For All Their Lives (56 page)

“Yeah, I mind. Where would she go? Listen, this is very personal and very, very private. Please.”

“I don't know. She just said she was going away. She said she was going to do what she was trained to do, not babysit some damn chimpanzee. That's all she said. I'm real disappointed in you, Senator,” Harper blustered.

“I'm disappointed in me too, Mr. Harper,” Mac said sadly.

With a knot in his throat, a pain in his chest, and tears streaming down his cheeks, Mac left.

I
N HIS LIFE
, Mac thought, he'd never been this tired, this weary, this heartsick. Not even back on the trail after a firefight or going three straight days with no sleep. All he wanted to do was sleep, to forget about this day and his part in it. His watch said it was three in the morning. “Of what century?” Mac groaned as he struggled from the car.

Yody's trailer was dark. He wondered if she won the Sunday-evening round-robin. He turned when he felt the cold air stir about him. Both dogs were on him in an instant, pawing and licking at him. He scratched their ears the way Casey had. “She was right here. I shook her hand, and I didn't know. I should have known,” he said bitterly. “Which says diddly for me, guys. Come along, it's time for bed,” he said wearily.

A night-light burned dimly in the kitchen, another lit the den and living room, and still another the hallway. He'd seen lights upstairs. Alice must be waiting for him. Damn, he didn't want to think about Alice, but he knew he had to. Would he have gone after Casey if Alice hadn't urged him to? Only after it was too late, he decided honestly.

He'd lost her again. God, what must she be thinking, what must she have gone through? All of this, he thought, looking around, must have been like a slap in the face to her. The dogs . . . Jesus. His head dropped to his hands. His shoulders shook as he tried to come to terms with his grief all over again. He needed the welcome release of tears. “I should have known,” he said aloud. “Goddamnit, I should have known,” he whispered to the dogs. “You liked her, I could tell. Where is she, where did she go?”

Alice Carlin backed away from the kitchen doorway. Her eyes were misty as she stared at her husband. She hadn't expected him to return so quickly. He must not have found her. She felt glad and sad at the same time. She wanted to go to her husband, to put her arms around him, to tell him it, whatever it turned out to be, would be all right. She knew though that Mac would never forgive her for intruding on his grief, the kind of grief he couldn't share with his wife. A wife in name only. Minutes later she was back in the room she shared with Jenny, who was running a high fever. She sat down on the chair, her eyes on her daughter. She picked up the Chatty Cathy doll that was Jenny's favorite. She stroked the matted hair, tears sliding down her cheeks.

Alice sensed his presence and turned. Her eyes questioned him as she placed a finger to her lips. In her fuzzy robe and fuzzy slippers she joined her husband at the top of the stairs. They sat down, like an old married couple, and shared the bottle of Coca-Cola Mac had taken from the refrigerator.

“Jenny's sick. She started to run a high fever around four o'clock. It happens fairly often. She gets ear infections and sore throats. I wasn't waiting up for you,” she said defensively.

“You never told me Jenny gets sick a lot,” Mac said.

“You weren't exactly interested for a long time. As you pointed out, she is my daughter, not yours. The doctor came out and gave her a shot. Children like Jenny are prone to . . . you know, they have problems.” There was such sadness in Alice's voice, Mac drew her to him to comfort her.

“You're a good mother, Alice. I never thought . . . I don't know how you do it. You gave up everything I thought was important to you.”

Alice grinned crookedly. “Maybe you have to go through childbirth to know what I feel as a mother. She was so defenseless. She had only me. My own parents weren't any more understanding than Marcus. We can talk about all of this now, Mac, if you want, but I don't think it's the right time. You're hurting badly. Why don't we talk about that? Maybe you'll feel better. I'm trying to help, Mac, I'm not . . . it's not that I want to know the sordid details so I can throw them back at you later on. Please believe me.”

He told her the truth, leaving nothing out. “I felt something, but I didn't . . . it's done,” he said sadly in a choked voice.

“There must be a way to find her, to set matters straight. You have to do it, Mac. How can you go on with your life with this hanging over your head?” Alice asked quietly.

“She doesn't need to hear me say any words. She saw everything she needed to see with her eyes. You were here with Jenny. She saw a family, she saw the dogs. She saw this guest cottage, the same kind of house we both said we wanted. She thinks it's our dream, yours and mine. Never hers. If there's one thing I know, it's that Casey Adams would never in any way do anything to break up this family. Never.”

“Does that mean you aren't going to . . . do something?”

“Something? In a million years I'll never be able to find her. She doesn't want to be found. Why else is she calling herself Mary Ashley?”

“Maybe she'll go back to France. You could start there.”

“You should go to bed, Alice. You have a busy day tomorrow.”

“I can't sleep when Jenny is sick. If she isn't better tomorrow, I'll have to postpone our trip. A few days won't make much difference. I'm looking forward to the move. Jenny is very excited, but she's sad about leaving her new friends at the foundation. She adjusts well, so I'm not worried. I am worried about you, though. Is there anything I can do, Mac?”

The compassion in his wife's eyes under the bright hallway lighting stunned him. It was hard to believe this gentle-eyed woman in the fuzzy robe was the same woman he'd left behind when he went to Vietnam. He patted her hand comfortingly. “I'll deal with it, Alice. Off the top of my head I'd say we're a couple of misfits.”

Alice smiled. “Are you just finding that out?”

“Pretty much so. I'm kind of slow in matters like this.”

Alice handed the picture she was holding back to Mac. “Will you still be coming to South Carolina? If you don't, I'll understand. Try and get some sleep,” she said in the same motherly tone she used with Jenny. “Daylight, for some reason, always makes things a little better.”

“Maybe we'll be a family someday,” Alice murmured to Jenny's Chatty Cathy doll. “Maybe.”

Downstairs, Mac poured himself a drink, gulped it, and poured another and another and another until he passed out. It was the only thing he could think of to make his pain go away. He stayed drunk for three days.

“L
ET HIM ALONE,
Benny,” Alice said when he drove her to the airport. “Be there for him. The damn Senate can wait. Don't pressure him.”

“Okay, Alice, but I thought he was moving to that apartment house in Arlington. Do you think I should move him or wait?”

“I'd mention it if the situation presents itself. Mac has to come up for air at some point. He'll realize alcohol isn't his answer. Mac is no fool, we both know that. Good-bye, Benny, thanks for the ride. You'll see that Yody gets on the plane at the end of the week, right?”

“Count on it. Good luck, Alice.”

Alice debated a second before she leaned over and kissed Benny lightly on the cheek. “That's for being such a good friend to Mac. Visit sometime, okay?”

“You bet,” Benny said, tweaking Jenny under the chin.

 

W
HEN
M
AC SURFACED
from his three-day alcoholic stupor, he moved to the apartment in Arlington with Benny's help. He didn't look back. He had a desk full of work and a letter to write. From there he would take it one day at a time. His little family would see him over the rough spots. Alice and Jenny were waiting for him. As long as he could see their beacon of light, he was going to be okay. He didn't know if he'd be willing to bet the rent on it though.

“Be happy, Casey, wherever you are. I'm going to try. If I don't succeed, I'll try harder,” Mac murmured.

“Did you say something, Senator?” an aide to Senator Proxmire asked.

Startled, Mac looked around. “It wasn't important,” Mac said evenly. “Thinking out loud, I guess. Sometimes it helps.”

Proxmire's aide walked alongside Mac. “They say Tip O'-Neill does it all the time. So does my boss, but don't tell anyone.” The aide grinned.

“My lips are sealed.” Mac smiled. “When something is over, it's over.”
It really is over for me. I'm alive and well. I'll survive.

H
EAVY, SLASHING RAIN
pelted the San Francisco Bay area. Casey hardly noticed. She only had eyes for her new passport. The picture was hers. The name on the passport said she was Casey Adams. All thanks to a young attorney named Oliver Preston, a Vietnam veteran. “No mean feat,” he said when he handed it to her. “I feel like I personally dealt Goliath a mortal blow, and in a manner of speaking, that's exactly what I did to the U.S. Army. You're your own person now. You still retain dual citizenship. I respected your wishes in that matter and left the paperwork up to them. On the matter of your life insurance, well, the army is prepared to take the loss. Here in my hand are checks for all your medical bills, the ones paid by Dr. Carpenter. When I relieve you of my fee, you'll still have a tidy little nest egg. I think your Dr. Carpenter would understand.”

“Marcus Carlin and Alan's lawyer in New York?”

“I'll handle everything. You signed your power of attorney, so there will be no problem. I'll carry out your wishes. Again, I think your Dr. Carpenter would be very proud to know you're donating all of your inheritance to Senator Carlin's foundation for Down's syndrome children in the name of Mary Ashley. I'll get on that right after . . . day after tomorrow really.”

“I don't know how to thank you for all your help. I just walked in here out of the rain and fog, and there you were. I was one step away from jumping off the Bay Bridge a month ago.”

“And now?” Preston asked curiously.

“Now I'm going to the bank and deposit these checks, and then I'm going to celebrate.”

“Alone?”

“In a manner of speaking. I'll share it with my memories one last time. And then I'll start over tomorrow. Do you have a family, Oliver? I never asked.”

“Yes. Great little wife, and a boy and a girl. They're my life.”

“That's the way it should be. Don't ever let anyone break it up,” Casey said softly. “Good-bye, Oliver, and thanks for everything.”

“Listen,” Oliver said, getting up from his desk. “What if I need to get in touch with you? Where will you be? What are you going to do?”

“What I do best. Right now, though, I'm going to try and catch some of your famous San Francisco fog.” She laughed. Oliver thought the sound of her laughter was the saddest thing he'd ever heard.

“Good Luck, Casey.”

“Thanks, Oliver.”

 

T
HE AWFUL IN-COUNTRY
smell was just as she remembered it. The heat and humidity just as paralyzing. Casey smiled. She was a veteran, she could handle it. Her bag full of cotton underwear, talcum, a fancy blue dress, and little else was at her feet. She could see the Twelfth Evac Hospital sign and underneath the letters
CU CHI
.

She heard the sound of choppers. “Incoming wounded,” she said to the three young nurses at her side.

“Where?” the girls chorused in unison.

Casey pointed to the west.

“I can't see anything,” one of the nurses said. “I don't hear anything either. How do you know that?” she asked suspiciously.

“I've been here before.” Casey laughed. “Better get moving.”

“We just got here. We're tired,” they whined together.

“Tough. You're here to do a job, and you're going to do it. Get a move on. In case no one told you, I'm your superior. I'm tough, but I'm fair. Move your asses, girls. Those guys aren't going to wait to die till you get ready. In there and scrub up! Five minutes!”

“Jesus Christ, where did she come from?” one of the nurses demanded.

“Another planet,” the second nurse said.

“She looks like a real bitch!” the third one said.

“Nah, she's a real pussycat. I'm the dragon. Move!” Luke Farrell roared.

“Hello, Luke,” Casey said shyly.

“What name you going by these days?” Luke drawled.

“The same one I was born with, subject to change, of course,” Casey drawled back.

“Can we talk about this later? The name change, I mean. This is a bad one. I don't want any of those kids dying on my table. How'd you find me? Triage!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs as the first chopper set down.

“I made a deal with the army. I said I'd come over here if they assigned me to your hospital. They said okay. Is that good enough for you?”

“Yeah. Easy, kid, hang on, we're gonna fix you right up,” Luke said to a young kid with blond whiskers on a litter.

“You have the best doctor in the world, young man. You do what he says and hang on. I'll see you in a minute. Hang on now,” Casey said.

“Yes, ma'am, I'll hang on.”

“That's it, son,” Luke said, running alongside Casey. “We got work to do, Adams.”

“Yes, sir, that's why I'm here.”

“The only reason?”

“Heck, no. I missed your homely face.”

Their eyes met briefly.

“We're a good team. Farrell and Adams. Sounds like a dance team.”

“How about Farrell and Farrell?” Casey laughed.

“Sounds even better,” Luke said, taking his position behind the operating table.

“Next!”