Kathleen Creighton - The Top Gun's Return

As always, when he thought about that, he felt doubts come to cloud his vision and darken his soul. The future? But I can't even figure out where I fit into their lives here and now.

But now he shook them off and called out, "Hey, 'bout time you guys decided to come home. Sammi June, I was just about to talk to your mother about food."

Behind him, the screen door banged, and Jessie said, "That's good, because I was about to ask you the same thing. What are we gonna take with us tomorrow?"

Tristan smiled at her and shrugged. "I don't know-the usual stuff, I guess. Hamburgers, hotdogs…chicken. We can stop at a grocery store on the way…pick up whatever we need. No, I was thinking more in terms of now. Tonight. What're we doing for dinner? Barbecuing? Sandwiches? Or-does your mother have something exotic planned?"

"Momma's got a church thing," Jessie said. "They're fixin' to spend tomorrow sprucing up the cemetery, like they do every Memorial Day weekend, so I guess this evening's the planning session. Anyway, they're havin' a pot-luck supper at the church, so we're on our own."

"Well," said Sammi June, "don't worry about us." Tristan turned his head to look at her. She and Cory were standing at the bottom of the steps, side by side, not looking at each other. And it occurred to Tristan all at once that, even in the dwindling light, her eyes seemed to be glowing. He felt an odd little vibration begin, just behind his breastbone.

"Cory and I are going out," Sammi June announced.

Tristan frowned. Behind him he heard Jess make a soft, wordless sound, like a cough. "What do you mean 'out'?"

"I mean, out -out." Now she did look at Pearson, and not only were her eyes glowing, so were her cheeks.

Tristan's heart gave a sickening lurch. In that moment she reminded him so much of someone…someone he'd known a long time ago… "Wait just a minute," he began.

"We're gonna go into town, have dinner…maybe see a movie. Come on, Dad, it's my first day of vacation-I'm not gonna spend it sitting at home. Anyway-" she grinned wickedly and gave a kind of wiggle that made Tristan's hair stand on end "-I want to show Cory the local night-life. If he thinks he can handle it."

Jess made a strangled sound that could have been laughter or dismay. Tristan opened his mouth, but couldn't think of a response, because in his mind he was trumpeting all sorts of dire paternal threats and proclamations, the kinds of things fathers of daughters have always thought, but these days, at least, are seldom foolish enough to say out loud: Over my dead body! I'm gonna lock you in your room until you're forty and strangle with my bare hands any man who dares to touch you!

"I don't think that's such a good idea," he mumbled at last, scowling, realizing he sounded more pouty than paternal. "You're gonna need to get up early tomorrow morning."

Sammi June's laugh was incredulous. "Dad, hello. I'm used to studying until four in the morning, then getting up three hours later to take a test. It's not like I'm a child, can't be up past my bedtime."

"That's not the point-"

Cory leaned his head close to Sammi June's and murmured something to her under his breath. In response to which her chin jutted out and tilted upward, and her mouth took on a stubborn look her father well remembered. "The point is, Dad, I'm eighteen years old. You don't get to tell me what to do, okay?" With that, she stomped up the steps past him and into the house.

After a moment's hesitation Cory followed her, looking unhappy and apologetic. When he got to the top of the steps where Tristan was, he paused and said, "Look, man, I-" Jess touched his arm and shook her head, and he bit back whatever it was he'd started to say and went into the house.

When the door had closed behind them both, Tristan rounded on his wife and growled, "What the hell'd you do that for? Maybe I could've talked some sense into him, at least."

"And then what? Make an enemy of your daughter?" Her tone was mild, but her voice sounded shaky, which set Tristan back momentarily.

He scowled at her for a moment, then huffed in a disbelieving tone, "What, over a damn date? "

She made an exasperated sound. "A date? For heaven's sake, Tris, that's not what this is about. Can't you see she's in love with him?"

"In-" He gulped the word as if he'd been punched in the stomach with it. "What are you talking about? That's just…ridiculous. She's…hell, she's not old enough to be in love."

"Now that," said Jessie, "is ridiculous. She's the same age I was when I fell for you."

"And," Tristan blustered on, not hearing her, "he's sure as hell too old for her!" He paced a few steps one way, then the other. Rubbed his forehead, ran into a blackberry scratch and winced. "Should be ashamed of himself," he muttered. "Damn well ought to know better."

"It's not Cory's fault." She was trying to keep her voice down so as not to be overheard, but even so he could tell it was shaking again. "And by the way, he's the same age you were when I met you."

"Yeah," he growled heedlessly, "and we both know how that ended up, don't we?"

She was silent for a moment, just looking at him. Her eyes, in the deepening dusk, nevertheless seemed to shimmer. Then, very quietly, she said, "Yes. And if I remember correctly, that was my doing, not yours. You were all set to walk away."

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when he realized the shimmer in her eyes was tears. He looked back at her, and felt an ache in his heart that was part regret for her tears, part longing for that time of sunshine and happiness that was forever lost to him. "Why'd you do that?" he asked in a voice that felt as if it had rusted. "Call me back?"

"I knew what I wanted," she said softly. A tear spilled over and she brushed it away with a quick, angry motion. "And so does she."

His heart wasn't made of steel, and he'd never liked fighting with her. He would have gone to her then; he wanted to. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her close to the aching places inside him and forget everything about the past except the fact that he loved her. But when he made a jerky move toward her, she held up a hand to stop him, like a traffic cop, and turned away, shoulders hunched and back stiffened against him. Pain stabbed through him, pain as bad as anything he'd endured at the hands of his Iraqi jailers. He'd learned ways to endure that kind of pain, but this was something beyond his experience. She'd never done such a thing to him before.

He turned blindly and went into the house. Farther down the hall, in the alcove behind the stairs where the telephone was, he could hear Sammi June and Cory talking, evidently checking on movie schedules. He tightened his jaw and went up the stairs, wondering why his knee was bothering him again all of a sudden, when it hadn't for days. The motorcycle accident, he wondered, or self-pity?

In the bathroom he washed his face, then stood for a few minutes studying his reflection in the mirror. He'd avoided looking too long and hard at himself since he'd been back. He didn't like to think he'd ever been a vain man, but it had still been a shock, seeing himself for the first time after so many years. He'd barely recognized himself. He'd grown old. His hair had gray in it now, and his face had lines and hollows-not to mention scars-that hadn't been there before. He could hardly blame Jess for looking at him as if he was a stranger, when he was a stranger to himself.

It hit him then, like a cold blast of wind. Fear. Fear that the dream he'd carried in his heart for so long, the dream that had kept him alive, kept him sane, might never come to be. All he'd thought about, all those years, was getting back home, home to his wife, his daughter, his family. And now-well, he was back, but he sure as hell wasn't home, and his wife and daughter didn't seem to have places for him in their lives anymore.