Significant Others (12 page)

“Coffee sounds great. I’d like that.”

Things were beginning to heat up, and not just the coffee. Something was beginning to percolate in the pit of my stomach.

Chapter Eight:
Déjà vu

Looking around the dark room, I experienced a feeling of déjà vu. It sure took me back. Someone in this house was obsessed with World War II. A serious collector. I picked up one of the books on the coffee table.
The Mighty Men of the 381
st
: Heroes All
. I had some of these same books at home.

Then I looked at the picture on the sideboard. It was pretty fuzzy, but it could have been a picture of me. Any one of us, I guess. Back then, all soldiers looked alike—young, innocent, and blindly patriotic. The man in the picture wore a busted-up hat like officers wore back then, and wings. I remembered taking the cardboard out of my own hat and mashing it down, trying to impress the girls. One girl in particular. But I hadn’t been an officer, then. And I’d lost my wings when I washed out of flying school.

Next to the soldier’s picture I saw a boy, a boy who looked a lot like my own son. The low light must be playing tricks on me.

At that moment, Dee Dee came out of the kitchen carrying a tray and I couldn’t see anything else but her. God, she was a beautiful woman. She was breathtaking, the kind of woman who defied time and age. What was it about her? She looked and felt oddly familiar, like someone I could come home to. I had felt that way holding her on the dance floor. When she was in my arms, it was as if we were transported back in time. She looked a lot like the girl I used to love. It must have been the music and the mood, and probably a lot of me wanting her to look like the girl I remembered. The lights playing tricks again.

“Dee Dee?” I asked. I liked saying her name. “Is that your husband?” I pointed to the picture on the sideboard.

“M-my first husband,” she stammered, flustered, accidentally knocking the picture face down onto the lace runner. “He was killed in a bombing mission during World War II.”

“Was he a pilot?” I asked, and she looked at me blankly.
Bad memories?

“No, not a pilot, but he was part of the flight crew.”

“Maybe I knew him. I flew Diamond Ls, B-17s, with the 381
st
Bomber Group.”

“I’-I’m sure you didn’t know him.”

“Maybe not. I was an engineer with the 533
rd
Bomb Squadron, Eighth Air Force. Was your husband based in the European Theatre?”

“Yes, but I—well, I didn’t know much about what he did, and then he—I mean the Army Air Corps notified me that he had died. And so I don’t think you knew him. It was a big war.”

“In the simplest terms, yes.” I laughed. “It certainly was that. You interested in World War II?”

“Not me. My son. He never knew his father, so—”

“This is your son?”

“Yes. My son Donny.”

“He looks just like his father.” Dee Dee jumped.

“I don’t make you nervous, do I? It’s just that he looks so familiar.”

She exhaled deeply and turned pale.

“M-my son used to play baseball for the Miami Kingfishers.”

“Wait a minute. Palladino. Not Donny Palladino? The Slugger? He’s your son?”

She nodded. “You’ve heard of him?”

“Sure, who hasn’t? My son grew up on my stories about the war. He’s sick of hearing me talk about it. But if your son is interested, I still have my bomber jacket, with the hash marks on the sleeve, the stripes, battle stars, ribbons, some air medals, a Distinguished Flying Cross. It’s pretty well preserved. He might want to see it. I’d love to show him. It’s still in my closet.”

Dee Dee blanched.

“Did I say something wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dee Dee answered, but I could see that she wasn’t. I waited until she had regained some color in her cheeks.

“Well, the offer stands. And if you wanted to—”

“See your etchings?” Dee Dee smiled, recovering.

“Well, there now,” I said, raising my hand to caress the curve of her cheek. “You’re even more beautiful when you smile. I’ve been waiting to see your smile all night. It was worth the wait, by the way.”

Dee Dee pulled away nervously.

“Coffee’s almost ready, I think.”

“Tell me about your family,” she asked. It was obvious she was eager to change the subject.

“Well, there’s only my son. You’re not going to believe this, but he’s a professional football player. You may have heard of him. Barry Moore. What are the odds? That our sons are about the same age and both played professional sports. I wonder if they know each other.”

Dee Dee’s eyes narrowed.

“You know, I played a little ball myself, not professionally, but I always thought I had a talent,” I continued. “I grew up in a tough area. When I first moved to my neighborhood, you had to run the gauntlet. They’d line up about ten kids, and the youngest one was maybe five or six and the oldest maybe eighteen or twenty-one, and you had to fight the whole bunch. So I went up to the top and put up a pretty good fight, and after that I was accepted.

“I learned how to take a knife away from somebody. How to throw somebody down. Generally how to defend myself. In those early years I was a good athlete. I played basketball for a church team because the church was warm and they gave us hot chocolate to drink. And then we’d play some softball. You’d bring a sandwich and stay all day because there was no place else to go. By the way, I had a wonderful time tonight. I don’t want to leave.”

****

I was feeling trapped. I was still thinking about Daniel’s son, which was too weird to contemplate. Somewhere out there Donny had a half-brother. A half-brother he would probably love to know. Donny was obsessed with family. And when Daniel made the offer to show my son his uniform, I thought I wasn’t going to be able to hold it together. Donny would love someone to talk about the war with, especially his own father. And I had cheated him out of that.

“The coffee’s getting cold,” I said. We sat together on the couch and he poured. Cozy. Uncomfortably cozy.

Then he asked me to dance. He got a kick out of the piped-in music. The fates were conspiring against me.

“Where or When” was playing, and we both experienced the strong sensation that this wasn’t the first time we’d been together. Daniel mouthed the words along with the music and stared into my eyes.

I looked up at him and whispered the lyrics back to him. He was frowning, and seemed to be straining to remember something important. When he couldn’t, he mouthed the rest of the lyrics, about having loved before. The music was building to a crescendo that mirrored our emotions.

“Is this music piped into the bedroom?” he asked softly, gently rubbing my back, making me go weak with those clever hands and hypnotizing me with those fathomless green eyes.

I nodded. I was shaking, and so was he. We both knew what was about to happen. What I knew had already happened so many years ago.

He danced me into the bedroom expertly and took my face into his hands. Then he kissed me. And I definitely remembered this kiss, this marvelous sensation. I remembered everything, the way he had touched me, the way his skin had felt under my hands. His heat. Even his smell. It was all coming back, and one thing led to another. Whether it was the music or the man or the moment, when his warm lips touched mine, I surrendered. It was more than a woman missing her husband and a man missing his wife. It was our special moment. What we shared was magical. I never felt this way when I made love with Stan. Never, not once.

I’d fought getting close to Stan for a long time, still tied to my memories of Daniel. When Stan finally wore me down with his unique brand of persistence, he was hard to resist. You can resist for only so long a person who loves you as much as Stan loved me and loved my child. But the first time Stan touched me I nearly jumped out of my skin. He was a gentle and ardent lover, but sex with Stan was just pleasurable, not passionate. It was familiar, but there were no fireworks. I did love him, and he was a wonderful husband and father. But I was always in control of my emotions with Stan.

It was this man I was missing and this man I felt like I was coming home to. It surprised me that I would ever feel this way again. I could almost feel the moment when the iceberg blocking my heart melted. I could hear the crack as it broke away, and I welcomed what followed with relief.

When Daniel and I fell into bed it was like we had tumbled back in time. Only for a moment did I hesitate.

And then there was nothing standing in our way.

After we made love, I blushed and turned away as we listened to “I’ll Be Seeing You.” I sat up in bed suddenly and pulled the sheets around me.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “It was wonderful. You were wonderful. And so familiar. I’m the one who has to worry about embarrassment. At my age, sometimes it’s hit or miss, I’m afraid.” Daniel smiled sheepishly and offered his familiar lopsided, boyish grin as he held me in his arms.

“I think this time you hit the bull’s-eye.” I laughed. “You know, this is probably foolish. I’m an old woman.”

“Well, if you’re an old woman, then I’m an old man. Are you calling me an old man?”

“No.” I laughed. It felt so good to laugh again.

“I haven’t felt this way since...”

“Before your wife died?” I guessed.

“Before I met my wife,” he answered honestly. “You know, I almost didn’t go to that dance. Your sister practically had to drag me into the clubhouse.”

“I didn’t want to go either,” I admitted.

“What if I hadn’t gone? What if I hadn’t met you? In one evening, you’ve given me back something I thought I’d lost. I think it’s obvious that I’d like to see you again.”

“I’m going back to Atlanta with my daughter in the next few days. I’ve been avoiding going home, but it’s way past time. I have to get on with my life.”

“I think there’s something good happening between us. But we need more time to see where it’s going. Will you give us that time?”

I shrugged. I wasn’t making any promises. But I knew the answer to his question. There was no future for us. I was going home. But something was holding me back from saying the words.

“If you leave, I’ll be on the next plane,” he insisted, sensing my hesitation. “I won’t let you get away from me. I let that happen once before. Is there anyone I have to go around to get to you? I don’t mind obstacles.”

Some obstacles can’t be overcome
. I began to cry, and he folded me into his arms.

“Sssh, tell me what’s wrong,” he said softly.

“I have a lot of decisions to make,” I explained. I began counting the fingers on my right hand, saying one thing, but thinking another.

“First, I just told my son and daughter that I’m selling our family business. A man named Hammond Reddekker is offering me so much money I would be foolish to turn it down. But I can’t guarantee that he will find a place for my children.”
Donny still idolizes his “dead” father. My son is entitled to know that his real father is still alive, and that he has a stepbrother. But if I tell my son his father is not dead, that he’s right here in Millennium Gardens, he will hate me forever for lying to him all these years. Donny would have his father back, but I’d risk losing my son.

“Or I can turn down the offer and we can continue to run the business, independently.”
This man has a right to know he has another son. But if I tell him who I am, he’ll surely hate me for being dishonest.

“But if I go through with the deal, the merger, I ensure my husband’s legacy to his children. My granddaughter Hannah has already expressed an interest in joining the business when she graduates from college.”
I could build a life with this man, whatever life I have left. I loved him once. I think I may still love him.

But you never wrote, I thought. If you had written, contacted me, given me reason to hope and wait, things might have been so different for us. If I’d had the courage to fight my mother. But back then, my mother controlled my life. And I had a new life growing inside of me. The baby had to come first. I was completely on my own, with no other means of support. I needed my family, especially in those days when people weren’t so forgiving about unwed mothers.

Which road should I choose?

“Tell me about the war,” I said, eager to know what had happened to Daniel during those lost years since we had last seen each other.

“Well, the short version is, I enlisted on March 18, 1941. I was a top-turret gunner on a B-17 crew. We flew thirty combat missions. I was discharged on September 25, 1945, with a 52-20. The Army gives you $52 dollars a week for 20 weeks. I could either have looked for a job or taken advantage of the GI Bill of Rights. I never did get to college. I blew my opportunities because I was obsessed with looking for someone, a girl I used to know. Never found her, but in a roundabout way I found a career and a wife.”

“What do you mean?” I asked evenly, hoping my voice didn’t betray my feelings.
You looked for me?

“Well, I got pretty good at digging out information, so I became a private investigator, then a cop, and then chief of detectives. I’m retired from the Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office. Forced retirement, actually. I wasn’t ready to leave, but they have age limits. Always dreamed of going solo, opening up my own detective agency, maybe right here in Millennium Gardens. These people could use my help. I know I could do some important work here. But dreams have a way of going by the wayside. At least my dreams. And after Natalie died, well, I just didn’t have the heart to start over.”

“Do you ever think about that girl?” I ventured, my hand and my heart trembling to finally be able to talk about our past. To actually have him back beside me. Real. Not in my imagination or my dreams.

“All the time. She was pretty special. You remind me a lot of her, actually. I wrote her almost every day. But my letters were returned, unopened. I sent her money, but she didn’t want my money or me. And she never wrote to me. I figure she found somebody else. Somebody better.”

Letters?

“Her mother didn’t think much of me. I thought she might have sent back the letters without showing them to her daughter, but I was on the other side of the world. There was nothing I could do until I got home. When I finally did, years later, I tried frantically to find her, but she had disappeared without a trace. If her friends knew anything, they weren’t talking.”