There was a little pause before her mother said gently, "I don't know, honey, he was pretty tired when he left. Late as it is here, I think you should just go on and get yourself something to eat. We'll call tomorrow, for sure. Okay?"
"Yeah. Okay. Sure."
"Okay then. Bye-bye, honey. Love you."
"Love you, too, Momma. Bye."
For a long time after she pressed the disconnect button, Sammi June sat on the bed, holding the phone cradled to her chest and rocking herself. She no longer felt the least little bit like eating.
And in her room in the guest house in Landstuhl, Germany, Jessie set the phone back on its cradle and picked up the Teddy bear. After gazing at it for a moment, she wrapped her arms around it and cradled it against her heart.
Does he have any scars?
She didn't know how to tell Sammi June that the worst of her daddy's scars were most likely deep down inside him, where nobody could see them.
At eleven o'clock next morning, Lieutenant Commander Rees arrived in a European model Ford to take Jessie shopping. He took her to a larger town near the air base where, he said, most of the families of base personnel did their shopping. Before turning her loose in the shops, however, he took her to lunch at a small bistro that served mostly Italian food, including pizza. Normally Jessie was very fond of pizza, but it was going to be a while before she stopped associating the smell of Italian food with the heartstopping terror of that phone call from her mother, telling her that her husband had come back from the dead after eight years.
She ordered a small antipasto and a diet soda, and since the weather was unusually sunny and warm for April, they chose one of the small tables outdoors on the sidewalk.
Lieutenant Commander Rees didn't mess around. He stabbed a fork into his baked ziti, then asked Jessie straight-out how things were going with her and Tristan.
Jessie, being a true Southern woman, was all set to smile brightly and assure him that everything was Fine, just fine, but for some reason, didn't. Maybe it was something to do with the lieutenant commander's air of authority and self-assurance, which all military officers seemed to have, in her experience, and the fact that Jessie had barely known her own father growing up and was wanting to confide in somebody strong and wise, but all at once she found herself blurting out the truth.
"I don't know," she said. Her throat closed and she stared bleakly at her salad. "I don't know how it's going." She took a breath and belatedly fought for control. "I'm a nurse, I feel like I ought to have a better handle on this than I do. Hey, I'm used to taking care of tiny little babies. What do I know about how to deal with…with-"
"I'm not gonna lie to you," the lieutenant commander said in his brisk military way, matter-of-factly munching a bite of ziti. "Lieutenant Bauer's got a rough road ahead of him, and so do you. It's not gonna be easy." Jessie nodded miserably, and after a moment he wiped his mouth with his napkin and went on. "The fact is, some POWs have an easier time adjusting than others. And sometimes their marriages don't survive the strain. Now, Mrs. Bauer, your husband is a man with a good, strong character to begin with-if he wasn't, he'd never have survived what he did as long as he did. If I were a betting man I'd have to put my money on him to make it back all the way. But that doesn't mean it's gonna be a cakewalk. He's gonna need you to be strong. And, he's gonna have to reach down inside himself and find some strength maybe he doesn't know he has."
She took a breath and tried to smile. "He always was strong. His parents were-well, his dad still is, I guess-strong people. If that helps. They're German, you know. His dad grew up not far from here."
Rees nodded as he chewed. "I did know that, yes."
"He wants to go and visit the places where his mom and dad grew up. Do you think-"
"I think it's a good idea," Rees said, still nodding.
"Do you? I mean, are you sure he's…I don't know…"
"Okay, let me think how to say this." Rees put down his fork and pushed the plate aside, then leaned forward to command her eyes. "Mrs. Bauer, what it sounds to me like, is that your husband might be looking for that strength I was talking about."
"Do you think so?"
He nodded. "I think what he's maybe doing is going to the source, trying to find out what it is that made him strong to begin with. Looking to find the extra stuff that's gonna get him through this."
"The right stuff." Jessie tried her best to smile though her face felt as if it might crack under the strain.
Rees beamed back. "Exactly."
When the lieutenant commander took her back to the guest house several hours later, a second car and driver were there waiting for them. Rees helped Jessie unload her shopping bags, then handed her the keys to the Ford.
"You're on your own," he said, and laughed at her look of dismay. "Hey, don't look like that, it's no different from driving in the states-it's not like they drive on the wrong side of the road. Just remember to convert miles to kilometers. It's a fairly straight shot back to the shopping center, in case you think of anything else you need. It'll be good practice for that trip you two are planning. You're gonna be the one driving, you know. In case you've forgotten, Lieutenant Bauer doesn't have a valid driver's license."
"Oh Lord," Jessie whispered.
Al Sharpe drove Tristan back to the guest house that evening, around the same time as before, after doing a drive-by of the parking area to check for signs of news media invasion. But it appeared the Defense Department's stalling and diversionary press releases were having the desired effect.
It does feel easier this time, Tris thought as he made his way to the door. But still awkward, like the second time out with someone he'd met on a blind date. Like now things might start to get complicated.
And then he saw Jess coming toward him through the lobby, and he felt a bubble of forgotten pleasure burst somewhere inside him and pour warmth all through his chest that felt like a gulp of brandy on a cold day.
"Hey," she said, in that eager way he remembered so well.
"Hey," he said back to her, and she walked into his arms, and for a few aching moments it felt completely right again. She was the wife he remembered, and her body fit his in familiar ways, soft where it needed to be in spite of that long-boned angularity that had always particularly excited him. She was Jess, and against all odds, the same.
But then something, the fresh clean sunshiney smell of her hair, maybe, reminded him of where he'd been, and how much he was not the same Tristan she remembered, and he felt a coldness come over him and the darkness that was never far away creep back around his heart.
After too brief a time he put her away from him, and catching one of her hands, he brought it to his lips in mute apology. He held on to it while they walked through the guest house public rooms and out the back door, exchanging "How are you?"s and "How was your day?"s, hoping that would be enough to make up for his stiffness. He was so conscious of the feel of her hand, its shape and texture, warmth and moisture, every minute flaw and roughness in her skin, the fragile strength of bones and supple strength of muscles, that he could barely keep his mind on what she was saying to him.
They walked outdoors again, dodging bicyclists and joggers and dog walkers in the cool April evening while she told him about the shopping she'd done for him, and what Sammi June had said when she'd heard about that. When he started to tell her how bad he felt for not having called his daughter yet, Jess brushed his apology aside.
"Sammi June understands," she said, lifting her head with a little shake so her hair ruffled, then sort of resettled just behind her shoulders. "She's not a child. In fact, she's pretty well grown-up for eighteen-kind of like her momma was," she added with a sideways look and a tentative smile.
Tristan gave a dry snort of laughter. "I think that's what worries me-that I'm not gonna know what to say to her. I don't think I know how to be the father of a grown-up woman."
She threw him another look and said quietly, "It's not any easier for her, you know. As a grown-up woman, she doesn't know how to have a daddy, either." She walked on beside him for several more steps, head down. "But," she said, then paused and took a deep breath before finishing in a brave rush, "you are, and she does, and…well, dammit, the two of you are just gonna have to work it out between you…somehow."
I shouldn't have said that, Jessie thought, when he didn't answer but just walked on, with his head slightly tilted as if he were listening to something only he could hear. Definitely not as patient and understanding as I ought to have been.
She was about to apologize when Tris's hand tightened around hers and he pulled her off the path. With newly sprouting grass underfoot and big old trees looming like protective uncles beside them, he turned and drew her around to face him. "You're right," he said, his voice husky. "I'm behaving like a damn coward. I'll call her tonight. As soon as we get back to the room. I promise." He brought her hand to his lips-something he'd been doing a lot, she noticed. But…never more than that. He still hadn't kissed her. "Okay?"
Her throat tightened as she nodded. She tried, but couldn't stop herself from saying, "She's changed, Tris. From what you remember. Of course she has. We all have. I have. Even though you say I haven't, that's just not true." Her voice broke just a little. "There's nothing we can do about that. It just…is."
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