Save One Love

"When he met Mom, things changed. She convinced him to go to the Lutheran church figuring any church might help him fulfill a spiritual need. He found work. They married-Mom is ten years younger. Anyway, I came along a year later. I'm an only."

She was quiet. "Mom and I have talked about him. We could talk about him in the room and he'd not notice he was the subject. Unless we directly address him, he'll take no note of our talk. He doesn't listen in. He'll read a book watching tv, and you can't be sure if he's attending to the one or the other or both at once. I think the church scandal hurt him permanently-he felt betrayed that neither the bishop nor anyone believed him. He withdrew from life, and Mom brought him partway back, but only partway."

Jack heard her, and wondered at scandals and gossip fifty years gone still affecting lives into more generations. "What happened to the woman?"

"I don't know. Many years ago I asked him, but he waved his hand and said they had no contact after the allegations... I've always felt he probably left the priesthood to save the woman, somehow. It was all very sad and mysterious. I'm sure there is more to the story but I doubt I find out. Dad has emphysema now, from the smoking. Still reads a lot, when breathing is not too labored. He's on oxygen and usually has a tank nearby."

"Sad, isn't it? How a life can be derailed and never put back on the track," Jack said. "And then you find another track-maybe not going to the same place, but somewhere worthy. Frost's poem about the choice of road is often a matter of circumstances and events beyond our control."

Laeesha nodded. "A bullet to the leg, a gossipy scandal, a chance assignment to a particular teacher." Jack leaned over and kissed her.

"You think there's a story? With your dad." Jack asked Laeesha.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure it's important to get to the bottom of things. I mean, he's mostly happy. I think he loves Mom and wants nothing more than to end his life in her company. If you were to ask, that's what he'd say. But there is something in his eyes-it's been there as long as I can remember. Like he has a wish or a dream that he knows will not be fulfilled, or a secret or something left undone. A regret, perhaps. An unfinished life-but not a bad one. I think he's happy, in a settled, unexciting way."

"Does your mom ever talk about it? Does she see it, too?"

"I have talked to her about it. She thinks he started off that way. She's not convinced it had to do with the scandal. Something from his time before her, part of the price of living in society, I think."

Jack was thoughtful for a while. He finally said, "I wonder if it's even possible to go through life without neurosis."

"Sounds like the idea of a new novel," she said smiling.

"Give me time. You still haven't read any of my stuff."

"I'm afraid I'll say something critical and hurt your feelings."

*

Chapter 7: Love and Death

I'm Hattie writing again.

We went to Sandusky to meet Mrs. Rinker's mom and dad two...no, three weeks ago. They were little, especially compared to Dad. Her father was shrunken with emphysema, hunchbacked and seeming older even than his 76. His every breath was labored, but his eyes were bright as he shook my hand and said how do you do. Her mother was in good health. She was younger than her husband and waits on his every need. She held my hand in both of hers for a second, looked right in my eyes and said I was beautiful. I looked down for a second and had to make myself look up-Dad's talked to me about accepting compliments without going into something he calls my "shy fog."

I liked Mrs. Rinker's mom and dad, but her father was so frail. He used to be a Catholic priest, she told me on the drive, and for some reason he left the church and never went back. But he read books-there were novels everywhere and he gave me an old, old paperback of The Wall and a more recent one of Gone to Soldiers, and those got me on my World War II kick the last weeks or so. He talked to Dad about Caleb, Dad's novel based on a slave and slave owner relationship during the Civil War, and he found a copy of Mary's Mind on a shelf and asked Dad to sign it. So he did, with a nice inscription saying he hoped it brought some insight into anguish-I think he was referring to Mr. Rinker's loss of faith rather than his emphysema, and Mr. Rinker smiled when he read it.

He said, "I appreciate all insight. Apparently I wear my emotions on my sleeve."

Dad and he sat and laughed, talked for about an hour with me listening or looking at the books on shelves and stacked about. Then Mr. Rinker said to pick out any I might like, if he'd already read it I could have it. I picked out those two and thought I was taking advantage of his generosity enough-but I would also have liked to take Kate Vaiden by a guy named Reynolds Price, and maybe two or three others. All the Light We Cannot See he had but hadn't read yet, he said. Mrs. Rinker the Actual and Mrs. Rinker the Faux came in and sat and we talked about softball and writing.

Mrs. Rinker the Faux said she had submitted my essay to a contest, and that it was a finalist. Being a finalist meant it was in the top ten essays, by their standards. She said the top three essayists would be invited to a dinner in Washington, D.C., and a government official would present an award-last year, the presenter was the Vice-President! The winner would get to read or summarize her or his essay. When she said this, Mrs. Rinker looked at me to see how I'd react.

"Well, it's good I won't win, then," I said. They all laughed.

I liked the Rinkers, and I felt sorry for Mister. He was struggling for every breath.

I read John Hersey and then I read John Hersey. I wondered why no one knew his name-it looks like he used to be quite popular. Rachel Apt is enough: any man capable of creating a character like Rachel Apt should live forever in literature. Strong, sensitive, tough, stalwart, smart, good, loving, kind, gentle-Rachel Apt was a character to make a novel, and she made The Wall. I couldn't wait for White Lotus-a long one, about an American woman in slavery, but I'd have to let it go until summer, probably-but The Child Buyer looked interesting since I'm adopted, anyway, or The War Lover, or A Single Pebble, and they weren't too long. Hersey must be a wonderful guy, maybe not married. He should wait for me.

I checked the internet. Dead?? Hersey is dead??? I have no reason to live. Perhaps I should join a convent.

The Wall was powerfully good. If I were to become a novelist, like my teacher suggested, I'd like to write like John Hersey, or even some writer like Marge Piercy. Gone to Soldiers was so, so good! What was it about World War II?... I am looking for more novels about it. The War Lover, next.

So Dad met the Rinkers, I found two good books and a deceased author, and then Mrs. Rinker the Younger met my grandparents at Thanksgiving. There seemed less urgency in that, because no one seemed on the brink of death. Mrs. Rinker wore a sweater, the temperature being in the forties, and everyone sat around the table eating turkey and pumpkin pie-Grandma is a great cooker. Mostly Mrs. Rinker talked about funny things that had happened in her classes or softball games, Dad talked about another book he was working on-he actually said he had about ten books started but he didn't have but one mapped out yet-and I talked about starting to toss with Dad, working on a better changeup, and a little about school. Oh, and John Hersey.

Grandpa really liked Mrs. Rinker-he held her hand when she said goodbye and he said something only they could hear. She smiled and blushed and said something back. It was a good day, and now everybody knew everybody's family.

But today, the day after Thanksgiving, I found out my essay was one of the three. Dad and I would be going to Washington D.C. in February. I dread it, because what if I win?

At least I'll miss a few days of school.

*

"Hello?" Laeesha said into her phone.

"Hi, Mrs. Rinker? This is Hattie."

"Hi, Hattie, is something wrong?"

"No, not really. I just wanted to say that I think it's neat how my dad is going with you, now. I don't remember him ever doing that. I know he had a close girlfriend growing up but things didn't work out."

"I like your dad. Thanks for telling me."

"Yeah, well, have you noticed Derik? Across the room from me in your class?"

She had noticed Derik paying inordinate attention to Hattie from afar.

"Yes, I've seen him looking at you. Is something wrong?"

"I saw him outside my house Sunday. Down the street, not doing anything."

"Does that bother you?" asked Laeesha. Derik seemed harmless; he probably had a crush and couldn't get up the nerve to talk to Hattie.

"No, he says hi at school, but once he came over to me in the hall and said hi and then he just stood there for a minute. So finally I said bye and went on."

"Do you think he likes you?" Laeesha asked.

"Maybe, probably. Don't know."

"Do you like him?" the teacher asked.

"Well, like is a strong word considering we haven't talked ever. He seems smart."

"Oh, he is. If he makes you uncomfortable, I can talk to him about not bothering you."

"No. I just wondered if you'd noticed anything."

"I'll tell you if I do. Are you reading any books?"

So it went on for a bit, just talking. Laeesha was amused by her situation, enjoying the kid's forthrightness, realizing it signified a new attitude, a change in their relationship. When they finally hung up, Laeesha considered calling Jack but decided against it.

It happened again a week or so later, and then every few weeks.

*

Jack asked Laeesha to a hike in mid-December when Merciful Saviour had a three day weekend because a water main burst, and she accepted. Hattie was going to spend the day and overnight with her grandparents, and Jack expected to be home about 11 after dinner at a place that would be comfortable for them in grubby clothes. They drove three and a quarter hours to Red River Gorge in eastern Kentucky, through the rough Nada Tunnel, and to a trail he knew. Laeesha was astounded at the wooded gorge, not that it compared to the Grand Canyon in size, but for its boreal beauty, its accessibility.

There were lots of trails, some pre-Columbian Indian, most modern American getaway, and climbing to a clifftop was a matter of minutes and relatively safe. Jack could make most of the trails in short bursts of effort. Sometimes climbing to the gorge clifftops required he stop or drag his right leg a bit, but it was doable.

From the top, a wintry deciduous forest was clear to view.

It began to snow. Jack, carrying a backpack, pulled out a pad to sit upon and a backpacking stove, and made tea as they sat in a cave used by Indians centuries past and beer drinkers much more recently. They cuddled under a blanket (actually, a poncho liner from his days in the Marines), and kissed as the water boiled. The tea warmed them, and they did not have to talk. The snow was light but in the forest, with the longer views from the cliff, looking down a pathless draw, Laeesha exclaimed, "Lovely."

"I was engaged once. In college," Jack said. "Janice. We grew up together. Always, did everything together."

"What happened?"

"We went to different schools, Miami for me, UC for her. She always insisted on us remaining virgins. Virgins together until marriage. We did things, but never full intercourse."

Laeesha snuggled into him, letting him set a pace. He obviously wanted to tell her something, to explain something about himself, still important after almost two decades.

"We got a ring senior year of college, announced our engagement, but a few months later she said she'd fallen in love with someone else. That she'd had sex with him. She had sex with him the day after we got engaged."

Laeesha just shook her head.

"She didn't tell me for some time, and then she gave back the ring. I noticed she was wearing another then. She said she loved me also, but I was her past and he was her future." He pulled the liner closer about them.

"Turned out she was pregnant. I went active with the Marines a short time later. After graduation."

Laeesha waited, but he said no more.

They watched the snowfall for an hour until it stopped. They lunched on some cheese and turkey sandwiches Jack had made, and kissed some more. They packed up and walked some trails, found a natural arch, climbed Indian Stairway, watched another snowfall. It was a day.

But he didn't want to take her home. They found their car again, put the pack in, and Jack kissed her hard.

Laeesha looked at him and coyly accused him, "You arranged this just to have a night with me."

"Damn right, I did," Jack said. They drove to Stanton and checked into a motel, purchased amenities like toothbrushes, and found their room.

The walk had been cold, so they'd worn many layers, and their clothes made a big pile on the floor.

"You are just beautiful in your underwear," Jack said as he pulled Laeesha against him. His penis was hard and trapped between them.

"You seem eager to see me," she said, running her hands up and down his sides, then grasping his hardness as they kissed for some time. Then she knelt, ran her tongue around the head of his cock, tickled the hole with its dab of precum with the tip of her tongue, and then she worked the head of it into her mouth. He could feel her tongue going around and around the head, building his sensitivity until he did not think he could stand it, when she stopped and ran her lips up and down his shaft.

She kept on for some time, and felt him reaching his peak, but he picked her up then, carried her to the bed, and put his tongue in her slit. Up and down, side to side, he moved his tongue everywhere but her clitoris, until she was trembling, when he circled her clit with his tongue, brushing it, and she jerked slightly two and then three times.

He lifted himself, put his cock at her entrance, and pushed in slowly. Her legs widened, she said, "Oh, Jack," and pulled him against her, his hardness fully within her. He was slowly but completely filling her, withdrawing, filling, for as long as he could stand it, but instead of going over the edge, he would stop, relax, wait-and once revived do it again. She began to wonder if it would go on all night, which seemed like a good idea to her. But no, Jack eventually said, "I'm going to cum," and he rammed her hard, twice, three times, saying her name each time until he was cumming, and she felt it spurting in her, warm and wet and satisfying.

*

Hattie said nothing about them spending the night together. Perhaps she had not noticed since she arrived home after Jack. She just kissed him hello when she got home that afternoon. They talked about other things.

"I went hiking with Laeesha yesterday, you know," Jack said. "We are getting more serious."

"I hope you had a great time, Dad. I think some things are just too private and too important for me to be involved. It's between you and Mrs. Rinker. You're good people, and you told me before the journey is part of it so I'm glad you had a good day."

Sometimes his 14-year-old was more mature than most grown ups. "Good. And I think I can safely say that I am getting to that state. She's really great, isn't she?"

"I hope you fall in love. I could see her as my mom... Even if I did get a B first quarter," she laughed. "It's been four months, you have never dated anyone that long since I've noticed."

"I know. It's new ground for me, too."

They celebrated Christmas at his parents' house, and Laeesha drove home to be with her folks. She called the day after Christmas to say that her dad was dying and in hospice. Two days later, unable to find enough energy to make his lungs work, his heart quit and he died. His long struggle for a full breath was finally ended.

Laeesha called them a bit later to say she would stay to bury him on the last day of the year.

Jack and Hattie drove to Sandusky for the funeral, which was private because he'd been mostly a recluse with his long illness dominating so many years. A few friends came, invited by his wife, but only a handful.

Hattie and Laeesha stood by the open coffin for a while, talking quietly. Jack noticed that at one point they had their arms about each other.

Later, Jack spoke quietly to Laeesha. "What did Hattie have to say to you before?"

Laeesha responded, "That even if you can't remember him, it's not easy to face the death of a parent." Jack shook his head.

Laeesha spoke a few minutes later, as if she'd been considering something weighty, "Hattie is...no longer my student. I mean, just my student. We'll finish out the school year. But it's a lot more than that. You know, she's been calling me sometimes to talk, sometimes for advice about a boy or situation."

Jack smiled, took her hand. "Good. I'm serious about you, too."

"She said she's thinking of me more like a mom. She wanted to know if I could think of her as a daughter."

"Loving my child as a daughter is not a good enough reason to marry me," Jack said.

"I'm saying that if you are not serious, if we are not headed toward marriage, it would be best for her if we..." she replied.

Jack looked at her seriously, so long a pause Laeesha wondered if she'd misunderstood the situation.

"I thought my feelings were obvious, Laeesha. I crossed that bridge a while back, I just needed to know that my love was returned. I love you, Laeesha." Laeesha kissed him on the cheek, requiring him to bend a bit and her to stand on her toes.

Mrs. Rinker the Older decided that she would remain in her old house as long as she was able. Laeesha offered to move her in with her, but she did not want to leave the community she knew so well. Unlike her husband, she had a card club that met weekly, she was a member of the church scheduling committee, and she had a few other activities. Laeesha wondered if she should find work near Sandusky to be closer to her mom, but her mother rejected that idea without a second's thought.

Mrs. Rinker the Older said, "You finally fall in love with this great guy, whose daughter is great, too, and you want to force them to make a choice about you? I'd never forgive myself. If I'm not willing to give up playing cards to live with you, why are you thinking of leaving your new family to take care of an old bat like me?"

Jack and Hattie drove home after the funeral. They had a long talk about Laeesha and her role in Hattie's life. Having a child can upset the best laid plans, Jack realized. It can also speed things up or slow things down.

Laeesha followed on New Year's Day.

*

Chapter 8: A Story to Hear

The Institute for Government and the Family was a non-controversial, nonpartisan group that supported study of government programs that affected families. It did not endorse politicians; it did not suggest legislation. It was simply a group that studied families and the influence government had or did not have on them. It financed studies and kept statistics on government programs, the lives of government families, and family structures in the nation over time. Its leadership changed biannually. Usually its director was a Democrat if a Republican had served the term previous, and vice versa. It held an essay contest yearly for students ages 13 to 15. The immediate families of the students with the three best essays were invited to Washington D.C. and the winning essay was read or summarized. The winner was not announced until the award dinner in mid-February.

Hattie asked Mrs. Rinker if she would attend with the family. She accepted. "I'll take some personal days."

Hattie practiced reading her essay to Jack and Mrs. Rinker, just in case she won. She hoped she would not. She did not want to speak to a thousand people as had attended last year. The dinner was a fundraiser for the organization. This year's essay topic was: How has government affected your family? Jack wondered if they had expected the sort of essay that Hattie wrote. Perhaps it was just different enough, from such a unique angle, that Hattie was included in the finalists.