Broken Road (4 page)

 
“I can’t. . .”she murmured and grabbed onto his hand, squeezing it tightly.
 
Mark said nothing.
 
He let her cry, then after a moment she heard him say something, barely audible, in a whisper and she realized he was praying.
 
She didn’t make an effort to hear exactly what he was saying.
 
She didn’t care, but the sound of his voice, practiced and soothing seemed to help a little. Finally, she stepped forward and placed both hands on the casket.
 
Then she pressed her cheek to the cold, dark wood. Her tears spilled onto its surface and ran down like raindrops on a windowsill.
 

“Shane. . .”she whispered,“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
 
She let the tears flow letting herself feel the emptiness and longing.
 

“I’m not saying goodbye, okay?
 
I can’t. I can’t do that.
 
But I promise I’ll take care of the boys, just like we planned. I promise to do everything just like you said.
 
I won’t forget.
 
I promise.” She placed a kiss on the dark wood and then willed herself to step away. She took a long, last look and finally turned to Mark, who stood there with tears in his own eyes.

“Okay. Let’s go.” She said and started to walk toward the path leading to the car.
 
Mark nodded and took her arm.
 
Each step she took away from the casket seemed eternal and utterly excruciating. As she followed Mark, she saw Jon Procter standing off to the side among a small group of mourners. Suddenly, he stepped out in front of the path and offered her his hand. It felt as though everyone were staring at them, as if everyone knew the truth. She could scarcely breathe.
 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” His voice was neutral.
 
There didn’t seem to be a hint of warmth or recognition that was out of place for the situation. But when she looked into his eyes she thought she could discern the slightest flicker of something that caused her even more pain. Would she
really
pretend she didn’t know him? They locked eyes for a moment before she took his hand. The decision had been made.

“Thank you.” She replied trying to keep any trace of familiarity out of it.
 
He squeezed her hand ever so slightly before releasing it. Then he stepped back and watched her go. She could feel his eyes following her up the path and though her heart was screaming at her to turn around, she knew she could not bear to see the flag-draped casket sitting on one side of the path and Jon Procter standing on the other.

She came to him because she could not risk him coming to the house again and after the scene at the cemetery, she couldn’t be sure that Jon wouldn’t make another attempt. So, she forced herself to dial his number.
Please don’t answer.
He answered on the first ring.
 
He sounded relieved when she asked if they could meet and suggested an intimate setting so they could talk things over. She declined, choosing the most public place she could think of, his office on the base. He didn’t argue and she thanked him quickly, ending the call before he could say anything else.
 
The best time to see Jon, she decided was a Monday afternoon in the middle of the day, while the boys were at school and her mother had to run out to do a few errands. She had taken an
 
indefinite leave of absence from her job as the director of the assisted living community in town and rarely went out any more if she could avoid it. But the situation with Jon had to be taken care of as quickly as possible. When she arrived, his assistant told her she could take a seat inside his office and that he’d be back shortly, so she passed the time examining the frames on his wall containing his degrees and several commendations.
 
As she paced the short length of the room, her eyes were drawn to the cluster of pictures of Jon and the units to which he had been assigned. Her heart skipped a beat the moment she saw Shane’s face looking out at her from among the group of soldiers in one of the pictures.
 
Shane and Jon were standing only a few feet apart from each other, each man smiling at the camera but to her knowledge they had never really known each other that well. Shane didn’t believe in therapy or talking out problems with strangers especially strangers with letters behind their names. As far as she knew, Shane had only briefly spoken to Jon once after his first deployment from the base and that wasn’t by choice. His unit’s commanding officer had ordered everyone on the team to meet with Jon. There had been concern in the media and up the chain of command about soldier’s having ‘issues’ after returning from their deployments. It was ironic that she was drawn to Jon for the same reasons Shane seemed to be repulsed by him and others in his profession. She wished so many times she could understand it but after a while Brenda was convinced that even though Shane wasn’t talking to her about what happened to him or what he saw during his deployments, at least he wasn’t talking to anyone else. It had brought her a sad sort of comfort at the time. Now, it was a festering wound that was reopened every time she was with Jon. It hurt too much. She looked away from the pictures, studying the metal shelves that took up the opposite wall, full of books and binders of every color all neatly labeled.
 
Apart from those there wasn’t much else to look at but a tidy desk, his own chair, one for visitors and a large metal filing cabinet standing in the corner. There was a larger conference room that he used for consultations and counseling just a few doors down the hallway. She remembered it
 
from her own family’s visits when Shane was first assigned to the base and they came in for the meetings that were meant to prepare them for the upcoming deployments. It was during these meetings that she found reassurance, comfort and friendship with the other families facing the same uncertainty. Jon, of course, had played an important part in making the kids feel at ease in the group.
 
His easy going manner and tendency to participate and laugh at their silliness not only gave him a youthful air but it also cemented their trust in him. It was his willingness to stand in as a protective older brother, rather than a substitute father to the kids in the group that made the difference, especially when the group suffered its first casualties. He didn’t talk down to the kids or fill the painful silence with useless words of comfort after the family first received the news but rather sat with them, or simply sipped a cup of coffee and kept them company in the terrible hours that followed. Once, she saw him shooting baskets with the son of a staff sergeant, who had been killed
 
shortly after deployment and couldn’t help but watch as he stood on the court with the boy, dressed in his full uniform, shooting and handing him balls but never bringing attention to the tears streaming down the child’s face. At first, she had few encounters with him outside of the monthly get-togethers held for the families by the FRG volunteers but after Shane sent an email that alluded to a close call he’d experienced and how it had left him shaken, she panicked and sought Jon out on the recommendation of another of the unit wives. Shane could never tell her where he was or what he was doing and while she thought she had accepted it, this last message had left her scared for him and for their family. She wanted answers so she went to the base and burst into his office crying and hysterical with his assistant right on her heels demanding she stop or be escorted out. Instead of turning her away or calling for security he led her by the hand to a chair, asked her to sit and offered her a tissue from the nearby box on his desk. Then, without saying a word, he pulled up an adjacent chair and waited for her to compose herself long enough to speak and that’s what she did. She talked and he listened. She felt better and thought it would be a one-time thing, instead it had become so much more.
How could this have happened?
It was a question they had both asked themselves over the past year of their involvement, but regardless of the answers they came to, that it
just happened
, that she was
just lonely
, that he
loved
her. There never seemed to be a clear answer. Even the fact that he would forfeit his career, be forced to take a dishonorable discharge and that she was risking her marriage and her family, couldn’t make them walk away. Now here she was, forced to consider that what she had done might have gotten her husband killed.
Did he know? Did he volunteer for that mission?
She would never know.
She had to know!
There would be no opportunity to talk it out, to say I’m sorry or to ask for forgiveness. The only thing she could do was make sure that she ended it. She hoped she had the courage to do it.

“Brenda?”
 
He stepped in and closed the door behind him.
   

“Jon.”
 

She allowed him to take her hand but pulled away when he didn’t let go after a few seconds. Brenda sat down
 
in the chair Jon used for visitors clutching her purse to her chest and tried not to make too much eye contact. He
 
took a seat behind his desk placing a small stack of files off to the side. A long silence passed between them before he spoke.

“I’m glad you’re here, Brenda, you had me worried. You didn’t take any of my calls.”
 

“I know. It’s been difficult, you know.”
 

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you for coming to the funeral.”
 

“It was the least I could do. Shane was a good man.” He opened one of the desk drawers, took out a file folder, a pen and jotted something down.

“Yes, he was.”
 

“How are the boys?” He continued to write.

“Some days are harder than others.” She leaned forward. “What are you writing?”

“I’m noting what I need for your file. It’s just a formality.” His tone was even and professional, which made her nervous.

“A formality for what?”

“I need to assess how things are going.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a standard evaluation.”

“I’m not here to do an assessment, Jon.”
 

“Then why are you here, Brenda? “ He looked up from the file and faced her.
 

“You know why I’m here.” She looked directly into his eyes and saw the tiniest flicker of what he was feeling reveal itself.

“No.” He said standing up from his chair and walking over to the window.
 

“It has to stop, Jon.” Her voice was barely a whisper and yet it seemed to fill the entire room. Jon remained silent, hands clasped behind his back.

“Brenda, is this really the right time
 
or place to talk about it?”

“Jon, it’s the right time. What we had. . .”

“What we had?” He turned away from the window, came over and knelt in front of her. This is the exact opposite of what she wanted to happen. She had hoped that by coming to his office rather than somewhere else, it might stop him from trying to change her mind.
 

“What we had was temporary. We always knew it wasn’t going to last.”
 

“I
never
thought that.”

“I’m sorry.” She said softly and she was, she truly was.

“I’m not, Brenda.
 
You know how I feel about you.” He took her hands in his, warm and strong over her small cold ones.

“Yes.”

“You’re going to sit there and tell me you never felt anything for me?”
 

The guilt was overwhelming as she tried to look him in the eye and say what she needed to say.

“No, Jon, but things are different now.”

“Of course they are. I respect that. I’m just saying don’t throw away what we have just yet. Give it time.”

“Jon. . .”

“Brenda, I
love
you.” His face was so close to her own that she felt overpowered by the words and by the comfort the offer those words implied.
 
All she had to do was say it too and maybe everything would be okay. She placed a hand gently on his face and caressed the smooth shaven skin beneath her palm, breathed in the tangy sweetness of his cologne and gave him the best smile she could.
 

“Jon, please. . .”
 
She pleaded and he leaned in, kissed her as if to stop her from saying what he didn’t want to hear and she returned the kiss. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe that everything might be all right, that she wasn’t alone in all of this and that she could lean on him, love him and leave all of the lies and guilt behind. But it was a false hope that lasted only until she heard two quick knocks followed by the turning of the doorknob and the sound of a familiar voice.
 

“Mom?”

“Is it true?” Marlene Sheffield was sitting on a stool at the breakfast counter, holding a cup of coffee. Brenda dropped her purse on the hallway table near the entrance. The strap of Callan’s backpack almost caught her around the ankle but she carefully maneuvered her way around it.
Thank God he’s home!
 
She’d called her home phone several times to find no one answered, then her mother’s cell that kept going to voicemail and finally Callan’s phone that seemed to cut off every call that came in, as if he was pushing the end call button every time. Her texts went ignored as well. She was worried out of her mind.

She had wanted to run after him and explain but she knew that he had seen the truth with his own eyes.
 
Jon reassured her that he would be fine and that the best thing to do was to let him go. Callan would find his way home, he’d told her. He just needed time. It took everything she had just to stop from getting up and leaving Jon’s office to chase after Callan. She didn’t want to risk feeding the rumors she was certain were already circulating but she had to go after him. Jon reached out to stop her from leaving.