Remembering Dresden (Jack Turner Suspense Series Book 2) (7 page)

He was startled by the sound of footsteps on the front porch. He looked over and saw a shadow glide by through the shears in one of the front windows. He opened the door revealing a man just about to knock. Jack was shocked to see the man holding a rifle in the other hand. He wore denim overalls and a T-shirt, a baseball cap and a scraggly beard.

“Whoa,” the man said, putting his hand down. He looked Jack up and down. “Guess you don’t look like an intruder.”

“I’m not,” Jack said. “I’m renting the place, just for the month.”

“Really? Senator Wagner doesn’t normally rent the place out, as a rule.”

“Senator Wagner?”

The man’s face grew serious. “Maybe you are an intruder then.”

“No, I’m really not.”

“Then how come you don’t know the Senator?”

Jack thought a minute. The name sounded familiar. “Is Senator Wagner…the owner?”

“Now how come you don’t know that?”

“Maybe because I have never spoken to the man. I rented this cabin from a realtor who’s managing the property for an owner, who I’ve never met. I’m guessing that’s Senator Wagner. But I can assure you, I am not an intruder. I even have the rental agreement. It’s probably in my brief bag over there by the table. I’d be happy to show it to you.”

The man didn’t answer for a moment. Just stood there staring at Jack, sizing things up. He finally said, “Would’ve been nice if the Senator had a-told me he was gonna start renting the place out.”

“I’m not sure he is, Mister…” Jack extended his hand.

“Bass. The name’s Bass. Yeah, just like the fish. Gave me all kinds of grief growin’ up.” He shook Jack’s hand.

“I’m Jack, Jack Turner. You can call me Jack. I teach military history at Culpepper.”

“You teach at Culpepper? Shouldn’t I be calling you Professor?”

Now there was an interesting question, one Jack had wrestled with ever since he’d taken over Professor Thornton’s job. That’s what the students called him. But it didn’t feel right to Jack. He didn’t have his PhD yet. That’s why he was out here, to work on that. “You can just call me Jack. Would you like to come in a minute, Mr. Bass?”

“You can drop the Mister. Bass is fine. No, I gotta git. I just come over to make sure you’re on the up and up. Senator Wagner sends me a check every month to keep an eye on the place. Writes ‘Security’ in the memo. So I guess you could say I’m a security guard. He’s hardly ever out here. Wants to make sure vagrants don’t break in and that college kids don’t use it for a party.”

“So you live out here year round?”

“Been living out here every year since I was about your age.”

Jack figured that had to mean at least the last thirty years.

“I been here since old man Wagner owned the place. He came here—what was it, the early nineties? Only lived out here several months of the year back then. Well, not here exactly. There’s a shack down the lake a-ways. He lived in that till this cabin was built. Then he lived here all the time near the end. Passed it onto his son when he died, I guess. That’s the one that pays me, the son. Old man Wagner wasn’t from around here.”

“You mean Culpepper?”

“No. I mean this country. Had some kind of accent. You could understand him okay, but it was some kind of European accent. Sounded a bit like that big muscular fella, you know the actor who became a governor?”

“Arnold Schwarzenegger?” Jack said.

“That’s the one. Old man Wagner sounded a bit like him when he talked. Of course, he wasn’t all muscle-bound like Schwarzenegger. But I gotta tell you, he had his own way of intimidating people, if you know what I mean.”

Jack did not.

“Old man Wagner wasn’t friendly like his son is. The few times I talked with him, he’d barely say anything in reply. He was a strange one. Had this fierce look in his eyes. I was a younger man then, bigger than I am now. Linebacker in high school if you can believe it. Wasn’t afraid-a nothing. But if I’m being honest, I was afraid-a him. Made me feel like he’d snap my neck if I crossed him. So, I pretty much left him alone, and he left me alone. And we got along just fine after that.”

“You remember when he died, the old man?” Jack didn’t know why he was asking these kinds of questions. It was none of his business.

“Old man Wagner’s been dead a good while. Ten, maybe fifteen years. Don’t remember exactly when. Had some kind of bad stroke. Almost felt sorry for him, seeing what it did to him there at the end. Killed him slow. He just wasted away, sitting out here all by himself for the most part. The son hired nurses to look after him the last few years. They didn’t live out here. Came out most every day there at the end.” Bass looked around, then up at the sky. “Anyway, I better move on before I lose all the light. Gotta get home, exchange this rifle for my fishing pole.” He smiled. “Fishing’s great on this lake, by the way, if you wanna join me some time.”

“Maybe,” Jack said. “Thanks for the offer.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fished.

“Well, I better git. Glad you weren’t an intruder. Would a-hated to have to shoot ya. You need me, just head west through the woods a bit. I’m the next place over.” He smiled and walked off the porch the way he came.

Jack closed the door. So…Mr. Bass would become his permanent neighbor if Jack bought the place. Should he put the checkmark for that in the pro or con column? He walked toward the living area, mostly thinking about the things Bass had said about old man Wagner. Had to be some kind of a story there. A moment ago, this cabin was just a cozy little place on a quiet lake. Now, it had some history.

Hmmm. Old man Wagner.

He may have been dead for decades, but Jack was all about history. He loved snooping into stories about interesting old guys who’d been dead for decades.

The following morning, Jack decided he would head outside and enjoy this fresh air, but first he wanted to improve the quality of the air inside the cabin. Last evening and all the way until bedtime, he’d noticed how musty and stale it felt in here. Another evidence the cabin hadn’t been used in a while was the little dust cloud that lifted off the braided, oval throw rug in the living room whenever he walked across it. The same thing happened with the rug upstairs in the loft.

He carefully grabbed both throw rugs, brought them outside and laid them across the wood railing. He’d found a broom in the pantry, brought it out and started whacking them. Kept it up until no more dust came out. The porch quickly filled with a thick gray cloud. He had to step off it every thirty seconds or so to catch his breath. Then he used the broom to break up the dust cloud, get it moving out into the yard. That accomplished, he opened up all the downstairs windows.

Now he could relax. He walked his coffee out to the fire pit facing the lake, sat in one of the adirondack chairs. A few charred logs had been left in it from the last time it had been used. He guessed maybe a year. He didn’t notice what time it was, but judging by the lack of mist on the water and the height of the sun, it was after nine. On these writing retreats, he generally ignored bedtimes and wake up alarms. That was part of their charm.

He could get used to this view, that’s for sure. The water was a soothing dark blue, a nice contrast to the sky. The properties that bordered this part of the lake were set on rolling hills. Enough trees that he could see only a few traces of the other cabins. Except for the boat docks sticking out here and there, he could feel he had the lake all to himself.

Tapping an icon for a Bible app on his iPad, he spent the next few minutes reading the Proverb for the day. Something he’d done off and on through the years. Most months had thirty to thirty-one days and there were thirty-one chapters in Proverbs. Made it easy to know which one to read.

A singular theme emerged in today’s chapter that had to do with the wisdom of listening to others and getting counsel before making decisions. That seemed to confirm something he did last night before turning in. The main reason he was out here was to settle on the topic for his doctoral dissertation. Then to hammer out the basic outline. If possible, maybe even write the first few chapters.

As he’d told Rachel on the phone yesterday, he had narrowed the list down to three choices. She said she’d come out here and see him once he’d narrowed it down to one. Last night, Jack had crafted an email to send out to his students at Culpepper. Not all of them, just the ones who’d taken two or more of his classes the past year.

He’d explained his dilemma and asked for their help. He listed the three topics, wrote an intro paragraph to each and asked them two questions:

1. Which of these three subjects would interest you the most
   ?
   
2. Which of these three do you know the least about
   ?
   

He wasn’t looking for them to make the decision for him. He just wanted to see if the majority of students would pick the same topic he was leaning toward already. Setting his coffee mug on the little table in between the chairs, he tapped on the email app to see how many of them had responded.

His inbox was filled with responses already.

Over the next forty-five minutes, he read through them all and tallied up the votes. It wasn’t unanimous but something close. A clear majority had selected the Dresden topic as their main choice for both questions. That was the topic he had been leaning toward, too.

So it was official: he would write his doctoral dissertation on the Dresden bombings in World War II. He picked up his coffee, which had now grown cold, and headed back into the cabin to get his cell phone.

When he picked it up from the dinette table, he realized he’d forgotten to eat breakfast. There was the frozen breakfast meal unopened, sitting on the table. The box felt plenty cold, so he popped it in the microwave. Before hitting the start button he decided to call Rachel first.

Walking over to the recliner in the living room, he plopped down and tapped the screen to start the call. It rang three times. “Hey, Rachel. Can’t believe I got you, first try.”

“Am I that hard to reach?”

“In the mornings you are. Sometimes.”

“Well, you know I’ll always pick it up if it’s you, unless I’m in class. So, how was your first night in the cabin? Anything go bump in the night?”

Jack laughed. “No, but I got spooked by an owl for a few minutes. Till I figured out it was an owl. It is pretty dark out here. I just came in from that fire pit I told you about yesterday. Had a nice time out there. Really beautiful view in the morning.”

“Getting any work done on your dissertation?”

“I am. As a matter fact, that’s why I’m calling. You said you’d come out once I figured out which topic I was going to do my dissertation on. I just made the decision a few minutes ago.”

“Really? That fast? I was thinking it would take a couple of days.”

“Well, I was going to go through a detailed analysis, but I’ve been leaning toward one all along.” He explained to her what he did with the email survey of his students, and the results. “That really firmed it up for me.”

“Well, I’m glad. You’re going to be spending a lot of time on whichever one you picked, so I’m glad you’re sure about it.”

“I am. So…does that mean you can come out tonight? I can fix you a nice dinner. Then we can take a walk, maybe a sunset canoe ride.”

“Jack, that sounds nice. But…”

“But what?”

“It doesn’t sound like your mind’s too much on this dissertation. That’s the main reason you’re on this retreat.”

“My mind is on the dissertation. It’s just not the only thing. I mean, look, I’ve already picked out the topic. That’s huge. Some people take weeks on something like that. I’m just decisive. When I know what I want, I go for it.”

“Okay, I guess I can come out there. I just don’t want to be a distraction. You getting that dissertation done is a big thing for our future. I know the regents at the school love what you’re doing, and this past year your classes have all been full. But having that doctorate is part of the deal, right?”

“Yes, you could say that.” Wait, he thought. Did she just say
our future
? She did, didn’t she? Jack had definite plans about popping the question to Rachel, but he wasn’t quite there yet. He had been dropping hints here and there about his intentions. So far, she hadn’t said anything negative when he did. But this was the first time he’d heard her say something like this. Should he say something? Should he point it out?

“Jack?”

“What?”

“Sounded like you had something more to say.”

“No. I’m just wanting to see you, Rach. That’s all. I didn’t rush this decision just for that. Dresden really is the topic I want to work on. And I know how important this dissertation is. This retreat is all about getting that outline done and turned in, not just to the regents but to my publisher. That’s my goal before my time out here is through. I won’t let anything get in the way of that, I promise.”

Jack had spent the last four hours reacquainting himself with the research materials he’d gathered over the years on the Dresden bombing. He already knew more about Dresden than the average WWII buff, even more than the average military history major, but nowhere near enough to create a detailed outline for a doctoral dissertation.

More than that, Jack had to catch himself up on all of the new things about Dresden that had come to light since he had last studied it in college. There were new books to read, new websites to explore. And some serious controversies to examine. One side claimed the Dresden bombing was totally immoral, actually referred to it as a war crime by the Allies. The other side presented evidence that Dresden was a justifiable military target. Jack would have to get his mind around all of this and navigate around these delicate matters as he sought to make his own mark and offer his own contribution to the historical discussion.

But right now? Right now he needed a break. His brain needed rest, and his body needed some exercise.

He got up from the dinette table and headed outside. When he woke up this morning, knowing at some point he’d do a workout, he’d dressed appropriately. Now seemed like a good time. He walked around the cabin once, mainly to make sure he really did have the whole area to himself. His eyes scanned the woods and perimeter of the lake again. Jack was a little self-conscious about doing his Muay Thai routines out in the open like this. Especially the stretches. Rachel laughed out loud the first time he’d done them in front of her. Confident he was alone, he found some level ground under a shady tree and started.