Dear Mrs. Mckinney,
It is with deep regret and a heavy heart that I must inform you of your husband's death. I realize that all the kind words in the world will not ease your sorrow...
Tears fell on the paper like rain on the sidewalk. She had lost count of how many times she had read the letter. In the time it took to read a page of government regulation text, her life was shattered. Rena McKinney's husband, the father of her twin daughters, had died in a clearing in Vietnam. Today he was coming home. Mac, Why? Why did you have to be such a good man?
Mac, old buddy, you were a good man. Too bad it's you in the cargo hold and not me. Johnathan Wolfe had been there that fateful day. Every time he closed his eyes he saw it. On patrol through the jungle, a sunny afternoon. John "Mac" McKinney, Steven Mushita, and T. Johnathan Wolfe. Three friends, comrades in arms, doing what they had done for so many months. Looking for the enemy. An enemy that hides, sneaks and waits. That day, they had been waiting in the trio's path.
"Mushita, sweep to the right." Mac's voice was hushed, almost a nervous whisper. "Wolfe, take the left." The platoon had come upon a clearing in the jungle. Raising his arm and making a fist, Mac signaled the men behind him to stop and cover. Wolfe and Steve moved away from Mac, checking the perimeter.
The Lt. moved up behind him. "What do you think, sergeant?"
"It looks clear enough, but something isn't right."
Wolfe heard a noise. It was slight, almost nonexistent. A sharp whistle alerted Mac. Wolfe pointed at his eyes and then to a veil of vines twenty-five yards away.
Mac nodded and called Houser forward. "Ok, House, when I give the word I want you to spray that location with lead."
"Ok, sarge, no sweat."
The Lt. was ready to act. "What next, Mckinney?"
"Stay down and out of the way...sir." The lieutenant silently agreed and gave the obligatory order to proceed with due caution. Houser took his position, and the rest of the squad inched forward.
"Seargeant Wolfe? Sergeant Wolfe, we'll be landing soon."
Wolfe woke with a start at the corpsmans voice, sweat rolling down his neck. "Thank you."
Rena watched the C-130 touch down and taxi to its hanger. Around her were families. Families who were waiting for sons and husbands to return, alive or otherwise. Outside, beyond the gates of the base, the protesters made their presence known. Some with chants of peace and love. Others spewing venom, with shouts of 'baby killer' and 'murderer'. Taking a wrinkled handkerchief from her purse she dried her eyes and made an attempt to look peaceful.
One after another, in a macabre parade, flag draped coffins were wheeled out of the cargo hold. Several in the crowd around her burst into tears. Which oblong box contained their son, father, or brother? Rena maintained her composure; the torrent of sorrow was now a single tear rolling down her cheek.
Wolfe's eyes stung in the sunlight as he stood waiting.
"Can I help you, sergeant?"
"No." Wolfe stared past the corpsman's face.
"Sarge, you can't stand here."
"I will stand here and I will wait for my friend to be wheeled out. Now, leave me alone."
"But, sarge..." The soldier looked into Wolfe's eyes and saw the seriousness in them. He stopped.
"MOVE!" The corpsman backed away and decided he was needed elsewhere.
Wolfe turned to face Mac's coffin being rolled down the ramp. "Hello, friend, you're home." With a hand on the blue field of the flag he walked with his friend on the final journey they would take together. Wolfe stopped short of the morgue hanger, and Rena saw him as he turned towards her.
Wolfe turned toward Mac and mouthed the words, "What the fuck? They were right over there."
Mac pointed forward and tapped his helmet.
Oh great, he has an idea. Wolfe thought. People unfamiliar with Mac's ideas wouldn't worry. Wolfe and Steve had been in on too many of his hair-brained schemes so they were less than calm. Hand gestures and signals set people into motion, ready to descend on their target at Mac's command. Steve crouched low, looking, listening, and periodically looking at Mac. Sweat ran down his face and neck, pooling atop his collarbones. He was getting a bad feeling about the situation, like they were no longer the hunters.
The others in the squad were in position, waiting. Rodriguez crossed himself, Daniels kissed the bear claw he wore around his neck, and Houser patted the side of his M-60, promising a good cleaning when they got back to firebase. Each preparing themselves in their own way.
"I don't like this, McKinney." The Lt. was not handling the situation well.
"No, sir."
"Aren't you going to do something?"
"Yes, Sir." Mac was calm.
"When?"
"Soon, sir."
"Can't you say more than two words at a time?"
"Certainly, sir." Mac was becoming visibly irritated. "My job, sir, is to follow your orders and to keep these men alive in spite of those orders. Now sir, if you would be quiet and let me do my job we can get to our L.Z. and have chow before sunset."
"Nice sunset tonight. Don't you think so, John?"
Wolfe stared out the passenger window of the '68 Dodge Dart, watching the houses pass by. The leaves on the trees were turning the colors of autumn and the wind carried a slight chill.
This was her third attempt at conversation. Irritated, Rena stopped the car next to a neighborhood playground. "John, ...except for 'Hello, Rena', you've hardly said a word." Her tone softened. "Come on, John, show some signs of life."
"I'm sorry, Rena. It's just, well..."
"Well, what? How much of yourself did you leave over there?"
"Enough to be overwhelmed by the simple beauty of a row of houses and the occasional white-picket fence."
Rena's mouth fell open.
"I'm home, back in the world. It feels like a lifetime ago since I was here. Hell, I don't even know if I belong here anymore."
Rena put the car in gear and drove home in silence. Wolfe stayed to himself for the evening. He read the newspaper from front to back and sat outside to stargaze. Rena turned in early. This was her first break from the twins since she brought them home from the hospital. Her parents were looking after them so she could pick up Wolfe.
When Rena awoke the next morning the smell of coffee filled the house. Wolfe was up and staring at a picture on the mantle.
"Good morning, Rena. Did you sleep well?" He managed a half-hearted smile.
"That's better. Why the change?"
"A promise I made...to Mac."
"John, I need you to do me a favor. I want to know what happened, but not now. I'll ask you when I'm ready."
"I can do that, Rena. Just say the word."
"Thanks, John." Rena looked at the picture Wolfe had been fixated on. "I have to go pick up the girls. Want to come along?"
Wolfe nodded. "Sure, let me get changed."
"Sure could use a change of scenery, sarge."
"I know, Daniels. Stay focused; things will happen when they do." The breeze started to pick up, leaves rustled and the scent of napalm drifted by. Mac had to make a decision, never an easy thing when lives other than your own are involved.
Taps drifted across the tree tops. Friends and family of John McKinney were gathered around to say goodbye. Some said silent prayers, others wept, and those in uniform stood silent to honor a fallen comrade. Rena jumped at the first shots of the twenty-one gun salute. Wolfe put his hand on her shoulder as tears rolled down her cheeks. The honor guard folded the flag that covered the fallen soldier's coffin and handed it to a Colonel. He then turned and presented it to Rena. "Sorry for your loss, ma'am. You as well, Sergeant."
Wolfe looked puzzled. "Do I know you, Sir?"
"Not yet, Sgt. Wolfe."
A few weeks passed; Wolfe had been taking care of a few things around the house. Odd jobs, simple repairs, and the like.
"Hey, Rena."
Rena looked up from what she was doing. "Yes, John?"
"In the garage, there's a Harley under a tarp. Did it belong to..."
"Yes, it was Mac's. He didn't ride much though, just to relax on the weekends. Do you ride?"
"Yeah, a little."
"You've done so much around here, and I really have no use for a motorcycle. Why don't you take it? I think that's what Mac would want."
"If it's all the same to you, we'll call it on loan."
Rena smiled ever so slightly, "Done. What's wrong, John? You look troubled."
"I need to leave for a while. You've been very generous over the past few weeks, Rena, but I need to go away for a bit. I may or may not leave the service and I want to clear the cobwebs."
"Where are you going?"
"Home, back to Missouri for a visit with my folks..." It was an awkward moment, they stood there looking at each other and something sparked. That jolt you feel when you realize your emotions for a person have become more than you first felt.
The next morning Wolfe was on the road. Living the past few years out of a backpack made travel light. The miles melted away and with them the tension. For the first time in weeks, no, months, he was at ease. A sign flashed by. "Roanoake. I think it's time for a pit stop."
Pulling off the road, Wolfe pulled a letter from the pocket of his jacket. 4235 Raven Ave. was the return address on the envelope. After filling the tank and asking directions he was on the road again.
He felt the butterflies take wing in his stomach as he pulled into the driveway. This was a moment he had longed for and dreaded for the last three years. Walking up to the door, he dusted himself off, hoping to look somewhat respectable. He tapped the door twice with his knuckles and took a step back as it opened.
"John!?!"
"Hi, Angela. Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?"
"Not really, but you've always been full of surprises. You look good, John."
"I'm glad one of us thinks so." Stealing a quick glance, he continued. "You're looking pretty good yourself."
"What are you doing here?" Angela's surprise began to shift to suspicion.
"Well, I was going to Missouri to visit mom and check on the house. I was literally passing through town and thought I'd visit my ex-wife and son. I mean after all, I've been up to my neck in mud, blood, and death for the past three years. I wanted to connect with the part of my life I left behind."
"John, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's just... I mean.. After all this time..."
"You don't know what to expect."
Angela looked down, "Yes. War changes people, John. I wasn't sure how it would change you."
"I'd be lying if I said I'm the same man you married. The war did change me. For better or worse, I'm different." Wolfe's voice calmed, "If it's alright with you, could I see Nathaniel?"
"He's at my sister's house for the afternoon. I'll be going to pick him up in a hour or so."
"Oh, well, I guess I'll be going then." Wolfe turned to leave.
Angela watched him for a moment. "John, wait!" She ran down the steps to him. "John, I want you to know something." Wolfe turned towards her. "I never stopped loving you. Even now, standing here, I love you as much as the day we got married."
"Then why? Why the 'Dear Wolfe' letter?"
"I was scared. I didn't know if you were coming home or not. Then you stopped writing..."
"You stopped answering."
Tears welled up in Angela's eyes. "I know. I guess I tried to leave you before you were taken from me. Wait here."
Angela went into the house and returned a few minutes later with an envelope. "Here, John, I saved the pictures of Nathaniel for you. He is so much his father's son. You should be proud."
"I hope my dad is proud of me."
"What's that, Daniels?" Wolfe looked at the young man, puzzled by his statement.
"The last thing my father said to me was 'make me proud, son.' Well, here I am. Standing my ground, waiting to be shot at. I'm scared to death and want to run, but I'm not. I just hope he's proud of me if I get home."
"You're a good soldier, Daniels. No reason why he shouldn't be. And what's this 'if you get home' stuff? You've made it this far. Now concentrate, let's make sure I'm right and you get there in one piece."
At that moment all hell broke loose. It's been said that you don't hear the bullet that gets you in a fire fight. It's hard to hear anything else. Grenades, machine guns, rifles; all blending together in a concert of death and mayhem. Calls could be heard for the medic, mother, and God. Daniels was hit in the arm; Wolfe pulled him behind a tree. "Stay here. I'll be back for you."
"I'll be back in a few days, Angela."
"Ok, John," she paused, then looked up into his eyes. "I do want you to be a part of Nathaniel's life, John."
"That's great, I want to be a part of his life, too. What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Do I still have a place in your life?"
"I don't know, John. I still love you, but I just don't know."
"Fair enough." He hugged her, then got on the motorcycle. "I'll see you in a few days."
Then he rode off, literally into the sunset. For the next hour, he played the scene over and over again in his mind. What could he have said differently? What could he have changed?
Growing tired, he decided to stop for the night. Unfortunately, the new day only brought new doubts. There was no denying he was a changed man. The question eating at him was whether he was better or worse than before.
Things got worse very quickly, Steve and Wolfe looked toward Mac who was leveling an M-79 grenade launcher at the main concentration of enemy gunfire. The Lt. was on the radio, calling for air support, no doubt, when the radio operator jerked and slumped over bleeding from the neck. The call was now for immediate evac. The VC began to advance. They were now at the tree line just before the clearing. Mac fired his grenade and ran forward with his M-16. Following his lead, Wolfe and Steve ran along the tree line at the sides of the clearing firing as they went. A mortar shell exploded where Mac had been only seconds earlier, the world slowed to a crawl. On the far side of the clearing, Steve was struck once in the leg and once in the chest, he fell face first in the tall grass and didn't move. Wolfe looked just in time to see his friend fall. Mac turned and fired over Steve, as he too, was hit. Wolfe felt the rage build within him. Then in the midst of the cacophony he heard the oddest thing. He heard a twig snap. He turned toward the noise, catching a VC soldier off guard, and fired. His attention returned to the clearing; he could hear a huey in the distance and knew he had to collect Steve and Mac for evac.
By nightfall, he was in his hometown. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since he had been here.
"Home never looked so good, or so alien." Again, he silently asked himself if he belongs anywhere at all. Approaching the driveway of his childhood home, Wolfe's stomach started to churn.
"Well, here goes." he muttered as the doorbell rang.
"John! Holy shit! What a surprise!!"
"Hi, Uncle Sean. How's things been?"
"Great, come on in; you must be tired."
Crossing the threshold was like entering a time warp. Memories of his childhood flooded his mind. The summers playing ball in the back yard. The family holidays; things that seemed so long ago.
"Did you just get in?"
"No, I've been in the States for a month or so."
"Why didn't you call?" Sean handed him a beer and sat down.
"Because I wasn't sure if I should. I left American soil a married man. I was going to proudly serve my country, represent my fellow Americans, and protect the citizens of South Vietnam from the communist threat. At the time it seemed like the right thing to do, now I'm not so sure."
"Do you regret going?"
"No, it's not that. I just wonder if I'm the only one that thought it was right."
"You did your duty and remained true to yourself, didn't you?"
"Yes, I guess so."
"Then that's the only validation you need."
Wolfe awoke the next morning, like he had every morning since returning home, soaked in sweat. After showering and some coffee, he went to visit his mother.
"Hi, Ma. Sorry it's been so long since my last visit. You know, war and all." He placed some yellow roses in a bronze container. "I got your favorite. I saw Angela. She's as beautiful as ever. I didn't see Nathan, though; she gave me some pictures of him. He's got pop's chin and your smile. I don't know what to do, ma. I know I've changed, I just don't know if it's for the better or not." He stared at the marble headstone as if waiting for an answer. "I guess the answer I'm looking for will find me in time. You did teach me patience, I suppose I should put it into practice."
"Patience is a good quality, my pupil. One that few posses and fewer still put into practice." An elderly Chinese man stood a short distance away.
"Mr. Chinn?" Wolfe stood and bowed. "How have you been?"
"Well, John. Although I'm not sure the same could said for you."
"Is it that plain?"
"Yes, I'm afraid it is. Come, this is not the place to discuss such matters. Let us go elsewhere."
A short time later Wolfe and his teacher were talking and drinking tea in a small, modest house.
"Tell me, John, you have the look of a troubled man; what is wrong?"
"Well, Mr. Chinn, I feel like I've changed. I left here young and idealistic, and returned aged a lifetime and cynical."
"War makes men of boys and realists of dreamers. Do not let the circumstance change you, but instead, grow beyond the hardship."
"That's all well and good, sir, but putting it into practice seems next to impossible. I've killed and discovered I'm good at it. I've watched my two best friends die in the same day. I'm sorry, but that's going to take a lot of growing."
"You said it yourself, John, patience. Give yourself time to grow, don't expect things to happen overnight. It could take a year; it could take a lifetime; just don't give up on yourself."
After exchanging stories of the past few years, Wolfe realized the time and excused himself. He left his kung fu teacher feeling a little more alive inside and with less guilt over being alive.
" So what now, John? You are alive and well, time to do something with your life." He rode down a winding road that ended at a lake. A smile crept across his face. Dismounting his motorcycle, he walked toward an old oak tree whose limbs hung over the water. "Ah yes, evidence of the days gone by." Carved in the tree was a heart containing the initials "RF + JW" Childhood dreams contrasted by the harshness of reality. "I couldn't do anything to help you Rachel, just like Mac and Steve. People I cared about and I was helpless as you were taken from me. Never again. The next time someone is depending on me, I'll do my best, then I'll do better."
Wolfe returned home. His Uncle Sean was sitting in the living room reading the newspaper.
"Hi, John. You've been gone all day. Where'd you go?"
"I went to see ma, and visited some of the old haunts. I'll be leaving in the morning, Sean. There are some things I need to do."
"Sure, John." Sean looked puzzled but decided not to ask. "Keep in touch."
"Not a problem, Uncle Sean."
The next morning, after breakfast and farewells, Wolfe was on the road. "Next stop Roanoake."
Around noon, Wolfe stopped for gas. As he was filling the tank, a Volkswagen bus rumbled up to the pumps. Inside was a trio of hippies, unkempt and unruly. Wolfe could tell this was going to be unpleasant.
"Hey, man, isn't that one of those Vietnam army jackets?"
"Yup." Wolfe replied.
"Well, where'd you get it?"
"Vietnam." Wolfe tried to hide his aggravation, but did a poor job of it.
"Tell me, man, they say it's rough over there. How bad was it?"
"Bad enough." Wolfe replaced the nozzle and put the cap back on his tank. "Why don't you enlist and give it a try? Haircuts are free."
"Hey, man, I make love, not war."
"Cool. What does that make them? Your bitches? Or are you the target when they play bun darts?"
"You've got a real attitude problem, man. What do you expect from a damn baby killer?"
Wolfe's hand shot out in a blur of motion. His fingers enveloped the hippie's throat and squeezed, as Wolfe drew him near.
"What did you call me?"
The unshaven man gurgled his response as his face started to turn blue.
"Now get your ass in that fucking van and hope to God you never run across me when I'm mad." With that Wolfe pushed the gasping man into the van. "That means you maggots, too. Go!" The van left with a cloud of dust. "Baby killer, stupid motherfuckers."
"Motherfucker that hurts." Mac's voice was weakening with each word. Blood was pouring from his chest and abdomen.
"Hang in there pal. The helo is about to touch down." Wolfe tried frantically to stop the bleeding.
"John... it doesn't matter now. I'm... I'm not going to survive this day. Promise me you'll look after Rena and the baby." Mac raised his arm to grab Wolfe's collar. "Promise, John, please."
Wolfe looked into Mac's eyes. "I promise, Mac, you have my word."
"Thank you, John..." Mac's hand dropped to the blood stained ground. Wolfe passed his hand over Mac's eyes to close them, then removed one of his dog tags.
The huey touched down and the survivors began running toward it's open sides. The door gunner facing the enemy swept the area with an M-60 to keep their heads down. Wolfe ran to Steve, "Hey, Mushita, You alive?"
"Yeah, I'm still here."
"Good. Let's go." Wolfe picked up Steve and ran for the chopper. "Medic!! I need a medic here."
"Hey, need a lift?"
"Valkyrie! Be back in a minute."
"Make it less, Wolfe. We need out of here."
Wolfe ran toward Mac's body. "Come on, pal, I'm not leaving you here."
People tried to tell Wolfe what happened after that. The VC came from the flanks and Wolfe fought his way through the crowd while those in the
helo provided cover fire. All Wolfe knew was when he got on the chopper, he was literally soaked in blood and holding a larynx in his hand. Steve died before they touched down.
The days after were hard. The questions, the odd looks, the hardest part was the loneliness. Then came the nights. Wolfe's dreams were filled with the images of that day. Mac and Steve begging him to save them, only to loose them both. Then the charge of striking a superior office. Major Wolfesbane said the wrong thing at the wrong time and Wolfe broke his jaw. In the light of the circumstances it was decided to rotate him back to the states and let his next CO deal with the mess.
He stared at himself in the mirror. "John, you're a mess. Pull it together, you're going to meet your son. Don't come unglued."
The ride to Roanoake was a long one. Finally, he turned onto Raven Ave. He stopped short of the driveway and gathered himself. After a moment, he idled into the yard and parked his bike. He approached the door carrying a backpack and knocked. Angela opened the door.
"Hello, John. Come in."
"Hi, Angela." Wolfe opened the backpack. "I brought these for you." He produced half a dozen roses and presented them to her.
"Thank you, John; they're beautiful." She took them and inhaled deeply. "Nathan is playing in the backyard. I'll go get him."
Wolfe touched Angela on the shoulder. "If you don't mind, could I just watch him for a moment?"
"Sure, I'll go get some water for these."
Wolfe walked to the window. Outside was his three year old son, Nathaniel Timbre Wolfe, playing with the family Irish Setter. Running, jumping, playing with all his heart.
"I told you he was his father's son." Angela stood next to Wolfe. "Whatever he does, he gives 100 percent. Are you ready to meet him?"
"I guess so." Wolfe's voice trembled.
"Why, Trapper Jonathan Wolfe, are you afraid?"
"I guess so. I mean, what if he doesn't like me?"
"John, he's three years old. He asks about his daddy every now and then, you know."
"Yeah, the daddy that missed his first step, his first words. The daddy that wasn't there when his mother needed her husband..."
"John, please... It was my decision, remember? I asked you for a divorce."
"I failed you Angela. Just like I failed Mac and Steve."
"Who?" Angela looked puzzled
"They were my friends over in Nam. They died on the same day. Mac in my arms and Steve in the evac chopper, not two feet from me."
"My God, John, I had no idea." Angela put her arms around her ex-husband and held him. Wolfe returned the embrace and, for a moment, the world stopped. For that one brief moment, the hurt stopped and things were right again.
"Mommy, mommy, see what I did?" Nathan stood in the doorway, scissors in one hand and a mass of hair in the other. Behind him stood the dog sporting several bare patches on it's body.
"Nathan!" Angela stood looking at Nathan hands on hips tapping her foot. "Son, look what you did to Reilly." Wolfe snickered.
"He was hot, mommy. I thought he'd feel cooler."
Wolfe broke into laughter.
"You're not helping John."
"I'm sorry Angela, it's funny though."
"No, it's.... Well, ok, it is. But that's not the point." Angela smiled and chuckled. Reilly sat there panting without a care in the world.
"Outside, Reilly. Go on." Angela turned. "And you, Mr. Wolfe..."
"Yes." Father and son said in unison.
Nathan looked up at his elder. "Your name is Wolfe, too?"
Jonathan knelt next to his son. "Yes, it is."
"How come?"
"Because it was my father's name."
Angela put her arm around Nathan. "Nate, honey, I want you to meet your father." Nathan looked at his mother then at his father.
"You're my dad?"
"Yes, Nathan, I'm your dad."
"Where have you been?"
"Far away, son. Very far away."
The rest of the evening was spent trying to make up for the time lost. Father and son played catch, colored and took the obligatory horsey ride around the living room. Finally, Nathan fell asleep on the couch between his mother and his father. Angela carried the sleeping child to his room and placed him in his bed. Wolfe followed and placed a stuffed bear next to his son.
"Cute bear, John." She reached down and cradled a pendant in her hand.
"It was mine when I was his age. Ma insisted on saving it, she said I'd want to pass it along one day."
"Somehow I don't think the purple heart was yours at his age."
"Oh that. I got wounded and the president sends me a piece of costume jewelry."
"Come on you." Angela took him by the hand. "Buy you a drink?"
"As long as you promise not to take advantage of me while I'm drunk." Wolfe smiled and batted his eyes at Angela.
A short time later the duo were laughing like old times. Then it happened, neither expected it, they locked eyes and an awkward silence filled the room. Angela reached for Wolfe's hand. Wolfe finally broke the silence.
"Angela, I..."
Angela placed her index finger against Wolfe's lips. "Shhh." Then kissed him. As they kissed, he ran his fingers through her hair. It had been over three years since he'd last done this. Three long years since he'd last held his wife, but she wasn't even his wife anymore. He pulled back ever so slightly.
"John, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, Angela. That's the problem. This is something I dreamed about over there. Now that I'm here though... Well, I don't want my place in your life to be like this. We shared three things passion, friendship, and love. I just don't want one to overshadow the other two." Angela smiled and kissed Wolfe's hand, "One thing hasn't changed about you, John."
"What's that?"
"You're still the most noble man I know."
"Sure wish I felt that way. Right now I feel like a jerk."
"Don't say that. A jerk would already have my blouse off."
"I'd better go, it's getting late."
"Oh no you don't. You've been drinking and it is late. There's a spare room upstairs. You can sleep here tonight. I promise to leave you alone." Wolfe smiled and kissed Angela on the forehead.
"Thank you."
Wolfe's first night of true rest came to an abrupt halt as Nathan launched himself atop his father. "Wake up, dad. Mommy said breakfast is ready."
"This part I think I could do without." Wolfe thought, "Ok, son, give me a second."
"Ok, daddy. One." Wolfe laughed.
"How about a little longer? I'll be down in a minute."
"Ok, dad." Nathan went bounding down the stairs, while Wolfe made his way to the bathroom. " Wow, John, you look like hell." After cleaning up he came downstairs. Angela had bacon, eggs, and pancakes waiting for him. Wow, Angela, I haven't seen a table like that since..."
"I know, since we were married."
"Yeah, been a while."
Nathan came out of his room, teddy bear in tow. "Thank you for the bear."
"You're welcome, Nathan."
"What's this around his neck?"
"It's called a purple heart, son. I got hurt and this is what the army gave me."
"When I grow up I'm gonna be in the army."
As Wolfe looked at his son he could see his own enthusiasm reflected back at him.
"His father's son." Angela remarked. "Ok, you two, let's eat before this gets cold."
After breakfast Wolfe helped clear the table. Nathan followed his father trying to learn all he could from him. After a few hours a difficult thing had to be done. It was met with a good amount of opposition.
"But you just got here."
"I know, Nathan. But I have to leave. Part of being in the army. People tell me what to do and I have to do it."
"You have to go 'cause they say so?"
"Yes, Nathan. I promise I'll be back." Wolfe extended his hand. "Shake on it?" Nathan took his father's hand and shook it.
"Ok, dad." Angela looked on, a question entered her mind. It wasn't the first time and probably wouldn't be the last.
"Did I make a mistake?"
"What was that?" Wolfe looked up at Angela, who couldn't believe what she had just said.
"Nathan, go play with Reilly. No haircuts, son."
"Ok, daddy"
Wolfe watched his son go outside to play then returned his attention to Angela.
"What did you say, Angel?"
"I...I... " Angela looked away. "Dammit, John. You could always do this to me."
"Do what?"
"Look right through me; make me fall to pieces."
"Come on, Angela. Did I hear what I thought I heard?"
"Yes, you did. When I watch Nathan I see so much of you in him. I can't help but wonder if I made the right choice."
"Angela, I sat in the mud, heat, and filth over there wondering the same thing. Finally, I came to the conclusion that right or wrong, you made a hard decision and stayed with it. Even though it broke my heart, I chose to accept the choice you made and live my life."
Tears welled up in Angela's eyes. "John, like I said yesterday, you are the most noble man I know. When I told you I still loved you I did mean it. Do you forgive me?"
Wolfe stood and took Angela's hands in his. "Sweetheart, I forgave you a long time ago. I guess now I have to work on forgiving myself." Wolfe kissed Angela's hands. "I love you, from the first time I saw you I've loved you."
For the second time in as many days, the world stopped. The two stared into each other's eyes for what seemed an eternity. Finally, they spoke in unison, "I love you."
Wolfe touched Angela on the cheek then kissed her on the forehead. "I'd better go. Tell Nathan I had to leave and I'll be in touch soon."
"Are you coming back?"
"I'll be back to see him, and you. I do want to be part of his life. After all, every little boy needs a daddy."
"Good, I want him to know what kind of man his father is."
"Thanks, Angel. I just can't shake the feeling that when I walk out that door, I'll be taking the first steps of a long journey. What really bugs me is I don't know what or where the destination is.
"You've always been able to find your way, John. You'll be fine." Angela kissed Wolfe on the cheek then walked him to the motorcycle.
"I'll call in a few days. Take care, Angela."
"You do the same, John. Until next time?"
"Yeah, until next time."
The ride back to Rena's house in D.C. was a tumultuous one. The embrace, the kiss, the feelings he had thought buried. Hours later he arrived at the house that had become his second home. As he walked up the steps to the door Rena met him. "John, welcome back. How was your trip?"
"Interesting would be an understatement. I'm still trying to sort it all out."
Rena retrieved a letter from the table. "This came for you a few days ago. It looks official."
"How did they know to send it here?"
Sgt. T. Jonathan Wolfe,
Your service record has come to our attention and would like to offer you a unique opportunity......
"What is it, John?"
"Good question. I'll find out later."
"John," Rena took his hand. "If you're ready to talk, I'm ready to listen."
The two sat down. "We were on patrol. It was sunny and the breeze was blowing. Mac had that silly grin on his face..."