok. And Vietnam. A sick sensation began to form in the pit of Farley's stomach. She tried to catch her mother's eye, but Pauline was too busy crinkling up her forehead and pretending
to be fascinated by the atlas.

"The thing is," said Jack, "this time I have to go alone."

"For how long?" asked Farley, hating the high-pitched whine in her voice.

Jack put his arm around Pauline, who was nodding and smiling like a crazy person.

"A year," he said. "Two at the most."

Outside, the sound of a jet coming in for a landing seemed
louder than usual.

"What about the rest of us?" William wrapped his arms around himself. "Will we stay here?"

"I thought we'd go home while your father is away," said Pauline.

"Home to Germany, or home to New Mexico?" William asked, thinking of the most recent bases they'd lived on. "Or do you mean..."

"No, hon," said Pauline, exuding Romper Room
enthusiasm. "We'll move back home to Pittsburgh. Won't that be fun?"

While Pauline started dinner, Jack pulled his black leather camera case down from the hall closet and placed it in Farley's hands.

"I know you'll take good care of it."

She caught her breath. "You're giving me your camera?"

"On one condition," he said, ruffling her hair.
"While I'm away, I want you to take at least one picture every day. Something you think made the day special. Will you do that for me?"

"Of course."

"Good. When I come home, we can go back through the
days together."

William tugged on his father's arm. "What about me? What do I get to do?"

Jack leaned down until his forehead touched his son's. William wasn't a hugger; he and Jack had their own show of affection.

"Professor, you are in charge of putting the pictures together in a book."

William nodded, solemnly. "I do love the smell of glue."

Pauline had insisted on making a special spaghetti dinner, as if they had something to celebrate. Farley kept busy chopping garlic for the bread and trying not to cry. Over the years, her father had been away for
weeks, even months at a time. But a year? Two? And Vietnam. She knew what went on over there. Everyone knew.

After dinner, Pauline sat in front of the television and stared into space while Jack got William ready for bed. He made a point of
tucking him in extra tight, like a taco. Being tucked in like a taco was William's latest thing; it gave him the happy-hug feeling without having to experience the actual hug. Farley went to bed early and lay in the dark, sniffing her fingers. Even after a hot bath, the comforting aroma of garlic
lingered on her skin. Just as she was finally drifting off to sleep, William cracked open her bedroom door and tiptoed to her bed.

"Are you sleeping?" he spit-whispered. Missing his
two front teeth, whispering wasn't William's strong point.

She gave a low moan, pretending to be asleep.

"I heard you sniffing a mile away, Farley," he said, clicking his tongue. "So you can stop faking it."

Lately, William had developed a habit of clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth when he was worried about something. He said it was a lot like itching a mosquito bite; once he got going, he couldn't stop.

"I think Dad should probably stay home," William said loudly, overriding her pretend sleep. "Malaria is a common ailment in Southeast Asia and it's highly resistant to drugs. He could also come down with
dengue fever or typhus. Or leprosy. Even diarrhea can be deadly if it's not brought under control."

"He has to go. He got orders."

"I think he should ask for a different
orders
,"
he said, his voice rising.

"That's not how it works."

"Then we need to quit the Air Force."

Farley let out an exasperated sigh - as if the same thought hadn't been bouncing around in her head all evening.

"Dad doesn't quit, William. And if he did, we'd have to go to the same school every year, with the same friends, and live in the same house for the rest of our lives, with no guards and no gates to keep us safe?
Is that what you want? Do you really want to be a
civilian
?"

William was quiet, except for the occasional click against the roof of his mouth.

"No," he finally said. "I guess not."

Farley pulled back her covers. "Come on, I'll let you sleep with me if you promise to stop worrying."

Click.

"I promise to try."

In the early morning hours of Jack's departure, the flight line had an unreal quality to it. The James family clung together, arms intertwined. They might have been one massive body. Over the roar of the jet
engines, they could barely hear each other.

"I love you, Dad." Farley's puffy eyes threatened to overflow with yet more tears. "I miss you already."

"I love you too," he said. "Don't forget;
whenever you miss me, go outside and look up."

"Because we're all under the same sky!" shouted William, giving himself a few substantial yanks.

Jack bent down and touched William's forehead to his. They
stayed like that for a long time. Then he stood and took Pauline's face in his hands and kissed her. Leaning back, he pressed his palm against her cheek.

"Pauline, I want you to know that no matter what
happens..."

"Don't you dare, Jack James," she yelled over the noise. "Whatever it is, you can tell me when you come home."

Us-four-minus-one, Pauline, Farley and William stood on the
tarmac and watched as Jack's jet rose higher and higher across the morning sky. Until he disappeared.

Pauline rented a three-bedroom walk-up in downtown
Pittsburgh. The location was perfect. The Significant Me - highly recommended by William's teachers in Arizona - was two blocks from home. Saint Bridget's, where Farley would attend the fifth grade, could be seen from their rooftop
patio. And both Claire and Ryan lived just across the Monongahela River.

Pauline's siblings lived at opposite ends of Overlook Trail, a precipitous cobblestone road. Bridge Manor, Claire's home, sat at the top. Appearing to cling to the hillside, the old Victorian had a commanding view of
the city below. Ryan's stone cottage was located near the river at the bottom of Overlook Trail. His house, along with shops, a market, and St. Xavier's Church, formed Grady Square, the heart of the small community of Grady.

True to her promise Farley took at least one photograph a day: her finger pushing a lemon seed into a pot of soil, Pauline unpacking the 'nice' dishes, William eating a picnic lunch on the rooftop patio. Using a
tripod, she photographed the three of them pretending to be Sears catalogue models. She captured the crisp leaves of October; Pauline blowing kisses to the camera with Christmas tinsel in her hair; Bridge Manor in various stages of repair; Joe and Paddy teaching William to skate on a frozen pond, and Veda
Marie pinching suckers from her spring tomato plants. Somewhere between the leaves and the tomatoes, Farley decided she wanted to be a professional photographer.

She devoured photography magazines. When she wasn't in her
school uniform, Farley took to wearing all black and wandering the city, snapping pictures. She tried to act the way she thought a professional photographer would act, all artistic and lost in thought - although she
couldn't quite pull off 'moody and withdrawn.'

Pauline deposited a worn-looking cloth bag full of submarine sandwiches on Bridge Manor's massive wooden table.

"I got two meatball cheeses, two Italian with
everything, and two tuna salads - toasted, heavy on the onions." She wiped her face with a napkin. "I don't know how you live with this humidity. Give me the dry heat of the desert any day."

"Don't tell me you walked all the way from your apartment," said Claire, not looking up from the bills she was paying.

"It's only a few miles."

"Straight uphill. You're putting us to shame."

"Speak for yourself, Claire Sullivan," yelled Veda Marie from the pantry. "I'm as healthy as a frisky thoroughbred."

Claire grunted. "Then why are you always running to the
doctor?"

"Unlike you, I enjoy having my good health confirmed with regular check-ups."

Pauline filled a glass with water.

"Is it me," she said, "or have those steps
gotten steeper since we were kids?"

Generations ago, hundreds - maybe thousands - of public steps had been built into the steep hills overlooking the city. Before sturdy roads, inclines, and transit systems, the steps made it much easier to maneuver
up and down the slopes. Many of the steps were now in disarray but large sections of them were still in use, including the ones that led from Grady Square straight up to Bridge Manor's back yard.

Veda Marie dumped an armload of paper plates, napkins and cups on the table. "Speaking of kids," she said, "where are your little chickens?"

"They're a few minutes behind me. William saw a frog
about halfway up the hill and Farley's friend, Dion, threatened to kiss it." She examined a framed picture hanging beside the pantry. "When did you put this up?"

The photograph was of Claire, Pauline, and Veda Marie. They
had taken a break from one of their many renovation projects. Just as they were striking a pose, Veda Marie broke them up with some funny piece of gossip. Farley's camera captured the three of them in a fit of hilarity.

Veda Marie faced sideways with one knee slightly bent, her
head thrown back in laughter. Even in her worn denim overalls she was a Barbie doll - complete with a too-tiny waist and impossibly perky breasts - but there was a durability to Veda Marie that made her seem much larger than her small
frame.