Shadowed Soul (14 page)

“They love you, Thomas, they wouldn’t mind.” Beth raised her face so I could see that she was smiling. “It would only be until we got a new place.  That would be fine, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, I suppose…” I looked helplessly at her and she leaned in and kissed me.

“
Eeeeew
, morning breath,” she squealed wrinkling up her nose.

“Sorry!” I turned away cordially.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going, soldier?”  Beth gently pushed me back down.  “I demand my Christmas present and I want it now.”

“It’s in my bag, under the tree,” I said.  Odd, in that moment, I could not recall what I had bought for her for Christmas.

“No, silly, not
that
Christmas present.” A sultry wickedness permeated the short space between our faces as Beth’s hand moved down under the covers with stealth. “I mean my
special
Christmas present.”

As I lay on my back, Beth gently massaged me and I responded quickly.  Moaning unselfconsciously as she kissed my chest and throat, I savored every moment of love as Beth straddled me. Despite the lumpy, flame-red scar across Beth’s abdomen from her Cesarean surgery her figure to me was like a vision of Venus.  As I gazed up at her, I gently grasped her perfect breasts, overly full from nursing our son.  Pleasure shuddered through me as I entered her.

“I love you, Thomas.”

“I love you, too, Beth.”

Outside the Christmas bells continued to chime their message of love as Beth and I became one.  Our passion swept away all thoughts leaving only bliss.  I gripped her hips to hasten the rhythmic movements and surely brought us both to climax.  Life was good.

“Merry Christmas, you two!” perked Dorothy turning from the stove as we plunked down in the kitchen an hour or so later.  She tipped her head slightly, the way Bailey does, and a mischievous smile graced her face. “Slept well?”

“Very well, Dorothy, thank you.  And you?” Formality seemed the only way to topple the awkward moment.  My face flushed knowing that my mother-in-law sensed her daughter and I had actually enjoyed conjugal relations.  Dorothy smiled all the more and I could not help but smile shyly in return.

“Good, both of you, coffee?  I’m making bacon and eggs. It’s our Christmas morning tradition.  A treat for Peter.”

“Dad calls it his
cholesterol cocktail
,” noted Beth.

“Bacon and eggs are contraband,” explained Dorothy.  “Doctor said Pete’s cholesterol level is high.  Would you like some?”

“Sounds wonderful,” I said turning to look at Beth.  “Honey, you having some, too?” Beth’s expression was serene, she was practically glowing.  Our happiness was truly shared. As I watched her talking to her mother I wondered what on earth had terrified me so.  There was nothing scary here at all.  My wife loved me and Peter and Dorothy’s strong fondness for me was obvious.

“Where’s daddy?” asked Beth.

“He’s gone for his Christmas morning walk. He loves showing his grandson off to his buddies.”  Just then the front door opened, Bailey padded into the kitchen first.  He came straight to me and sat down, looking at me with his warm, expectant eyes, I stroked his head.  His sleek fur felt cold and fresh.

“Ho-ho-ho!” hollered Pete as he came into the kitchen holding my song in his powerful arms. “Wow, someone needs a diaper change!”  He handed Jonathan to Dorothy.

“Old habits die hard,” noted Dorothy good naturedly as she relieved her husband of diaper duty.  “I’ll get it this time.”

“Cold outside!” exclaimed Pete.  “Is my nose red?  Hey, Merry Christmas you two. Slept well?”  Beth and I nodded.

“Let me take him,” said Beth, her expression had changed from happy to Lady Madonna at the sight of our son, wrapped up in his little coat, his face ruddy with fresh air.  As she reached for Jonathan her eyes softened further.  Observing the transfer of the baby from grandmother to mother I felt a sharp pang of resentment in my heart.  As Dorothy served breakfast I tried to shake off my encroaching jealousy.

Pete sat down opposite me and for the first time I got a clear look at his sweater.

“Nice reindeer,” I remarked deadpan.

“Yeah, it’s corny, Tom,” admitted Pete.

“No, it’s, uh,” I grasped for a polite comeback.

“Hideous?” said Dorothy playfully.

“A little bit,” I said and Pete guffawed loudly. 

“It’s my Christmas sweater.”  Pete chuckled.

“And has been since Beth was born,” chided Dorothy.  “Thomas, you have no idea how many times I’ve hidden it in the trash.  I’ve waited until June to ditch it but Peter always finds it and scurries it back in the closet.”

“What’s wrong with it?  I love it!  You gave it to me!”

“It’s tattered, you old goat,” said Dorothy compassionately and shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder why I married you.”

“You married me for my money.”  Pete winked.

“Oh, yeah, I was desperate to get my hands on that $318 in your checking account.” Dorothy laughed, playfully pummeling his shoulder.

Their comical bickering continued.  I marveled at how loving and easy these two were together.  As a young boy, my parents had bickered but always nastily.  Sadly, I had absolutely no recollection of them laughing together.  Peter and Dorothy were so in tune with each other that I doubted they ever had a major dislike for each other.  They were a healthy couple and I could only hope that maybe Beth and I would reach that level.  We would if the Shadowed Soul remained at bay so our love could continue to flourish.  Having an example in Dorothy and Pete further inspired me to find a way to defeat my demon.

“Here, Thomas, your son wants to wish you Happy Christmas,” Beth interrupted my thoughts as she passed Jonathan to me.  Reluctantly, I gathered the tiny figure in my arms.  No sooner was he nested safely in my arms, Beth moved to the sink to help her mom wash dishes.

“He’s a handsome young man, isn’t he?” said Pete proudly.

At close range, when I looked at the baby all I saw was a scrunched up face with beady, glittering eyes that drilled into me as if his soul knew exactly how I had screwed up.

“Takes after his mother!”  I concurred with Pete.

“Tom,” Pete paused as if weighing what to say next.  “Look, if I’m out of line, just say, okay?  Beth was telling me how rough you had things growing up and she said you didn’t really care for Christmas.”

“Could’ve been better,” I admitted. Pete nodded.

“That must have been hard on you when you were a kid.  Look, I just wanted to, uh, well, I just needed to say that you have a family here.”

“Work has been really busy,” I changed the subject defensively and Pete just held his hands up and smiled.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Tom.”  He looked at me. “Everyone’s got their problems and some of us have our demons and my daughter loves you with all her heart so I’m not judging you, okay?  What I’m trying to say is that, we’re here for you.  You’ve heard that from a lot of different people in your life and they might not have meant it, but Dorothy and I do mean it.  We don’t want to be your mom and dad or anything like that, we just want to make sure that you’re okay, because our little girl adores you and when you’re unhappy then she is too.”

There was a long pause and I could only nod helplessly.

“I try Peter, God I do really try,” I said softly.

“Shit, I know you do son,” he said quietly and finished his coffee. “Do you mind if I tell you a story?  A short one.  Might help?”  I nodded agreement.

“Go for it,” I murmured.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I don’t know if Beth told you anything about her grandpa, my dad?” asked Pete.  

“Not yet,” said Beth from the sink, glancing meaningfully at Dorothy who dried dishes as Beth washed and rinsed.  “It’s such a romantic story!  I love it!”

“My father,” continued Pete.  “…was a good man, built like a fort and had these huge hands that could crush a walnut.”  The mention of his father’s size and strength reminded me of my absentee father. “He was a big Kansas farm boy.  He lived in the city for years but in his heart he always belonged to the countryside.  He met my mom when she went out on vacation with her folks and they fell in love right away.”

“It’s just so sweet,” interjected Dorothy.  “Just imagine, City Mouse and Country Mouse.”

“My dad was a bit of a bumpkin, so my mom’s dad was dead against them spending time together,” said Pete. 

“I think he was a bit of a snob,” said Beth.

“Well, honey,” said Dorothy.  “Of course, he wanted his little girl to marry a great man.  What parent doesn’t want that?”

“This was back in the late fifties, you know?” explained Pete.  “City folks had particular ideas about country folks, but my mom was a determined lady.”

“Pete and I think that Beth takes after his mother,” said Dorothy.

“My mom loved my dad,” continued Pete.  “Nothing kept them apart.  They spent as much time of that vacation as they could sneaking off.  Eventually, my grandmother caught them together.”

“Your grandmother was a wise old bat, Pete,” said Dorothy lovingly.

“My grandmother recognized that whatever was happening between my mom and my dad was good.  So she talked my grandpa into letting them see each other.”

“In
public
, no less,” interjected Beth, tittering.  “So cute!  So old fashioned!”

  “The vacation ended and my mom and dad exchanged addresses,” said Pete pausing for a sip of coffee.

“She thought it was over,” said Dorothy.  Pete looked at Dorothy quizzically.  “She told me that one time, she said she figured he’d forget about her, so she never even wrote him because he was so happy on the farm.”

“And she loved the city,” said Pete.

“It seemed they were never going to see each other again,” said Beth dramatically. “But just when the lovers appeared doomed to a life without each other… Dad, continue!”

“So, three months later, just before Halloween there was a knock at my grandparents’ door.  When my mom’s dad opened the door, there stood my dad with a bunch of flowers in his big hands.” 

“Without telling her, he had moved to the city and got a job in a grocery store,” said Dorothy.  “And very honorably, he waited…”

“Wait, let me tell it!  He waited until he had some savings before he visited,” noted Beth. “So he could court her properly.”

“Smart guy,” I said, thinking how utterly doomed I was, having lost my job.

“Grandpa was not pleased, but he sure as shit was impressed,” said Pete.  “He permitted my father to court my mother and to attend socials in their circle.  Within a year they were engaged.  My dad never complained.  He had a simple outlook about life.  You did what seemed right and if no one got hurt then you’d done the right thing.”

“No wonder you were such a great catch,” said Dorothy, kissing Pete on the cheek.

“They got married eighteen months later,” said Pete.  “A year after that, I was born.  It was a happy childhood until I was seven and that’s when my dad was drafted to Vietnam.”

“Like my father,” I blurted.  “Not Vietnam.  Later.  Desert Storm.  Sorry.  I, uh, didn’t mean to interrupt.”  Pete seemed to understand me and continued.

“I was too young to know how bad things were over there, all I knew was that my dad was a fighting soldier.  When he came home I was ten,” said Pete reflectively.  “I got an idea of how much a human being can change.  He was different.  He’d been wounded in a mortar attack, so he was shell shocked.  He was a big strong guy, but whatever he had seen in battle stayed with him in the form of PTSD.”

“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” clarified Beth.

“He tried his best to be my dad,” said Pete with a hint of regret.  “Mostly he managed but there were moments his mask slipped and I saw that beneath his big robust form he was like a ghost, going through the motions.  I was getting older but I still resented that he wasn’t there for me as much as I wanted.  I was a kid.  I was selfish.” 

“Oh, honey, don’t beat yourself up.  All children are selfish,” cooed Dorothy.  “It’s how they survive.”

“Wish I’d been less of a pain in my dad’s ass,” said Pete. “Back then all I knew was that he wouldn’t play catch with me or help me with these little war plane models I used to make.”

“Probably they reminded him of the war, dad,” said Beth.  Pete thought about this and nodded sadly. 

“It’s snowing,” murmured Pete, glancing out the window, then reigned himself back into the present, to our Christmas together.  “And my coffee mug’s empty,
woman
!”  Dorothy laughed, delighted by his pretend machismo, and refreshed his coffee.  “I did want to say, though, my father was a prisoner of his own depression. I didn’t know until after he had died but he lost two of his buddies in Vietnam.  Some kind of suicide attack or something and that was what messed him up.”

“Wars are so senseless,” said Beth, finishing off the last of the kitchen cleanup.

“These guys had been like brothers to my dad,” said Pete.  “They both died when they should have been safe and I reckon it was the unfairness of what happened that fucked him up.  By the time I met Dorothy he was happy and solid again.  He loved Dorothy.”

“He was like a father to me,” added Dorothy.  “I remember him telling me that without family the world meant nothing.”  Pete glanced at Dorothy, and she seemed to read his mind and gave him his space.  He clearly wanted to be the one to tell this to me himself.

“My father always believed you have to do what you can to make sure the world keeps turning, it’s not a perfect place but it’s what we have and we all do what we can.  So, when he met Dorothy he greeted her into the family like a daughter.  Now, I want to do the same for you son.  You might never love me like a dad, guys are different, but I will always be here for you and I hope that you know that?”

“I think I do, Peter, thank you,” I choked.  I was genuinely touched by the display of affection from a man I respected deeply.  “May I ask you a question?”