Victoria Plants Seeds

“It sounds very exciting, Mandy.” She hugged her daughter. “Say good-bye to your father, please. I need to speak to him for a moment.” Mandy leaned back into the car and hugged Jack. “I love you Dad, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I love you too, Princess,” he whispered. Mandy hopped out of the car and skipped up the walk, Victoria taking her place.

“So Sally went with you?” Victoria asked.

Strange question, Jack thought. “Yes, she and Mandy get along very well so we made it a threesome.”

“I’ll bet she’ll be glad in a way when Amanda is gone. She won’t have to do so much baby-sitting.”

“She doesn’t think of it as baby-sitting. She really does like our daughter.”

“Does she? Or does she feel like she has to look out for her? You know, Sally was the reason I let Amanda come visit you in the first place. She gave me her word that she would monitor your visits, that she would be available to act as a coordinator between you and me. Sally is a very trustworthy person, I suspect she felt obliged to honor her commitment.”

“She’s certainly a trustworthy person, but I think I can tell if a person is enjoying my company or is just fulfilling an obligation.”

“So it’s your company she’s enjoying now, Jack?” Victoria arched a brow.

Jack was getting irritated. He had spent little time with Victoria in recent years. He had forgotten how dogged, how biting, how sarcastic she could be. “I think she likes both Mandy and Mandy’s dad.”

“But is that fair to her, Jack.” Victoria’s voice became quiet, inflectionless.

“What do you mean by that, Vic?” Jack struggled to control his temper.

“I think you know, Jack. Sally has become a beautiful woman. I’m sure she feels obliged to you for presenting opportunities to recreate herself, but think about it. She could be with anyone she chooses. Is it fair for you to deny her the chance to meet other men, to see how far she can go?” Victoria always seemed to know the point to quit the discussion. She opened the door and extended a leg. “Just something to think about, Jack. We’ll see you at the airport in the morning.”

L-8. Arrival at the airport.

It was the day that Jack had been dreading for the last year, the day he head dreaded even before he had headed off for Montana that fateful week in October. Mandy was leaving for Seattle. Victoria and Ed had been out there for the last six weeks. They had purchased a home. They had enrolled Mandy in school. His daughter, his princess, would be a country length away from him. He wanted to balk. He wanted to kidnap her and take her up north or out west or somewhere. He could understand now how irrational acts were committed by parents over the custody of their children. He wanted to do these things, but he knew that they were not options. Mandy loved her mother too, he needed to make this as painless for her as he could.

He drove the car easily, Sally in the passenger seat. She had wondered if he really wanted her there. He had insisted. Mandy loves you so. I need you so. You must be there.

There was a low-level of threat today at the airport, so they were able to park in the short-time parking lot. As they wheeled and walked into the terminal, Sally mentioned that she needed to “borrow the bathroom”. Jack rolled his eyes at her and she stuck her tongue out. Hopefully, Mandy and Victoria would arrive while she was occupied and they could have some alone time before the departure came.

L-7. Bathroom confrontation

Sally heard someone enter the bathroom, then enter the compartment next to hers. The shoes were a suede green, shodding long elegant feet.

Sally was at the mirror, updating her lipstick, when the other stall door opened. Victoria stepped to the other basin. Her eyes met Sally’s in the mirror.

“Very impressive, I must say.”

“Excuse me?” asked Sally.

“The transformation, very impressive. You’re quite lovely.” Victoria ran her hands under the water, then pressed the wall decanter to release some soap into her hands.

How to answer what felt like a mined compliment. “Thank you. Jack was the inspiration. He has worked so hard for his mobility, when he could have just hidden out somewhere and become a recluse.” Sally put the cap back on her lipstick tube.

“I think you’re too modest. I know how much you’ve helped Jack in his recuperation. Amanda is quite taken with you and she has kept me informed of the procession of things. So, what do you intend to do now?” Victoria held her hands under the dryer. “I do so hate these things, it takes forever to dry one’s hands.”

“Now? Well, go out and find Jack and Mandy, I guess. That is, unless you would prefer that we go separately. I could stay ten paces behind.” Sally had tucked her beauty products back into her purse. She faced Victoria head on.

Victoria’s laugh was hollow. “We shouldn’t have any problems going together, but that wasn’t what I meant. Certainly, looking as lovely as you do now and with your abilities you must be making plans for some changes in your life?” She met Sally’s eyes.

“No, I’m pretty happy with my life as it is. I like my job, I like my friends.” She wouldn’t be the first to break eye contact.

“But you could do so much better, Sally. There are a lot of men out there who would jump through hoops to be with a woman like you. You must know that.”

Sally smiled. “And you must know that the men, the man I see now, is who I want to be with. He is all the man I want.”

Victoria did break the gaze then. “And he’s in a wheelchair. He will be in a wheelchair, for the rest of his life.” She turned toward the door. “He’s only half a man, but if that’s what you want to settle for.” And she found a hand on her arm, yanking her back around.

“Listen, Vicki, I’ve tried to be civil for all of our sakes, especially for Mandy’s sake. But dammit, Jack Fuernst is more man in a wheelchair than any two men walking around. He is superb. He’s smart and kind and funny and angry and energetic and all the things I like in a man. And if you ever make a derogatory remark again about him in my presence . . . I’ll be personally showing you how strong I have become through this exercise regime. How strong I have become through love.”

Victoria looked down at the hand on her arm. She noticed the French-manicured nails, the firm strength. She looked up at Sally. “I understand. Now, please, it’s almost time for our plane.”

L-6. Saying Good-bye to Mandy at the airport

“Can I push you, Daddy?”

“You like pushing your old man around, don’t you, Princess?” Jack could never believe that this golden child was his, that he had helped make her.

“I sure do, Daddy. Can I? I mean, may I?”

“Sure, sweetie. Let’s head towards the gate. I think it is that away.” He pointed to the western corridor. In a way it was easier to have him wheel him, so that he didn’t have to watch her face and so that she couldn’t read his emotions. Heads turned as the good-looking pair traversed down the corridor, but Mandy and Jack were oblivious to outsiders.

“Here we are, Daddy,” Mandy pushed his chair next to a bank of seats in the waiting area. She started to take a seat next to him.

“Do me a favor Princess? How about letting me hold you on my lap?”

“Daddy, I’m too big for that! And I could hurt your legs.”

“My legs will be fine, and you’re ALMOST too big for that, and you WILL be too big the next time I see you, but just this one time?”

“All right, Daddy.” Mandy used the foot pad to situate herself. Her arms went around her father, and suddenly she was crying into his neck. Jack held her close.

“Don’t cry, Princess, please don’t cry.”

“Daddy, I don’t want to leave you, but I know Mother needs me and I know you need me and I just don’t want anyone to be mad at me and I love you both so much.” The words came out between hiccupy sobs.

Jack snuggled her close. “Nobody could ever be mad at you, Princess.”

Mandy nodded against his shoulder. “Uhhuh . . . Tommy Smith has been mad at me for beating him at tetherball a BUNCH of times.”

“Ah, I bet he wasn’t really mad.” Jack smiled inwardly as he thought of all the young boys and men who would be running the emotional gauntlet his little girl would induce. “And even if Tommy was mad, he’s just a boy. Your mother and I are your parents and we love you very much, and you’ve made me so very happy that you love us enough to worry about us.”

Mandy hugged him tighter as he stroked her hair. “I have a present for you Princess.”

Snuffling, Mandy got out, “a present?”

“Yeah, didn’t you notice something in the carrier when you were pushing me, Miss detective smartie-pants?”

“Well, I might have seen SOMETHING.”

“Well, why don’t you get that SOMETHING out and unwrap it?”

It was a good distraction. Mandy reached around the back of the chair and pulled the long package onto her lap. It was wrapped in silver holographic paper that twinkled and refracted the light into prisms of color.

“Now guess what it is?” Jack asked.

“It looks like another Barbie box, but it doesn’t feel like a Barbie,” Mandy said, giving the box a slight shake.

“No more Barbies. You have enough to stock a village. Go ahead and open it, Princess.”

Mandy made quick work of the wrappings. “Oh Daddy,” she sucked in her breath. It was a hand-crafted wood kaleidoscope. They had seen them at a fair earlier in the year. It was carved in the shape of a lighthouse. Mandy put it to her eye and squealed. “It’s perfect! The colors are awesome! It looks like Christmas and fourth of July and Easter eggs and . . .” She hugged her beaming father.

“It looks just like you, Princess, all the colors of light twirling around so happy.” He hugged her again. “So, sometimes, if you get lonesome for your old dad, take a look through this thing and remember that I always, will always love you and want the best for you. I got a littler one for me, and when I get lonesome for you, I’ll look at it and think of how much fun we had and what a great time we’re going to have on your next visit.” Sally was entering the waiting room, with Ed and Victoria trailing a little bit behind. Mandy saw them too.

“I’ve got to show Sally,” and she leapt off his chair.

Sally oohed and aahed over the kaleidoscope, never letting on that she had been with Jack when he had picked out the light-catcher for his daughter. “May I see the colors,” she asked, and put the kaleidoscope to her eye. Victoria and Ed admired it, but declined to look through it. Mandy didn’t press the matter. Mom and Ed were weird like that, they just didn’t get excited about things they considered “toys”.

The speaker overhead called their flight number. “It’s time, Amanda,” Victoria said.

Mandy looked somber as she hugged Sally good-bye, but the tears were held in abeyance. “Take care of my daddy,” she whispered in her ear. Sally shook her head, too choked up to trust her voice.

“Daddy, I love you,” Mandy said, hugging her father one last time.

“Me too you, Princess daughter,” he whispered into her hair. “Take care of your mother.” The two exchanged smiles as they broke the embrace. “Victoria, Ed, have a safe trip.”

Sally and Jack watched as the trio headed towards the boarding area. Jack wasn’t sure that Mandy would look back, wasn’t sure he could take it if she did. And it wasn’t until the last turn that she did, and gave him the 1000-watt sunny smile so like his own. “She’ll be all right, you know,” he murmured. Sally patted his shoulder.

L-5. Break-up.

Jack was quiet as they left the airport. Sally interpreted his silence as musing about Mandy. They had planned to go to a diner nearby for breakfast after seeing Mandy off. Jack turned into the parking lot and found a spot, but remained still after he cut the engine.

“She’ll be all right, Jack. I know you’re going to miss her so much, but she’ll be back for holidays and next summer and she loves you so much. You won’t lose her.” Sally reached over to him, patting him on the arm.

“Oh yeah, she’s a great girl and she’s kind of stuck with an old gimp for a daddy, but she’ll make do.” Jack turned towards Sally. “But Sal, you’re not stuck with me. I’ve appreciated everything you’ve done for me and Mandy. It has meant . . . Well, it’s meant everything to me. You gave me back my life, you gave me back my daughter.” He kept talking over Sally’s attempt to interject. “But Sal, you’re a beautiful woman. You’ve always been so smart, so bright, but what you’ve done with yourself . .. . My gosh, woman, you could be with any man you wanted to be with. And I understand that and I do NOT want you to consider yourself stuck with me.”

Sally’s head was reeling with all the words. What was he saying? The praise was wonderful, but didn’t he know her transformation had been in tandem with him, that she had relied on him too? Was he sending her away? This was definitely not the way she had envisaged the morning. “Jack, thank you for all the compliments, but you’ve been such an inspiration and you’ve made me look at myself and dare and try that everything is all wrapped up with you and I owe YOU so much and I love you and . . .”

“And I love you, Sally. So much. I think I always did, but I was afraid of you.” At her scowl of disbelief he went on. “Yes, scared of you. I figured you thought I was just a party guy. It has been so wonderful to know you and work with you. But Sally. Mandy is gone now. And I need to let you go now too.”

“NO.” It was a wail, it was a shout, it was a plea.

“It’s for the best, Sally. You have a lot of living ahead of you and I can’t give you everything you deserve. I want you to go out and meet people and just keep right on growing and learning….”

“No no no no no. I’m not, I don’t want to, I want you Jack, not some faceless someday somehow some person. You are who and what I need in my life, Jack.”

Jack’s smile was crooked. “That’s one thing I have always and ever loved about you, Sally, your loyalty, your compassion. But you have to trust me on this.”

“Trust you? Trust you and walk away? Oh no, Jack. That‘s not something I can do.” She was frantically searching her pockets for Kleenex. Finding a corner of a piece she patted ineffectively at the tears coursing down her cheeks. “Is it the physical part Jack? I’ve been reading books and I talked with my doctor. We can work that out. We could make it fun.” A wry smile forced its way to her lips.

“You shouldn’t have to ‘work’ that out Sally. You deserve a whole man.”

“Oh wait. I get it. There’s someone else. Who? Paula? Carol? Denise?? You wanted continuity while Mandy was here, didn’t want her to be upset, but now that she’s gone you’re going to push me away? That sucks, Jack. That truly and completely sucks.”

“That’s not it at all, and you know it, dammit, woman. It is you that I love, and that’s why I’m setting you free. I thought maybe I could be enough to give you what you deserve, but that would be completely selfish of me. You deserve far better.”

“There is no ‘far better’ than you, Jack. None.”

“Sally, you don’t know that. As you yourself have said, you’ve been living in a cocoon for the last several years. You’re a butterfly now, sweetheart. It’s time to spread your wings and fly.”

“That’s dumb. That’s just dumb.” Sally couldn’t believe this was happening. “I guess I should have stayed in the cocoon then.” She should have, she thought. Should have stayed embraced in the cold grayness of the cocoon, where not much happened but at least there wasn’t this searing pain, agony racing through her system. At least she had been close to Jack then. At least she had had a few laughs. She was afraid she would never find anything again.

“Wrong.” Jack looked at the diner, looked at Sally.

“No, I’m not hungry now. Take me home, please.” Take me to your home, her heart cried. They had talked about, she had anticipated that with Mandy away they would spend more time exploring their burgeoning relationship. She had looked forward to it. Now she had nothing to look forward to A cocoon sounded mighty soothing now.

Jack restarted the vehicle. The couple were silent as he maneuvered through traffic. He pulled up to her apartment. “We can still be friends, Sally.”

She couldn’t speak, didn’t want to speak, there was nothing to say. She opened the car door , stepped out, slammed the door shut, and walked away.

L-4. Jack-in-the-Closet.

Jack sped away from Sally’s apartment, not looking back once. If he had, he would have noticed that she didn’t go into her building. She went directly to her car, got in, started the engine and was now three cars behind Jack. He drove unwaveringly to his apartment, but after leaving his vehicle wheeled towards the 7-11 on the corner. Sally drove the opposite way, then turned around and watched as Jack wheeled back to his apartment, a small brown paper bag in his lap. With ease of much practice he flipped his mail slot, fished the envelopes from it, then unlocked his door. Wheeled through it. The door closed behind him. And stayed closed.

Jack shed his jacket. He wheeled into the kitchen and found the tumblers in a low cupboard where Sally and xxxx had placed them for ease of use. He pulled the door open on the mini-fridge and grabbed the ice cube tray. He filled the tumbler with ice, then rolled over to the side table by the couch. He pulled the brown bottle of whiskey from the sack. The smell of the liquor as he opened and poured both sickened and relaxed him. Soon. He left the glass on the table.

He wheeled into the bedroom. His destination was a long L-shaped walk-in closet. He maneuvered the chair into the entrance of the miniature room. His clothes were set up on low hangers at the left side of the closet, within easy reach. The right side housed yet another bookcase, full of travel books and biographies and historical novels and histories. Jack’s objective was in the back of the closet, in the L-shape which served as storage since his accident, as it was hard to maneuver there with the wheelchair. But that’s where he headed now, wheeling further into the closet than he’d been in months. He tried jamming the wheelchair through the narrow opening, it stuck, but the force of his movements kept him going and he found himself half-falling out of the chair. In trying to right himself he ended up on the floor, the wheelchair tilted behind him.

“Great job, Fuernst,” he mumbled to himself. They had covered recovery from spills many times in rehab, he wasn’t worried. While he was down here he might as well get the items for which he had been searching. There they were. His golf clubs. He had only been a passable golfer. His drives were long but his short game sucked. Even purchasing a set of Big Berthas couldn’t help that. He pulled a putter, a 7, and a number two from the bag and wedged them into the carryall on the back of his chair.

There were several bats in the corner of the closet. Baseball. Damn, how he loved that game. Loved to watch it, loved to play it. He had played it in high school and in college, played on leagues for his entire adult life. Victoria hadn’t attended any of the league games he thought. But Sally had. She had been to several, cheering him on. He selected his favorite one and added it to the golf clubs.

Whew. It was hot back here. He should have turned the air conditioning on. Hot August nights still happened in Michigan. He began the laborious task of moving the wheelchair ahead of him and dragging his legs behind him. The strength training he had endured and pushed himself through surely helped now. It was slow going, and he knocked over and dragged down clothing on his torturous way back out, and he was sweating like a hod-carrier when he hit the half way mark. He stopped, panting a little. Well, might as well take a breather, he thought. He noticed some photo albums that were in a crate. He snagged them and put them in the chairs carrier. Then he went back to moving the chair and himself through the rest of the closet. He emerged, scooted the chair over to the railings he used, and hoisted himself back in.

Back in the living room, he removed the parcels from his chair carrier. He laid out the golf clubs and the bat, lining them up against the couch. He set the photograph albums on the coach. He noticed that one was of Mandy, the other from his own childhood. This was the night for memories he thought. For memories, for anger, for rage, for drinking to numb the pain that had been building, make the agony abate, ease, for just a while for forever, he wasn’t sure anymore. He just wasn’t sure.

He picked up the woody. A natural woody, now that’s something I’ll never have again he thought. His fingers gripped and interlaced automatically. He lined up an imaginary ball on the run. He pulled the club back, over his shoulder, then brought it down in a mighty drive. But he hadn’t shortened up and his torso couldn’t arch and bend as before and the club hit the carpet way before the imaginary tee and the energy of the drive almost pulled him from his chair. Whoa. I need a seatbelt with this damn thing today. He was angry and frustrated and the club went sailing against a wall, knocking over a speaker and chipping the wall. Oh well.

He picked up the number seven iron. Learn from your mistakes, Fuernst, he thought. All rightee. He shortened up his hold on the club. Again he lined up the imaginary ball, the imaginary tee. Address the ball. Hah. Address my balls. Haha. His swing was perfect, and he watched the imaginary ball sail into the air. Good. Do it again, Jack. And he did, this time letting the real club sail along with the imaginary ball. It took out a lamp, a lamp that had been a wedding present and became his in the distribution of property after his divorce. Never did like that lamp, he thought, and reached for the bat.

Baseball. A constant. But mighty hard to play when your legs didn’t work. He hefted the bat, closing his eyes against the wave of sorrow that passed through him at the familiar feeling. So much changed. So much anguish. He opened his eyes and looked around the room for something to demolish, something to destroy. His eyes came to rest on a vase on the end table in the north wall of the room. It was an expensive menorhaninin vase that had been a major bone of contention in the dispersal of goods from his marriage to Victoria. He had hated the thing from the time she first brought it home, raving about it. He thought she had paid too much money for it and it was ugly to boot but he held out for it as his due. He had won, and the winning had been sweet because it meant that Vic had lost something. He wheeled over to where it sat in pride of place. He set about situating the chair so that he could have maximum swing room. He brought the bat to his shoulder, then off his shoulder a few inches. He moved it to the vase, took the measure of the layout. Then the bat was back, on the ready. Whack! And it’s a homerun, Jack thought, as pieces of the container flew in all directions. He pitched the bat into another corner and blew on his hands.

He wheeled over to the couch and transferred, settling himself near the picture albums. He picked up Mandy’s first. He had taken many of the pictures at the front of the album -- Victoria and Mandy at the hospital, coming home, sleeping in the bassinet he had hand-made for her. It had seemed at the time that his heart had grown two sizes larger, thank you doctor Seuss, when this little bundle of joy had entered his life.

There were the first birthday pictures, one in the pretty party dress they had bought her for the occasion, one with a bare tummy and chocolate cake over most of her lower face and chest. There were the second birthday pictures, with grandparents from both sides and Mandy in the middle. Jack looked at the picture closer. Dad. They hadn’t known then about the condition he had, the weakened aorta and the tear that would happen three months later. Dad. Oh how I miss you.

There were the subsequent birthday years and Christmas and the start of school. One from that grouping caught his eye. The school took a picture of the parents and child the first day of kindergarten. Mandy was holding his hand. He was looking down at her with a smile. Victoria was looking off in the distance. That was the beginning of the end.

The fighting had begun that year, the charges of stifling and different paths and need to grow. Jack had fought long and hard and dirty to save his marriage. He had been serious about his wedding vows. He had loved and respected his parents and the union they had forged. “Marriage is a tough gig,” he would tell Victoria. “It requires stick-to-it-iveness.”

So they tried, but the battles became louder and louder and then they became silent. Victoria would respond apathetically to any of Jack’s questions, any of his plans. “Whatever,” was her favorite word. Eventually Jack stopped any initiatives. The day he picked up the extension to hear Victoria and Ed making plans came as a relief. It was over.

The pictures after that were just of Mandy. She was his little princess. He had custody on weekends, alternate holidays, and for six weeks in the summer. They had fun hanging out and he had fun teaching her things, playing games with her. Her natural inclination was towards his laid-back style, but she was also a dutiful child, and she never complained about returning to Vic. Mandy.

There were pictures of amusement park trips and pictures with his mother and pictures that Sally had taken at company picnics and had passed on to him. His favorite was the one where he was teaching Mandy how to bat. She had a good eye already.

There were empty pages at the back of the album, and a pack of photos that had been developed but not affixed to the album. Jack opened the pack and riffled through them. He stopped at the one Tony had taken: He was in the center of it, Mandy to his right, and Sally behind them, an arm around each of them. They had been on a picnic that day. He had heard a woman passing behind them say, “What a good looking family.” Indeed. Gently he laid the book aside.

He opened the other album. A couple of Christmases ago his mother had been heavily into scrap booking. She had lovingly labored over albums using photos from the past, one for Joe and one for Jack. Jack smiled at the first photo. It was the three boys on the couch. Six-year-old Joe was holding baby Jack, with Jimmy looking on fondly. The first pages of the album were all about “The Three Musketeers”. There were school pictures and Christmas pictures and the annual camping trip pictures. Gorgeous scenery was the backdrop for the three boys and men enjoying the outdoors and each other.

There was a black-bordered page with Jimmy in his uniform. Jack touched the photo, remembering the gentle giant of a brother. “No fears, some tears” had been his motto. Jack smiled ruefully. The good die young, brother. Guess I must not be very good.

There were pictures after that, pictures of girl friends and holidays and a section of pictures of his father. Steve had been Jack’s hero. Strong, quiet, adoring his family, he had been the type of man a son wanted to emulate.

Dad, I’m so sorry I couldn’t preserve my marriage, he thought. I’m sorry I’ve lost Mandy. And then he caught a whiff of the alcohol in the glass beside him. His father had not been a drinker. It was something he had decided early on that he just didn’t need. He didn’t condemn others, he just didn’t need it.

Jack was surprised at the moisture that fell on the picture album. It took him a minute to realize that it was his tears, tears he had never shed, that were now pouring down his cheeks. He set the album out of harm’s way, then let the rain come.

And after the storm subsided, when there were no more tears, he lay down on the couch and slept.

L-3. Dream
In his dream Jack is in the mountains on an overgrown trail and he is running, even though he knows you’re not supposed to run on trails and he has to catch up and he has to hurry but he can’t seem to get very far. In his dream his heart is pounding and huckleberry bushes tear at his shirt and bear grass flowers fluff as he passes and he has trouble following the trail and he thinks he may have lost his way. In his dream the path is so overgrown and the trees so dense ahead and behind and above him that he has a sense of standing still even though he’s running, jogging, pacing through the underbrush. And he even knows he must be dreaming, because tall dense trees like that don’t allow for underbrush, but he cannot wake and he continues on and on and then he trips.

And he is flat down. And he can’t get up. He is down and the ground is soggy and sodden and squelchy and his legs won’t move out of it at all. He can move his hands, but his damn legs are weighted down and he can’t raise his head from the muck and he thinks what’s the use and starts to sink into the mud.

And then he hears a voice. A soft sweet voice with the lilt that she’s had since she was a baby. “Daddy, I’ll help you.” And he thinks, how can she help me, she’s so little, but he calms down and thinks he can maybe use his hands to free his legs and he lifts his head just a little and is that a glimmer of light through the trees? And then he hears another voice, older, more mature, and she says “I love you” and he knows it is Sally and he knows yes knows that it’s okay to love her back that her loving him is not about pity but about him all of him and he is so thankful that she is still there and yes indeed that is a clearing up ahead.

The dream changes now and he is no longer mired in the mess. He is in his chair and the path has cleared and he is headed toward a clearing and he knows this path now and the clearing it is where Jimmy’s tree is and he sees sunshine ahead and feels the rays on his face. In his dream he is moving effortlessly along and Mandy is holding one hand and Sally is holding the other and he knows that everything is going to be all right it is he is and he sleeps a dreamless sleep now, long deep slumbering breaths righting his thoughts his heart and somewhere he knows that when he wakes he’ll call Sally and there are no more worries.

L-2.

Jack woke to a pounding on his front door. “A minute,” he croaked, but he knew the interloper couldn’t hear. He hefted his legs over the side of the couch. “Just a minute.” He caught a whiff of the full glass of whiskey on the end table. It wasn’t a bit seductive.

The banging on the door continued, and now he could hear someone rattling the door. “What the . . . “ He picked up the golf club and pulled his chair close. “Who is it?” He shouted as the door burst open. He flung the golf club at the intruder, but it caught the door first and only bounced into . . . Sally.

“Why are you throwing things at me?” she screamed.

“Why the hell are you breaking into my house, woman?” He had never been so glad to see anyone in his entire life, but he wasn’t quite ready yet to tell her so.

“I followed you yesterday. I saw you buying liquor. I was afraid of what you were doing. And I figured if you were going to throw your life away I might just as well join you. So I’ve brought us a breakfast of champions.” She began to pull items from the plastic bag she was holding: Doritos, Twinkies, a two-liter bottle of Pepsi. Jack could only shake his head.

“I figured I worked hard to rehabilitate myself too, Jack. It took a lot for me to face my fears, to learn new ways of eating and looking at myself and believing in myself. But if you can pull the plug, so can I.” She opened the Doritos, stuffed a fistful in her mouth. Jack started to smile.

“There are more ways than booze to medicate yourself. Quit smiling!” She spat some Doritos crumbs as she spoke, but she was too far out of control to notice. Jack’s grin widened. What had he ever been thinking to send this woman away.

“I think it will be great fun. You can drink, I can eat, just think, what a wonderful pair we’ll make! We’ll never exercise, we’ll grow fat and cranky, but, oh boy, will we have fun! Why . . .” And then she fell silent. She had spied the full glass of whiskey. She looked at Jack. She narrowed her eyes and approached him, sniffed his breath. He tolerated it. He kissed her cheek.

“Jack?”

He shook his head. “Don’t need the stuff. Of course, if you insist I’ll be happy to join you in dining on Twinkies.” He reached for one of the packages. Sally slapped his hand away.

“You almost hit me with your golf club.”

“You’re damn lucky I was still sleepy or I wouldn’t have missed. I thought you were a burglar. I didn’t realize the love of my life was breaking into my home the same way she broke into my heart.”

“I wasn’t breaking into your house, I had a key . . . What did you say?”

“Oh, I think you heard me, darling.” Jack pulled Sally close. “I had a dream. I’ve been to the mountaintop. And if you’ll have me, I’d like to show you that mountain.”

“You want to take me to Montana?” Sally’s tears were spilling, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“I want to take you to Montana, I want to take you to the mountains, I want to take you to Mom, I want to take you for better or for worse or for breaking down my door or for whatever. I want you to marry me, Sally dear.”

“And you won’t throw any more golf clubs at me?” Sally had twined her arms around Jack’s neck.

“No more golf clubs.” As he saw Sally’s eyes note the baseball bat in the corner he added, “or bats, either. So how about it, Sally?”

“Kiddo, you have got yourself the deal of a lifetime!” And then she noticed the chaos in the room. “Did you ask me to marry you so that I would clean up this mess?”

He pulled her into a tongue-clashing lip lock for answer.

L-1

David Youngfeather, Todd Pierce and some other men were playing basketball at the tribal recreation center. A dark green Suburban pulled into the lot. The side doors opened, and a lift emerged, dropping a man in a wheelchair. He was followed by a tall slender dark-haired woman and a broadly smiling young girl.

“Yo, man,” the man in the wheelchair hailed.

David smiled as he recognized the voice. “Hello, my friend.” He walked over to Jack, held his hand out. The handshake was as warm as an embrace, strong, steady and full of understanding. “I bet I know what you are doing in this neck of the woods.”

“I bet you do at that, David.” He introduced Sally and Mandy. “You’ve heard me speak of my daughter, Mandy.” To his daughter he said, “David was the man who called people back home, telling them about the accident.”

“He is a very good man, then,” Mandy said, as she shook his hand. “Thank you for being with my Daddy.”

“You are very welcome, miss,” David replied formally. He remembered the coldness of the child’s mother. He was glad that something had broken the ice barrier that that woman had thrown up. This child definitely doted on her father.

“And this is my wife, Sally,” Jack continued. David smiled.

Sally took his hand in both of hers. “Jack has told me how you stayed with him that first night, how you comforted him. And he told me of your visit when he was in rehabilitation. Thank you very much.”

“It was truly my pleasure,” David said, thinking of the difference between this woman and the cold woman he had talked to that first night. Jack had done well. He was glad that they were married, that she didn’t appear to have any compunctions about being with a man with disabilities. To Jack he said, “Have you shown them our mountain yet?”

“We’re on our way now,” Jack said. “We wanted to stop and see you first, let you know we were in the area. If you have time, we’d like to take you to dinner tonight.”

“I believe I am free,” David replied. “How did you find me, by the way?”

“You said you were a hoop player, remember?” Jack said. “When we stopped at the BIA they gave us a couple of places to check out to see if you were there. We came here first.”

“Good detective work, Jack.”

“Friendship work, David. We’ll pick you up about 7 tonight, okay?” At David’s nod of assent, he continued. “But right now, I have a mountain to show my favorite girls.”

“It is a fine mountain,” David said. He watched as the family returned to their vehicle. Under his breath he added: “A very fine mountain. It can destroy and it can restore. You are going to make it, my friend.”

The Suburban pulled out of the dirt parking lot and headed towards the mountains. Jack didn’t falter as he pulled onto MT49. The road curved almost immediately. Jack started to ease up on the accelerator. He felt eyes watching him. Sally was there, beside him, his wife, his life, his love. She nodded imperceptibly, smiled, and looked ahead. He held the accelerator steady.

Mandy and Sally were entranced by the scenery, by the beautiful mountains looming to the west, by the lakes that unfolded in the scenery below. Finally Mandy broke their reverie.

“Daddy, it really does look like heaven.”

The End