Adult Fiction

The transfer Rodger had requested had come through the end of September. A month by ship to Burma then onto China where he was reassigned to the Flying Tigers at the base in Chenkung, China.

Drumming his fingers on his desk, he re‑read letters from Adele and Ada.

Time. He had lost its sequence. It seemed so long ago that he had been home. And not even him, someone else. He folded the letters and put them back into the envelopes.

He riffled through the paperwork that pressed on him like rubber bands over too many sheets of paper. He pushed it all aside, then stood up and stretched. Men milled around the outer room, rumbling voices all around. He heard snatches of conversation; a poker game was in progress. Outside seemed quiet enough. But something was in the air; he could smell it, like ozone before a storm.

Rodger walked outside, around the building, listening. He strained his eyes against the night, slowly sweeping his head left to right. Then he heard the faraway drone of an engine. He wanted to go after that crazy Jap, still around after all these months. Sweat tickled down his armpit and his heart beat wildly, but he reconsidered and calmly called out orders.

“Pickens, get Jackson. Tell him it’s his chance to sack the Wolf. Hurry up! Keys, Mannor and Robins, we’ll crew the plane.”

Because Jackson was scheduled for first flight in the morning, he had gone to bed, blissfully sober. He came at a run, struggling into his flight suit while Stony Pickens, arrogant and self-possessed, casually walked behind him.

He’s good and he’s trouble, mused Rodger.

Jackson glanced up frequently at the men loading his plane with armament, hastily pulling on his gloves, and helmet, then checking his boots and zippered pockets. A tense grin played about his lips that Rodger envied. Once he caught Stony looking hard at Jackson, his jaw pulled taut and his eyes narrowed.

As Jackson prepared to board, one of the mechanics cried out, “Oh, come on, Stony, wish him well! Be a good sport!”

Stony attempted to smile, to wave off the implications. Rodger understood Stony’s resentment, how much he wanted to go instead of Jackson, to be the one who claimed the kill.

Jackson’s engines awakened, the intense vibrations stirring the night. Rodger and Stony stepped aside to watch the take‑off. Rodger flashed the victory sign.

Rodger whistled softly, swallowing down his own envy as he watched Jackson out-maneuver the Zero, concealing himself in cloud layers, filling the sky with his noise, dropping on top of the Zero. They tangoed in the sky. Jackson had the advantage, and then lost it. But neither could gain a position for the kill.

The take‑off aroused all of the pilots from sleep, and they stood outside to await the outcome. The men on the ground listened, wondered, and placed bets.

For several minutes, they could see no sign of Jackson in the sky. Rodger checked his watch, searched the sky again. The dark mantle of night began to pale into an azure line running across the horizon, as if it were turning itself inside out.

Rodger was the first to see the flaming plane approach the field. In spite of his crippled aircraft, Jackson made a skillful landing, earning the admiration of the whole group. The fire crew rushed out to extinguish the raging fire that had gutted the tail section. Jackson hopped off the wing and, fire extinguisher in hand, helped put out the fire.

A group collected around Jackson as he walked back to the barracks. Once inside the debriefing room he removed his flight helmet and gloves then paused in his silent striptease act. No one spoke.

Finally, Jackson shook his head from side to side.

Stony tried to suppress a grin as he clapped Jackson on the shoulder.

“Right nice of you to have your sport and leave him for someone else!”

There was chorus of laughter, of relief and gratitude.

Rodger trailed behind the group. He heard the Night Wolf’s plane returning and shouted,
“He’s back!”

They scattered, heading for the outermost bushes. The Night Wolf made one low pass over the outside perimeter of the airstrip. In the starry predawn, a piercing howl echoed. The wounded Zero left, leaving a smoky trail.

“Ya got him, Jackson!” cried his wingman. “He’s hurt bad, too!”

Rodger walked beside Jackson. The lean, handsome face turned to him.

“Mine was the first strike, sir. I should have made sure.”

Rodger clapped Jackson on the shoulder.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You did some pretty fancy flying. So did he. All’s fair, you know.”

And fair for me, too, he thought.

Captain Robins rubbed his hands together. “Sir, we’re starting a little poker game, it being so close to breakfast and all. Would you care to join in?”

Rodger stopped short, inhaling the acrid night air, sucking in all of the stars above.

“Deal me in.”

The rustle and click of poker chips rang sharply as he came in the door. Six men sat around the table, waiting for him. Their boisterous talk filled the tiny room, and someone was bent down rummaging boxes, looking for beer. Finally, the short, balding mechanic in a rumpled uniform produced eight capped bottles of beer. Someone threw a metal opener that skipped and clanked across the table.

Rodger watched until four of the men had taken a beer before he reached for a warm bottle. As he uncapped it, foam spilled over in quiet rivulets, oozing down the sides of the bottle, over his hand, dripping onto the floor. He wiped his hand dry on the side of his pants. He swallowed the salty, welcomed beer quickly, then abruptly plunked down in a chair.

“Five card stud, joker wild.” He took the deck, handed it to the man on his right to cut, and began the deal. Cards landed in place before him. “Ante’s white, limit ten dollars. We’re playing with American dollars.” He slipped the cards together and then fanned out the edges to peek into them.

Stony watched each man look at his cards. Rodger had once heard him say he could find clues in the reflections of an eyeball. Rodger dropped his eyelids, shifting his loose change from his right pocket to the left side, then leaned back into his chair. He found his silver dollar. Throughout the game, he would touch the edge of his pocket.

“I’ll see you and raise you five.” Stony let the chips rain down. After fifteen minutes, he had lost three successive hands, as had Rodger.

“I’ll call.” Rodger laid down his straight.

Stony fanned out his club flush, snapping each card down onto the table. “Read ’em and weep, Colonel,” Stony smirked, raking in the chips.

“Last hand for me,” Rodger said, mentally reviewing the upcoming daily roster.

Daylight streamed through the dirty windows. Each of the six men frequently whisked away beaded sweat from their foreheads. Two folded their cards and waved good-night. Rodger had dropped close to a hundred bucks, but he still felt lucky.

Time dragged around each play made. Four were still in. Rodger upped his bet by five dollars, hoping to narrow the odds. Two men folded, leaving him pitted against Stony.

Rodger leaned forward, rotating his shoulders as if to work out a kink. Stony chewed on the end of his mustache. He threw in another blue chip. Rodger tossed in one, picking up a red. Stony squinted, slowly pushing his red one into the pile. His eyes focused intently on Rodger, then he smiled. Rodger smiled back. Stony added another blue chip. Rodger eased in a blue one, then scooted another blue one beside it. Stony continued to smile, playing contentedly with his blond mustache. He scratched his chin, then picked up two blue chips and tossed them into the center.

“I’ll call.” Methodically, he exposed his hand.

Rodger laid down his royal flush on top of Stony’s ace, king, queen, jack, and ten. Only by a hair’s breath, he thought. But then again, that’s all I need to win.

The two who had folded, dropped the legs of their chairs so that they could lean over and see the lay of the cards.

Robins whistled, rolling his eyes backward as Rodger raked in the chips.

“That was real close, yes siree, real close!” he exclaimed. “There ain’t enough odds in the world that’ll say a combination like that will ever be seen again!”

Rodger nodded. “That’s for damn sure.”

Stony chuckled. Stretching his long arms overhead, he arched his back and yawned loudly.
“Not my lucky day by a long shot. Guess I’ll get some shuteye. I’m not due out till three.”

He stood up to go, then casually challenged, “Play you Cold Hand for a hundred, Colonel.”

“You’re on.” Rodger shuffled the cards, giving the deck to the man on his right. As each man flipped the oncoming card up, he stared straight ahead into the other’s eyes. When all five had been dealt, there lay an eerie hush about the room. Rodger looked quickly at his cards, noting that he had three threes. Then he glanced over to Stony’s hand and recoiled slightly when he recognized the aces and eights. Dead Man’s Hand. No one said anything.

Rodger swept the cards up and compacted them into a neat pile.

“Clean up and let’s get to work,” Rodger ordered.

Superstitious nonsense, he thought as he walked to his office. As he passed the board, he pulled the flight sheet down and replaced Stony’s name with his own.

After lunch, Stony stomped into the office, his mouth compressed and eyes ablaze. Rodger continued reading the paper in his hand, until Stony cleared his throat.

“Sir, could I have a word with you?”

Rodger looked up “What is it, Pickens?”

“I think I’m entitled to an explanation about the change in the flight schedule,” Stony spat out, “Sir.”
“Right.” He tapped the sheet of paper in his hand. “I reviewed your flight time. You’re due for some time off. And I need a few hours. That’s it plain and simple.”

“I want to protest—-”

“So noted, Pickens. Get some rest.” Rodger picked up his pen and began to sign the x’d lines.
With a thud, a clump of bills hit the upraised sheets of paper Rodger held in his left hand. He pocketed the poker winnings.

“Thank you, Pickens. This change has nothing to do with the poker game. My logs are up for review, and I can’t let any minor infractions show up. Don’t take it personally.”

“No, sir, I won’t take it too personally.” Stony turned and stormed out of the office, banging the door.

During the briefing, Rodger forced himself to act more enthusiastic than he really felt. The flight plans were limited in scope and field, the usual from the brass. He resented it as much as his men, but he pretended it was all perfectly sensible; and he pretended not to notice when his squadron blatantly disobeyed the cockeyed mandates.

Once airborne, he became just another pilot, working as part of a team. Reno was his wingman. The others, Steve, Coolly, and Nick, wasted no time doing preflights and run-ups. Rodger felt the current flowing between the planes, uniting them, washing over them, as blood goes from the heart to all parts of the body.

They took off with a direct vector, climbing north with one hundred forty miles to reach the Burma border, a routine mission. The flight spread out at the bomb line; all eyes swept constantly back and forth for enemy aircraft, making sure the sky was clear.

Reno cried out, “Bandits! Nine o’clock high.”

“Red Leader. Advance throttle and climb to twenty‑five.” Rodger initiated a climbing turn and leveled off at twenty‑five thousand feet. All of the others followed. Sweat slid from his armpits down to his wrists. They were working men now. No thought for anything else.

“Holy smokes! Red Leader, look what’s comin’ in from the south!” Reno banked slightly for a fuller view.

“Increase right bank!” Rodger barked.

As fast as they executed the turn, the Japanese Nates were out of sight.

“Lost ’em all, dammit,” moaned Coolly. “Nothin’ to write home to Mom about tonight.”

Then at eight-thousand feet, coming from the opposite direction, a single Nate skimmed along the cloud cover. Rodger pulled a quick ninety‑degree turn with Reno right beside him, level with the Nate, six miles back, their P‑38s screamed after him.

Reno dived behind him, staying level, but the elusive Nate remained two miles out of range. Finally at one‑thousand feet Rodger lined up the red nose, red rudder, and mid‑section of the Nate in his sights.

There was a short burst of flames, and little holes popped out on the fuselage. One more longer burst, and the engine and wings took the strikes. In a graceful dive, the aircraft began its descent, smoke spewing out. Rodger lined up astern, very close this time, and fired again. Huge hunks of the aircraft, flailing as if imbued with life, flew into space with dizzying speed. The canopy shot straight up, hovered for a second, and then tumbled over and over. The parachute blossomed, drifting slowly down to earth.

Almost immediately Rodger and Reno were rejoined by the others, along with the rest of the Japanese force.

Reno yelled, “Red Leader, break left!”

Rodger twisted over left and up into the sun. Getting into position behind the enemy leader, he tailed him hard until he had him in his sights. He pressed the trigger; a line of holes burst into the enemy’s wing. With grim determination, Rodger executed a hard barrel roll, passed over, and came into him again.

He heard strikes against his tail, but didn’t allow his eyes to wander from the sights. Again he fired. Two long, one short. The fuselage and tailpipe danced with fiery colors and gray‑green smoke. Rodger looked over to the cockpit. The pilot was dead, slumped against the controls, forcing the plane into an erratic spiral dive.

“Hot damn, Colonel!” sang out Nick. “We done ’em all in!”

“Red Leader here. Any damage?” Relief and pride in his men mingled with a sudden exhilaration. “Well, the boys at home aren’t going to believe us when we tell them about the ones that didn’t get away!”

They headed back to base. Upon approach, in tacit agreement, they made a low pass in unison.
The last one out of the debriefing room, Rodger walked across the compound toward his office, where he met Stony.

“Congratulations, Lt. Colonel. I heard you had a very successful day.” Stony crossed his arms and stared daggers at Rodger.

“Right. I expect the Night Wolf will be back tonight. You had better be prepared.”

Without another word, Stony turned and strode to the mechanics hut, issuing orders in a loud, surly voice; he looked like an emperor at the arena. Two mechanics scurried from the newly arrived ships to go to Stony’s, giving it a shakedown.

Rodger laughed aloud, wishing he had a picture. Then he shook his head, as if to brush off the lightness and good spirits. He went to the officer’s club, following the voices that led him to Banjo Billy in the poker room.

“Banjo, a word with you.” Rodger waved a flaccid salute to the other men.

His “Yessss, sir” was punctuated by the slapping down of cards.

“Couldn’t have come at a better time or to a better man.” He swept the jackpot into his hand, pocketed it, and saluted Rodger.

Rodger had cultivated a certain metallic edge to his voice while a captain on the high school football team, a voice that he knew how to use effectively.

“I have your request for a leave. Illnesses in your family.”

Squaring his shoulders, Banjo Billy replied, “Yes, sir. My mother and my wife. My mother’s in the hospital, and my wife’s having a difficult pregnancy.”

“There’s no one else that help out? No other family members?”

“Well, sir, no, but I’m, well, I’m an only son. The only man around. I mean; they need me.”

“Combat experience is at its lowest, and we need men with your background. You know that.”

“I know that, sir.” Banjo Billy frowned, distressed. “I’d only be gone a month leave, sir.”

“The war might wait for you.” Rodger shrugged. “Your request has been cleared by the Colonel himself. The transport leaves tomorrow, late afternoon.” He handed the orders to the and stared long and hard at the young officer.

Banjo Billy wavered. Rodger could see the captain’s resentment outlined in the clean-shaven, boyish face. But every opportunity he had, Rodger would pound home to his men: a man’s prime commitment, his first loyalty, is duty.

“Report to me at sixteen hundred hours.”

Banjo Billy looked around him. The guys were beginning a new hand of poker, each one talking to everyone in general. Rodger bet himself that he would not reach the count of one hundred.

“Excuse me, sir—but I’ve reconsidered. It’s probably more dangerous flying home. I’ll stay here and do my own, honest work.” He cast an anxious glance at Rodger. He ruffled the slip of paper, without actually tearing it up.

“Hey, Banjo, are you in for this hand or not?”

“In. But you guys don’t stand a chance in hell!” He quickly shoved the paper into his back pocket.
It was a bittersweet victory for Rodger. He went to the bar and motioned the bartender for bottle of half‑empty Jack Daniels and a clean glass. He left without a word to anyone.

Unlocking his office door, he remembered being twenty not so long ago. He sat heavily in his chair, pulling himself up to his desk, tipping the bottle into a glass. Without the lights on, the room had a gray cast to it. Rodger played with the shadow of his glass on the desk top. He lit a cigarette. His body tensed, and he strained to hear the noise. Yes, there it was.

He relaxed then, slouching back against the chair. He raised his tumbler, the amber liquid sloshing back and forth, in a salute as the beautiful screams of Stony’s Mustang split the still of dusk.

He told himself that Stony was not cursed; a poker’s hand had no meaning behind the game. Survival took skill, timing, and well, yes, luck. But you had to be good. Or lucky.

“Here’s to you. Go get ’em.” As the screeching tires left the pavement, Rodger downed the last mouthful of whiskey. “May the best man win.”

THE END

Read all of Jacquie’s WWII adult fiction novel Forcing the Hand of God online or purchase at Amazon.com>>

“I know, good knight, I know,” Adele murmured back. She dropped his hand and went back into the kitchen, leaving him and Aunt Carrie facing one another.

“Oh, Rodgie, how can you let yourself be beaten so!” Like a pampered squirrel, she nested into the chair, worrying her question.

“Don’t know. It’s funny, but you don’t even feel it,” Rodger gulped at his beer, “until later. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It’s bad enough. You should see yourself!” Carrie pointed at him. “Is that any way for a man of your age and rank to behave?”

“Only if I win, Aunt Carrie,” he grinned. “Then I’m the hero of the hour.”

Madeline appeared. “Would you kindly prepare for dinner?”

Rodger nodded to the girls’ room. “I’ll call them.”

Adele bustled into the living room, then up the stairs. “No, the baby’s asleep. I’ll bring Heather and Rachel down.”

He drained the rest of his beer. The uncomfortable silence in the room pulled at him like over-stretched elastic. He wished this part of the night over so that he could relax with Ada and Adele.

Dues. He had to pay the family dues.

Rachel and Heather ate side by side, sneaking glances at him. Madeline silenced them with a reproachful look before either could question him. Rodger put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.

“I’m curious whether Captain Midnight goes after those Japs tonight. Last night he almost bought it.”
Madeline slapped down her napkin. “Isn’t it bad enough there’s a real war raging all over Europe without a silly, make‑believe hero?”

His jaw tensed as he stared down his mother.

“I’ve known a dozen Captain Midnights, Mother. Real guys.” He pushed away from the table. “I’ll be back, girls. Warm up the radio.”

He let himself out the back door, walking up towards the riverside, pounding out his anger in every step. Over and over in his mind, he sought a way out from the endless arguments. He stopped by a sycamore tree and leaned against the rough bark, twisting his head back and forth, trying to ease the tension.

He bent down and picked stones to skip across the river, thinking of Tommy and the days they had played on rafts down here. The summer days he had fished. The picnics with Dee Simmons. Skinny-dipping. And making love on a woolen blanket. And a dozen things he had wanted to tell his father.
He flipped another smooth stone across the water, counting the ripples from three centers. Then he took his time strolling back to his mother’s house. He checked his watch. Just in time for Captain Midnight.

Adele sat on the edge of his mother’s bed, nursing Jonelle as Rachel and Heather hovered around the crackling radio. Rodger leaned over between his sisters and twirled the knob until the announcer’s voice barked, “The makers of Ovaltine® sponsor the following program.” He sat cross‑legged in front of the radio with Rachel and Heather, engrossed until the very end.

He turned to Adele. “Now, radio, that’s a worthwhile past time.” He stretched, raising his arms. “I’m going next door to talk to Ada. Come with me.”

Like a startled katydid, Rachel jumped up from the floor. “I think I hear Ada at the door now.”

“Let’s go down and see her!” sang out Heather. Both girls darted out the bedroom and down the stairs.

“Jonelle’s finished nursing.” She handed the gurgling baby to her husband. “Go see Daddy. Here.”
With Jonelle on his shoulder, he led Adele down the stairs.

Madeline rushed over to Rodger and scooped Jonelle out of his arms. “Ada look! Don’t you think she has John’s eyes?”

Rodger swiped the baby out of his mother’s hands. Her eyes bugged out, but she didn’t make a sound. He presented Jonelle to Ada, who opened her arms to receive the squirming bundle.

“I…I think,” Ada stammered, “that Jonelle has your hands, Madeline. Her fingers are so long.”

Madeline bit her lip. She examined her nails.

“I hope she has Adele’s personality.”

Rodger gathered his bag in his left hand.

“I do, too.” He marched to the door, turning to see his aunt emerge from the kitchen. “And Aunt Carrie’s smile.” He held the door open for Ada and Adele to exit. “Good night, Mother. Good night, Aunt Carrie.” He blew kisses to his sisters.

“Thank you for dinner, Mother. The casserole was delicious!” Adele stopped by his side. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Madeline looked to Carrie, who held onto a pie dish in her chubby hands. “Won’t you stay for dessert? Ada brought us a strawberry cream pie.”

Rodger nudged Adele with his elbow.

“No, thanks. Maybe tomorrow.”

Out on the sidewalk, Adele snatched his shirt sleeve. “Just what gives you the right to be so damn rude to your mother?”

He threw off her hand.

“She irritates the hell out of me!”

Adele put her hands on her hips. Ada went on into her house with Jonelle. Fireflies sparked the evening air. “Your mother is scared, Rodger. Try to understand.”

He tore the wrappings from a new pack of cigarettes, punched one out, stuck it between his lips, and fished in his pocket for a match. He lit the match and held it away from the tip of the Lucky until it burned half‑way down. “So now you want to play the peacemaker?”

Adele’s raspy breathing, timed to his own, linked them in an odd agreement. She pointed her finger at him, stabbing the space between them.

“You’re a brat.”

He batted her finger with his right hand. “You sound like a granny.”

She laughed. “Maybe I’ve been around them too long,” she jerked her head backwards, indicating the house. “To be truthful, I understand why they get on your nerves.”

He stepped to her side, clasping her about the waist. “Don’t start that nagging. That’s one of the things I loved you for. You never were a whiner or nag.”

Adele hugged him. “But, Rodger, you can’t get your way all the time.”

“Why not?” He flicked away the cigarette stub.

“Because!” Adele shot back. Rodger opened the screen as Adele pushed open the front door of Ada’s house.

Ada sat on the couch, pillows propping her elbows as she held Jonelle and sang a lullaby to her. She had a surprisingly deep and gravelly voice.

Rodger watched her stroke Jonelle’s cheek, seemingly lost for a moment in the mystery of the baby and her song. Adele waited for Ada to finish the lullaby before picking up Jonelle.

“I’ll feed her once more, and maybe, just maybe the walk home will put her asleep for the whole night.”

Ada settled back into the couch. “Don’t count on it. Those night feedings might go on for another month or more.” Adele padded down the hall to the bedroom, leaving Ada and Rodger alone. He drummed the arm of the chair with his fingertips.

“I could rig up your sewing machine so that it’ll be easier to use.”

Ada massaged her hands, shaking her head so that her fine gray hair trailing from its chignon swayed like miniature streamers.

“You’ve done quite enough, mister.”

When Rodger frowned at her, she gave a dismissive a wave of her hand.

“Oh, all right. If you insist and have nothing better to do with your time, I’d be pleased to have you do it.”

“I have the time.” He avoided her eyes, until he could stand it no longer. “What’s the matter?”

“You.” Ada inched closer to him. The fine material of her flowered dress stretched taut against her bosom. “Tell her the truth, Rodger.”

He bolted upright. “Goddamn it! Why is everyone ragging on me?”

Ada pursed her lips. “It’ll not be right between the two of you if you keep secrets.”

“I don’t keep secrets.” He stared fixedly at her.

“I’ve known you too long, Rodger, not to know when you’re hiding a piece of the puzzle.”

He blushed, remembering how important it used to be to him to put in the last jigsaw puzzle piece. Ada never scolded him for keeping it in his pocket for a day or two, but she always made him put it in, finally.

“I have to go back,” he lowered his voice. “I have to square things for Mary Elizabeth.” He leaned down and smacked the kitten as it leaped for his shoe. “I have this dream. Every night. Running away from Mary Elizabeth and LinChing as they stand in front of the mission, begging me to take them home. Only there’s no home.”

The kitten sought refuge in Ada’s lap. She petted it absent‑mindedly.

“But Jonelle…,” Ada’s voice cracked.

Rodger searched Ada’s loving face.

“She’s in good hands.” He looked away, out the window at the dark shadows of the leaves on the tree. “I’ll come home.”

Adele came out of the bedroom, Jonelle asleep on her shoulder. Rodger hurried to the buggy by the chair and wheeled it over to Adele. Ada smoothed out the blanket, her hands working around Adele’s as she lay the baby down. Rodger propped the door open and took the buggy down the steps onto the sidewalk. He waved to Ada as Adele hugged her goodbye.

Adele hopped to catch up with him, clutching his hand as they walked side by side. The wheels of the buggy squeaked. He sighed as they came upon their brightly lit porch.

“Must cut the grass in the morning,” he said as he opened the door.

Adele pushed the buggy indoors. “Let’s just take it easy tomorrow, honey,” she pecked his sore cheek. Rodger winced. “Oh, sorry.” She went to touch it, but he pulled away.

“I’m tired tonight. Are you?”

“I haven’t boxed in the ring,” Adele faced him, the tartness of her voice betraying the comfort of her words.

“What is it you want from me, Adele?” Rodger crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

“I don’t know,” she paced in front of him, wringing her hands. “Maybe that’s the question I should be asking you.”

“Jesus, Adele! I want you to be happy. The baby to be happy.” He chewed his lip. No, this wouldn’t wash; she wouldn’t be compromised with a vague truth. “I don’t know. Something inside of me.”

“What? Losing your father? Sam? Mary Elizabeth?”

“None of that. All of it.” He closed his eyes. “I thought today about how LinChing busted his bones to do the right thing all the time. On top of those planes like he was personally responsible for them, he had his kid, too. Trying to do the right thing.” His left cheek and ear throbbed, shooting pangs along his neck. “You’re on me lately about every damn thing I do.”

“I want you…you,” she stumbled over her words, “to want to stay with us.”

“It wasn’t my idea to start this war.” He watched her through slitted eyes.

“No, but it seems to be your game.”

“I’m a flyer, honey. You knew that before we married.”

She sighed in defeat. “I know. I guess I thought because I changed after having Jonelle, you would, too.”

He grabbed her by the hands and embraced her.

“I’ll always provide us a good home and be a great daddy. You wait and see.”

Adele hugged him hard. “I’ll be here. I’ll wait.”

“And,” he pulled back to look into her eyes, “I’ll bring you more silver, marble and silks from China.”

She stared long and direct at him. “Just bring yourself back in one piece, mister.”

Soft mewing sounds came from the buggy as Jonelle awoke.

“There, there, hush, hush,” Adele cooed as she lifted Jonelle from the buggy and took her to the nursery.

Rodger watched them disappear into the room and then turned into the bedroom. He hastily undressed and crawled between the cool sheets.

He heard the sheets rustling and felt the warmth of Adele’s body when she climbed in bed beside him. She encircled his waist with her arms and snuggled into his back. Sleep enfolded him.

In the middle of the night, a pocket of coldness where Adele should have been shocked him awake. He listened for her above the pounding of his heart.

She moved through the hallway, to the door and paused.

“Rodger?” the alarm in her voice distressed him. “What’s the matter?”

He sat on the edge of the bed, cradling his head in his hands.

“Nothing. Come to bed.”

She slid in behind him, hugging his shoulders, pressing her face against his back.

“Are you in pain?”

“No.” He sat still, then turned and lay down, pulling her into his side. “I have to tell you something.”
Hiccupping cries pealed throughout the house. Adele sprang out of bed and ran down to the nursery. Minutes later, she returned with Jonelle nestled against her shoulder. Rodger reached over to the bed stand and flipped on the light, illuminating Adele’s face etched in worry. He patted the edge of the bed.

“Come here. It’s not that bad. And you probably know anyway.” Adele sat down beside him, and he put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in a gentle hug, careful of the nursing baby. “I’ve put in for a transfer for China. The Flying Tigers.” He shrugged. “May or may not happen.”

Adele cradled the baby against her shoulder, patting her on the back and nodded her head in time with the taps. Jonelle burped, sighed and closed her eyes, whispering baby snores.

“Sooner or later, I knew you’d go back.”

“I want you to understand I have to go back.” He sighed, pulling her close to him and kissing her ear lobe. “You know, for God, motherhood, apple pie, and all that.”

Adele pressed her forehead against his.

“No,” she muttered, shaking her head back and forth. “For you, Rodger.”

She took the sleeping baby back to her bed. He thought he heard muffled sounds of Adele crying. He waited, his shoulders aching from being tensed.

She tripped into the room, dancing in front of him with her nightgown fanned in her hand, and pulled taut, her body outlined by satin. He watched, fascinated. She dipped and swayed, inviting him with a wave of her hand. He rose, accepted her hand, crushing his body into hers, moving in time with her undulating hips. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back, she parted her lips and waited for his kiss. He met her lips. They waltzed. He pressed his cheek against hers, thankful for this hour. In the light that cast their ghostly shadows about the room; all else forgotten, they danced.

Read all of Jacquie’s WWII adult fiction novel Forcing the Hand of God online or purchase at Amazon.com>>

“Remember the game against the Chicago Beavers? Boy, the team was sure you’d bitten the dust, but you rallied and went on to score.” Tommy rubbed his hands together. “Sure had us some good times, didn’t we, Rodg?”

Rodger waved them on into the living room.

“Mother, Aunt Carrie, I’d like you to meet my old friend, Tommy Radkins.” Rodger stepped aside. “This is his wife, Cindy.”

Madeline lowered Jonelle from her shoulder, turning to display her sleeping face. “Nice to meet you, Cindy. Of course, I remember Tommy.”

Tommy bowed to Madeline, and then lightly shook Aunt Carrie’s proffered hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Cindy nudged Tommy. “Isn’t she precious?”

Rodger noticed Madeline’s pinched smile, as if she’d bitten into a lemon. He wished for once, just this once, she’d look happy. “Do you two have any children?”

Tommy’s head bobbed in delight. “Yes ma’am. We have three.”

Cindy clasped her hands and held them demurely in front of her, lifting her head so that she could look directly into Rodger’s eyes. “I’d like you to tell Adele that I’d be more than happy to pass on the baby’s things. The little ones grow so fast; they never wear their clothes out.”

Rodger nodded. “Thanks.”

Carrie slapped her knees. “Rodger! Your manners! Why, I bet these good folks would like to sit a spell and talk over a glass of lemonade.”

Jonelle let out a lusty cry. Rodger looked at Madeline, wondering what she could have possibly done to his child. He stepped towards her. The cries grew in intensity, the sound swelling within the small room.

“She’s hungry,” Cindy said quietly.

“Give her to me,” Rodger demanded. “Excuse me while I take her to Adele.” From the corner of his eye, he noticed Tommy and Cindy exchange indulgent smiles.

Adele lay sleeping on her back, her face relaxed, but her right hand held tightly to the bunched bedspread. Rodger hesitated to disturb her. Jonelle screeched and hiccupped. Adele’s eyes flew open. She rolled over.

Rodger laid Jonelle on the bed, close to Adele’s breasts. “She must be hungry.”

“I meant for you bring her when she just started to fuss.” Adele undid the flap on her maternity bra, exposing the nipple, touching Jonelle’s cheek with it.

The baby wailed. Adele made soothing noises to her. Finally, the baby fumbled for the nipple, then latched onto it.

Rodger gawked, fascinated. Desire tickled in his groin. Voices from the other room shook him from his reverie.

“An old friend dropped by. Tommy Radkin.” He continued staring at Adele and the nursing baby. “His wife, Cindy, said to tell you she’d pass on some baby things.”

Adele looked up as if she just remembered he was there.

“Go on back to your friends. I’ll feed her and put her down, then be right out.”

“All right,” Rodger paused before he got to the bedroom door. “I’d never have recognized Tommy walking down the street. He was always such a scrawny kid. Now he’s husky and has a farmer’s tan.”

Adele wiped away some milk dribbling down the baby’s cheek. “Farmer’s tan?”

“Red hands and white forehead.” He leaned close to her, mocking her quizzical expression by wrinkling his nose. “Wearing a hat and long sleeves all day long in the sun. Working his old man’s wheat farm.”

Adele shooed him away. “You’re being rude. Go on.”

“I’d rather be with you.” But he turned and hurried back into the living room.

Aunt Carrie brought out the lemonade in a pitcher on a tray and passed a glass to each of them. Rodger checked his watch and sighed, anxious to push off and go to the gym for his daily workout.

“Boy, this heat’s a killer, huh?” Tommy leaned back and rested his arm across the back of the sofa. His wife nodded.

“Does it affect your crops?” Rodger tipped his glass, letting the cool, sour lemonade slide down his throat, thankful that it was Tommy and not he who had been left behind.

“Only them dust storms. Got most of the hard work out of the way until harvest time. Gonna be around for a while, Rodg?”

“Not very long,” Rodger looked down in his glass. “Got my orders to instruct at Fort Kelly.”

Tommy leaned forward, his hands splayed out on his knees.

“Gonna teach flyin’?”

Rodger pinched the lemon slice, dredging it up to the rim of the glass. “Yeah. New group of Army Flying Tigers.”

“Boy, oh, boy, ya can’t get it out of your system, can ya?” Tommy kneaded his hands. “We’d go sneakin’ down to Bombner Field, and Rodg would take a spin in that old plane of Sam’s. Man as mean as the day were long.”

Rodger eyed Tommy as he bit into the lemon slice.

“Sam was a great flyer.”

“Yeah, I know. Remember that smoker in thirty‑five at Jake’s corner when ya took on Gruesome George? Thought ya were a goner for sure. Never seen anyone so fast at dodgin’ as you Rodger. Should a called yourself ‘Dodgin’ Rodg.’” Tommy guffawed at his little joke.

Rodger chuckled. Madeline shivered, averting her face from Rodger.

“What do you do for fun nowadays, Tommy?” Rodger felt the afternoon speed by, like the slip stream of Sam’s airplane, Lucy.

“Me and Cindy don’t have much time with the farm and three little uns, Rodg. I guess you could say we settle for home entertainment.”

Madeline delicately cleared her throat. “What are the ages of your children, Tommy?”

He shot a quick glance to his wife. “Uh…,”

“Two, four, and six, Mrs. Brown,” Cindy swirled her ice cubes. “Two boys and the baby, Jenny Lyn.”

Tommy scratched his head. “Sorry to hear about your dad, Rodg. Must of been quite a blow to ya.”

Madeline stiffened. Carrie stood up, collecting glasses.

“It was to us all, young man.”

Tommy flushed bright red, stretched his shoulders, before blurting, “Say, Rodg, got a Wednesday night poker game going with the guys. Wanna join us tomorrow night?”

Rodger compressed his smile. “Might. See how the day goes.”

“Well, me and the missus gotta go. Glad we got to see the baby.” Tommy pushed his hand at Rodger.

“Wait for a bit more and meet Adele,” Rodger countered. He heard the door to the bedroom open. “She’s putting the baby down.”

Adele whispered into the room, dressed in a crisp white sundress. She glided over to Rodger and entwined her hand along his arm.

“You must be Rodger’s friends,” Adele spoke evenly, squeezing Rodger’s arm. “I’m ‘The Kid’s’ wife, Adele.”

“Excuse me, honey!” Rodger extended his right hand, palm out. “Meet Tommy and Cindy Radkin.”
They both tipped their heads and sang out jointly, “Pleased to meet ya.”

As Carrie came out from the kitchen, Madeline stood, smoothing her skirt. Rodger recognized an old habit.

“We must be going ourselves, Carrie.” She picked up her purse, and the keys jangled in her hand.
“Rodger, your Uncle Kyle will be leaving tomorrow. He received a telephone call this morning from Washington. He has to go there for a meeting.”

“Tell him I’ll drive him to the station.” Rodger led the group out to the porch. “Tommy, it was great seeing you again.” He stared into the solid green eyes of Cindy. “It’s been a pleasure.”

Adele folded her long legs crosswise as she sat on the porch swing. Rodger waved until his arm ached, as Madeline and Carrie left, then Tommy and Cindy pulled away in their noisy Ford truck. He sat down on the porch step.

“I wonder if Ada will go with me and Kyle to the train station. I’m sure there’s more than just a friendship between them.”

He studied Adele’s face for a reaction, but she just smiled and gave a little shrug of her shoulders.
“I think they would make a good couple.” She tipped the swing to begin rocking gently as she rested her head on her arm and stared back at Rodger.

Rodger leaned over and stopped the swing so that her face tilted close enough so he could kiss her. He set the swing rocking again.

“I’d like to sneak off for an hour or so.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I’ve started a new book. Think I’ll just soak up some sunshine and read for a while.”

“I’ll get your book for you.” He went quickly to the bedroom and found it on the bedside table. He hastily grabbed the duffle bag with his boxing gear and walked on the balls of his feet down the hall so that his shoes wouldn’t squeak.

“Here.” He handed Adele the book and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “See you later.”

He turned and waved as he walked away. He picked up his pace as he drew closer to downtown, pushing against an inward ticking of precious minutes. He flexed his neck muscles and those along his shoulder and back. Beads of sweat dotted his upper lip and tickled down his sides.

He relished the pull of his muscles as he climbed the stairs two at a time up to the door and let himself in, going directly to the locker room to dress. Today he would spar a little with Reb.

Reb danced around him, throwing a practiced punch. Rodger surprised him with a powerful jab to his jaw, throwing him momentarily off balance. Reb quickened his pace and concentration, making Rodger stay on his toes and dance, dance, dance.

After forty-five minutes, they were exhausted. Rodger smacked his glove against Reb’s. “Nice workout. Thanks.”

“Hey, Pop, you’re good, real good. See you around.” Reb waved to him as he left the ring.

Rodger showered, changed back into his street clothes, and massaging his neck, took the steps slowly as he left the gym. The late afternoon shadows of the sycamore trees that lined the avenue made it seem cooler as Rodger plodded home. His body ached from the strenuous workout. But it was good hurt, a clean hurt. One that he understood.

Silence greeted him as he entered his house. He carefully put down his gear and sat on the arm of the chair to remove his shoes and socks. His feet sucked at the polished wooden floor as he came to the bedroom. Adele lay with the baby on the bed.

“Hey, you two, I’m home.” Rodger plopped on the bed. The baby jerked, and then her head bobbed awkwardly, almost as if searching for his voice. Rodger touched her tiny hand with his index finger. “Do you think she knows who I am?”

Adele chuckled. “Yes, I do. Really.” She reached over and twisted Rodger’s left arm so that she could see his watch. “Let’s eat. She’s been fed and will be good until your turn.” She sat up, adjusted her clothing, and then checked the baby’s diaper.

“Wait a minute before you put her down to sleep.” Rodger went to the dresser and rummaged through his underwear drawer. “I want to give this to Jonelle when she’s twelve years old. Remember I told you about Mary Elizabeth and her birthday dinner?”

He laid the jeweler’s box in Adele’s palm. She flipped the top open.

“What is it?”

“The ivory bead that Mary Elizabeth gave me.” He looked at his daughter. “I got a chain for it.”

Adele teased the chained bead with a finger.

“It’s really quite lovely, isn’t it?” She tilted the box. “Look what Daddy is going to give you, Jonelle. See the pretty necklace?”

Rodger went back to the dresser, extracting his father’s railroad watch from a sock turned inside out.

“Mother said Dad wanted his grandson to have this. I think he’d have changed his mind if he’d seen Jonelle.”

Adele tilted her face upwards, her watchful eyes ferreting for inner truth. “Perhaps you should save it until there’s a son. Carry it with you.”

Rodger snorted. “Like a talisman?”

Adele shook her head, putting the necklace back into the box.

“No.” She paused thoughtfully. “Well, yes, kind of like a talisman.” She swaddled Jonelle in the baby blanket and lay her down to sleep in the middle of the bed.

Rodger flicked his wrist so that the watch on the gold chain began to sway back and forth.

Adele swayed with it. “I’m yours, master. Command me and I shall do your bidding.”

“Dinner, wife. Get me food.”

“Yes, master.” She stood woodenly, working her stiffened arms like an animated toy soldier, and marched toward the kitchen.

Rodger swept up his baby and followed Adele to the kitchen. She heated the tuna casserole as he watched Jonelle’s face, trying to read her expressions.

“What do you suppose she thinks about?”

He moved to one side as Adele put plates, flatware and glasses on the table. She brought the casserole to the table and ladled portions onto each plate.

“Airplanes. She undoubtedly dreams of flying.” Adele motioned for him to give her the baby and sit. “I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.”

Rodger shoveled the casserole into his mouth.

“Uncle Kyle is leaving tomorrow, sooner than expected. I’m going to take him to the train station.”
Adele’s forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t get to see very much of him. Can’t he send Carrie instead?”

“Why, woman! What do mean to imply about my favorite aunt?” Rodger gasped and put his hand over his heart. Then he wiped his mouth, tucking the napkin beside his plate.

“Here, let me have her while you eat.” Rodger nestled Jonelle in the crook of his arm as she slept. “Babies don’t do much, do they?”

Adele ignored him, hurrying to finish her meal. Still chewing her last bite, she rose to do up the dishes. It seemed as if they had been into this routine for many years, right down to night time rituals. Rodger put Jonelle in her bassinet as Adele fixed a bottle of formula, filling the pan half‑full of water to boil.

Rodger eyed the bottle in Adele’s hand. “How do I know if it’s too hot?”

Adele turned her wrist and shook drops from the bottle onto it.

“Inside, remember? It’s the most sensitive.” She clicked her tongue. “Don’t forget to burp her after a minute or so. If you get frustrated, bring her into me.”

“It’ll be duck soup, honey, don’t you worry.” Rodger pushed away from the door frame and peeled off his undershirt. “Bedtime for us.”

Adele ringed his waist with her arms and followed him duck-walking down the hall to their bedroom. They slept in a naked embrace until Jonelle’s squalls woke them.

“I’ll see to her.” Rodger stretched awake.

“Rodger, it’s much easier for me.” Adele rested a hand on his thigh.

“You just wait here.” He got up out of bed.

“Good luck, good knight,” Adele mumbled as Rodger threw on his robe and padded into the baby’s room.

Rodger grew tense as Jonelle’s crying intensified. The water was slow to boil. He tapped the pan. He plunked the bottle into the warming water, swirling it with his right hand as he cradled Jonelle securely to him, like a football. She strained against him, her wailing interrupted by little hiccups.

“Hush, little baby,” he muttered, trying to convince them both to be calm. “Damn, I should have changed your diaper and then let this thing warm.” He turned away from the stove and pried his finger into the side of her wet diaper. He took her back to the nursery, changed her while she continued to bawl, poked his finger with a diaper pin, and sucking on it, he scooted back to the kitchen with Jonelle. She kicked and stiffened her whole body when he tried to place her again in the crook of his arm.

Holding her tight against his shoulder, he paced and patted her back. “Shhh, shhh, little girl. Daddy’ll feed you and rock you and everything will be right with you and the world.”

Exasperated, he looked from the bobbing bottle in the boiling water in the pan around the kitchen trying to figure out what to do with Jonelle. Finally, he decided to return her to the bed and he would just have to let her cry until he could get the bottle ready.

He tested the bottle against the inside of his wrist.

“Ouch!” He closed his eyes and sighed, putting the bottle on the sink board. He could hear Jonelle sobbing in the other room. Adele couldn’t have possibly planned this.

He hurried back to the nursery and swept Jonelle up in her blanket.

“Okay, little girl, let’s go see Mommy.”

“Here, she’s all yours,” Rodger slid the mottle‑faced baby over to Adele. “Do you need lights on?”

“No, I do it by feel.”

Rodger heard the baby greedily gurgling milk; without seeing Adele’s face, he knew she was smiling.
“You don’t impress me as the kind of man who takes the easy way out,” she chuckled.

Rodger nested into his pillow.

“It occurred to me that I was making undue hardships for myself.” He exaggerated a yawn.

“Could you at least stay awake long enough to take her back to her room? It won’t be long. I’ll have to sit up to burp her. Would you give me a hand?”

Adele’s words fell on deaf ears. Rodger had already fallen asleep.

Read all of Jacquie’s WWII adult fiction novel Forcing the Hand of God online or purchase at Amazon.com>>

Rodger leaned against the wall, enchanted by Adele’s swift and graceful movements as she crammed her few things into the suitcase.

“Doc Adams may have released you, but the nurses aren’t happy about you going AWOL.” He compressed his lips to keep from smiling.

“Honest to God, Rodger, one more day in here and I’ll be ready for the loony bin.” Adele poked a hairbrush into the pile of clothes and snapped the suitcase shut. “I give Doc Adams credit for being a practical man.”

“Doc Adams, hell. I charmed the head nurse.”

“I’m ready.” She spun around in a full circle, flinging out her arms. “Bring the wheelchair! Present the child!”

He cocked an eyebrow, then bowed at the waist. “Your Majesty.”

“That’s the kind of treatment I deserve.” She sat on the bed and waved her hand grandly, indicating the floor in front of her. “Husband.”

He knelt before her, enjoying her wide-eyed surprise. She smoothed her hands down his cheeks, closed her eyes, and bent to kiss him on the lips.

When she opened her eyes again, he presented a ring box in the flat of his hand. Slowly, he opened the lid to reveal the silver band inlaid with Burmese rubies.

“Oh,” she whispered.

As he freed the ring from the groove, he caught her hand in his and kissed each knuckle.

She cradled the band in her palm, turning it over and over, puzzling over the inscriptions.

“Our wedding date,” she frowned, “but what is this other one?”

“What?” Rodger leaped to his feet, grabbing his shirt pocket over his heart. “You don’t know?”

Adele chewed her lower lip, the first finger of her right hand pressed against her nose.

“The first time I beat you at chess?”

Rodger pointed an accusing finger. “That never happened.”

“Oh.” Adele eyed him severely. “Only you would immortalize the first night we slept together!” But she laughed softly, and her eyes sparkled with tears. “Just what am I going to tell Jonelle when she asks?”

He looked at her quizzically, taking the ring and sliding onto her right hand ring finger.

“Why would she ask?”

Adele’s eyebrows puckered. “Rodger, she’ll be just like you; she’ll just have to know.” She examined her hand, her long, finely tapered fingers fanned out, hiding her face. “When it’s time to discuss the birds and bees, I’ll tell her she has to solve the riddle first.”

“Jesus, Adele, isn’t that a little ways down the line?”

“I guess so.” She beckoned him. “Come here, Sir Galahad, and I shall bestow upon you your just reward.”

He lost himself in the sweetness of her mouth when the door swung open and a nurse entered with a wheelchair. Rodger released Adele’s lips, kissed her nose with a smack, then broke away from her.

“Mrs. Brown, are you ready?” said the young nurse curtly, a reddening blush creeping across her cheeks.

Adele murmured, “Bad timing, nurse.”

The nurse glared at them. Adele scowled back at her. Rodger smiled and waggled his eyebrows then picked up the suitcase.

“Where’s the baby?” he asked innocently.

“She’s being brought by Head Nurse Williams.” The nurse gripped the wheelchair handles until her knuckles turned white. “Mrs. Brown, I have to ask you if you had a b.m. today.”

“Oh, yes, nurse, quite a nice one, thank you,” Adele purred.

Rodger frowned at Adele. She looked up sweetly, blowing him a little kiss. The door opened again, as the head nurse whisked into the room with the baby in her arms.

“Thought I’d give her a proper send off,” she said as she placed the sleeping infant in Adele’s waiting arms. “She’s a little spoiled, being the only baby in the nursery. All the nurses fought for a turn walking her up and down the hall.” She patted Adele on the forearm. “The poor child has to go home to get some rest.”

“I don’t mind if she’s been spoiled by love.” Adele stroked Jonelle’s cheek, then looked up at Rodger, her face radiant. “Home, good knight.”

“Follow me, pretty maids.” Rodger took the lead, sauntering down the hall, the women in silent procession.

He helped Adele from the wheelchair into the front seat of the car.

Rodger faced the nurse as she was backing the wheelchair away. Her guarded, green eyes, nurse’s cap and almost‑black hair pulled severely away from her face made her look as if she were playing at getting old. He had an impulse to pull off the hat and demand that she shake loose her hair. Instead he bowed slightly, addressing her formally.

“Thank you for your services, Nurse Nancy Radkins.” He shot straight up, his hand detaining the wheelchair. “You aren’t Tommy’s sister, are you?”

“Yes, I am.” She stopped abruptly, her bloodless hands still clutching the handles of the wheelchair.
Rodger pointed his finger at her. “Little Nancy.”

She blinked in surprise, then grinned. “Yes, and you’re Scrappy Rodger Brown, aren’t you? My, you’ve changed.” She studied him, her head cocked to one side. “Tommy’ll be in hog heaven when he hears you’re in town.”

“He’s home?”

Nancy nodded.

“I’ll be damned!” He inadvertently looked down the street at the back lot of the high school. “Tell him to come by and see me!”

Nancy started to leave. “I’ll give him your address.”

“Oh, yeah, and my telephone number.” Rodger reached into a shirt pocket and took out a receipt from Hewling’s Hardware store. “Just let me get a pencil.”

Adele rolled down her window and flipped her hand out with a crudely sharpened, yellow pencil.
Rodger took the pencil and winked at her.

He scrawled quickly on the paper and handed it to Nancy.

“Thanks for passing this on for me.”

She pocketed the note and jerked the wheelchair around. Rodger waved, hoping he looked a lot friendlier than he had felt towards her.

He got in the car, sliding the pencil into Adele’s outstretched hand. “She’s still got a nasty disposition. Even as a kid she acted like everything was sinful.” He backed out, watching for cars. “I’ll bet she has a system for rating the degree of sin. Probably not married.”

“That’s a leap in logic!” Adele spat peevishly.

Rodger was taken aback. “I didn’t think you liked her.”

“I don’t. But that doesn’t mean men don’t find her attractive, even worth marrying.” The baby whimpered. Adele rocked her, looking intently into the baby’s face.

Rodger grimaced. “Let’s not fight about it, for God’s sake.” He turned the corner on their block. “My mother will be over with a casserole for dinner about noon.”

Adele sighed. “I’ll be resting. I’m not up to Carrie.”

Rodger chuckled. “She’s not a bad ol’ girl, Adele. She has good intentions.”

“And a good deal of petty ones, too.” Adele stopped rocking the baby and hugged her close. “She finds fault with everybody and everything.” Adele glanced sideways at him. “Except you.”

“That’s because,” he pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine, “I’m almost perfect.”

“Almost,” Adele smirked.

Rodger offered her a hand, and she grasped it firmly, pulling herself up from the seat of the car.
“What if I get more perfect with age?”

Adele squared off in front of him, nestling Jonelle close to her. The early morning summer sun shone directly in her face, casting an aura over her. “I’ll tell you on our fiftieth wedding anniversary if you made the mark.”

He leaned close to her face. “What if I make the maid and miss the mark?”

“Then you’ll just have to keep trying, my dear,” she pecked his lips and walked heavily to the door and waited for him to open it.

Adele lumbered through the house, naming the rooms for Jonelle.

“And this is your nursery. Small room, but maybe Daddy will add on later, Sugar Lumps.”

“In a few years?” Rodger poked his head around the corner of the door. “Or must I start today, honey?”

“Depends.” Adele stared at him coldly.

“On what?” Rodger pulled himself through the doorway.

“On when you’re home, for good.” She turned to face him. “I’d like to know.”

“I’m here now,” Rodger shrugged. “And tomorrow.”

Adele’s nostrils flared, but then her face softened. “Want to try your hand at fathering?”

“Hey! I’m a natural!” He made a cradle with his arms. He looked at his daughter for a long time before he could trust his voice. “She’s so tiny. I thought, somehow, she’d be bigger.”

“She’s big enough, Rodger,” Adele squeezed his arm. “You’re picture perfect.” She hurried out the room, retrieved her camera and snapped a flash. “You should have gotten a picture of me bringing the baby into the house.”

Rodger snatched the camera away from her, shoving Jonelle back into her arms. “So go pose.”

Adele had just simulated getting out of the car when Madeline and Carrie drove up. Rodger dangled the camera by the strap, observing the women. Adele smiled weakly at Madeline and Carrie, folding the flap of the blanket so that Jonelle’s face peeked out. Carrie, surprisingly fast on her feet, dashed over to Adele and the baby, leaving Madeline to struggle with the casserole and car door. Rodger hurried to lend a hand.

“Let me help, Mother.”

“No, thank you. I can manage.” Madeline thrust her hip hard against the car door, slamming it shut.

“Oh, my!” cooed Carrie, hovering over Jonelle. “Oh, Maddie, did you ever dream of such a lovely granddaughter!”

Madeline stopped before Adele, her mittened hands holding up the Pyrex dish.

“It’s Rodger’s favorite tuna casserole. I made it one time for you, too, and I remembered you liked it.”

“Smells delicious, Mother. Come along inside before your hands burn.” Adele found Rodger’s eyes and lingered a moment before she turned and walked stiffly into the living room. Rodger trailed behind.

Adele, holding the baby, sat in her chair, Aunt Carrie settled into the couch, and Madeline took the hot dish into the kitchen. Rodger leaned against the door frame, enjoying the late morning rays through the screen door. He massaged his neck, watching as Madeline came back into the room, wondering if Adele were going to relinquish the baby.

“New babies are so precious!” Carrie sang out in a high-pitched voice, which startled the baby, her tiny face lost in the wrinkles of her frown.

Madeline gave Carrie a scathing glance. “Adele, how are you feeling?”

“Tired. But I guess that’s normal.” She leaned back into the chair, ostensibly allowing Madeline a better look at Jonelle.

Carrie stood up and walked over. “Give me the baby and go take a rest. Why, between Maddie and me, we’ve got enough experience to raise an army!” Carrie’s greedy hands demanded the baby.

Adele looked at Rodger beseechingly. He could think of no way out and shrugged.

“I’ll go get some diapers and pins. What about a bottle?”

Adele reluctantly gave up Jonelle. “You can bring her in to me when she fusses.” She followed Rodger down the hall to the bedroom.

Rodger scowled at Adele. “I thought I was going to help feed her,” he whispered savagely.

“You can.” Adele tweaked his ear, “Tonight. She’ll take a bottle, too.” She flicked her wrist. “Don’t make the ladies wait, dear.”

He backed out as she closed the door on him, then he stomped into the nursery. He crammed diapers, pins and powder into a wad and took them into the living room. As he stood beside Madeline sitting primly on the couch, he fixated on his Aunt Carrie’s arms jiggling as she bounced Jonelle up and down.

“Carrie, give the poor child a rest.” Madeline took the bundled diapers from Rodger. “Let me see if she needs changing.”

Carrie ignored her. “Sweet little dumplings,” she caroled. “Are you going to smile for Aunt Carrie?”

Madeline rolled her eyes up to meet Rodger’s. “Babies don’t smile at this age.”

Rodger moved away from his mother to Adele’s empty chair. He stifled a yawn. The baby began to whimper.

“Maybe, Aunt Carrie, Jonelle needs a change.”

When Rodger met his aunt’s fierce gaze with a smile, she sighed pointedly. “Little lambkins, go see Grandma.” Carrie laid the baby down onto the receiving blanket.

Rodger suddenly thought of an airplane landing. An acute longing for the feel of the controls and the gut‑wrench of a take‑off struck him. He chewed on his lower lip.

“Would you mind if I took off for a while?” He looked directly at his mother.

Carrie patted the air. “No, now you just go about your business. Let us women tend to the baby.”

Madeline’s jaw tightened. “Collect your laundry, and I’ll see to it.”

“Couldn’t it wait a few days, for Adele and Jonelle’s things, too?”

His mother’s face set, and she tilted her head slightly. “I’ll see to their things in a few days, Rodger.”
Madeline stabbed a pin through the layers of diaper, easing it expertly over her unscathed finger.

Rodger peered over her shoulder, scrunching up his face at Jonelle. Her thin legs kicked the air. He wanted to hold her. His mother snapped the rubber pants on, then eased the gown down, and drew the string until the material puckered shut, then wrapped the blanket tightly around the baby.

“Isn’t that going to cut off her circulation or something?” Rodger reached to loosen the blanket. Madeline raised her shoulder, blocking his hand.

“Babies like to be wrapped snugly.” Madeline tapped the baby’s back with the palm of her hand. “Honestly, you’re behaving like a Nervous Nelly.”

Anger flared within him. He raised his hands. “Give her to me.”

“A little colicky is all,” Madeline continued, rubbing her back, refusing to give up possession. “Give Adele a chance to get a minute’s peace.”

“Mother…” Rodger leaned over, prepared to yank his baby from her arms, when voices coming from the outside interrupted.

Rodger straightened and went to the door. Aunt Carrie, her nose twitching, craned her neck to see out the door onto the porch.

Arms akimbo, Rodger watched as a young man in a gray shirt, sleeves rolled up exposing white arms and reddened hands, came lumbering up the sidewalk. A petite woman skipped to keep up with his long strides.

Who was this guy? So unlike his men. There was a casualness about the man that annoyed Rodger, a familiarity not earned.

The man came up to the porch, his face looming large and ridiculous with a full‑toothed grin. Then Rodger recognized his old friend and flung open the screen door.

“Tommy! Tommy, you old son of a gun!” Rodger clasped Tommy’s hand and Tommy pumped Rodger’s hand, wrenching his shoulder.

“Long time, long time,” Tommy threw back his head and chortled. “You’ve been mighty long away from this part of the country.”

Rodger slapped Tommy on the back. “You mean I ducked out on our last season game, huh?”

Tommy scrubbed his mustached lip. “We all wondered where you’d gone, Rodg. We won the homecoming game, all right.” He smiled lopsidedly. “But it wasn’t easy without ya.”

Rodger shook his head. “You guys didn’t really need me. I was just a one‑man cheering section.”

“Yeah, Rodg,” Tommy scoffed, “that’s why ya got all them trophies. For cheering us on.”

Rodger punched Tommy on the left arm. “You got your fair share. Always got a fair share.”

Those times of sharing, the long summer days and the years of school and sports. Their first razor rash and making it with a girl. They had shared it all, the stolen days of beer, women and victory songs.

“Man, we had some good times, didn’t we?” Tommy grinned as his face flushed red.

The oddity of Tommy blushing made Rodger chuckle. “Say, did you join up?”

Tommy sobered. “Remember our game against ol’ Cleveland High? You know, the one where you scored two touch downs and I got forty yards on one pass?” Rodger nodded, only able to recall it as Tommy replayed it. “Got knocked in the kidneys a couple of times. Anyway, I got what they call ‘Bright’s disease.’ Having to do with my kidneys.”

Rodger shivered inwardly. “Serious?”

“Neah, not at all if I watch my diet. And,” Tommy reached behind him, encircled the small shoulders of the red‑haired woman with his massive forearm, drawing her up to his side; she stood just underneath his armpit. “This little woman makes sure I eat and rest like I should. Meet my wife, Cindy.” Tommy leaned close, cupping his free hand beside his mouth. “Don’t let her size fool ya. She’s a real bearcat!”

Cindy elbowed Tommy in the ribs. “Don’t pay him any mind. Nice to meet you, Rodger,” she stuck out her hand.

Rodger shook it, surprised at her firm grip. “Won’t you come in? I think Adele’s resting with the baby right now, but I’ll look in.”

Cindy arrested him with a motion of her hand. “No, let your wife and daughter be. We came by to see you, for now. I’ve heard so much about you and all that I had to see you face to face.”

It was Rodger’s turn to blush. “Take everything Tommy says and cut it in half, and you’ll have a pretty good picture.”

“No, she’ll only have the half of it.” Tommy grazed Rodger’s wound with his fist. His face clouded with concern when Rodger winced. “What’s the matter, Rodg?”

“Old war wound,” Rodger laughed, rubbing the ache. “Nothing very serious.”

Madeline had pointed to the dinner plates on the table.

“Eat your supper.”

She had left them and gone to her bedroom. From upstairs her disembodied voice rang out sharply.
“Clean up after yourselves.”

Rodger had watched his father, wondering all the while why he had wanted to make her mad.
Rodger knelt by the grave, smoothing out the dirt, then stood and spoke softly to his mother as she looked intently into his eyes.

“Remember how Dad always listened for the nine‑fifteen? Every night when the whistle blew, he’d pull out his watch. Then nod, and say, ‘She’s right on time.’ ”

Madeline did not reply right away. Massive black clouds gathered in the sky. Thunder rumbled. She looked away from Rodger, down to the grave.

“Your father was a man of habits.”

“He used to take me down to the train depot. We’d sit aboard an engine and take a short ride it in.” Rodger stopped short of telling her that it was the last time he’d gone to the train yards with his father that John had yanked him close and whispered in a low and fierce voice, as if the night had ears, ‘You do what you must, boy. Be it ditch digging or president of the United States. Don’t let anyone stop you. You do it honestly for yourself.’”

“He was a good father. And husband.” Madeline twisted her handkerchief into her hands. She stepped to Rodger and placed a hand on his arm. “You do his memory justice, son.”

Rodger understood this to be an order, not a compliment.

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

“Yes, I would like that.”

Slowly, they walked back to the car. Rodger opened the door and waited until his mother had slid into the seat, smoothed out her dress, and nodded to him before he closed the door. He flung the package in the back seat.

When he pulled into his mother’s driveway, he noticed that Ada’s porch light had been turned off. He retrieved his package and hurried into the house, hoping not to get caught by his aunt. Instead, Rachel bounded down the stairs.

“Don’t forget Captain Midnight!”

Rodger had forgotten and thought only of going home. He sighed. “I won’t.”

Madeline eyed him. “Stay for dinner. Six as usual.”

“I don’t know, Mother. I’m going to visit Adele.”

Madeline turned away and went into the kitchen. Rodger left through the back door, crossing the yard and coming through Ada’s backyard gate. He found her sitting on her patio, the kitten asleep in her lap.

“Rodger! I’m so happy to see you!” She continued stroking the little kitten as she motioned with her other hand.

“What have you got?”

“Boxing trunks. I’m going to work out at the old gym.”

Ada grinned. “Show the young bucks you still have it in you.”

“Better than ever!” Rodger dragged a chair next to hers and sat down, dropping his package onto the ground. “Ever hear anything about Big Red?”

Ada fiddled with the pins in her bun, trying vainly to catch the wisps. “No, nothing more since the night your father, Sam, and I helped him get out of town.”

She leaned over and squeezed his arm. “Awfully sorry about the way you were treated that night. None of us meant to ignore you.”

She eased back into her chair, realigning the kitten in her lap.

“I know.” As he pulled out the boxes from his pocket, “Look. It’ll go with all the silver jewelry I brought back from China for her.”

With an involuntary groan, Ada straightened up to reach over and touch the wide, silver band with five dark red rubies.

“Oh, how lovely!” She waggled her eyebrows. “Adele will be delighted. What’s this?”

“Mary Elizabeth put that in my rice dinner. On her twelfth birthday, she chose me as her future husband.” Rodger massaged his jaw, remembering. “Nearly lost a molar.” He took the bead and chain out of the box. “I bought this chain for it. Thought I’d give it to Jonelle for her twelfth birthday.”
Ada polished the chain with her fingers.

“A nice way of remembering.” The kitten stirred, stretching out its little legs, claws extended. Ada ran a hand down the length of its body. “Adele will surely love the ring, Rodger. So thoughtful of you.”

“I hope so.” He turned towards the garden. “Do you still do all the gardening by yourself?”

“Adele helped me a lot this year. Been sending a lot of produce to the ladies for the soldiers coming through Chicago.” Ada straightened a bit in her chair. “It’s a good excuse for me not to do housework.”

“But you still sew a lot, don’t you?”

“My livelihood, Rodger.”

“I remember the black silk boxing robe you made me for my seventeenth birthday. ‘THE KID’ in white satin letters across the back. Black satin trunks. I looked every bit the part of the Golden Gloves champion.”

He sighed. “I ripped a seam trying the old shorts on.” He patted his stomach. “I’ve gotten a bit bigger since then.”

Ada chuckled. “That you have.” She eased the kitten to the ground. He prowled around Rodger’s feet. “Will you have supper with me?”

“Yes.”

The humidity of the June evening pressed sweat into his skin, making Rodger itch all over. He rose from his chair and held the door for Ada as she entered the kitchen, following behind her.
“Let me help.”

“No, you sit while I get us a simple supper. I’ll slice some cheese for sandwiches and make us some soup.”

Rodger watched Ada and noticed with sadness that her movements were slow and laborious as she sliced the cheddar cheese, and she grimaced when using the can opener. He jumped up and hurried to stir the simmering soup while she made the cheese sandwiches.

Rodger took plates and bowls from the cabinet and stood beside Ada as she ladled soup and slid a sandwich upon each plate. Deftly, Rodger placed a plate on his left forearm, another in his hand, then took a soup bowl with his right, leaving Ada only one bowl to bring to the table.

After several minutes of conversation about his day at the gym, Rodger lay his half-eaten sandwich down upon the plate.

“This is just like when I was a kid and used to sit here and tell you all about everything that happened at Big Red’s gym. Gosh, those were really the best times for me.”

Ada swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, not able to reply. She too, had been remembering, which made this moment so poignant for all that had changed in their lives. She watched Rodger finish the last of his soup and started to get up.

“No, I’ll wash dishes.” He collected the plates and pan and put them in the sink under running water. Brandishing the big, blue box of New Quick Lux Flakes he turned around to face Ada, mimicking Melville Ruick, the announcer on LUXRadio Theater.

…new Quick Lux Flakes…give you suds in a second.
So fast, well, it’s almost unbelievable.
You’ll think so, too, when you pour out these delicate sheer flakes…

He spun around and sprinkled the flakes vigorously, ruffling the water and continued.

Why, turn on the water and they bubble into suds like veritable magic…

Scooping a handful of suds he rubbed his hands delicately together while looking over his shoulder.
“Oh!” he squealed, “New Quick Lux Flakes leave my hands so soft!”

Ada laughed so hard she could only gasp, “Rod—ger!”

He arched an eyebrow, intoning in his deepest voice, “And it’s thrifty! And,” he shook a sudsy finger at her, “it won’t leave a soapy film after I’m done!”

“No, it won’t,” Ada took a big breath, exhaled with a chuckle, “but you still have to rinse the dishes with hot water.”

Rodger made a show of running the hot water over the bowl and turning it from side to side for Ada’s inspection. He placed it in the dish drainer with exaggerated flourish, and then resumed his dishwashing.

“What else do you do during the day?”

“I work a little at the hospital as a nurse’s aide. I used to be a nurse, a long time ago.”

The pan slipped from Rodger’s soapy hand and clattered onto the sink board. “You?”

Ada plucked a towel from a rack and began to dry the dishes.

“Before I was married to Steve I worked full time at the same hospital your baby girl was born in.”
Rodger surveyed the kitchen with a critical eye.

“These cabinets are too high for you. You know, it would be a simple matter to let them down a few inches.” He paced around the kitchen inspecting the cabinets. “I could start on it tomorrow.”

“Oh, Rodger! That’s sweet of you, but you’ll have your hands full with Adele and the baby home.”
Ada flicked the towel at him. A faint meow outside the door let them know The Kid wanted in.

“They can come over here or go next door for a while. I’ll ask Adele.”

Ada hugged Rodger, encircling his waist. “No hurry, Rodger. See how things work out.”

Rodger glanced at his watch. “Damn! I have to run to the hospital if I’m going to see Adele and listen to that … that crazy Midnight Captain with Rachel and Heather.”

He stepped aside to let Ada open the door.

“I think it’s Captain Midnight. And go along. Would you like to use my car?” She searched in her purse, dragging out a set of keys.

“No, I’ll walk.”

He pushed away her hand with the dangling keys. “I’m in training, remember?”

“Oh, right.” She snickered. “It’ll not take you long.”

“But may I use your car to bring Adele and the baby home?”

“Of course you may.” Ada checked the clock. “Run along, mister. Kiss Adele and the baby for me.”
He sprinted out the door then turned at the gate and shouted, “I’ll be back later for my clothes. After ‘Midnight.’ ”

His gait was easy at first; then he pushed himself against the wall of humid air, forcing his legs to pump harder. The image of the two young boxers cropped up intermittently with flashbacks of Big Red. He realized as the hospital came into sight that he had left the ring and bead at Ada’s house. He slowed to a walk. He could still do three miles without much strain. He’d be in shape in no time.

The nurses greeted him with friendly waves and smiles, and a nurse’s aid called out a cheery ‘Good afternoon!’ as he strolled down the hall to Adele’s room. Next door a cart with magazines, stuffed animals and books made Rodger flash back to street vendors in China.

“Hi.” He pushed open the door and went in.

Adele looked up with a welcoming smile.

He sat on the bed, pushing Adele with his hips. “Make me some room.”

She kissed and nipped his ear. “Anything for such a sweet talker.”

He kissed her nose. “Since you insist on going AWOL tomorrow, what time am I supposed to pick you up?”

“Be here at eight. That’s the earliest I can leave, they tell me. However,” she rubbed his upper arm, “you could abduct me tonight.”

“I walked here.” He stroked her side. “I’ll come back later tonight with a car.”

Adele chortled. “Would that I could, but I should not.”

She nestled into his shoulder. “The baby.”

“Oh, yeah. Her.” Rodger scratched his head. “Rather messy getaway.”

“Just be here bright and early, all right?”

Adele sat up. “After a week and a half, I’m damn sick and tired of this place.”

“If you’re sick and tired, this is the place you’re supposed to be.” Rodger tweaked her nose.

She slapped his hand. “Not a minute after eight!”

“Honey, would you mind if I remodeled Ada’s kitchen? I think it strains her to have to reach so high.”

“Why would I mind?” Adele wrinkled her nose. “I’ll, I mean, we’ll go with you and visit.”

She added quickly, “I know it’s not supposed to be done, but I think all that stuff about staying in the hospital for two or three weeks, then not seeing anyone for the first month is a lot of hogwash. I’d like to go to Ada’s for just an hour or so. But I don’t want her waiting on us.”

Rodger hugged Adele close. The sultry night air from the opened window made them sticky with perspiration. They lay in silence, listening to the katydids chirp.

“My folks got a call through from London. Daddy says Mother feels like she hasn’t done her duty by being here to help. I guess it’s really bad over there. Daddy says the tension is so thick between them at the embassy, you could cut it up and serve it for breakfast. They’d like to come out and stay with us. One day.”

Adele played her finger along the crease in Rodger’s pants. “Probably not until after the war.”
Rodger rubbed the material of Adele’s nightgown between his fingers.

“I’ve been stationed stateside. As an instructor.”

Adele held her breath, examining his face. He smelled her sweet, peculiar odor as she exhaled, “That’s wonderful!”

Rodger stared out the window at the fireflies. “I’ll be home for another three weeks.”

“We’ll find out in short order if we’re compatible,” Adele cooed as she pressed closer into his body. “I’ll wager we are.”

“Ada was gone all night. So was Uncle Kyle. Do you think there’s a connection?”

Adele giggled. “I hope so.”

“What?” Rodger pulled away to look into her eyes. “Would you wish to perpetuate this madness on perfectly nice people?”

“You bet I would.” Adele pinched his cheek.

“Ah, damn,” Rodger cursed, checking his watch. He swung his legs off the bed. “I promised the girls I’d listen to Midnight Maniac with them.”

“Captain Midnight happens to be a very serious program about a very heroic sort of man, my dear Rodger.” Adele crossed her arms and gave him a menacing face. “You would do well to emulate our national hero.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he retorted, clicking his heels and throwing a salute to her. “I’ll do my best.” He bent close to her face. “My very best.”

“I’m sure you will. But first,” she threw her arms around his neck, “prove your good intentions.” She kissed him.

“See you and the kid in the morning.” Rodger waved a kiss as he went out the door and down the hall, stopping at the nursery window to wink at Jonelle. Once out the main hospital door, he broke into a full run. He had to do as much as he possibly could to get into shape for that boxing match. Stay light on his feet and move, move, move all of the time.

As he passed landmarks, he thought of the many lives he had lived in this town, the many people he had been. He made it to his mother’s house with five minutes to spare. He walked up and down the sidewalk until his breath evened out.

The door opened and Kyle sauntered onto the porch, drink in hand.

“Uncle Kyle!” Rodger joined his uncle on the edge of the porch. “Buy you a drink after I sit through the radio program with my sisters?”

Kyle swished the liquor around and over the ice cubes.

“Sure, Rodg. If there’s any place open.”

“There is. You just have to know where to look.” Rodger clapped him on the shoulder. “You don’t look too happy.”

Kyle motioned to the house with the drink. “Stable full of nags.”

“You know what the problem is?” Rodger leaned closer to his uncle’s face. “Bored. They’re bored.”
The clock in the hallway chimed eight. Rodger paused at the door.

“Got my orders today. Stateside. Instructor.” He turned to the darkened figure sitting on the porch swing. “I’ve put in a request for a transfer.” Rodger stayed his hand on the door knob. “Don’t mention it to anyone.”

“I’ll be here,” Kyle clinked the ice cubes against the glass. “We can catch some action later.”

Rodger stepped across the threshold of the front door, veering for the stairs as he passed the living room. He nodded briskly at his mother’s frowning face and bounded upstairs to the bedroom before his Aunt Carrie could catch him with her concern. Rachel and Heather sat in front of the radio, silent in their eagerness not to miss a word of the program. The sound of a church bell and diving airplane and the announcer introducing “Capptainn—Mid-night!” swept Rodger along with his sisters into the fantasy of a mysterious pilot and his daring deeds. When the program ended, Rodger regretted having missed out on so many of the pilot’s adventures. He patted his sisters on the head.

“You’re going to have to keep a diary on Captain Midnight for me and send me a copy once a week.”
“Oh, yes!” squealed Rachel. “We will, won’t we, Heather?”

Heather nodded vigorously. “Is it just like that, Rodger? Don’t you fly just like Captain Midnight?”
Rodger chuckled softly. “Yeah, sport. I’m almost as good as Captain Midnight.” He started to leave, then turned to them. “Except for one thing.”

Rachel and Heather both looked at him with trepidation. Rachel grabbed for Heather’s hand.
“What?” she whispered.

“I hate Ovaltine®.”

He left them giggling in his mother’s bedroom as he took the stairs two at a time. He stopped momentarily at the doorway to the living room.

“Me and Uncle Kyle are going out for a while. Won’t be long.”

“Uncle Kyle and I,” corrected Madeline, looking as if she were about to protest, but Carrie turned and cried out, “Oh, Rodgie, I’ve hardly had a moment to speak with you! Won’t you stay a minute?”

“Ah, I’d love to, but honestly, there’s a man I have to see tonight. Already late.” He reached the door. “I’ll be around tomorrow. With Adele and the baby.”

Kyle stood as Rodger closed the door.

“Oh, damn!” Rodger slumped against the porch railing. “I forgot to get the keys to the car.”

Kyle started down the steps. “No, problem.” He pulled out a set of keys from his pocket. “Ada won’t mind.”

Rodger swallowed his surprise. He pushed off the railing, following his uncle to Ada’s garage. As he climbed in the passenger’s seat, he glimpsed Ada at the kitchen sink. She appeared to be smiling back at Uncle Kyle. He turned around quickly, embarrassed to have caught their exchange.

He pressed into the seat. “Uptown and left at the bank,” Rodger instructed. Kyle sped up. “We’ll haunt some old places that I won a smoker or two in.” Kyle grunted. “Introduce you to some of Dad’s old friends.”

“Met some of John’s friends once. Not that I would want to run into them in a dark alley.”

“Yeah, Dad had some interesting friends.” Rodger lit a cigarette. “Seems he had a split personality. One for men and one for women.”

“Self‑defense, my boy.” Kyle slowed, signaling left, and then turned off the main street into the heart of colored town. “You’ll learn it’s the only way to get along.”

“Maybe.” Rodger exhaled smoke hard from his lungs. “No more of these for me, that much I know.” He threw out the cigarette. “I want to play it good and clean. Not end up with half my life lived in regrets.”

“I doubt that John had any regrets,” As the car scraped to a stop along the curb in front of Joe’s Saloon, Kyle rammed the gearshift into park. “Maybe you didn’t understand the whole of it.”

Rodger popped the handle up, swinging open the door.

“I understood enough. Enough to know that he wanted me to be free of the life he had.”

Voices from the past hailed Rodger as he walked through the door. For a moment he considered that maybe he didn’t understand “the whole of it,” as Uncle Kyle put it. People that he thought he knew so well, he didn’t.

Men, black and white, moneyed and on relief, surrounded him. Rodger laid his money on the bar and ordered two drinks. Home for now and, for a little while, with no time for him to have regrets. He’d save that for his old age.

Read all of Jacquie’s WWII adult fiction novel Forcing the Hand of God online or purchase at Amazon.com>>

The noon glare of the sun hurt Rodger’s eyes as he fumbled for his sunglasses. He settled back into the driver’s seat, contented, as he drove fast along the highway, from the lower eastside of Chicago to Wilmington. The ring box lay on the seat next to him. He glanced at it occasionally, pleased that he had thought of the perfect tokens of his love. He had enjoyed the mystified look on the jeweler’s face when he requested that Adele’s ring be engraved with two dates: their first night together and their wedding day.

He whistled, enjoying the rolling countryside as it flashed by. He pressed the accelerator, urging the Olds faster and faster, until the greens and browns blurred and the wind whipped his shirt sleeve as he gripped the side mirror with his left hand.

Pulling into the driveway, he focused on Madeline’s face as she sat on the porch swing talking with Carrie. He was forty‑five minutes ahead of schedule, which should please his mother. His aunt groaned when she saw him approach and the lawn chair shivered as she stood up.

“Goodness, it’s going to be a hot day. Madeline and I were just saying that the weather looks like it’ll last all summer. A hot one.”

Rodger started to toss his mother the car keys, but thought better of it. He stopped at the bottom step and dropped the keys into her outstretched hand.

“Thanks.”

“Rodger, if you would like the car,” she pinched the keys between her thumb and forefinger, “you could drop me off and pick me up at four.”

Rodger shook his head. “No. I can walk where I’m going.”

His aunt handed him a long, thin sheet of paper. He scanned it, folding it carefully under her watchful eyes, and pocketed it.

“I’ll take care of this.”

He understood why Kyle had to get away from this house. All these demands trapped a man.

“Rodgie,” Carrie clung to Rodger’s wrist, “I better explain a few things on that list. I was telling Madeline that you should…”

“Carrie, Rodger’s certainly capable of figuring out what needs to be done.” Madeline flicked her skirt with a finger.

“Well, all I meant was for him to be sure and take care of the first things on the list. There are some important details that if left unattended will prove very costly,” Carrie looked sharply at Madeline, “to you, in the end. And in your state of mind, you wouldn’t know what is and isn’t important right now.”

“Oh, cat’s poop, Carrie,” Madeline hissed.

Rodger slipped his wrist from his aunt’s grasp and started to back away from the two women, but Madeline stood up, raising a hand to delay him. “A letter came for you this morning. Just a minute.”
She opened the door and disappeared into the house.

Rodger smiled at his aunt, edging one foot behind the other down the stairs. “I’ll take care of things, don’t worry.”

Carrie shrugged, pursing her lips. “I understand that she’s under a lot of strain, but honestly, sometimes!” She heaved an offended sigh.

Rodger braced himself for more of his aunt’s incessant complaining when Madeline appeared in the doorway. She walked over to him and thrust the letter into his hand.

“It looks important.”

He looked at it. Government. He crushed it into his pocket, stepping away from the porch.

“Aren’t you going to open it, Rodg?” Aunt Carrie inquired sweetly.

“Later. Gotta run, ladies. Promised Adele that I’d see to a few things.” He waved to them and turned away.

Rodger could see Ada’s porch light still burning, faint in the bright sunshine. Suddenly, he felt adrift. Adele and the baby would be home tomorrow. He had all of today to be by himself. He could do as he pleased.

He walked uptown, past the Longhorn Bank where his father had worked half his life. He cut across the alley and went into colored town, the “other side” of town, past old Joe’s Saloon where his father had slipped in now and again for a drink with the people who called him “Casey John.”

He’d been scared and excited the day his father had walked him down to the gym. Rodger had pulled on his father’s coat sleeve. “How do you know these people, Dad?”

His father’s booming laugh had rung loud and clear, making people stop and wonder at the two of them.

“Used to spar a little in my day. The enginemen used to have smokers. The best of the lot would go the last fight. Four rounds, three minutes each. A really good fight lasted five or six rounds. Picked up extra spending money.” He had stopped and put a hand on Rodger’s shoulder. “Took your mother to the nicest restaurants around town on smokers’ money.”

“Why’d you quit the railroad, Dad?” Rodger insisted, tugging harder on a fistful of sleeve.

“It wouldn’t do, son. An engineman leaves his family alone too much. Made a promise to your mother that I would get my degree and find a family man’s job.”

Today, time stopped for Rodger as he walked along the sidewalk. Some of the old timers nodded. Unattended children, black and white, ran up and down the alley. Women swept concrete porches, or slouched on the steps. Rodger stopped in front of the stairway to the gym where he had trained under Big Red. Raymond Landmere. Creole. Olive‑skin and green eyes, with his auburn hair. Trainer of Kit Swenson, Jooeko, and Lefty Vine.

Thunder cracked. Rodger winced. Raindrops suddenly pelted him, making him blink. The old gym was open. He climbed the stairs.

He’d always known something was different about Big Red, something not quite white.

Nigger. Rodger hadn’t wanted it to be true. But he knew, he knew from the first day.

He hadn’t been pleased to meet Big Red that first time, just a kid of ten. One thump from that big man, and Rodger might as well have kissed the good earth good‑bye. But it had been Rodger’s introduction into the world of men. Real men.

Big Red had spoken directly to Rodger.

“First, ya gotta learn balance and feet positions.” He’d sized up Rodger like an artist would a landscape. “Can ya jump rope?”

“No! That’s sissy stuff!” Rodger had bellowed, and then had noticed, too late, several men skipping rope, crossing and uncrossing it, hopping twice on one foot and double‑timing without breaking rhythm.

Big Red had howled in amusement. “First thing, boy, ya got to get good eyes. Get ya observing what’s going on around ya. Then ya make yar move.”

Rodger followed the familiar path into the main gym where the ring and punching bags were. Several boys down on the mats labored doing push‑ups, just as he had done for Big Red. Rodger walked over to the ring and watched two guys sparring. He watched their feet, betting the one in black trunks would take a fall.

Big Red had worked him hard all of the time. Rodger had bought gym clothes and shoes and started running two miles in the morning. Ada had washed and mended his clothes so that his mother wouldn’t find out.

The young man in black trunks stumbled. The man in the red trunks swung wide and missed his mark. Rodger chuckled; thanks to Big Red he never would have made that mistake.

“What we gonna do today, boy, is dance,” Big Red had boomed. “See these here guys? They’re shadowboxin’. Look at their feet.”

Rodger had stared obediently at two sets of feet stirring sawdust.

“See anythin’ different?”

Rodger hadn’t known what he was seeing.

“Put up your hands. Ya’re gonna defend yourself.”

Rodger had faced Big Red, doubling his fists, fear quickening his already furiously beating heart. Big Red had swung, missing Rodger’s left cheek. Rodger had raised his entire right arm, and Big Red had shoved the forearm, pitching Rodger backwards.

“Yar feet, boy! If ya ain’t on yar toes, the other guy’ll knock ya for a loop.”

The young man in the black trunks, stenciled with “MT,” caught the other man “JL,” with an uppercut, but JL stayed planted on his feet. JL in red trunks rallied, catching the MT in the black shorts off‑guard. MT skidded to the side, up against the ropes.

Rodger leaned over and whispered, “You should have danced.”

“Go to—”

A stocky man, shorter than Rodger, suddenly appeared beside him. “What’s your business, mister?”
“Used to box here. I want to work out.”

“Jesus, man, I can’t send you up against these young men. They’re fast. And mean.”

Rodger threw back his head and roared. “Give me a week. I’ll take on the young man in the red trunks. Or black.” Rodger stared the man down. “Or both.”

“Pretty damn sure of yourself.” The trainer squinted, his leathery skin cracking around unfriendly eyes. The two men in the ring sneered. “All right, you’re on. Five bucks for use of the equipment.”

Rodger took out his wallet and handed the man a five-dollar bill.

“How early and how late?”

“I get here about five a.m. I leave whenever I feel like going home.” He shoved the money into his pocket. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Rodger Brown.” He extended his hand to the other man.

“Shorty Walker.” He eyed Rodger, and then snapped his fingers. “The Kid!” He cocked an eyebrow. “You had style.”

“Can I use a locker?”

“Hey, Reb! Show this man where he can hang his clothes!” Shorty waved over a young, muscular, black man who carried himself like a fighter—straight, sure and proud.

Rodger followed him, noticing the rippling, bulging back muscles glistening with sweat. Wordlessly, Reb pointed to the locker nearest the end wall.

“Thanks.” Rodger nodded as Reb turned to leave. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Sure, Pop.”

Rodger flexed and tensed his arms, working out the ache in his shoulder. Twenty-four and an old man among these young bucks. He inhaled deeply of the sweat and blood odors of other men. He went to his locker and opened it, staring at the empty interior; he would have to shop for clothes today. He had better get a move on.

But he lingered, wondering whatever had happened to his friend and partner, Manny. He and Manny had been so tight. All in training for the Big One, the Golden Gloves. Damn, they hadn’t even been aware that Big Red had had his own problems. He never showed any concern for himself.

One morning had been an omen of change when Manny had given Rodger a run for his money. Manny had been in control, coming into his punches and blocking the frontal strikes. Rodger had tightened up his elbows, drawing them into his body like Big Red had taught him. He had dodged Manny’s superior left hook and planted a firm, right jab for a knockdown. Then he had pulled off his helmet and given Manny a hand up just as Big Red had leaped into the ring.

Big Red had grabbed Rodger’s gloved hands and brutally jerked them together so that Rodger’s shoulders curved.

“Save the good posture for church.” Rodger had just stood there staring. “If Manny had been that much faster,” Big Red’s fingers snapped under Rodger’s nose, “he’d a plowed ya under. Hunch them shoulders. Keep them fists up.” He slapped at Rodger’s elbows. “You gotta remember what I say if ya want the Golden Gloves, boy!”

Manny had edged over to the corner of the ring, standing with his arms folded across his chest, watching Big Red and Rodger. When Big Red had climbed out of the ring, Rodger moved over to stand beside Manny.

Manny playfully punched his shoulder and winked. “Woman trouble, I bet.”

Rodger had never seen Big Red with any women. And to think he had been Dee’s mother’s husband! He had idolized Big Red. It could have worked so easily, with Big Red loving Katie Simmons and Rodger loving Dee. The memory of Dee, though he could not recall her face in detail, awakened a longing in him. To right old wrongs. He looked around the locker room, a world of its own right and wrong. He slammed the locker shut. Taking out the government envelope, he sat on a bench and tore it open.

Orders. He was reassigned to Kelly Field, San Antonio, Texas. As an instructor. Carefully, he folded it and put in his shirt pocket. He tapped his pants pocket, reassured at the feel of the jeweler’s boxes; the ring for Adele and gold chain with Mary Elizabeth’s bead for Jonelle. He had made no promises to anyone—yet.

As he retraced his way from colored town to Fazio’s, the only department store in Wilmington, he thought of all the immediate tasks he must do. He left the store forty minutes later, and headed for the Longhorn Bank, swinging the sack with his new trunks and shoes and the rest in time with his steps.

He stood in line, waiting for the older teller, Alice, to beckon him forth. She did not recognize him at first, but the second time she peered over her half‑bifocals, she gave out a little surprised shriek.
“Rodger Brown!” She grasped his hand in her wrinkled one, the rubber finger stop pressing wetly into his skin.

“You don’t look a day older than when I left, Miss Alice!” Rodger leaned into the window, close to her ear. “Thought I’d stop by to say hello.”

“I’m so glad you did! Just a minute.” She pushed him away, shutting the window and moving down at the end of the teller boxes. “Come on back here and sit a spell with me.”

Rodger followed her to his father’s unoccupied desk. She motioned to the chair behind the desk. He sat, easing his package down onto the floor.

“My, I’ve heard so much about you, Rodger!” Miss Alice clapped her hands together, oblivious to the blackened rubber finger. “Your father was very proud of you. It’s so sad he couldn’t have seen your little girl.”

Rodger blushed, thinking how fast news travels in a small town like Wilmington. He took a pen from the stand and played the quill feather through his fingers. “Did you ever marry that rogue, Mr. Crane?”

“Mercy, no, Rodger! He was just a gentleman friend.”

Alice touched her hair self consciously and Rodger knew she was pleased he had remembered.
“Still winning first prize at the fair for your blackberry jam?”

“Well, few years ago I did. But with the war and all, things have changed around here.” She peered over her shoulder at the line forming in the bank’s lobby.

Rodger cleared his throat. “Mind if I use Dad’s old typewriter? There’s a letter I need to get out.”
“If you wait, I can type it for you on my break. It wouldn’t be but a few minutes.”

Rodger opened a bottom drawer and took out two sheets of his father’s embossed stationary.
“I can have it done in a jiff, Miss Alice. If it’s all right?”

“Oh, my, yes! Come see me before you leave.” She jumped up and hurried back to her box.
Rodger scooted the chair over to the Underwood manual typewriter and, using his first and middle fingers, pecked out a formal request for a transfer. He addressed the envelope and sealed it. Pushing his heels along the carpet, he maneuvered the chair back in place, quietly shut the drawer, and picked up his package. He stood in line again until Miss Alice waved him forward.

“All done. Thanks. Drop by the house and see the baby.”

“Do you have a name for her?” whispered Miss Alice.

“Jonelle.” He restrained her with an upraised finger. “Just Jonelle Brown.”

“It’s a very pretty name.” Miss Alice slid a stamp toward him. “I’ll mail it for you tonight if you leave it with me.”

“You’re a doll.” Rodger winked and gave her hand a pat. “See you soon, Miss Alice.”

For the exercise, he took the long route past the cemetery before heading home. He noticed his mother’s car parked by the gate. He hesitated, torn between the solitude of his own house and his obligation to his mother. He found her by the grave.

Madeline turned to him, dry‑eyed, as he came by her side.

“I’ve taken care of the head stone,” she said. “You can cross that off Carrie’s list. Did you open that letter yet?” They stared at one another in silence until she pointed at his package. “What have you got there?”

“Boxing trunks and stuff. Got to get back into shape.” He cleared his throat. “Got my orders.” He pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it. “Stateside for a while.”

Madeline nodded, pleased. Then she frowned. “Is it necessary to go,” she motioned toward colored town, “back there?”

“Yes.” Rodger stepped closer to his father’s grave. He thought of the night he had won his first smoker.

He had gotten a cut over his eye. As his father’s large hand had smoothed over it protectively, Rodger had boasted, “That redneck lasted only a minute in the third. I took my eyes off of him only once.”
His father’s face had crinkled in amusement. “Want to play a joke on your mother? She’ll find out about you in the ring tonight for sure. We might as well be the first to let her know about you boxing.”

Withdrawing a thick, heavy-lead pencil and a long string of cotton, his Dad had worked on the eye. Then with some tape and a little purple ink on his cheek, Rodger had worn the magnificent appearance of a battered man.

“I’m gonna tell her it was a nigger that wamped me. That’ll get her going.”

His mother had played her part as well as any actress. She had screeched her face a wrathful red, lunged forward and shaken his father’s coat sleeve with the evangelical strength of an outraged missionary.

“John Brown, you stop this savagery once and for all! I’ll not be humiliated and the family name dragged through the bars and mouths of every common laborer and nigger. Do you understand?”
His father had given away the joke first, unable to hide his grin. Mid-sentence, Madeline had stopped and turned to Rodger. He had pulled out the packed cotton from inside his mouth, slowly balling it up in his hand. He had pressed the wad against his cheek and wiped off some of the mask.

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Everyone shifted to the kitchen, but Kyle, drink in hand, and Carrie behind him, continued on through the kitchen. Kyle held the door wide for Carrie who stood sideways eyeing the table as she lectured her brother on the finer points of letter writing. The table had been set with everyday dinnerware, except for Madeline’s heirloom cut glass bread plate and pressed glass butter dish. She had fixed Rodger a plate of roast beef, bread, and hot vegetables with cold sliced tomatoes.

Heather crammed meat and peas into her mouth, while Rachel separated the peas and corn into piles and lined the slices of meat up in a row. Rodger tensed, waiting for his mother to scold both girls for their breech of manners. Instead, she placed her hand on top of Rachel’s hand holding the fork and stilled her.

“Rachel, eat a bite of each vegetable and one slice of beef. Heather,” she smiled at Heather, “please drink your milk slowly so you won’t have an upset stomach later.”

Rodger ate in silence until Madeline began clearing the dishes. He looked up directly into her eyes and swallowed hard.

“Mother, I just want you to know that I really do appreciate all that you’ve done for Adele.”

Madeline took a step back and cocked her head before she stammered. “Really, Rodger, I’ve not done half as much as she has for me.”

She picked up another plate and stacked flatware. “Everyone has done a lot for me since your father died. I just want to keep myself together for Rachel and Heather.”

Rodger rose and went to stand beside her, adding a fork and spoon to the plate.

“I know it’s not easy, Mother,” he fumbled for words to fit his emotions, “but we’ll all get by day by day. That’s how any of us survive.”

Madeline heaved a wrenching sob, the flatware rattled on the dishes as she sat them upon the table. She waved Rodger away.

“Just give me a minute, please.”

Surprising himself, he reached for her and pulled her to him in an awkward one-armed hug. She pressed her forehead lightly against his shoulder and rested without speaking. After a few minutes, she took a step away and turned to address the girls.

“Rachel and Heather, you may go to my room and turn on the radio. Mind you, I don’t want to hear it down here.”

The girls scampered out of the kitchen, through the living room and up the stairs. Rodger sat again at his place at the table, bemused by his mother and her brother. Kyle stood against the back door and, with a wave of his drink, refused Madeline’s offer of food. Aunt Carrie had left Kyle outside to come sit at the table with Rodger, picking at the stray vegetables on his plate. Rodger slapped together a sandwich and ate, listening to those around him.

Aunt Carrie, her mouth full of tomato, begged Madeline, “You must talk some sense into your boy. Jonelle is a beautiful name, but you must give her a middle name. Why, that poor little thing’ll have a peck of troubles with no middle name. Just last week I was talking with a lady from Sommerset about her niece who named her baby—”

“Carrie!” barked Madeline. “That’s between husband and wife.”

“I personally like the name,” interjected Kyle, coming in the door and sitting across from Rodger at the table.

Rodger, chewing loudly to annoy his aunt, looked gratefully at his uncle.

“It’s not the name, it’s the principle!” huffed Carrie. Rodger cleared his throat. “It’s a silly issue for Rodger to be so stubborn about.”

Wearily, Madeline sat down at the head of the table.

“I think it’s very nice that he named her after John. And who else?” She looked off in the distance, tapping the table top. “I remember! Adele’s friend who was killed.”

“Well, if you ask me, it’s creepy, giving a baby that much of dead folks’ memories.”

Madeline laughed, the sound tinkling like icicles breaking in the wind. Rodger smiled at her, sipping on his drink.

“And what of family names, sister? Aren’t those in memory of ‘dead folks’?”

“That’s different,” Aunt Carrie grumbled. Her hands flagged the air. “Family traditions are important!”

Rodger swallowed the last of his sandwich.

“Couldn’t agree more! That’s why we’re starting our own traditions.” He pushed his plate closer to Aunt Carrie.

While she nibbled on the leftovers, Kyle set his glass down on the countertop then walked out of the kitchen. Rodger heard the front door whisper shut. He listened, interested. He could pick out the humming of a car engine. Madeline and Carrie talked on, their voices rolling over his head.
Rodger felt all of his energy drain from him like an oil leak. Unlike a mission completed, he felt no victory or sense of belonging here. He wondered about Kyle leaving; maybe he’d gone next door to see Ada. Could be something between them, could not be something between them. Maybe he should just go on home and not disturb them. He might sleep tonight. Without pain. Without nightmares. Sweet dreams.

He checked his watch. Before it was too late, he’d go by Ada’s house.

Rodger caught his mother watching him. He’d been surprised by how easy he felt around her. Then, in a lull of the conversation, she tilted her head to one side and leaned toward him.

“I’d like you to have something. I’ll be right back.” She rose, stately like a queen, turning at the doorway. “You might say good night to Rachel and Heather. They’re in their room.”

As Rodger stood, Carrie grabbed his right arm.

“You must see about a few of the details your mother hasn’t been able to tend to. Tomorrow.”

“Sure, Aunt Carrie. Why don’t you make me a list?” Rodger placed his hand on hers, lifted it off his arm, giving it a firm squeeze, then moved quickly away.

His aunt smiled smugly as she got up and plodded to where his mother kept stationery and pen. Suddenly, Rodger heard her groan.

“Aunt Carrie, are you all right?” Rodger paused from the bottom of the stairs and peered around the hall doorway.

“Oh, Rodgie, don’t worry yourself over me. Nothing but a touch of arthritis.” She beamed at him. “It’s so sweet of you to care.”

Rodger flashed a quick smile, then bolted up the stairs. I’m sure she’d remind me if I didn’t care, he thought. He poked his head into his sisters’ room. They scurried from the doorway and each hopped into a bed.

“Good night, rascals. Don’t forget our date tomorrow.”

They giggled. Heather, in a small voice, called out, “Please, Rodger, a kiss.”

Rodger hesitated, and then went in, standing between the two twin beds and bending to give each a quick peck on the forehead. “Say your prayers and go to sleep.”

“We will, Rodger,” whispered Rachel.

As Rodger walked down the hallway, he saw Madeline standing at the threshold of her bedroom. Rodger walked slowly over to her, stepping inside the room. She fumbled with something in her hands.

In the awkward silence between them, his mother stared at a gold watch and fob.

“Here,” she offered, “take it. Your father wanted you have it.”

The watch dangled in front of him. He didn’t move.

“I don’t want it, Mother, if you’d rather keep it,” he said gently.

“No, no,” she murmured. “I have enough memories and such.” Tears fell from her eyes sprinkling the bodice of her dress. “He wanted his grandson to have it.”

Rodger reached out and took the watch, unlacing the chain from her fingers.

“Thanks. I’ll save it for him.”

“You might want to,” she stammered, “to have it for yourself.” She wiped the tears away and looked directly into his eyes. “It doesn’t matter if it’s passed on or not. Grandsons, granddaughters.”

Rodger shrugged, not knowing what to reply.

“Can’t believe I’ve got a kid. It hasn’t sunk in yet.” He straightened, his back cracking. “I’m beat.”

He cleaned his teeth with his tongue.

“Where’d Uncle Kyle go?”

Madeline’s eyes narrowed. “He comes and goes. I don’t ask because it’s none of my business.”

“Right, we’ll leave that to Auntie.” Rodger rolled his eyes, eliciting a grin from Madeline. “You don’t mind my using your car? I’d like to go to Chicago. Get something special for Adele.” He smoothed the watch in the palm of his hand, and then slipped it into his pants pocket.

“I’ll have it late tomorrow afternoon.” Madeline’s forehead furrowed. “No, never mind. I’ll make other arrangements.”

Rodger blew air bubbles, which used to annoy his mother, but tonight she gave him a half-smile and shake of the head. “No, I don’t want to inconvenience you. I’ll be back around noon or little after.”
“Rodger,” Madeline stopped him with a tug at his arm, “please keep the car and use it. I don’t really want to drive.”

“Well, Aunt Carrie’s making me a list of things I should take care of.” Rodger waggled his eyebrows, “I’ll need to be here early, I’m sure.”

Madeline nodded, releasing him. “You need to go home and get some sleep.” She cast a quick glance at her big bed. “You’ve had a busy day.”

He felt sorry for her, after thirty‑two years, to be without her husband, but he couldn’t imagine his mother lonely for a man. It didn’t suit her.

“Good night, Mother. Call me, if you need anything.” He turned away from her and started for the stairs. “Anytime. I’m used to service hours.” He gave a parting wave.

As he stepped out onto the porch, he called, “’Night, Aunt Carrie. See you tomorrow.”

He quickly shut the door and leaped over the steps onto the walk. He took long strides, stretching his legs, swinging his arms loosely by his side until came to an abrupt stop at Ada’s gate. He checked his wristwatch; twenty‑two fifteen. Ada’s house was dark, except for the porch light. That meant only one thing. She was gone, out for the night.

Rodger rubbed the stubble on his chin. It just might be. Maybe. But an odd couple, the two of them.

Rodger looked up then down the sidewalk, remembering as a kid overhearing gossip in town about Ada and Sam. He’d thought it unlikely, then, because he knew Ada so well.

He went out to the car, welcoming the cool touch of the car’s upholstery against his strained muscles as he climbed in the driver’s seat. He glanced once more to Ada’s empty house. He might have jumped to conclusions. He turned over the engine. Would Adele know anything? Just how the hell could he ask her about Kyle and Ada? A chuckle rose in his throat and just as suddenly choked him. So many things he didn’t know for sure anymore.

A familiar ache returned as he entered his own house. The part of him that was hollow could never be filled with people. He gently placed his father’s watch on the bureau and undressed. God, it never changed for him, this relentless need to be free. He wished he could get the hell out of here and fly.

Weariness rolled over his entire body. He stretched out on top of the bed covers as sleep crashed down on him. A dreamless night, a reprieve.

In the morning, he awoke refreshed. He hummed to himself, anticipating a day in the city. He took a small box of loose Burmese rubies and a pure silver band that he had bought for Adele in China from beneath the socks in his dresser drawer and examined them, thinking that he would find a jeweler and have something made with them. As he shaved, he laid out the plans for his day.

A solo flight, there and back. Just a routine mission. At thirteen hundred hours, he’d be back in town. With presents in hand. Just an everyday hero, he thought sourly as he locked the front door behind him. He shielded his eyes from the glaring morning sun, plucking his sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on.

Everyday, six days a week, fair and foul weather, his father had walked to work. He shook free of the memories. He was only his father’s son. Not an imitation of the man. And at last, he thanked him for that.

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Rodger eased the car into his driveway and cut the engine. Their house looked at once inviting and strange. He slumped back into the seat. Tired. He was so tired.

The front door lock jammed. Rodger pressed his forehead against the door and sighed, then jiggled the key until the lock slipped. He eyed the kitchen but just thinking of food made him queasy. Later, he muttered.

He stripped off his clothes and lay down on the bed. He rubbed his hand along the ridges of the scar on his shoulder and pictured Adele laughing and crying as she held their newborn. He whispered to her, “I’m healed. It’s only a scar now.” Then he fell into the comfort of deep sleep.

In the dim light of dawn, he awoke with a start filled with a sickening dread of having left part of himself somewhere else. His watch read O-six-hundred-five. He showered and dressed to go see Adele and their new baby daughter.

He had an agonizing moment of disorientation when he came through the front doors of the hospital.
The smell.

“Christ! These places all smell alike!”

A passing orderly stopped. “Sir?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Rodger waved him on, turning to the receptionist. “What room is Mrs. Brown in?”

“Two‑twenty‑two. Down the hall and to your right.”

As he passed the nursery window, Rodger peered in, squashing his face against the glass. “Baby Brown,” the name tag, prominent on the outside of the bassinet, was the third from the left in the front row. A nurse motioned that she would pick her up. Rodger shook his head, tossed the woman an off‑hand salute, and moved on down to Adele’s room.

Rodger slipped into the room, his hand bracing the door as it closed. Adele lay semi-reclined, propped up by wadded pillows, her eyes shut and her honey‑colored hair spilling over the pillows. She opened her eyes and smiled.

“You just missed the crowd.” She pointed to an array of white and pink flowers.

“Oh, damn, I forgot!” Rodger frowned at the flowers. “I wanted to bring you some, too.”

“But I don’t need any more.” She patted a place on the bed beside her. “Come sit with me for a while.”

He waved in the general direction behind him. “You did one hell of a job in there.” He kissed her forehead. “I was so proud of you.”

“Everything worked out for the best, as it turns out. Dr. Adams had ordered some medication, but my labor went too fast. The nurse said it was better not to have any medication if I wanted to nurse right away.”

Rodger jumped to his feet. “You’re not going to are you?”

Adele folded her hands, placed them squarely over her abdomen. Her face set, eyebrows pinched together.

“Women have done it for centuries, Rodger. It’s perfectly natural.”

Rodger paced in a small circle at the foot of the bed.

“But I won’t be able to help with the night feedings if you do that.”

Adele’s eyebrows shot up. “I would never have thought of that!” She eyed him suspiciously.

“Does this mean you won’t re-enlist?”

Rodger shifted from one foot to the other.

“No.” He looked away from her probing stare.

“I want to help.”

“All right, Rodger. I’ll nurse her for the first three or four days.”

“Why even start?”

“Because. It’s better for both of us.” Adele stared him down. “Ask your mother to explain.”

Rodger made a face at her. Adele laughed, holding out her hand for him to take. He grabbed it and pulled himself down so that he could kiss her on the lips.

“Have you had the baby here with you yet?”

“Yes,” Adele whispered reverently. “She’s so tiny! So perfect!” She kissed his knuckles, one by one. “We have to name her.”

“Yeah. I was just thinking of that.” He rubbed her hand between the two of his. “It’s not easy coming up with a name.”

“I was so sure it was a boy.” Her look held uncertainty.

“Are you sorry?”

“No, are you?” Her grip tightened.

“Uncle Kyle says little girls are nice. But when they grow up…!”

Adele leaned forward; Rodger could hear the sharp intake of a breath. He shook his head.
“Hell, I’m so glad she’s alive!”

Adele relaxed. “Ada said there was some doubt. Did you know?”

Rodger looked away. “I knew.”

“You didn’t show it. Maybe a little when you didn’t eat much.” She squeezed his hand, “I thought you didn’t like my cooking.”

Suddenly, hunger pangs made him aware he was hungry. Ravenous. “When I go see Mother, she’ll feed me. I suppose everyone will be over there.”

“I think so.” Adele shrugged, shaking her head as if arranging her thoughts. She looked pale as she spoke in a wispy voice. “Your mother was telling me there’s a family history of names. Do you have a favorite?”

“No.” Rodger dropped Adele’s hand and stood up. “I hate all that nonsense about family history. We’re all born with new blood in us.”

“How about ‘Joan’?” Adele worked the sheet into a knot. “Or ‘Samantha’?”

Rodger watched the traffic from the window. Something Ada had said a long time ago. Love comes back in many forms. “You said you’d name your daughter after Ellen. Remember?”

“That could be her middle name.”

“How about Jonelle? And no middle name.”

“Jonelle, Jonelle Brown,” Adele repeated the name in a singsong. “But she’s got to have a middle name. Everyone does.”

“She doesn’t have to have anything,” Rodger growled, immediately regretting it. “It’ll help build her character if she’s not like everyone else.”

Adele frowned. She tugged at the blanket, wadding it into a larger knot.

“You know, you can be a bully. The kid doesn’t stand a chance with you as her father.”

“Oh, I don’t know. She beat the first odds just being born.” He touched Adele’s cheek. “She’s got you.”

“Jonelle Brown.” Adele scrunched up her face. “Jonelle Elizabeth Brown?”

“Nah. Sounds too poetic.”

The nurse tapped on the door. “All visitors must leave.”

He bent close and kissed her, prolonging the touch of their lips until the tapping resounded on the door.

He whispered in her ear, “’When I look into your eyes, I fall in love with you.’”

Seeing her smile, he smiled.

“See you later. Get some rest.”

“You, too, Rodger. Eat something tonight. You need to take of yourself.”

“I will.” He hugged her, kissed her again, and slipped out the door where he met the nurse coming down the hall.

“Mr. Brown, would you sign the birth certificate, please?”

“Certainly.”

Rodger stopped at the desk and took the form. He noted Jonelle’s birth weight, seven pounds, fourteen ounces, and time of arrival, two‑forty five, July 19, 1943. Attending physician was Dr. Adams.

Not quite true, he fumed. What the hell was the nurse’s name? He couldn’t remember. Let it go. On the line for a name, he penned “Jonelle Brown.” The nurse took the form and scanned it.

“What a pretty name! But, sir, you forgot the middle name. This is an official record so it must be complete.”

“I didn’t forget, nurse.” Rodger winked at her and was out the door before she could stop him.

He debated whether or not to go to his mother’s house. So many people would be there. He couldn’t very well call and just ask for Kyle. He’d have to make it through the whole evening with the family before he’d get away for a drink with his uncle and talk about flying. There was a hollow spot inside of him, part of him that needed to fly. He wanted to be back in his arena, the sky. Doing his job. His uncle understood that; he doubted anyone else in his family did.

He stood several minutes by his car staring at the nearly empty parking lot, unwilling to make a choice. This part of the world had forgotten about the war, it seemed, and simply went on living and dying.

“This town could eat a man alive,” he said aloud, flinging himself into the seat of the car. He shook his head, freeing himself of his gloom and drove to his mother’s house.

Madeline greeted him at the door, dressed in a pale blue a-line dress and her make-up perfect. She pulled him into the living room where Aunt Carrie, Rachel, Heather, Ada, and Kyle all sat. It occurred to Rodger that his mother was an attractive woman, and always had been with her clear complexion and sparkling blue eyes, although her face had a fine webbing of lines hinting at her age.
Ada sat encircled by his younger sisters, deep into a merry conversation. Her printed dress, cinched by a snug-fitting belt, reminded him of how she seemed forever the same, just as she looked to him now.

“Hey.” Rodger nodded to Kyle to get him a drink.

“We saw the baby!” squealed Heather, running to him.

“Only through the glass,” corrected Rachel. “And only a little of her face.”

Ada smoothed Heather’s curly hair, the ringlets popping up as her hand passed over each one.
“Did you pick out a name?”

“Jonelle.” Rodger clinked glasses with Kyle.

“Oh, how sweet!” Aunt Carrie lumbered across the room, displacing her brother to be at Rodger’s side. “And her middle name?”

“None. She’s Jonelle Brown.”

“Oh, no! That’ll never do!” Carrie clucked like a distraught hen. “Just think of all the trouble she’ll have with papers and such in school!”

“Oh, honestly, Carrie,” Madeline snapped. “It’s not important!”

Rodger couldn’t respond. His mother had said that.

“I think it’s—” Kyle started, but Carrie cut him off.

“Mind you, she’ll not thank you for this!” she admonished, wagging a finger in Rodger’s face.
Rodger looked over to his mother. “I’m hungry. Do you suppose I could get something to eat?”

“Of course.” Madeline started for the kitchen. “I’ll be just a few minutes.”

“Anything, Mother, would be fine. Make it simple!” he shouted after her.

Ada rose from the couch and came to him. “That’s a lovely choice of a name. How is Adele? Is she resting?”

“Yes. She wanted to name the baby after you.” Rodger winked at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his aunt stiffen.

Ada swallowed her chuckle. “Too many of us old birds around as is.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Good night. Drop by tomorrow.”

“I will.”

Ada left, and the conversation closed in again, tightening around him. Rachel pulled at his left arm.
“Rodger, have you heard of Captain Midnight? He’s on station WGN at five-forty-five. Mother lets us listen. You’d like him.”

“He’s a pilot! Just like you!” Heather’s smile exposed the gap where her front teeth were just coming in. “Mother’s going to send off for our very own secret decoder ring.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “That’s kid’s stuff. But I think you might like the adventure.”

Rachel looked exactly like John had when he used to try and coax them into something.

“Maybe tomorrow night. In fact,” he tweaked Rachel’s nose, “it’s a date.”

Both girls clapped. Madeline called from the kitchen.

“Girls! Rodger! Come to supper.”

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