[Authors note. This story has a long fuse. if you are on a short fuse, scroll to part 2. You're welcome.]
1
I was nodding off as the words on the menu flowed into one another.
"Honey, I'd give you more time, but you'd probably be asleep."
I tried to focus on the waitress, a homely lady in her late forties. "Sorry, it's the jet lag. It's always worse when you fly into yesterday."
"Are you from England, Sir?"
"How did you guess? And before you ask, I know everyone from
Downton Abbey,
but we don't speak since the bust up."
She laughed. "We're not all that silly. Well, not in Texas anyway. How about I get you some coffee while you re-join the land of the living?"
I nodded gratefully. I was in Galveston, my first stop on our bucket list tour of US towns made famous in songs. Phoenix, Tulsa and a bunch of others were also on the route we'd sketched out before Tina got sick. She's been gone two years now. I lose track of time. When my daughter told me I needed to take a break from the business I didn't take her seriously. When she handed me tickets for a return flight to Houston, I knew she wasn't joking.
"Me and Jack can handle the farm for a couple of weeks. Go. I know it was on that stupid bucket list Dad. You need to do it for you and mum. It's time to say goodbye."
Gillian was right. I didn't really grieve afterwards. I'd thrown myself into work to keep our struggling business afloat. Anyway, Tina never really left me. I'd see her everywhere around the house and farm and I'd talk to her. I guess after thirty years she was entitled to decide when she wanted to leave. The kids thought I was going mad, although they never said anything. Anyway, we're back in the black now and business is good. Gillian is sensible and the two locals who help us out know the ropes. So, I could forget about work for a while and enjoy this trip. Maybe that's what Tina was hanging around for. She was stuborn. She would not let death cheat her out of her holiday.
I talked to Tina on the long drive from George Bush International Airport. We argued about which Bush it was and realised we didn't care enough to find out. But we had heated words when we passed Pasadena, which I was certain was in Philadelphia. Well, it sounds like it should be.
This was a regular argument when we were on the road. It started a lifetime ago when I said Billericay should be in Ireland and not forty miles east of London. You see what I mean?
The waitress came back with coffee and I ordered my usual. All our previous visits to the States started with a meal at Denny's. Other restaurants just would not do. I looked around. My jacket and thick shirt were at odds with the casually dressed diners in shorts and tee shirts. If I'd paid more attention to Jimmy Webb's lyrics rather than their sentiments, I would have recognised Galveston was in fact Texas-on-Sea. I wondered how the residents would take to my renaming their town. Tina shook her head from the empty seat across the booth.
As I looked out of the window, an old minivan swung into the vacant space next to my car, missing it more by luck than judgement. I immediately formed a mental image of the driver, but I am pleased to say I was wrong. A woman slid out of the driver's door. I guess she was in her late thirties. She wore a dark sleeveless shift dress which suited her neat figure and slender arms. It was her hair I really noticed. A mass of wavy black hair that shook in the gentle breeze. She leaned into the vehicle to grab her bag and I made the most of the view of her shapely legs. Someone called out from behind her and she turned. She was breath-taking. A mix of Jackie Kennedy, a young Elizabeth Taylor and an actress from an American TV series about a cop and her pathologist friend. Tina said she never saw what I liked about that show.
My carnal thoughts disappeared when the woman slid open the side door and three kids got out. The sullen blond teenage boy was getting the end of a tongue lashing from his mother. He may have been listening, but his stance said something else. He loped off towards the entrance of the restaurant while his two sisters, about eight and four, scrambled out. The older one struggled to close the sliding door. The woman took their hands in hers and set off after her son. Both daughters were an image of their mother in miniature. I could sympathise with their father's anxiety when they were old enough to have boyfriends.
The restaurant was almost full. My jet lag breakfast was an early evening meal for most of the elderly diners at other tables. The only spare booth was opposite the aisle from mine and while I would enjoy looking at the woman, the prospect of listening to their family argument was already making my temples ache. I glanced at her. She smiled and slid into the booth on my side with the youngest child. The older two took the seats opposite.
The woman apologised to her children. "I'm sorry we had to stay late at school. I have to tutor Mrs Elmore's boy this evening. I don't have time to cook so its an early dinner here."
The older daughter was sympathetic. "That's okay mom, I like eating here. So does Caroline." The younger girl nodded.
"This place sucks mom. It's full of old people," complained her son.
"Don't be so rude, Jake. And share the menu with Suzanna," the harassed mother pleaded.
The boy ignored her and turned away so his sister could not see the menu.
"Here you are young lady. You can have mine." I offered my menu across the aisle to stop a potential argument.
Suzanna, looked at her mother for approval before accepting, adding a late "Thank you mister," after her mother's telepathic stare put the words in her head.
Caroline, leaned shyly to her mother and said in a loud stage whisper, "That man talks funny, where is he from Mom?" The woman looked at her brood and her shoulders slumped. "Sir, I have to apologise for my children's rudeness. They seem to have lost their manners in front of strangers."
I leaned over and offered my hand. She seemed nonplussed, but then shook it. Her slim fingers were warm and soft. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Ted Westbury. There, we are not strangers anymore." I held her glance probably a moment too long, so she blushed when she replied.
"Hello Ted, I'm Cassie Miller and these feral kids are Jake, Suzanna and Caroline." The two girls smiled while the boy gave an indifferent nod.
"What does feral mean?" Caroline asked.
"It means wild, untamed, uncivilized. Is that what you are, Caroline?" I said.
She looked at her mother for a clue before answering no. Her brother was more certain. "I'm feral," Jake said proudly.
"Sorry to disappoint you Jake, but I think you're just a teenager. It's a mad time." Suzanna laughed at my comment and her brother gave her a mean stare.
I'd put Jake out. "Where you from anyway Mister?"
"Anyone care to guess?" I asked. I looked at Cassie, who was relieved I had made a game of his rudeness.
"Australia" said Jake.
"Canada" said Suzanna.
Cassie leaned in and whispered in her daughter's ear. "You are from England. Originally from London, but you've lived somewhere else for a long time," said Caroline.
"Wow, someone is a mind reader," I was genuinely shocked. "I would give you a prize, but I've been conned by a professional."
Cassie laughed. It was an easy, gentle sound. The kind you looked forward to hearing. "I'm a speech therapist. I like to work out accents."
I held up my hands in defeat. "Okay, you got me. Now let me guess. You children all sound the same to my ear, but your mum sounds different. I'll think I can get it in three. Read the menu please Cassie." Jake rolled his eyes, but the two girls urged their mum on with the game.
"Pancakes with smoked hickory bacon and maple..." she became self-conscious and broke into laughter, setting the two girls off. Jake looked grumpy, not wanting to share their good humour.
I rubbed my temples as if I could pull the answer out of the air. "Louisiana?" I ventured.
"Wrong" said Jake gleefully.
"I've still got two guesses left. Go on, Cassie." She read another item. "Is it Alabama?"
"Wrong again," Jake was now thoroughly invested in the game, sensing my imminent failure.
"My last guess. Go on, Cassie." She read another item. "Can you repeat that, please?"
"Quit stalling and guess Mister." Jake was eager for the foolishness to be over.
I drew out the drama like they make the compare do on those rubbish game shows. I looked each of them in turn and said, "Cassie you are from Georgia." It was more or less a guess. The two girls squealed, covering both their mother's gasp of surprise and Jake's mutter of 'motherfucker,' which I was the only one to hear.
"Give him a prize mom," said Caroline. I caught Cassie's glance; we both looked away embarrassed. Jake saw a spark of attraction and he didn't like.
"My dad was in the Army. He went to England. He went all over the world to fight people," Jake challenged.
"That's usually how it happens, unless you are being invaded." I was trying to diffuse the situation, but I guess it sounded flip.
"He was a Sargent in the US Marines. The toughest fighters in the world. You seen military service mister?" Jake's face was an angry, hurt snarl. I'd seen it many times before. On the faces of the relatives of those who had fallen in combat. I looked at Cassie. Her despair in trying to help her son come to terms with the loss of his father was clear.
I leaned across the aisle and spoke gently. "I was in the Parachute Regiment for twenty years, Jake. You call it Airborne over here. We tried to keep the peace in Ireland and Bosnia. We fought an enemy who ran away as quickly as possible in Iraq, and then we fought for our lives every day in Afghanistan. I was a Captain. I wrote letters to the families of my men who had fallen in battle. The only thing worse than that was meting them when we brought their loved ones' bodies home."
Jake was shaking. Anger and grief played out across his face. He looked at his mother. "I can't breathe mom; I have to get out of here." He tried to push past his sister to get out of the booth and ended up knocking her onto the floor.
I picked Suzanna up, and she went over to hug her mum and younger sister.
The waitress had arrived with my order. I apologied. "I'm sorry Cassie. I was too blunt. I should have sugar-coated it. He's so full of anger."
