S7: Holy War

We slammed into each other hard, need and urgency leading our actions. When we went to disembark, I looked a little rumpled, and grinned when Maddy walked down the ramp, looking at her fine bottom, knowing she was without panties and probably leaking. She gave me a passionate kiss and told me she would be in touch.

...

I spent the next three months wandering around places I'd always wanted to see but couldn't because of money, scheduling, children, or the fact that Jo never wanted to go there.

I walked the Appalachian Trail through part of North Carolina and Virginia, including the section known as 'The Virginia Creeper'. I veered off when I got close to Washington, and went down to Key West in time for Fantasy Fest.

In a stroke of drunken genius, I had my body painted as a target, because that's what I felt like at times. The painter was one of the most famous, and was so intrigued with my idea he did a full body job, centering the bullseye over my crotch.

The only article of clothing I had on was a red jockstrap, and you'd be amazed at the women, and a few guys, who wanted to hit the bullseye. I had a short beard, my uncut hair in a ponytail, and sunglasses on. I doubt if anyone would recognize me in a million years, despite all the photos that were taken.

I ended up with a topless Annie Oakley, wearing a cowboy hat, body paint, and leather chaps. We went back to her room, where she decided to see how many rounds my rifle held. Four, it turns out, if I was given sufficient time to reload. We never talked, or exchanged names, we just fucked, kissed each other goodbye at noon, and went our separate ways.

From there I went to Canada, and spent two weeks walking the streets of Montreal, enjoying all the town had to offer.

I'd call the kids or Jo once in a while, listen to their frantic pleas to come home, tell them I was fine, and travel on. A guy tried to mug me in Chicago and I slammed him into a building and broke his hand, leaving him laying in the street whining, without another thought.

I rolled into my hometown on a brand new motorcycle, visited a barber shop to have my hair trimmed and my beard shaped, and went to see the Dean. I'd bought the most expensive bottle of rye Canada had to offer and I held it out to him.

He didn't recognize me until I spoke. Then he was all over me, pouring us a drink and catching up. He tried his best to have me return, and I told him I'd do a guest lecture now and then, maybe sub if someone was sick, but I didn't want a regular schedule.

He wondered about my finances, but I assured him I was fine. When Said died, I got a package from his old commander. It was every gem in his share, plus three gold bars of irregular shape and weight, along with a letter.

"Pete, if you have this, then I'm dead. I hope I went out in a blaze of glory. I have no relatives, so I held this, planning to give it to my wife and daughters. Sadly, it appears my line has ended. I want you to have it, for your children and grandchildren. Every time you give them a trinket, tell them about your friend. It will be as close to immortal as I'll ever get.

Your brother in spirit, Said."

I tried to give it back, but the commander, who had traveled to England to deliver it personally, refused.

"He wanted you to have it, and I honor his wishes."

I sent it to the jeweler, giving him a small sapphire to hold them for me. He sent me an estimate later. Apparently jewels and especially the gold had appreciated since we had last talked. Just what he gave me, not counting what I still had, was valued at almost five hundred thousand. I never learned where the gold came from.

Aside from that, I had almost three hundred thousand in a Dubai bank, courtesy of several unnamed benefactors and Sherry's brother.

And that didn't include what I had in my regular account. Teddy paid us very well, and our lodging was free. I didn't keep a car since everything I needed was in walking distance or a short bike ride away. There was just under two hundred thousand available, and my paycheck would continue for another nine months.

I waited until I thought Jo would be home, and rode over. I could see her peeking out the window as I strode to the door, removing my helmet.

It took knocking at the door for three minutes and a phone call before she open it. She just stood, taking in my beard and long hair, now more salt than pepper, before she started and welcomed me.

She sat there for a few minutes making small talk before she exploded. "Where the hell have you been? We've been worried sick, and even Maddy couldn't find you. We were afraid you were dead, or worse."

"I've been...yondering," I said using a word from one of my favorite Westerns, "seeing what's over the next hill, drifting around as I pleased. For the first time in forever I felt free, Nobody was depending on me, no one was trying to kill me, I didn't have a deadline or goal to achieve. You should try it sometime, Jo, it's very liberating. Besides, I called often enough to let you know I was all right."

"Some of us have jobs, responsibilities. We can't just take off and wander. Don't you think I've dreamed of something like that? Hell, all people do. I guess I'm just angry because I wasn't with you. The old Jake would have bent over backwards to include me. I guess the new Pete just didn't give a shit."

She stopped, tears in her eyes. Where the hell did this come from? I hadn't seen her since she left England, and the baby was ten months old now. before I could speak she started again.

"I'm sorry, really. That was uncalled for. I'm just under a lot of pressure right now. I'm right in the middle of a monster project, one of my last if things go well, and I've had to plan a wedding by myself. Our mothers are willing to help, but since I'm footing the bills I have to be hands on. And I think Josh is finally getting serious about someone."

I jumped in when she ran out of steam. "So Miles finally popped the question? Excellent. Stop worrying about the wedding. I'll foot the bills, write the checks while Mom and Marie plan it. It will make them feel useful again."

Jo looked at me in awe. "I think I like Pete much better than Jake. Forceful, making decisions with the snap of your fingers. A girls panties could get wet around a man like that."

She grinned at the look on my face. "Relax, honey, it was a joke. But I will accept your help with the wedding, if everything gets run by me first. I have a budget, after all."

"No you don't. I said I'd foot the bill, and I will. If you want to contribute, do like you want, supervise. Maybe give them a nice honeymoon destination."

She was off the couch and in my lap in a second, kissing me hard. Then Jo jumped up, a gleam in her eye.

"Go clean up, and put on something decent. We're going to have a house full of guests pretty soon. Oh, and order some food, who has time to cook?"

I went up, showered, brushed my hair and beard, and after donning jeans and a tee shirt, went back downstairs. Using her computer, I was amazed at how many new restaurants were in town. I ordered Chinese and Italian, just to cover all the bases.

Dozing on the couch, I was awakened when Jess dove on me, kissing me all over my face while she cried. Jo laughed and had Josh and Miles pry her off me. Just as soon as she was removed, Mom jumped into my arms, doing basically the same rant Jo had done. When she calmed down I looked at Marie. She just grinned.

"What? As much grief as I gave you when you were my son in law, I think you deserve a pass. Still good to see you though." She did kiss my cheek before going into the kitchen to help organize the food.

We laughed,sharing a meal and the love of family. It was a feeling I savored, not having experienced it in a long time. Halfway through the meal a thought struck me. "Miles, we forgot your mother. I apologize. She should be here. Call her, and if she's not busy, see if she'll come over."

Miles was amazed but made the call. Clara was there in thirty minutes. She had met every one but me, so she was soon at ease. When I told her I expected her to help plan the wedding, she cried.

The official GET JESS MARRIED IN STYLE COMMITTEE held their first meeting at the dining table, shooing Josh, Miles, and me out of the room. We went outside and they admired my bike.

"I never thought I'd see my Dad on a motorcycle, but then again I never thought I'd see you do half the things you've done. Are you okay, Dad?"

I shrugged. "I'm pretty happy, really. Oh, every once in a while something will trigger an unpleasant memory, but I get over it pretty quickly. And I'm home now, at least for the next nine months."

Changing the subject, I asked if the rumors I'd heard about his love life were true. His grin was about a mile wide.

"Pretty much, Pop. I hope the jewelry chest isn't empty."

"Don't you worry about that. I'll have what you need. Do I know the girl?"

Miles was grinning as hard as Josh. "You've actually met her. Her name is Celeste. My sister, remember?"

I remembered a tall blonde in a lab coat wearing big glasses. She seemed pretty enough, but it was hard to tell in that outfit. "How did that happen?"

"We would all hang out together at our apartment. It took a few months, but they drifted closer and closer. Then BOOM! They couldn't keep their hands off each other. It's been like this for about five months now. That's the quick version, if you want details, get them out of Josh."

Jess came skipping out about then, wrapping her arms around my waist. "Daddy, Mom wants to know what kind of budget the committee has to work with."

"I don't know, baby. Do you have a ballpark figure?"

She fidgeted a little before coming out with twenty thousand. Wow, I wondered how much mine had cost. It was only money, so I looked at her sternly.

"Sorry pumpkin. I can't live with that figure."

She hung her head, tears forming. I tilted her chin up until she looked me in the eye. "That can't possibly be enough. It seems we spent at least thirty thousand on Polly, and I'm sure prices have gone up since then. Let's go with thirty-five, all right? If it runs over let me know, otherwise, except for the time and the place, leave me out of it. Acceptable, sweetie?"

She let out a scream that must have had the neighbors wondering who got murdered and ran towards the house, stopping halfway and running back into my arms. "Thank you, Daddy!" Then she kissed me and ran back into the house.

It took them two hours before they calmed down enough to leave. I walked out, planning on getting a hotel room for the night. Jo was right behind me.

"Don't you even think of cranking up that noisy thing. Come to bed, you can move it tomorrow."

She saw my look in the security lights. "That's all I'm offering you, Pete, a bed. Not a bed with me in it."

Then she giggled. "However, I am open to negotiation. Just kidding. Maybe. Seriously, come to bed. We'll talk in the morning. I'll even make breakfast."

I thought about it for a minute, grabbed my bag, and hit my old guest room. It took me a while to get to sleep, being here, in my old house. The memories seeped out of the walls, swirling around me. I heard the kids in the backyard when they were just school age, screaming with the joy of new life, laughing as that big ugly mutt we'd rescued from the pound chased them around, barking and slobbering all over them. I heard their wails of sorrow when he passed a few years later, coming to grips with the concept of death for the first time. His headstone was still standing in the back corner.

I heard the excited whispers between the girls when they fist noticed boys, holding them when they got their tender young hearts broken for the first time. I could see then posing with their dates in their prom dresses, and then it was my heart breaking a little because I knew it was the beginning of the end of their childhood, I could see Josh in that God awful purple tux. The way his date looked at him he could have worn rags and she wouldn't have noticed.

I could hear Jo as she cooed and screamed during our lovemaking, in every room of the house and every inch of the patio and backyard. I could see her tired but triumphant smile as I brought her and the twins home, knowing our priorities were forever changed.

Then I'd remember the fights, the coldness, why we were divorced, and wondered if this wasn't just another manipulation. Time would tell. Besides, I'd be apartment hunting tomorrow.

...

Jo was unhappy when I told her my day would be spent apartment hunting. She seemed hurt.

"Really, honey? You could just stay here, you know."

"Not a good idea, Jo. As much as I've become lately of enjoying your company, I need my own space. Besides, wouldn't it be awkward if I was lounging around when your dates showed up?"

I said the last in jest, but saw the flicker in her eyes.

"Is it serious?"

"Sort of. He wants more than what we have but I'm not sure. He's a good guy, Pete, and I'm comfortable being with him, but the spark I'm looking for just isn't there, and I don't know if it will ever be."

"Don't lead him on, Jo. That's all I'm going to say. If he wants more and you don't, tell him upfront."

Breakfast was awkward after that, and I told her I'd do the dishes while she got ready for work. Forty minutes later, dressed in her lawyer clothes, she left. I didn't want to hang around with all the memories, so I drove two towns over and started looking. Why two towns over? I wanted a little space from my family if my past came looking.

I got lucky, despite my appearance, once they found out I was a college professor, they wrote the hair and bike off as academic eccentricity, or maybe a late midlife crisis. To my relief, no one recognized me for my past exploits, even though the last attack had been on the international news for weeks.

I found a nice one bedroom condo, complete with a gym and pool. The price seemed a little high, but then again, I told them right off it was only going to be a year, unless things changed. I offered them a hundred less a month and told them I would pay for the full year in advance. They accepted it right away.

I did the same thing with the car I got, a one year lease, paid in advance. It was big and boxy, but it had a powerful engine and four wheel drive. I went to the post office and got a box, again, I didn't intend to make it any easier on anyone looking.

Did I expect trouble? Not exactly, but three mil is a pretty powerful motivator, even if you're not religious.

The family was a little upset I wasn't close, especially Jo. I explained my reasons, and it was clear she hadn't even considered it. She never said another word.

The wedding committee was doing an outstanding job of depleting my bank account. But your little girl only gets married once (I hoped), so I didn't complain.

...

I'd gotten badly out of shape in my wanderings, so I hit the condo gym pretty hard, and found a new martial arts place to train. I couldn't help but grin at the irony. It was a Savate academy, taught by a Frenchman who'd worn the white sash for fifteen years. He was impressed with my resume and asked why I chose his studio.

"I recently ran across another white sash, and was intrigued by how similar it was to the last system I studied. Both are no nonsense styles born of necessity. They're not pretty, they're not fair, and they're both damned effective."

I adapted to the style pretty easily, and the instructor would often match me with more experienced sparring partners. I'd sometimes revert to one of my old styles, just to confuse them. Still, I was pretty much continuously bruised on one body part or another for three months. It reminded me I would soon turn 50 and maybe I needed to ease up a little. Then I'd remember someone shooting grenades in our windows, and I worked harder.

I also went through the course and applied for a concealed carry permit. It took three months before I got it, and I made a habit of carrying my pistol even before the permit was approved. The course was sponsored by a gun club with a very nice range, so I joined.

They tried to be helpful. I was a college professor, after all. They made all kinds of suggestions and were more than surprised when I showed up one Saturday morning, with both pistols.

The range master examined them, declared them fit to fire, and set me up a lane. I didn't realize it until about thirty minutes later but I had an audience. Always handy with a pistol, I'd gotten bored just shooting at the bullseye, so I started shooting patterns into the target. I put two eyes, a nose, and a crooked smile on one. drew an X across one, a circle on another, and a heart on the breast area of another. None of them were perfect, but it was easy to tell what they were supposed to be. What stunned them was my shooting with both hands, emptying the magazine in the one in the right hand, then the one on the left.

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

I shrugged, trying to downplay my skill. "I've been around guns all my life, and I've always been ambidexterous, so it came naturally."

I grinned, "but I'm terrible with long guns. Never got the hang of it. I'm a shotgun man, all I need to do is get close."

He hit me up to join the club's shooting team, but I begged off. "I don't know how much longer I'm going to be here. I wouldn't want you to depend on me and then up and leave."

I grew to become something of a challenge to them. Discovering I had a competitive streak when it came to shooting, I would regularly shoot against whoever was available. I beat all but one with pistol, and we seemed to split, winning as often as losing. No one could touch me shooting with both hands, but I usually got the crap kicked out of me with rifles.

One of the guys I hit it off with introduced me to skeet shooting. It was love at first pull. After two months I started getting bored, and asked them to throw multiple clays at the same time. Two were easy, three were interesting, four were challenging.

I took Josh and Miles with me a few times. Josh said it was okay, but Miles got the fever and soon bought matching shotguns, twelve gauge for him, twenty for Jess. Genetics must have kicked in, and she was a natural, outshooting Miles on a regular basis. She got so good that my club put on a father daughter competition, and we won easily. Way to easily. The other clubs hinted they brought in a ringer, but they countered, saying we were just a college professor and an accountant.

One guy wouldn't let it go, Googled me, and saw my recent past. Soon everyone knew who I was. It got so bad I quit going to the range, and five of the members showed up at my condo, promising to make sure no one bothered me if I returned.

They caught me as I was returning from the pool, a towel wrapped around my waist. Three of them were veterans, and recognized my scars for what they were, battle wounds. I think their opinion of me went up. It bothered me a little.

Tom had gotten hit with shrapnel, and had little scars all over his back. Bill had survived an IED that destroyed the Humvee he was riding in, and had taken two bullets while pulling his crew out of the vehicle. They were warriors, I was just a stupid nerd who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, with a knack for pissing off dangerous people.

After the small talk, they got to the point. "You need to come back. We'll make sure you're left alone as much as you want. You're not military, but you stand up for your friends and beliefs, have gone through scarier stuff than I could imagine. At least my time in the service had me facing pretty easily identified enemies, and I didn't operate in enemy held territory."

They finally convinced me to come back, even though I had been identified now, and it wouldn't take long for anyone to find me. They just grinned. "It's a gun club, buddy. A lot of us are vets from more than one war. They might get surprised."