Part III: The Hillbilly and Haldane side
Hillbilly and Haldane's long story is told through many many ficlets in Modern!AU. Below are bits and pieces of some of those ficlets:
Kitty and Harry made the long-distance marriage work, but it was never easy. Everyone always said the nights were the worst, but for Kitty it was the days. She worked best at night, perhaps perpetuating a stereotype, but it was easier to work without the distractions. The days were all about denial, knowing that Harry was out there, doing something for Nixon or the Pentagon and unable to even call to say, ‘Hello.’ She of all people knew how risky it was to give the DoD even the closest idea of a region for the home of Ron’s true headquarters. They knew he was based in the United States, but their intel led him to satellite offices in Miami, New York City, Boston, outside of >>>in Texas, near Camp Pendleton in CA and one office in Toronto. It didn’t make sense to have a co-op of trained spies and con-men based in The Research Triangle, but Ron liked it here, Chuck liked it here, Kitty loved it here, and even though it was never outright side, they all knew this is where Lipton wanted to retire.
She knew they were lucky, that they were granted two weeks together each month. Ron tried, he really did, to work things out so Kitty could go to D.C. as often as possible, but there was only so much he could do. She refused to quit, she loved her job and her life here, and besides the fact, she didn’t see why she should be the one to leave her life behind. She earned twice as much as Harry and she didn’t dislike the people she worked for.
And Ron let Kitty have free reign, trusting her instincts to know when and how to pull back. Ron was all about discipline, you followed his rules, you didn’t fuck up, and he let you do whatever you wanted. If you did fuck up, he was there to clean up your mess, still had your back, but he never let you forget the fuck up.
She heard the stories about him, met the legend before she met the man. She expected a psychopath, met more of a sociopath, and realized, honestly, Ron was the product of his life. He did military school; he worked black ops from the age of 17 on. Trained assassins did not get to retire and settle down into some quiet, cookie-cutter life. They used their ingrained resourcefulness to survive another day. If they made a profit while doing so, then, hell, better for everyone.
Kitty knew she didn’t look like your stereotypical Hollywood hacker. She never felt the urge to stick metal through various part of her body and her tattoos were more earth mother than hardcore. It was one of the reasons Ron hired her on the spot, besides her skills. Kitty easily slotted into corporate America. She rocked a striped pant suit. It helped to blend it with the conservative corporate cubicle when you were hacking a bank’s database. FDIC was just below the DMV in terms of soulless emotionless employees.
She dropped her purse on the table and collapsed in her favorite recliner. It was ugly as sin, some garish paisley print that never should have seen the light of day, but she loved it. The strains of Brad Paisley’s “Start A Band” sounded from her pocket and she pulled out her phone.
“Cousin Eddie, what part of our great country are you in now?”
“Texas. I am disappointed. There are no Patrick Swayzes around kicking people’s asses.”
“I can’t see you playing a Texas Shuffle for your supper.”
“Kitty, I’ll play Stairway to Heaven for hours if it gets me room and board.”
“You can come here. You’d fit in perfectly with the alt-country scene.”
“I need to get away from the East Coast for awhile, Kits.”
“Still doing your tactical retreat from memories of old?”
“I just need to wander for a bit. Kits, I know you understand that. No matter how old any of us get, sometimes we just need to run away. I like living like this. It’s less complicated.”
“Bullshit. It lets you avoid the things you don’t want to think about. Eddie, I get it, okay. I know you have understandable crap to deal with from Afghanistan, but there was something else, wasn’t there?”
“Kitty, I didn’t call for this. I just, I can’t right now, okay. I just wanted to know how you are. How’s Harry? And Chuck?”
“I know, Eddie, I’m sorry. I just worry about you. You’re out there on your own, wandering around like you’re stuck in some purgatory on Earth and you won’t tell anyone why. It’s been three months since you were last home.”
“And how long has it been since you crossed over Maryland’s state lines?”
“I have to stay out because I don’t want to be detained as a threat to national security. I have an actual reason.”
“And maybe in my wanderings I made a deal with the devil at a crossroads.”
“You also get so sentimental when you play Robert Johnson.” She sighed into the phone. “Why do I have a feeling it’s more devil dogs after your ass than hell hounds.”
**************************
“Look, Ron, you can fire my ass. I don’t care. I need the week of May 10th off. You can’t ask me why but either you give me the time off or hand me my severance package.”
“Kitty, when have I ever told you you can’t take time off? Just remember to drop the muffins off before you leave, keep your cell phone on, and if you start to cause any diplomatic crises, call Chuck.”
********
Kitty flipped through the open pages of the journals and tried not to tear up at the lyrics. Sea breeze stirred her hair and she looked to the balcony.
Eddie sat on the cold concrete, staring out at the ocean. He blindly reached his hand back and poured out another shot of Jameson.
“Eddie,” she called.
He looked back at her, the prefect picture of heartbreak.
“You know what today is?” he asked.
“May 12th,” she answered.
“And on May 12th, five years ago, I risked my whole career by confessing my love to my CO. And now I’m here, on the vacation we should have taken together to celebrate our anniversary, downing whiskey and writing shitty love songs.”
****
Half-way through the night, Kitty brought out the vodka. She never got to drink it at home, Harry hated the fact that one of her exes got her hooked, and as much as a jealous Harry made her laugh, she didn’t like to needlessly piss him off.
“Do you regret it?” she asked.
“Regret what,” Eddie slurred.
“Loving him.”
“Never. Besides, I ended it. That’s on me.”
“He could’ve fought for you.”
“He tried but it had to end. The Corps needs officers like him and I’d done served my time enough. We both got the blame for this one, Kits, but I still feel the need to mourn the loss.”
“And if you ever found your way to him again?”
Eddie laughed. “If God is gracious, I wouldn’t turn the gift away.”
********
Kitty woke-up to the sound of Eddie singing Jo Dee Messina’s I’m Alright. She smiled wide, if he was singing Jo Dee, he was definitely in a better mood.
“What, no Dolly?” Kitty asked as she stepped into the living room.
Eddie shrugged and put his guitar to the side. “Dolly makes you cry.”
“Excuse me, at the last family reunion, you were the one with tears in your eyes while signing Jolene.”
“That’s the only proper way to sing Jolene,” Eddie said.
Kitty curled up next to him on the couch, peeking at his new lyrics. She smiled as she caught the change in sentiment.
“New dawn, new day?” she asked.
“You were right last night,” he answered. “I’ve never been one for bitter or broken-hearted. I’ve got to truly own my part in this. I chose to end it and I am allowed to be upset over Andy staying with his career, but we didn’t exactly give each other a choice. I was almost done with that life by the time he started.”
“I thought you were going to career it,” she said.
“The Corps was good to me and I’ll never deny that. I really started my training when I was 14, Kitty, with all the JROTC crap. By the time I made Gunny, god, I was fucking burned out. After Afghanistan, Iraq just felt like a whole new round of bullshit I couldn’t swallow down. I was done before I ever shipped out. There’s only so many times I could take seeing a baby boy not even old enough to drink drying too damn far from home.”
***********************************
It ended on a Tuesday morning, bright, sunny, and seemingly innocuous. Andy would be a liar if he said he didn’t see it coming, didn’t see the hard lines of frustration grown deeper in Eddie’s freckled skin, the happiness start to dim in his eyes, and disillusionment take the place of what was once clear hope.
Andy couldn’t help but blame himself as the years passed. If he had been a stronger man, he’d have spent the last four years building a life with the man he still loved instead of tracking his movements through internet postings and old colleagues.
Andy was out of the Corps a year after Eddie left, a year after Eddie left him to boot. Eddie always was the more stubborn of the two of them, more willing to make the hard decisions. Andy would never leave Eddie, and he knew that, so Eddie left him. Made the choice Andy couldn’t, wouldn’t make, and Andy had found little contentment in his life ever since.
His first year out of the Corps, two years without Eddie, he spent in the backwoods of Maine. Isolated and alone, save for a few family members and neighbors, he was able to decompress in a way no Corps Approved Program ever could. He lived out of a trailer while he built his cabin. Two rooms, nothing fancy, and he had the help of quite a few locals.
He called up Burgie, who would quote Walden at him until he gave in and agreed to fly down to Texas, take in some of the Gulf air, and join civilization again. He invited Elmo Haney to spend a few weekends. They’d camp out on the land, shoot the shit, and get into bickering fights about whether or not Andy should move to D.C. and join Naval Criminal Investigative Services. As much as Andy loved and respected the old Gunny, he couldn’t see himself carrying a weapon again.
He went down to Boston, spent a week in the Spring wandering the city, stopping at the war memorials in Charles Town, Cambridge, Mount Auburn, Boston Common, the Esplanade, every corner of the city. He walked up Bunker Hill and wondered about the men who came before him in the wars, how those who survived managed to slot back into civilian life when there was still a war on.
It was a talk with Gene Sledge that got Andy’s ass out of Maine. Sledge was still a young man lost, no longer a wide-eyed innocent, he still didn’t know what to do with his life. Andy told him to do something that gave him peace, he felt like an ass for saying it, since he couldn’t find his own, but Sledge found nature, and birds, joined the fight for conservation and decided to go to school.
Andy finished his Master’s in between tours. He was certified to teach in California, Massachusetts, Maine, and out of some small spark of hope, Maryland and Pennsylvania. He took teaching tests in different states but didn’t feel like teaching anywhere. It was his father who suggested Teach for America.
“You can still serve, Andy,” he said, “but this time you take these kids and you shape them to survive. They need teachers like you.”
They wanted people with leadership experience, according their website. Andy laughed so hard he started crying. He contacted one of the regional heads, asked about the positions in Texas and Louisiana where they were needed the most. They explained their process, what was required of their new hires, and Andy was too late to work for them at the start of the next year, but applications opened in August.
After years of feeling the brunt of shit rolling down hill, Andy decided it was time to cut out the middle micro-managers. He contacted all three of the school districts the recruiter told him about. St. Martin Parish, Louisiana, was the first to call him back.
******
Cecilia was one of handful of cities in St. Martin Parish. Andy personally thought of it as a town, but they had their own city high school and enough households to maintain a decent economy. Hurricane Katrina caused a population swell that meant a new high school was planned for the parish, but as of now, Cecilia Central High was in desperate need of English and Social Studies teachers.
“We got all the Math and Science teachers we can handle, imagine that,” Principal Jerome Bissette told him over two cups of some sugar torture called sweet tea.
*****
Andy unpacked his boxes over the course of a month. The last contained his plaques. He was never one for awards and achievements.
He pulled out the familiar Blue Diamond of the First Marine Division. After all this time, he still couldn’t stop the well of pride.
Andy didn’t start out in the First Marines. Hell, he didn’t even start his career at Camp Pendleton. Then again, neither did Eddie. They met at Camp Lejeune, where Andy was settling into his first job with the Second Marine Division and Eddie was during a stint as an instructor for the School of Infantry.
God, those days. Andy though the transition from Maine to Quantico was bad. Camp Lejeune was a whole other world.
******
“How did you and Hillbilly get started?” Burgie asked. “I mean, you two seemed to know each other before you came on as our commander in ’03.”
“We met in 1998, crossed paths for years, didn’t start anything until 2000 when we both wound up at Pendleton. I never wanted to put him in a position where I’d comprise our integrity. I tried so hard to get transferred out of your Command, but when they decide to push into Iraq, there was no chance. Eddie was going to leave--”
Burgie sucked in a quick breath at that one.
“But Mike and I convinced him that the boys needed their Gunny. And honestly, Burgie, with the way my mouth was running at Matthias after that shitshow started, I thought I was going to be relieved of command at any second.”
*******
“They’re moving me to your Company,” Andy said.
“Fuck,” Eddie cursed into his Cheerios. “I’ll ask for a transfer.”
“Don’t you dare,” Andy said.
“It’ll be easy. I got a few buddies in Recon who want me there,” Eddie said.
“And they’ll probably send your ass to the middle of Afghanistan again and I don’t want the next time I see you to be at your funeral,” Andy said. “God, this is fucked-up.”
*****
“Andy.”
“Eddie.”
“So, you two obviously know each other,” Ralph said.
“It’s been what, four years?” Hillbilly asked.
“Yeah, about that,” Haldane agreed. His smile was genuinely warm as he studied Hillbilly. “How’re the kids?” he asked.
“Great, all of them are doing really well. Bobby’s a cop now, Angie’s gone and married some doctor, Mike’s teaching at some preschool in Pittsburgh. Let’s see, Timmy and Carrie hiked it off to New York City and are trying their hands at Broadway. Gabe’s decided he’s going to spend the next year following in Jack Kerouac’s footsteps. Kimmy’s just started school, art major, but you know, free spirit. Chris made it to the state team last year with his soccer skills and Ali just started high school.”
“Your mom still doing well?”
“She is. Even met a new guy from her bowling nights. I don’t quite like him, but Momma’s happy. What about you? What happened to the cabin in Maine and all that?”
“Oh, built that cabin about two years ago, I’m quite proud of it. Just, you know, got out of the Corps and still felt the need to serve. Teach for America brought me here, you could say.”
“I’m honestly surprised you’re not still active duty.”
“I just don’t quite like where I felt it was all heading. That, and my best Gunny left me, so what was I going to do?”
“You’d have survived.”
“Nah, Eddie, I don’t think I would have.”
Hillbilly dropped his gaze, not wanting to think of the past right now. Of humid nights in Melbourne, Andy pressed up against his back, muffling his laughter as fingertips spread over sensitive skin. Not of Afghanistan and Iraq and words passed, promises made half a world away.
“So, you really did decide to go with the teaching thing?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I like teaching kids about history and hell; you know how much I always loved playing a game of football when I got the chance. It’s great to coach some kids again.”
“Good to see you getting what you want, Andy, you deserve it. All of it. I,” he paused, his phone blaring the obnoxious rap song meant for his youngest brothers. “Sorry, got to take this. Chris doesn’t call unless it’s important.”
“Sure, sure, I’ll see you around, Eddie.”
Hillbilly just nodded, flipping his phone open and hurrying back inside the house.
******
“Ever consider teaching?”
“Funny, Andy.”
“I’m serious, Eddie, these kids need people who will care about them. Teachers here, they have to go above and beyond. So many of them were uprooted after Katrina.”
***
There were five restaurants in St. Boniface, fifteen stores, four schools, 18 places of religious worship, two parks, one free clinic, one library and one post office. The small town atmosphere reminded Andy of Maine, but the ever-present crawfish, smattering of Anglo-French phrases, and humidity assured him that it was not New England. So far, kids at the high school seemed taken with their new teacher. They were used to strangers passing through, going on their way to Baton Rouge, Lafayette, or New Orleans, but they weren’t used to people staying. Andy knew he stuck out here, with his accent, mannerism, and awe over the bayous, but he never felt unwelcome. Just like he was on display.
Hillbilly, of course, had already won the hearts of half the town. He always had that way about him. It was rare for someone to actively dislike Eddie Jones. He disarmed all defenses with a goofy, warm grin and an aw shucks attitude. He was cynical as hell, but still believed the best of people. He was a kind soul, never a door mat, and left in his travels a number of friends, adopted families and brothers and sisters in arms.
Even after the time between them ended, even though it still hurt eke hell to think about that loss, Andy couldn’t bring himself to think of any ill will.
****
“So what happened?”
“Eddie made a decision that I wasn’t willing to make. I never wanted it to be my career of him.” Haldane shook his head. “And now I’ve lost both.”
“But, I mean, couldn’t you have tried to work around it?”
“We did. Eddie, though, he’s by the book and he’s never been the manner of denying who or what he is. Life’s too short. He knew that before he joined the Corps, but he never wanted me to have to make that choice. So he made it for me, for the both of us. He left the Corps not long after that. Just got tired of it all, I guess. Twelve years in the Corps and he just walked away.”
“You did too.”
Haldane nodded. “Four years ago. I served my country, proudly. I couldn’t keep fighting and risking my men’s lives, my own life, for an organization and country that doesn’t want me as I am. And I’m too restless to take a desk job.”
“You’re teaching.”
“You taught in a school lately?”
“No.”
“Trust me, it’s not just sitting behind a desk.”
*****
“How’d you do that?” Eddie’s fingers trailed down the line of scar tissue on his knee.
“IED, last tour.”
“It looks like it’s still healing.”
“It has its good and bad days. Usually bad here, with the humidity and all.”
*************
Thanksgiving. Just the word invoked all sorts of memories for Andrew Haldane. Thanksgivings in Massachusetts and Maine had a certain character to them. Not necessarily because of the history, but more because of the wild turkeys who always camped out on the family’s cars during the feast. In modern culture it was the day of the three F’s: Family, Food and Football. All three held strong spots in Andy’s heart, but this year would be different. This year would not be a Thanksgiving spent at his parent’s new house outside of Lawrence, nor at his cabin in Maine. No rooting on the Patriots or distracting the kids who wanted to go down to Pilmouth Plantation. There would be no fresh cranberries brought in from a neighbor’s farm and no football games in the backyard. This year would be the first Thanksgiving since Andy left the Corps that he didn’t spend with his blood family.
He wasn’t staying in Louisiana, couldn’t stay in a place so far from his memories of home for such holidays. It was too warm down there to spend all day cooking and he still found himself adjusting to the whole wearing shorts and t-shirts in November thing. It was one thing to be fighting in a desert in November, at least it cooled down at night. St. Boniface was another matter entirely. He spent last year despairing over no snow at all in November or December and spent his Winter Break in a sort of giddy delight, tackling his nephews into the snow banks on Lawrence’s streets.
This year however meant Thanksgiving in Pennsylvania. The Jones Family Thanksgiving as the invitation on Facebook called it. A whole house impossibly cramped full with most of the Jones family and their cousins. There were promises of deep-fried turkey and corn. Honestly, Andy just wanted to make sure cranberry dressing was somewhere on the menu. He’d even packed some emergency cans of Ocean Spray’s frankly terrifying cranberry concoction just in case.
Spending Thanksgiving with the Joneses was one of his first steps in proving to Eddie Jones that he meant it this time around. Andy left the Marines and was completely devoted into getting a life back he lost over six years ago.
As they made the long drive from St. Boniface to Red Lion, Andy had a lot of time to think. He’d been the driver as far as Tennessee, but when Eddie insisted they took the Blue Ridge Parkway on the North Carolina side and up through Virginia, he gladly switched seats with the boy who grew up with the twisting mountain back roads. Their car was full of boiled peanuts, rock candy, and any other food of interest that caught their attention from the roadside stands.
Darkness started to fall as they passed by Blowing Rock, Eddie telling the legend in his soothing storytelling voice.
“Did any of your family come from this area?” he asked. “You know so much about it.”
Eddie laughed. “Some, probably. A history teacher like you should know these hills were once full of the Scotch-Irish.”
“If we were talking about the factory girls in Lowell or the Boston Brahmans, I’d win this conversation. Never learned much about hillbillies in school.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised by you yuppie Yankees.”
“Never call someone from Red Sox Nation a Yankee. It doesn’t end well.”
Eddie just smiled. “Back when I still had dreams about going to college, I wanted to go to App. Thought the mountains would be the best place and Asheville was a too artsy even for more. Momma didn’t want me so far away and under the influence of hippy pot-smokers as she called them. She’s a proud Great Smoky Mountains girl, all the way. Daddy, well.” Eddie paused. The bittersweet smile only reserved for talk of his father spread over his face. “Watauga is a dry county and daddy just couldn’t comprehend why anyone would want to go to school in such a place”
“So you joined the Marines.”
“Put food on the table, got me into the Corps. Paid well, though not well enough for what it makes you give. Still, I got you out of it, didn’t I?”
Andy smiled at that and ran a finger down Eddie’s arm. It had always been their version of hand-holding, a single finger down the arm, and two fingers tapping on the wrist. Everything quiet and in code. Nothing too long lingered.
They stopped over night on the border between North Carolina and Virginia. Virginia went on forever and neither Andy nor Eddie was ready to make that long haul. They were already ahead of schedule.
It was the typical hole-in-the wall off the highway. Holiday Inn’s on one side and Cracker Barrels on the other.
“We’re going there in the morning,” Eddie said, pointing to the huge sign in the distance. “I want some grits and buttermilk biscuits with white gravy.”
“You can get that in Louisiana.”
“It’s just not the same. They don’t make grits right in Louisiana.”
“Is this going to turn into another South Carolina vs. Georgia peach debate?”
“One day Snafu will admit the truth and see the light.”
“I don’t know how you get any rest living with that bunch.”
“Everyone caves to Gene Roe. When he’s home, which is usually only to sleep, we all get quiet and polite. Besides, I like living in a full house. Makes it feel more like home, or like I’m back in the Corps, watching young men make idiots out of themselves over each other.”
“Do you miss it?” Andy asked.
They’d talked about the reasons why Eddie left, and Andy’s part in those reasons, but he still worried about any buried resentment. Eddie was a Marine before Andy had even started college.
Eddie shrugged. “It was twelve years of my life, more if you count JROTC. You’ll always miss something that was a part of you that long. We all come to that point in time though, that crossroads, when we have to ask if the path we’re on is what we want for the rest of our lives. I didn’t want that. I don’t miss the desert, I don’t miss the tension, but I do miss the camaraderie. There is a special bond with people you’ve gone through hell with. But I’m greedier these days. I want my life to last. I want to spend my time playing music and being around the people who make me laugh and smile. I want to know that I can just hop a plane to visit my family. I don’t miss being in the shit and I don’t regret how I left. Didn’t quite like or agree where things were headed anyways.”
“Maybe your momma will finally tell me how you got so smart.”
“It was all the bathwater gin she put into my baby bottle. Shocked the brain cells right up into working.”
They pulled into the hotel’s surprisingly empty parking lot for four nights before Thanksgiving.
“If they don’t have a vacancy I’m going to be bullshit,” Eddie said.
*********
They passed through Virginia in a comfortable silence. The state held so much history, especially for men like them, that it was hard not to be taken in by the memories. Around Shenandoah, Andy pulled off the road to one of the lookout points. It was the last part of the mountains they’d see before turning east and heading toward the coastline.
Eddie stood behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. They just stood there taking in the landscape and its bloody history. Once Eddie started humming Oh, Shenandoah, Andy couldn’t keep a straight face. It was time to move on.
They passed through historic sites and antique markets, military bases and hidden federal headquarters on the road toward Maryland. Andy started to twitch at the familiar names which he knew well in the past. The signs marking off the way and mileage to Quantico almost made him jerk the car in the wrong direction.
“So, Pavlov?” Eddie asked.
Andy glared at him and headed for the nearest exit. “I think you should drive the rest of the way.”
“Oh, how generous of you.”
“You criticize my driving, you get to take over. Wasn’t that the rule?”
“I was the one trained to drive in a war zone.”
*****
“You ruined Springsteen for me. Did I ever tell you that? And Dylan. I can’t listen to Dylan in public anymore.”
“How was I to know you’d take the invitation in Lay, Lady, Lay so literally?” Eddie asked.
“Considering you were naked and lying on top of me at the time?”
“I wanted to make sure the message got through.”
“It did.”
Eddie smirked. He leaned over Andy, his cross dangling out from his shirt. It brought up memories of long ago, with dog togs clinking together and tangling with their movements.
“Explain Springsteen to me,” he said. “I never sang the Boss to you. Was it the ripped jeans?”
Andy shook his head. He reached up and rested his hands on the back of Eddie’s neck and pulled him down close. “The first time I saw you,” he whispered, “before I officially met you, you were leading some work detail and belting out Badlands. You boosted everyone’s morale with that, did it all without the moto bullshit.”
“Always been a grunt, always will be. And it was always better for me to belt out the Classic Rock. I tried rapping once and Burgin laughed so hard he almost knocked a tent over.”
**********
Carrie sang Forever Young with a vulnerability that brought tears to Andy’s eyes. Kenny brought in some Van Morrison with Brown Eyed Girl. Allison did her best Martina with Love’s The Only House. They all played a version of Down On The Corner. Mama Jones sang Coal Miner’s Daughter to the amusement of all. Andy gratefully declined the offer to sing, so it passed on to Eddie.
“Any requests?” Eddie asked.
“Gotta Serve Somebody,” Kenny said.
“Does it look like I have a bass lying around?”
“Fine, Tangled Up In Blue. Always was a hit when you did that one,” Kenny said. Andy nodded in agreement. Some of their older men would ask Eddie to sing it when they got home-sick. Andy still thought the most successful reaction was Livin’ On a Prayer, which even the civilians got into, but it was one of those things you had to be there to see.
&&&&&
He sat out on the back porch, watching the attempts to deep fry a turkey, with strains of Wild Night coming from the house, and a fire extinguisher at the ready beside him. The area always smelled like a forest fire raging, with the smokehouse on the property. Andy still had trouble breathing outside, but if he survived sandstorms, he could survive this. It wasn’t the first time he’d been around a smokehouse in his life.
****
Years ago he’d set foot on the Jones property, but that was back when Eddie’s dad was still alive and only four of the siblings at home. Five years changed a lot and he feared the family’s reception after all this time.
888
The Jones homestead still held its same mixture of old country charm with new, sleek décor. The family couldn’t help its traditions, with crock pots and hurricane candles old enough to make any country kitchen antique dealer salivate.
8888
Kenny and Caroline sat on the front porch playing ‘The Thanksgiving Song’ to a crowd of mini-Joneses.
*****
There were few nostalgia inducing smells that matched a kitchen at Thanksgiving. Baking turkey, cranberry sauce, celery and white onions, corn, yeast rolls, gravy, apple and pumpkin pie they all combined to make the distinct smell of Thanksgiving. Or a Thanksgiving sub, but that was a sandwich Andy never found outside of New England. It was a breath of sheer relief that Andy realized even with the deep frying and smoked turkey; the Jones family did Thanksgiving in a familiar way.
Mama Jones, Mother Jones, Sharon to her friends, Miss Sharon to all the neighbor’s kids, she was the matriarch of the Jones and Hasser clans, and Eddie’s mother. The eldest of eleven children, she’s help run at least one family since the 1960s. She was the first to leave home, get married, and have kids. She was the one who moved the family back to Red Lion, PA. She’d raised ten children, through good times and some very dark periods, survived her husband’s accident and early death, kept her own silent vigil while her eldest went off and fought all kind of conflicts in the name of Freedom. She’d pinched pennies and worked her ass off to try her best to give her children the opportunity for their dreams. She still worked six days a week, helped support her nieces, nephews, and grandchildren. Still rose a four am and couldn’t keep idle for a minute. The only woman Andy admired more in his life was his own mother.
Even though Eddie promised him Sharon held no angry towards Andy, he personally found that hard to believe. No mother just forgave the man who broke her first-born’s heart and then had the audacity to come back. And no matter how many times Snafu and Burgie called him a paranoid dumbass, Andy still felt a twitch over the promised de-balling Kitty Grogan-Welsh threatened in her most recent phone call if he fucked up again. Kitty didn’t joke about shit like that. Sometimes his face still stung from when she’d tracked him down after the break-up and socked him in the jaw. Kitty really knew how to put her weight behind a punch.
Which is why Andy hesitated on the threshold of the Jones house, even though Eddie was making impatient noises. He could hear a house full of Joneses and Grogans and possibly Grogan-Welshes and it was, frankly, terrifying.
“Andy we did not just drive up the eastern seaboard to have you piss your pants in my family’s doorway. Get your ass in here and stop letting in the cold.”
Andy bit back the retort about how 40 degrees was hardly sarcasm-inducing cold, but he had to remember not everyone willingly moved to Maine to live in a cabin during a winter. Snafu said it was because he wanted the exact opposite of Afghanistan without having to move to Alaska. There was perhaps a bit of Cajun wisdom in there.
“You know, it’s normal to hesitate when meeting the in-laws.”
“Whom you’ve already met.”
“And that kind of makes this even more awkward.”
“Andy, no one is going to shove your hand down a garbage disposal, stick your head in the deep fryer, or try to kill you in your sleep.” Eddie stepped back outside. He pressed a hand to Andy’s face. “This isn’t you. You aren’t the man who acts like this.”
“It’s your family and I hurt you.”
“I hurt you.”
“We broke-up. I broke-up with their golden child. I somehow don’t think that’s just going to be swept under the rug. It’s Thanksgiving, it’s a family gathering, people get drunk and dark truths come out.”
“What happens at those Haldane Family Reunions?”
“A lot of stupidity and alcohol. And some singing. Possibly some log throwing depending on where we are.”
“Log-throwing?”
“A few uncles compete in the Highland Games. Not the point. Look, I just, I’m going in, obviously. I came here. I want to be here. With you. And them. I just need to pause for a moment. Gather my thoughts. There’s a whole regiment of Joneses, Grogans, and Welshes in there. Even the bravest of men would take a moment to gather their courage. You all get intimidating when gathered together.”
“The family’s not that big.”
“Eddie, there are counties in this state with smaller populations than your whole family.”
&&&&&
The best part about the Jones’ family gathering was the sing-a-long time. All sides of the family came from a deep hillbilly and backwoods musical traditions. Their grandparents came out of hollers and mountain towns. They were descended from Appalachia’s legacy, a fact the family wore with honor and pride. The family’s generations grew-up in this town working in the cigar and furniture making factories, settling here when Baltimore just felt too big city and the railroad took to a much more sedate town.
****
Eddie hummed under his breath when he drove. He did the same thing in Afghanistan and Iraq. He never realized it either, which made it even more endearing. When he got confused when people joined in on his songs. His current selection was ‘Ramblin Man” and the way his fingers tapped on the steering wheel, Andy knew he missed his banjo.
**
How a house so small could fit all of the Jones clan was a mystery Andy left up to the scientists. It seemed improbable, like one of those circus cars full of clowns. Yet they managed to do it each year. Apparently there were even more at Christmas. On the Fourth of July, they rented out a park for the family reunions.
&&
The Jones homestead wasn’t really close to anything. The closest neighbors were at least a mile away. The family spent their years between Red Lion, PA and Whitehall, MD with deep root in both of those communities. The whole family had a musical talent Andy could only gape at. His family sang at the holidays, reunions, in churches, but none of the Jones ever needed an excuse to sing or play.
&&
Kenny still hero-worshipped his elder brother. They all did. He’d sacrificed his own youth so they all could have a future. Everyone knew the reason Eddie wandered now, odd for a man approaching his mid-30s. He was taken all the chances he never got as a kid. Oh, he’d seen the world and the country, but most of that came in the parameter of what military instillations and the confines of shore leave.
***
Sometimes he felt awkward talking about his college football days. He did make All-American was a hero of many a Rose Bowl, but Andy was too short and slim to make to to the NFL and
everyone knew that. He never planned on the pro dream. Then again, he never planned on teaching either and that was a fact both Dean --- and Ev Pope still cracked up over.
“No, Andrew, tell us how you wound up in Louisiana.”
“About three and half years ago, after retiring, I signed up with Teach for America. Their time tables didn’t work with mine Then St. Martin Parish Schools called me and offered a high school social studies and football coaching position. I’ve been there for a year and a half.”
“And you like it there?”
“Still an adjustment of sorts. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the humidity or the heat, but it’s starting to feel like home.”
“Andy, anything above freezing is far too warm for you.”
“I like snow.”
“I do too. It doesn’t mean I’d willingly like in a cabin. In Maine. In the winter.”
“It was very peaceful.”
“Blizzard and lack of human beings can do that.”
“Now, now Kenny, some people like that feeling of being on the frontier with only themselves, their supplies, and a power generator to rely on.”
****
“So, how well did Sledge handle your students?”
“I think they may go and start a bird-watching club behind my back.” He laid down on the bed and stretched his arms out. “Sledge is a good teacher and great substitute; I just wish he’d realize that and go back to school. We need more teachers like him.”
“Yeah, but you know Eugene. He has to think about things, and think about them, and still think about them until he finally pushes aside all those Southern Genteel Manners, says ‘fuck it’ and does what he wants.”
“For such a spoiled brat it does take him some time to lose his temper.”
“He’s the baby of the family, they always get coddled.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Eddie snickered.
*******
The menu was a match-up of Northern and Southern cuisines. Sweet potatoes and collard greens sat next to three different kinds of stuffing, butternut squash, and trays of cornbread. Andy couldn’t believe the sheer amount of food, and tables waiting for all the other dishes coming in with the new guests.
*********
What they don’t tell you about Thanksgiving in the movies or on the tv shows, is that the smart people start baking and cooking days in advance. The size of your turkey alone determines how many days it needs to thaw in the fridge. Which is why, when Andy and Eddie finally pulled into the driveway, the smell of smoked turkey already permeated the air.
“I always forget you have a smokehouse in your backyard,” Andy said.
“You know how the saying goes, you can’t take the boys out of the backwoods, but you can’t take the backwoods out of the boys.”
“And I will always take a smoked turkey over a turducken.”
Eddie shook his head in disgust. “It’s just unnatural. Why can’t they just settle for turkey gumbo, why do they have to disgrace poultry in such a sick way?”
“You eat spam sandwiches, willingly.”
“It reminds me of my grandpa!”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
*****
“It’s good to see you again, Andrew,” Sharon said. She patted the bench next to her. “Come, sit and talk with me for a spell. You’re looking like you need to let some things out.”
“I might just keep apologizing.”
“I know my son has told you this, and I hate to repeat myself, but Andrew, you have nothing to apologize for. You did not leave my Eddie Boy, he left you. For both of your sakes. You both have blame for that one, but the past is the past. You let it inform you, you let it help shape you, but you don’t let it control you. You and Eddie, you were a good thing, yeah?”
“Yes, Ma’am, we were. We are.”
“You are. And you’ve got nothing to hold you back now. No threat from some asinine military policy, no risking the lives of your men or your careers. People in that small town have got to know about you two already.”
Andy laughed at that. “Oh, that’s a story. They kept trying to set us up, not knowing our history, just.”
“Just what, Andrew?”
“Just said they felt that we fit. That we were right.”
“You are right. You boys,” Sharon shook her head, the moonlight glinting over the grey strands, “It’s never easy starting again, but I don’t think you two ever stopped. Eddie was always on the road searching and you, well, I have a feeling your dance card’s been empty for years.”
“You wouldn’t be wrong.”
“Andy, things like this. They don’t happen to everybody, and they rarely happen twice. And you two intersect in so many ways, so many crossed paths and similarities. Only so much of that can be coincidence. You were in New Orleans when he was in Santa Fe. He wonders through some middle of nowhere town in Louisiana, just the place where his car decided to die, and it just happened to be a town over from the one you moved to a year before. He was a Marine years before you left college and somehow you ended up in the same company, the same platoon, the same Humvee. I think it’s time we all stopped questioning, stop apologizing and just accept.”
“Can it be that easy?”
“Of course not, you’re both stubborn as hell. You show it in different ways, but neither one of you boys like to bend when you should. Still, you work well as a team, as my ovens full of five kinds of stuffing can testify.”
Sharon laid her head on his shoulder. “He makes you smile and you make him laugh. If you can keep doing that, amidst all the yelling, fighting, punches thrown and broken guitar strings, until you’re as old and grey as me, well then, you two will have won it all.”
*******
“It’s either the room with the bunk beds or the one with the creepy doll house that gave you nightmares.”
“It didn’t give me nightmares.”
“So, you always wake up in a cold sweat yelling about eyes.”
“You know, bunk beds aren’t that bad.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Takes me back to my camp days in Western Mass.”
******
“There are odder couples out there. Look at Roe and Babe, one backwoods Cajun and one boy from South Philly. Or hell, Lena and John.”
“Ah, Sec Nav’s favorite JAG Pitbull and his equally favorite Marine.”
***********
“Wake up,” Eddie whispered.
Andy swatted him away. “It’s still dark outside.”
“Look at you, all civilian,” Eddie said. He slapped him on his ass. “Come on, out of bed. We got somewhere to be.”
“I am where I need to be. In bed, with you, sleeping.”
“Change of plans,” Eddie said. He tugged off the blankets and sheets. “I will drag your ass out of here buck naked. Do you remember the last time that happened?”
Andy did. He still had to pay off Ray Person every six months to keep the photographs buried. “I hate you sometimes.”
888
It really was an amazing thing, seeing the sun break over the mountains.
Kitty and Harry made the long-distance marriage work, but it was never easy. Everyone always said the nights were the worst, but for Kitty it was the days. She worked best at night, perhaps perpetuating a stereotype, but it was easier to work without the distractions. The days were all about denial, knowing that Harry was out there, doing something for Nixon or the Pentagon and unable to even call to say, ‘Hello.’ She of all people knew how risky it was to give the DoD even the closest idea of a region for the home of Ron’s true headquarters. They knew he was based in the United States, but their intel led him to satellite offices in Miami, New York City, Boston, outside of >>>in Texas, near Camp Pendleton in CA and one office in Toronto. It didn’t make sense to have a co-op of trained spies and con-men based in The Research Triangle, but Ron liked it here, Chuck liked it here, Kitty loved it here, and even though it was never outright side, they all knew this is where Lipton wanted to retire.
She knew they were lucky, that they were granted two weeks together each month. Ron tried, he really did, to work things out so Kitty could go to D.C. as often as possible, but there was only so much he could do. She refused to quit, she loved her job and her life here, and besides the fact, she didn’t see why she should be the one to leave her life behind. She earned twice as much as Harry and she didn’t dislike the people she worked for.
And Ron let Kitty have free reign, trusting her instincts to know when and how to pull back. Ron was all about discipline, you followed his rules, you didn’t fuck up, and he let you do whatever you wanted. If you did fuck up, he was there to clean up your mess, still had your back, but he never let you forget the fuck up.
She heard the stories about him, met the legend before she met the man. She expected a psychopath, met more of a sociopath, and realized, honestly, Ron was the product of his life. He did military school; he worked black ops from the age of 17 on. Trained assassins did not get to retire and settle down into some quiet, cookie-cutter life. They used their ingrained resourcefulness to survive another day. If they made a profit while doing so, then, hell, better for everyone.
Kitty knew she didn’t look like your stereotypical Hollywood hacker. She never felt the urge to stick metal through various part of her body and her tattoos were more earth mother than hardcore. It was one of the reasons Ron hired her on the spot, besides her skills. Kitty easily slotted into corporate America. She rocked a striped pant suit. It helped to blend it with the conservative corporate cubicle when you were hacking a bank’s database. FDIC was just below the DMV in terms of soulless emotionless employees.
She dropped her purse on the table and collapsed in her favorite recliner. It was ugly as sin, some garish paisley print that never should have seen the light of day, but she loved it. The strains of Brad Paisley’s “Start A Band” sounded from her pocket and she pulled out her phone.
“Cousin Eddie, what part of our great country are you in now?”
“Texas. I am disappointed. There are no Patrick Swayzes around kicking people’s asses.”
“I can’t see you playing a Texas Shuffle for your supper.”
“Kitty, I’ll play Stairway to Heaven for hours if it gets me room and board.”
“You can come here. You’d fit in perfectly with the alt-country scene.”
“I need to get away from the East Coast for awhile, Kits.”
“Still doing your tactical retreat from memories of old?”
“I just need to wander for a bit. Kits, I know you understand that. No matter how old any of us get, sometimes we just need to run away. I like living like this. It’s less complicated.”
“Bullshit. It lets you avoid the things you don’t want to think about. Eddie, I get it, okay. I know you have understandable crap to deal with from Afghanistan, but there was something else, wasn’t there?”
“Kitty, I didn’t call for this. I just, I can’t right now, okay. I just wanted to know how you are. How’s Harry? And Chuck?”
“I know, Eddie, I’m sorry. I just worry about you. You’re out there on your own, wandering around like you’re stuck in some purgatory on Earth and you won’t tell anyone why. It’s been three months since you were last home.”
“And how long has it been since you crossed over Maryland’s state lines?”
“I have to stay out because I don’t want to be detained as a threat to national security. I have an actual reason.”
“And maybe in my wanderings I made a deal with the devil at a crossroads.”
“You also get so sentimental when you play Robert Johnson.” She sighed into the phone. “Why do I have a feeling it’s more devil dogs after your ass than hell hounds.”
**************************
“Look, Ron, you can fire my ass. I don’t care. I need the week of May 10th off. You can’t ask me why but either you give me the time off or hand me my severance package.”
“Kitty, when have I ever told you you can’t take time off? Just remember to drop the muffins off before you leave, keep your cell phone on, and if you start to cause any diplomatic crises, call Chuck.”
********
Kitty flipped through the open pages of the journals and tried not to tear up at the lyrics. Sea breeze stirred her hair and she looked to the balcony.
Eddie sat on the cold concrete, staring out at the ocean. He blindly reached his hand back and poured out another shot of Jameson.
“Eddie,” she called.
He looked back at her, the prefect picture of heartbreak.
“You know what today is?” he asked.
“May 12th,” she answered.
“And on May 12th, five years ago, I risked my whole career by confessing my love to my CO. And now I’m here, on the vacation we should have taken together to celebrate our anniversary, downing whiskey and writing shitty love songs.”
****
Half-way through the night, Kitty brought out the vodka. She never got to drink it at home, Harry hated the fact that one of her exes got her hooked, and as much as a jealous Harry made her laugh, she didn’t like to needlessly piss him off.
“Do you regret it?” she asked.
“Regret what,” Eddie slurred.
“Loving him.”
“Never. Besides, I ended it. That’s on me.”
“He could’ve fought for you.”
“He tried but it had to end. The Corps needs officers like him and I’d done served my time enough. We both got the blame for this one, Kits, but I still feel the need to mourn the loss.”
“And if you ever found your way to him again?”
Eddie laughed. “If God is gracious, I wouldn’t turn the gift away.”
********
Kitty woke-up to the sound of Eddie singing Jo Dee Messina’s I’m Alright. She smiled wide, if he was singing Jo Dee, he was definitely in a better mood.
“What, no Dolly?” Kitty asked as she stepped into the living room.
Eddie shrugged and put his guitar to the side. “Dolly makes you cry.”
“Excuse me, at the last family reunion, you were the one with tears in your eyes while signing Jolene.”
“That’s the only proper way to sing Jolene,” Eddie said.
Kitty curled up next to him on the couch, peeking at his new lyrics. She smiled as she caught the change in sentiment.
“New dawn, new day?” she asked.
“You were right last night,” he answered. “I’ve never been one for bitter or broken-hearted. I’ve got to truly own my part in this. I chose to end it and I am allowed to be upset over Andy staying with his career, but we didn’t exactly give each other a choice. I was almost done with that life by the time he started.”
“I thought you were going to career it,” she said.
“The Corps was good to me and I’ll never deny that. I really started my training when I was 14, Kitty, with all the JROTC crap. By the time I made Gunny, god, I was fucking burned out. After Afghanistan, Iraq just felt like a whole new round of bullshit I couldn’t swallow down. I was done before I ever shipped out. There’s only so many times I could take seeing a baby boy not even old enough to drink drying too damn far from home.”
***********************************
It ended on a Tuesday morning, bright, sunny, and seemingly innocuous. Andy would be a liar if he said he didn’t see it coming, didn’t see the hard lines of frustration grown deeper in Eddie’s freckled skin, the happiness start to dim in his eyes, and disillusionment take the place of what was once clear hope.
Andy couldn’t help but blame himself as the years passed. If he had been a stronger man, he’d have spent the last four years building a life with the man he still loved instead of tracking his movements through internet postings and old colleagues.
Andy was out of the Corps a year after Eddie left, a year after Eddie left him to boot. Eddie always was the more stubborn of the two of them, more willing to make the hard decisions. Andy would never leave Eddie, and he knew that, so Eddie left him. Made the choice Andy couldn’t, wouldn’t make, and Andy had found little contentment in his life ever since.
His first year out of the Corps, two years without Eddie, he spent in the backwoods of Maine. Isolated and alone, save for a few family members and neighbors, he was able to decompress in a way no Corps Approved Program ever could. He lived out of a trailer while he built his cabin. Two rooms, nothing fancy, and he had the help of quite a few locals.
He called up Burgie, who would quote Walden at him until he gave in and agreed to fly down to Texas, take in some of the Gulf air, and join civilization again. He invited Elmo Haney to spend a few weekends. They’d camp out on the land, shoot the shit, and get into bickering fights about whether or not Andy should move to D.C. and join Naval Criminal Investigative Services. As much as Andy loved and respected the old Gunny, he couldn’t see himself carrying a weapon again.
He went down to Boston, spent a week in the Spring wandering the city, stopping at the war memorials in Charles Town, Cambridge, Mount Auburn, Boston Common, the Esplanade, every corner of the city. He walked up Bunker Hill and wondered about the men who came before him in the wars, how those who survived managed to slot back into civilian life when there was still a war on.
It was a talk with Gene Sledge that got Andy’s ass out of Maine. Sledge was still a young man lost, no longer a wide-eyed innocent, he still didn’t know what to do with his life. Andy told him to do something that gave him peace, he felt like an ass for saying it, since he couldn’t find his own, but Sledge found nature, and birds, joined the fight for conservation and decided to go to school.
Andy finished his Master’s in between tours. He was certified to teach in California, Massachusetts, Maine, and out of some small spark of hope, Maryland and Pennsylvania. He took teaching tests in different states but didn’t feel like teaching anywhere. It was his father who suggested Teach for America.
“You can still serve, Andy,” he said, “but this time you take these kids and you shape them to survive. They need teachers like you.”
They wanted people with leadership experience, according their website. Andy laughed so hard he started crying. He contacted one of the regional heads, asked about the positions in Texas and Louisiana where they were needed the most. They explained their process, what was required of their new hires, and Andy was too late to work for them at the start of the next year, but applications opened in August.
After years of feeling the brunt of shit rolling down hill, Andy decided it was time to cut out the middle micro-managers. He contacted all three of the school districts the recruiter told him about. St. Martin Parish, Louisiana, was the first to call him back.
******
Cecilia was one of handful of cities in St. Martin Parish. Andy personally thought of it as a town, but they had their own city high school and enough households to maintain a decent economy. Hurricane Katrina caused a population swell that meant a new high school was planned for the parish, but as of now, Cecilia Central High was in desperate need of English and Social Studies teachers.
“We got all the Math and Science teachers we can handle, imagine that,” Principal Jerome Bissette told him over two cups of some sugar torture called sweet tea.
*****
Andy unpacked his boxes over the course of a month. The last contained his plaques. He was never one for awards and achievements.
He pulled out the familiar Blue Diamond of the First Marine Division. After all this time, he still couldn’t stop the well of pride.
Andy didn’t start out in the First Marines. Hell, he didn’t even start his career at Camp Pendleton. Then again, neither did Eddie. They met at Camp Lejeune, where Andy was settling into his first job with the Second Marine Division and Eddie was during a stint as an instructor for the School of Infantry.
God, those days. Andy though the transition from Maine to Quantico was bad. Camp Lejeune was a whole other world.
******
“How did you and Hillbilly get started?” Burgie asked. “I mean, you two seemed to know each other before you came on as our commander in ’03.”
“We met in 1998, crossed paths for years, didn’t start anything until 2000 when we both wound up at Pendleton. I never wanted to put him in a position where I’d comprise our integrity. I tried so hard to get transferred out of your Command, but when they decide to push into Iraq, there was no chance. Eddie was going to leave--”
Burgie sucked in a quick breath at that one.
“But Mike and I convinced him that the boys needed their Gunny. And honestly, Burgie, with the way my mouth was running at Matthias after that shitshow started, I thought I was going to be relieved of command at any second.”
*******
“They’re moving me to your Company,” Andy said.
“Fuck,” Eddie cursed into his Cheerios. “I’ll ask for a transfer.”
“Don’t you dare,” Andy said.
“It’ll be easy. I got a few buddies in Recon who want me there,” Eddie said.
“And they’ll probably send your ass to the middle of Afghanistan again and I don’t want the next time I see you to be at your funeral,” Andy said. “God, this is fucked-up.”
*****
“Andy.”
“Eddie.”
“So, you two obviously know each other,” Ralph said.
“It’s been what, four years?” Hillbilly asked.
“Yeah, about that,” Haldane agreed. His smile was genuinely warm as he studied Hillbilly. “How’re the kids?” he asked.
“Great, all of them are doing really well. Bobby’s a cop now, Angie’s gone and married some doctor, Mike’s teaching at some preschool in Pittsburgh. Let’s see, Timmy and Carrie hiked it off to New York City and are trying their hands at Broadway. Gabe’s decided he’s going to spend the next year following in Jack Kerouac’s footsteps. Kimmy’s just started school, art major, but you know, free spirit. Chris made it to the state team last year with his soccer skills and Ali just started high school.”
“Your mom still doing well?”
“She is. Even met a new guy from her bowling nights. I don’t quite like him, but Momma’s happy. What about you? What happened to the cabin in Maine and all that?”
“Oh, built that cabin about two years ago, I’m quite proud of it. Just, you know, got out of the Corps and still felt the need to serve. Teach for America brought me here, you could say.”
“I’m honestly surprised you’re not still active duty.”
“I just don’t quite like where I felt it was all heading. That, and my best Gunny left me, so what was I going to do?”
“You’d have survived.”
“Nah, Eddie, I don’t think I would have.”
Hillbilly dropped his gaze, not wanting to think of the past right now. Of humid nights in Melbourne, Andy pressed up against his back, muffling his laughter as fingertips spread over sensitive skin. Not of Afghanistan and Iraq and words passed, promises made half a world away.
“So, you really did decide to go with the teaching thing?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I like teaching kids about history and hell; you know how much I always loved playing a game of football when I got the chance. It’s great to coach some kids again.”
“Good to see you getting what you want, Andy, you deserve it. All of it. I,” he paused, his phone blaring the obnoxious rap song meant for his youngest brothers. “Sorry, got to take this. Chris doesn’t call unless it’s important.”
“Sure, sure, I’ll see you around, Eddie.”
Hillbilly just nodded, flipping his phone open and hurrying back inside the house.
******
“Ever consider teaching?”
“Funny, Andy.”
“I’m serious, Eddie, these kids need people who will care about them. Teachers here, they have to go above and beyond. So many of them were uprooted after Katrina.”
***
There were five restaurants in St. Boniface, fifteen stores, four schools, 18 places of religious worship, two parks, one free clinic, one library and one post office. The small town atmosphere reminded Andy of Maine, but the ever-present crawfish, smattering of Anglo-French phrases, and humidity assured him that it was not New England. So far, kids at the high school seemed taken with their new teacher. They were used to strangers passing through, going on their way to Baton Rouge, Lafayette, or New Orleans, but they weren’t used to people staying. Andy knew he stuck out here, with his accent, mannerism, and awe over the bayous, but he never felt unwelcome. Just like he was on display.
Hillbilly, of course, had already won the hearts of half the town. He always had that way about him. It was rare for someone to actively dislike Eddie Jones. He disarmed all defenses with a goofy, warm grin and an aw shucks attitude. He was cynical as hell, but still believed the best of people. He was a kind soul, never a door mat, and left in his travels a number of friends, adopted families and brothers and sisters in arms.
Even after the time between them ended, even though it still hurt eke hell to think about that loss, Andy couldn’t bring himself to think of any ill will.
****
“So what happened?”
“Eddie made a decision that I wasn’t willing to make. I never wanted it to be my career of him.” Haldane shook his head. “And now I’ve lost both.”
“But, I mean, couldn’t you have tried to work around it?”
“We did. Eddie, though, he’s by the book and he’s never been the manner of denying who or what he is. Life’s too short. He knew that before he joined the Corps, but he never wanted me to have to make that choice. So he made it for me, for the both of us. He left the Corps not long after that. Just got tired of it all, I guess. Twelve years in the Corps and he just walked away.”
“You did too.”
Haldane nodded. “Four years ago. I served my country, proudly. I couldn’t keep fighting and risking my men’s lives, my own life, for an organization and country that doesn’t want me as I am. And I’m too restless to take a desk job.”
“You’re teaching.”
“You taught in a school lately?”
“No.”
“Trust me, it’s not just sitting behind a desk.”
*****
“How’d you do that?” Eddie’s fingers trailed down the line of scar tissue on his knee.
“IED, last tour.”
“It looks like it’s still healing.”
“It has its good and bad days. Usually bad here, with the humidity and all.”
*************
Thanksgiving. Just the word invoked all sorts of memories for Andrew Haldane. Thanksgivings in Massachusetts and Maine had a certain character to them. Not necessarily because of the history, but more because of the wild turkeys who always camped out on the family’s cars during the feast. In modern culture it was the day of the three F’s: Family, Food and Football. All three held strong spots in Andy’s heart, but this year would be different. This year would not be a Thanksgiving spent at his parent’s new house outside of Lawrence, nor at his cabin in Maine. No rooting on the Patriots or distracting the kids who wanted to go down to Pilmouth Plantation. There would be no fresh cranberries brought in from a neighbor’s farm and no football games in the backyard. This year would be the first Thanksgiving since Andy left the Corps that he didn’t spend with his blood family.
He wasn’t staying in Louisiana, couldn’t stay in a place so far from his memories of home for such holidays. It was too warm down there to spend all day cooking and he still found himself adjusting to the whole wearing shorts and t-shirts in November thing. It was one thing to be fighting in a desert in November, at least it cooled down at night. St. Boniface was another matter entirely. He spent last year despairing over no snow at all in November or December and spent his Winter Break in a sort of giddy delight, tackling his nephews into the snow banks on Lawrence’s streets.
This year however meant Thanksgiving in Pennsylvania. The Jones Family Thanksgiving as the invitation on Facebook called it. A whole house impossibly cramped full with most of the Jones family and their cousins. There were promises of deep-fried turkey and corn. Honestly, Andy just wanted to make sure cranberry dressing was somewhere on the menu. He’d even packed some emergency cans of Ocean Spray’s frankly terrifying cranberry concoction just in case.
Spending Thanksgiving with the Joneses was one of his first steps in proving to Eddie Jones that he meant it this time around. Andy left the Marines and was completely devoted into getting a life back he lost over six years ago.
As they made the long drive from St. Boniface to Red Lion, Andy had a lot of time to think. He’d been the driver as far as Tennessee, but when Eddie insisted they took the Blue Ridge Parkway on the North Carolina side and up through Virginia, he gladly switched seats with the boy who grew up with the twisting mountain back roads. Their car was full of boiled peanuts, rock candy, and any other food of interest that caught their attention from the roadside stands.
Darkness started to fall as they passed by Blowing Rock, Eddie telling the legend in his soothing storytelling voice.
“Did any of your family come from this area?” he asked. “You know so much about it.”
Eddie laughed. “Some, probably. A history teacher like you should know these hills were once full of the Scotch-Irish.”
“If we were talking about the factory girls in Lowell or the Boston Brahmans, I’d win this conversation. Never learned much about hillbillies in school.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised by you yuppie Yankees.”
“Never call someone from Red Sox Nation a Yankee. It doesn’t end well.”
Eddie just smiled. “Back when I still had dreams about going to college, I wanted to go to App. Thought the mountains would be the best place and Asheville was a too artsy even for more. Momma didn’t want me so far away and under the influence of hippy pot-smokers as she called them. She’s a proud Great Smoky Mountains girl, all the way. Daddy, well.” Eddie paused. The bittersweet smile only reserved for talk of his father spread over his face. “Watauga is a dry county and daddy just couldn’t comprehend why anyone would want to go to school in such a place”
“So you joined the Marines.”
“Put food on the table, got me into the Corps. Paid well, though not well enough for what it makes you give. Still, I got you out of it, didn’t I?”
Andy smiled at that and ran a finger down Eddie’s arm. It had always been their version of hand-holding, a single finger down the arm, and two fingers tapping on the wrist. Everything quiet and in code. Nothing too long lingered.
They stopped over night on the border between North Carolina and Virginia. Virginia went on forever and neither Andy nor Eddie was ready to make that long haul. They were already ahead of schedule.
It was the typical hole-in-the wall off the highway. Holiday Inn’s on one side and Cracker Barrels on the other.
“We’re going there in the morning,” Eddie said, pointing to the huge sign in the distance. “I want some grits and buttermilk biscuits with white gravy.”
“You can get that in Louisiana.”
“It’s just not the same. They don’t make grits right in Louisiana.”
“Is this going to turn into another South Carolina vs. Georgia peach debate?”
“One day Snafu will admit the truth and see the light.”
“I don’t know how you get any rest living with that bunch.”
“Everyone caves to Gene Roe. When he’s home, which is usually only to sleep, we all get quiet and polite. Besides, I like living in a full house. Makes it feel more like home, or like I’m back in the Corps, watching young men make idiots out of themselves over each other.”
“Do you miss it?” Andy asked.
They’d talked about the reasons why Eddie left, and Andy’s part in those reasons, but he still worried about any buried resentment. Eddie was a Marine before Andy had even started college.
Eddie shrugged. “It was twelve years of my life, more if you count JROTC. You’ll always miss something that was a part of you that long. We all come to that point in time though, that crossroads, when we have to ask if the path we’re on is what we want for the rest of our lives. I didn’t want that. I don’t miss the desert, I don’t miss the tension, but I do miss the camaraderie. There is a special bond with people you’ve gone through hell with. But I’m greedier these days. I want my life to last. I want to spend my time playing music and being around the people who make me laugh and smile. I want to know that I can just hop a plane to visit my family. I don’t miss being in the shit and I don’t regret how I left. Didn’t quite like or agree where things were headed anyways.”
“Maybe your momma will finally tell me how you got so smart.”
“It was all the bathwater gin she put into my baby bottle. Shocked the brain cells right up into working.”
They pulled into the hotel’s surprisingly empty parking lot for four nights before Thanksgiving.
“If they don’t have a vacancy I’m going to be bullshit,” Eddie said.
*********
They passed through Virginia in a comfortable silence. The state held so much history, especially for men like them, that it was hard not to be taken in by the memories. Around Shenandoah, Andy pulled off the road to one of the lookout points. It was the last part of the mountains they’d see before turning east and heading toward the coastline.
Eddie stood behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. They just stood there taking in the landscape and its bloody history. Once Eddie started humming Oh, Shenandoah, Andy couldn’t keep a straight face. It was time to move on.
They passed through historic sites and antique markets, military bases and hidden federal headquarters on the road toward Maryland. Andy started to twitch at the familiar names which he knew well in the past. The signs marking off the way and mileage to Quantico almost made him jerk the car in the wrong direction.
“So, Pavlov?” Eddie asked.
Andy glared at him and headed for the nearest exit. “I think you should drive the rest of the way.”
“Oh, how generous of you.”
“You criticize my driving, you get to take over. Wasn’t that the rule?”
“I was the one trained to drive in a war zone.”
*****
“You ruined Springsteen for me. Did I ever tell you that? And Dylan. I can’t listen to Dylan in public anymore.”
“How was I to know you’d take the invitation in Lay, Lady, Lay so literally?” Eddie asked.
“Considering you were naked and lying on top of me at the time?”
“I wanted to make sure the message got through.”
“It did.”
Eddie smirked. He leaned over Andy, his cross dangling out from his shirt. It brought up memories of long ago, with dog togs clinking together and tangling with their movements.
“Explain Springsteen to me,” he said. “I never sang the Boss to you. Was it the ripped jeans?”
Andy shook his head. He reached up and rested his hands on the back of Eddie’s neck and pulled him down close. “The first time I saw you,” he whispered, “before I officially met you, you were leading some work detail and belting out Badlands. You boosted everyone’s morale with that, did it all without the moto bullshit.”
“Always been a grunt, always will be. And it was always better for me to belt out the Classic Rock. I tried rapping once and Burgin laughed so hard he almost knocked a tent over.”
**********
Carrie sang Forever Young with a vulnerability that brought tears to Andy’s eyes. Kenny brought in some Van Morrison with Brown Eyed Girl. Allison did her best Martina with Love’s The Only House. They all played a version of Down On The Corner. Mama Jones sang Coal Miner’s Daughter to the amusement of all. Andy gratefully declined the offer to sing, so it passed on to Eddie.
“Any requests?” Eddie asked.
“Gotta Serve Somebody,” Kenny said.
“Does it look like I have a bass lying around?”
“Fine, Tangled Up In Blue. Always was a hit when you did that one,” Kenny said. Andy nodded in agreement. Some of their older men would ask Eddie to sing it when they got home-sick. Andy still thought the most successful reaction was Livin’ On a Prayer, which even the civilians got into, but it was one of those things you had to be there to see.
&&&&&
He sat out on the back porch, watching the attempts to deep fry a turkey, with strains of Wild Night coming from the house, and a fire extinguisher at the ready beside him. The area always smelled like a forest fire raging, with the smokehouse on the property. Andy still had trouble breathing outside, but if he survived sandstorms, he could survive this. It wasn’t the first time he’d been around a smokehouse in his life.
****
Years ago he’d set foot on the Jones property, but that was back when Eddie’s dad was still alive and only four of the siblings at home. Five years changed a lot and he feared the family’s reception after all this time.
888
The Jones homestead still held its same mixture of old country charm with new, sleek décor. The family couldn’t help its traditions, with crock pots and hurricane candles old enough to make any country kitchen antique dealer salivate.
8888
Kenny and Caroline sat on the front porch playing ‘The Thanksgiving Song’ to a crowd of mini-Joneses.
*****
There were few nostalgia inducing smells that matched a kitchen at Thanksgiving. Baking turkey, cranberry sauce, celery and white onions, corn, yeast rolls, gravy, apple and pumpkin pie they all combined to make the distinct smell of Thanksgiving. Or a Thanksgiving sub, but that was a sandwich Andy never found outside of New England. It was a breath of sheer relief that Andy realized even with the deep frying and smoked turkey; the Jones family did Thanksgiving in a familiar way.
Mama Jones, Mother Jones, Sharon to her friends, Miss Sharon to all the neighbor’s kids, she was the matriarch of the Jones and Hasser clans, and Eddie’s mother. The eldest of eleven children, she’s help run at least one family since the 1960s. She was the first to leave home, get married, and have kids. She was the one who moved the family back to Red Lion, PA. She’d raised ten children, through good times and some very dark periods, survived her husband’s accident and early death, kept her own silent vigil while her eldest went off and fought all kind of conflicts in the name of Freedom. She’d pinched pennies and worked her ass off to try her best to give her children the opportunity for their dreams. She still worked six days a week, helped support her nieces, nephews, and grandchildren. Still rose a four am and couldn’t keep idle for a minute. The only woman Andy admired more in his life was his own mother.
Even though Eddie promised him Sharon held no angry towards Andy, he personally found that hard to believe. No mother just forgave the man who broke her first-born’s heart and then had the audacity to come back. And no matter how many times Snafu and Burgie called him a paranoid dumbass, Andy still felt a twitch over the promised de-balling Kitty Grogan-Welsh threatened in her most recent phone call if he fucked up again. Kitty didn’t joke about shit like that. Sometimes his face still stung from when she’d tracked him down after the break-up and socked him in the jaw. Kitty really knew how to put her weight behind a punch.
Which is why Andy hesitated on the threshold of the Jones house, even though Eddie was making impatient noises. He could hear a house full of Joneses and Grogans and possibly Grogan-Welshes and it was, frankly, terrifying.
“Andy we did not just drive up the eastern seaboard to have you piss your pants in my family’s doorway. Get your ass in here and stop letting in the cold.”
Andy bit back the retort about how 40 degrees was hardly sarcasm-inducing cold, but he had to remember not everyone willingly moved to Maine to live in a cabin during a winter. Snafu said it was because he wanted the exact opposite of Afghanistan without having to move to Alaska. There was perhaps a bit of Cajun wisdom in there.
“You know, it’s normal to hesitate when meeting the in-laws.”
“Whom you’ve already met.”
“And that kind of makes this even more awkward.”
“Andy, no one is going to shove your hand down a garbage disposal, stick your head in the deep fryer, or try to kill you in your sleep.” Eddie stepped back outside. He pressed a hand to Andy’s face. “This isn’t you. You aren’t the man who acts like this.”
“It’s your family and I hurt you.”
“I hurt you.”
“We broke-up. I broke-up with their golden child. I somehow don’t think that’s just going to be swept under the rug. It’s Thanksgiving, it’s a family gathering, people get drunk and dark truths come out.”
“What happens at those Haldane Family Reunions?”
“A lot of stupidity and alcohol. And some singing. Possibly some log throwing depending on where we are.”
“Log-throwing?”
“A few uncles compete in the Highland Games. Not the point. Look, I just, I’m going in, obviously. I came here. I want to be here. With you. And them. I just need to pause for a moment. Gather my thoughts. There’s a whole regiment of Joneses, Grogans, and Welshes in there. Even the bravest of men would take a moment to gather their courage. You all get intimidating when gathered together.”
“The family’s not that big.”
“Eddie, there are counties in this state with smaller populations than your whole family.”
&&&&&
The best part about the Jones’ family gathering was the sing-a-long time. All sides of the family came from a deep hillbilly and backwoods musical traditions. Their grandparents came out of hollers and mountain towns. They were descended from Appalachia’s legacy, a fact the family wore with honor and pride. The family’s generations grew-up in this town working in the cigar and furniture making factories, settling here when Baltimore just felt too big city and the railroad took to a much more sedate town.
****
Eddie hummed under his breath when he drove. He did the same thing in Afghanistan and Iraq. He never realized it either, which made it even more endearing. When he got confused when people joined in on his songs. His current selection was ‘Ramblin Man” and the way his fingers tapped on the steering wheel, Andy knew he missed his banjo.
**
How a house so small could fit all of the Jones clan was a mystery Andy left up to the scientists. It seemed improbable, like one of those circus cars full of clowns. Yet they managed to do it each year. Apparently there were even more at Christmas. On the Fourth of July, they rented out a park for the family reunions.
&&
The Jones homestead wasn’t really close to anything. The closest neighbors were at least a mile away. The family spent their years between Red Lion, PA and Whitehall, MD with deep root in both of those communities. The whole family had a musical talent Andy could only gape at. His family sang at the holidays, reunions, in churches, but none of the Jones ever needed an excuse to sing or play.
&&
Kenny still hero-worshipped his elder brother. They all did. He’d sacrificed his own youth so they all could have a future. Everyone knew the reason Eddie wandered now, odd for a man approaching his mid-30s. He was taken all the chances he never got as a kid. Oh, he’d seen the world and the country, but most of that came in the parameter of what military instillations and the confines of shore leave.
***
Sometimes he felt awkward talking about his college football days. He did make All-American was a hero of many a Rose Bowl, but Andy was too short and slim to make to to the NFL and
everyone knew that. He never planned on the pro dream. Then again, he never planned on teaching either and that was a fact both Dean --- and Ev Pope still cracked up over.
“No, Andrew, tell us how you wound up in Louisiana.”
“About three and half years ago, after retiring, I signed up with Teach for America. Their time tables didn’t work with mine Then St. Martin Parish Schools called me and offered a high school social studies and football coaching position. I’ve been there for a year and a half.”
“And you like it there?”
“Still an adjustment of sorts. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the humidity or the heat, but it’s starting to feel like home.”
“Andy, anything above freezing is far too warm for you.”
“I like snow.”
“I do too. It doesn’t mean I’d willingly like in a cabin. In Maine. In the winter.”
“It was very peaceful.”
“Blizzard and lack of human beings can do that.”
“Now, now Kenny, some people like that feeling of being on the frontier with only themselves, their supplies, and a power generator to rely on.”
****
“So, how well did Sledge handle your students?”
“I think they may go and start a bird-watching club behind my back.” He laid down on the bed and stretched his arms out. “Sledge is a good teacher and great substitute; I just wish he’d realize that and go back to school. We need more teachers like him.”
“Yeah, but you know Eugene. He has to think about things, and think about them, and still think about them until he finally pushes aside all those Southern Genteel Manners, says ‘fuck it’ and does what he wants.”
“For such a spoiled brat it does take him some time to lose his temper.”
“He’s the baby of the family, they always get coddled.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Eddie snickered.
*******
The menu was a match-up of Northern and Southern cuisines. Sweet potatoes and collard greens sat next to three different kinds of stuffing, butternut squash, and trays of cornbread. Andy couldn’t believe the sheer amount of food, and tables waiting for all the other dishes coming in with the new guests.
*********
What they don’t tell you about Thanksgiving in the movies or on the tv shows, is that the smart people start baking and cooking days in advance. The size of your turkey alone determines how many days it needs to thaw in the fridge. Which is why, when Andy and Eddie finally pulled into the driveway, the smell of smoked turkey already permeated the air.
“I always forget you have a smokehouse in your backyard,” Andy said.
“You know how the saying goes, you can’t take the boys out of the backwoods, but you can’t take the backwoods out of the boys.”
“And I will always take a smoked turkey over a turducken.”
Eddie shook his head in disgust. “It’s just unnatural. Why can’t they just settle for turkey gumbo, why do they have to disgrace poultry in such a sick way?”
“You eat spam sandwiches, willingly.”
“It reminds me of my grandpa!”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
*****
“It’s good to see you again, Andrew,” Sharon said. She patted the bench next to her. “Come, sit and talk with me for a spell. You’re looking like you need to let some things out.”
“I might just keep apologizing.”
“I know my son has told you this, and I hate to repeat myself, but Andrew, you have nothing to apologize for. You did not leave my Eddie Boy, he left you. For both of your sakes. You both have blame for that one, but the past is the past. You let it inform you, you let it help shape you, but you don’t let it control you. You and Eddie, you were a good thing, yeah?”
“Yes, Ma’am, we were. We are.”
“You are. And you’ve got nothing to hold you back now. No threat from some asinine military policy, no risking the lives of your men or your careers. People in that small town have got to know about you two already.”
Andy laughed at that. “Oh, that’s a story. They kept trying to set us up, not knowing our history, just.”
“Just what, Andrew?”
“Just said they felt that we fit. That we were right.”
“You are right. You boys,” Sharon shook her head, the moonlight glinting over the grey strands, “It’s never easy starting again, but I don’t think you two ever stopped. Eddie was always on the road searching and you, well, I have a feeling your dance card’s been empty for years.”
“You wouldn’t be wrong.”
“Andy, things like this. They don’t happen to everybody, and they rarely happen twice. And you two intersect in so many ways, so many crossed paths and similarities. Only so much of that can be coincidence. You were in New Orleans when he was in Santa Fe. He wonders through some middle of nowhere town in Louisiana, just the place where his car decided to die, and it just happened to be a town over from the one you moved to a year before. He was a Marine years before you left college and somehow you ended up in the same company, the same platoon, the same Humvee. I think it’s time we all stopped questioning, stop apologizing and just accept.”
“Can it be that easy?”
“Of course not, you’re both stubborn as hell. You show it in different ways, but neither one of you boys like to bend when you should. Still, you work well as a team, as my ovens full of five kinds of stuffing can testify.”
Sharon laid her head on his shoulder. “He makes you smile and you make him laugh. If you can keep doing that, amidst all the yelling, fighting, punches thrown and broken guitar strings, until you’re as old and grey as me, well then, you two will have won it all.”
*******
“It’s either the room with the bunk beds or the one with the creepy doll house that gave you nightmares.”
“It didn’t give me nightmares.”
“So, you always wake up in a cold sweat yelling about eyes.”
“You know, bunk beds aren’t that bad.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Takes me back to my camp days in Western Mass.”
******
“There are odder couples out there. Look at Roe and Babe, one backwoods Cajun and one boy from South Philly. Or hell, Lena and John.”
“Ah, Sec Nav’s favorite JAG Pitbull and his equally favorite Marine.”
***********
“Wake up,” Eddie whispered.
Andy swatted him away. “It’s still dark outside.”
“Look at you, all civilian,” Eddie said. He slapped him on his ass. “Come on, out of bed. We got somewhere to be.”
“I am where I need to be. In bed, with you, sleeping.”
“Change of plans,” Eddie said. He tugged off the blankets and sheets. “I will drag your ass out of here buck naked. Do you remember the last time that happened?”
Andy did. He still had to pay off Ray Person every six months to keep the photographs buried. “I hate you sometimes.”
888
It really was an amazing thing, seeing the sun break over the mountains.