Taylor Made Owens (49 page)

While the children opened their presents that night, he went to his trunk that held treasured keepsakes of his past and present lives. He took out a small box and opened it. There were his mother’s rings that he’d intended for Kristen: the engagement ring she’d given back to him and the wedding ring he never got to give her. Tears blurred his vision. He wiped them quickly and put on a spurious grin before the children saw. He restored the rings to his trunk and drank.

That night, Robert lay awake in bed, thinking of Kristen. The room spun from too much liquor.
What happened to this meant-to-be nonsense that she believed so fervently? What happened to the love she claimed she’d always have for me?
He wondered if she were in bed with Mark that very moment. He visualized her making love to him and got sick to his stomach. To the toilet he went to vent his anguish.
I love her so much. How will I go on if she marries him?

At that moment, Kristen was at the center, working late to help a child through a crisis. She left at 1:35 AM and was back at ten AM Christmas morning for a small party for the children at the center. After the party, she went to her parents’ place.

Mark spent Christmas afternoon at the Taylors’, although it was hardly the Christmas of old. It was just the parents, Kristen and her beau, and Jeremy and Natalie. While Mark and Jeremy were playing pool in the basement, the others enjoyed a drink in the living room. Bill mentioned they’d seen Robert and his children at the mall. Lisa said, “Bill,” in a tone that denoted, “Watch what you say!”

“Oh?” said Kristen, trying to sound detached, but looking ill at ease. “What did you, um, say to each other?”

With the noble intent of protecting his daughter, Bill answered, “I asked what his intentions are toward you.”

“You what?” Kristen cried. That visceral reaction gave Bill pause. Before he could proceed, she said, “God, Dad, that was uncouth, and I must say, none of your business.” Cowed, he put his face in his drink and took a long quaff. After a few moments of fidgeting, she said, “What did he say?”

“Um, that he … he didn’t really answer,” said Lisa.

“What did he say?” she asked insistently and with not a little solicitude in her voice.

Bill said, “That he doesn’t know you anymore and doesn’t really want to.”

“Bill!” said his wife, but it was too late. Kristen had gone pale and numb. She unwittingly lowered her hand that was holding a drink, and dropped the glass and its contents onto the carpet. Tears flooded her eyes, which looked off into space as she processed the awful news. “Krissy?” said her concerned mother. Kristen remained unresponsive, her mouth agape and a glassy look of disbelief in her eyes. She seemed cataleptic, not even blinking. “Krissy, you’re scaring me,” said her mother.

Suddenly, she snapped back to life and said unperturbedly, “Oh, well, I have no interest in him, either. I love Mark.” She got up mechanically and informed the group, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“That was the cruelest thing you’ve ever done,” Lisa griped to Bill. “I warned you several times, but you just had to stick your nose where it didn’t belong.”

“I won’t see that man shatter my daughter again. I did it for her own good. And I didn’t lie. He did say he’s lost interest in her.”

“And did you see how she reacted? I thought for a minute she was having a breakdown. It’s obvious she’s still desperately in love with Bobby, and your news devastated her. You have no right to destroy her hope. You’ve ruined Christmas! I hope you’re happy.” The distressed woman picked up the empty glass and went to try to console her daughter.

Bill took a longer sip and attempted to act as if everything was fine. Natalie, who had observed the incident uneasily, got up to clean up the spill.

“Krissy? Can I talk to you?” said Lisa as she knocked on the bathroom door. There being no response, Lisa put her ear to the door, but heard nothing. “Please, honey, come out so we can talk.”

“Just give me a few minutes, Mom,” Kristen responded. When Kristen emerged several minutes later there was no indication that there’d been any problem. She asked what she did with her drink. The other three in the room looked at each other.

“I’ll get you another one, honey,” said Lisa. “Then we should talk.”

“About what?” Kristen said. The three looked at each other again. As her mother went to mix another drink, Kristen said, “Never mind, Mom. That drink was just right, but now it’s gone.”

“You don’t want another one?”

“No,” she said with tears once again gathering.

Mark and Jeremy joined them at this point, and Kristen sat next to Mark and snuggled in close, acting as if nothing had happened. Natalie took Jeremy aside and told him what happened.

He whispered to his wife, “She’s loved Owens since high school. She must be really hurting inside.”

Kristen opened her presents, played the piano for some carols, helped with supper preparations, ate, and helped to clean up, all with the same mock smile. Claiming to be exhausted, Kristen left with Mark just after the meal. Natalie and Jeremy, feeling uncomfortable with his parents feuding, left soon thereafter. Lisa left the room, came back with a pillow and a blanket, and threw them at her husband with an antagonistic, “Merry Christmas!” and went to her room for the night.

K
risten inevitably compared any man she met to Robert. For the first time, Robert suffered by comparison. Mark seemed better in every way that was important to her, with one exception: gallantry. How could anyone compare on that score? Robert had played a critical role in saving the lives of millions of people. Mark had saved but two. Yet Mark constantly boasted about his heroics—though only to serve his laudable political aspirations, she thought—whereas Robert never said a thing, never took advantage of his singular achievement. But hold on a minute: maybe there was good reason for that.

Two months into the new year, a veteran CBC reporter broke the human interest story of the year. She’d discovered the identity of the reclusive hero from the smallpox incident in Iraq almost ten years earlier, one Patrick Rocha. Turned out, he somehow knew about the Hendrix/Owens showdown with the tank and told everyone he encountered about the Hendrix/Rocha showdown with the tank. The canard eventually got to the reporter, who reasoned he was a Canadian in the American Army at the time, and he told a convincing story, so it must be him! He was immediately immortalized by a Canadian media needing to fill twenty-four hours with the usual twenty-four minutes of daily news. His ill-favored mug was everywhere for several weeks.

Of course, this confused the few who knew the authentic account—or thought they did. With the imprimatur of the media and a few politicians anxious to associate themselves with him, it seemed indubitable he was legitimate. Some UN inspectors were interviewed for confirmation and, although they said they knew nothing of this Rocha, they conceded they didn’t know what occurred in getting the news out, since they were holed up in the apartment waiting for rescue.

“Was Bob lying all along?” wondered the Taylors. “And if he lied about that, what else has he lied about? Can we trust anything he says?” Kim, too, began to entertain doubts about his rendition of events.

Even Brian said, “Wasn’t it my father who did that?”

Robert, who never wanted anything to do with a feverish media, was incensed, but inclined to let it go. He assumed his confidantes would never question his word about what happened. He was quickly disillusioned. Kim called first and asked him to explain, saying his son wanted the explanation. The question astonished and insulted him.

“I never thought I’d have to defend myself in front of my own son,” he returned loudly.

“I’m sorry, Bob,” said Kim, taken aback. “I know you were there and went through hell, but I have to tell you, no one seems to be questioning this Rocha character’s word.”

“I am, and it pisses me off that you’re questioning mine. You saw what I went through that summer. Wait. My medal. Where’s my medal?”

“What do you mean? What medal?”

“They gave me the Distinguished Service Cross. I left it with Brian.”

“When?”

“When I came to stay with you that summer.”

“You gave it to a two-year-old?”

“I showed it to him and put it in his top drawer. I assumed you would see it.”

“If that little busybody saw you put it in there, it was probably gone a minute after you left the room.”

“Can you check?”

“After, what is it, coming up on ten years? I haven’t run across it in all that time. There’s no way it’s there.” She walked upstairs and rummaged through his dresser drawers, but found nothing. “It’s not here, Bob.”

“Ah, shit! Well, you’re right—I have no proof. It’s just really disappointing that I need it for you of all people. Goodbye.”

“Bob? Bob? Damn.”

But this was just the beginning of the fallout, for the Taylor women demanded gallantry and honesty from their men. For Kristen, this bombshell had the potential to explode her profound respect for him, which was the cornerstone of her love for him. She tried to keep an open mind. She dropped by his office Friday afternoon to ask him about it. Again he took offense and refused to dignify the outrageous question with a response. She apologized and left, but construed his outburst as evidence against him. That not even Kristen believed him dismayed him, but there was a much higher price to be exacted.

Jennifer, who lived in a world of pretension, needed a genuine hero to love and admire. His heroics, which were impressive enough before she blew them out of proportion, verified her convictions about the kind of man he was. In that sense, his being a hero formed the bedrock of her love for him. Undermine the bedrock and the love teeters. And, forever feeling guilty about missing most of her daughter’s upbringing, she also reassessed her judgment that Kara would be better off with him. She called him to tell him he had better have a good explanation or she would take Kara from him.

With a colorful expletive, he informed her that he owed her no explanation, and that he would never give up the daughter he treasured. His refusal to corroborate his account of the events in Baghdad convinced her he lied about the whole thing. His attitude that he would do as he pleased with the daughter of whom she had legal custody steeled her resolve to take her back.

Two days later, Jennifer showed up at his door with a court order demanding he surrender Kara to her mother. Jennifer’s expensive lawyers had moved quickly; they weren’t working by the hour. Expecting trouble, she had one of her lawyers and two police officers with her.

“What’s this?” he asked with an admixture of fear and anger as he looked on the four people at his door.

“My client has a court order requiring you to surrender her daughter to her at once,” declared the lawyer.

“No! You can’t do this to us. I won’t let you.”

“Sir, the papers are in order, and we will enforce it,” said one of the officers.

“And I’ll do whatever I need to to defend my daughter.”

“Is that a threat, sir?”

“Take it as you please. You’re not taking my little girl.”

“Bobby, I warned them about you, and they’re ready,” Jennifer said. “I don’t want you or Kara hurt.”

“You’re hurting both of us by taking her from the only parent she knows. Dammit, you know better than anyone what it’s like when a cold mother takes the daughter from the father who loves her.”

“How dare you say that to me! You’ve never understood that I have a hard time showing my love. I love her so much that I gave her up to you because I knew she needed a stable, loving home, which I couldn’t provide at the time. Now I can—and I will.”

“Stable, loving home. She was extra baggage to you. She was in the way of your career.”

“Let’s do this quickly,” she instructed her lawyer as she felt Robert’s rage rise.

“Sir, move aside,” ordered an officer.

“Please, Jenny. She’s all I have. I’m all she has! Please don’t do this.” They found Kara hiding in her room, frightened to death.

“Come to Mommy, honey,” said Jennifer as she knelt on one knee and held out her arms. She ran past Jennifer to her father and held on for dear life. He picked her up and held her tightly.

“Let go, sir,” insisted the lawyer as he reached out for Kara.

With a fierce look at the lawyer, Robert said, “Touch my daughter and—”

“That does it!” exclaimed one of the officers as he reached for his gun.

“Bobby! Think of Kara. She might get hurt.”

He started crying and said to his daughter, “You have to go with Mommy now, little gal.”

“No! I don’t want to. Don’t make me go, Daddy!” Kara cried.

“Please, Kara,” he said, now sobbing. He embraced her tenderly. “I promise we’ll be together again. Okay?” Jennifer turned away; she, too, was crying. One of the officers extricated her screaming from his arms, a duty that grieved him.

“Jenny, if you do this, I’ll never forgive you.”

“More threats and I’ll see to it you get no visitation—” began the lawyer. Robert’s eyes opened wide, and his fingers curled into two fists as he came perilously close to striking the man.

The second officer stepped in between. “Calm yourself, sir, or I will arrest you. Take this up in the courts if you must. Not here.”

“Is this because you think I was lying about Iraq? They gave me the Distinguished Service Cross. They don’t give that to liars. It was me that night!”

“I asked to see that when we were married, but you said you gave it to your son. Does he still have it?”

“No, he apparently lost it.”

“You know, I checked on the Internet; there are sites that list the soldiers that won each medal. Your name is nowhere to be seen.”

“Christ, Jenny, Delta Force doesn’t even officially exist. Everything about its soldiers is secret.”

“Hendrix is listed.”

“Yeah, well, he’s dead, so he’s not telling many secrets. And I didn’t want the publicity, anyway.”

“How do you think all this sounds from my point of view? You have absolutely no proof that you were the one, and everyone on TV says it was this other guy. If you’re lying, and looks like you are, then you’re not the person I thought you were. Anyway, even that’s beside the point. This is about my right to be her mother, and to love and be with my own daughter.”