CHAPTER 3

Instead of just slamming the ball against the one side of the garage wall, he managed to rebound it off the privacy fence, then upside the wall, and finally back in his hand where he sat in the backyard garden chair. Then Nate Caldwell looked for another shot he could take that would make the task even more difficult. The fact was, he had become extremely good at this little game. Too bad nobody would pay to see you play it. Nobody could play it with you either but, that was it’s appeal to Nate, right now.

That was why he stopped doing it when his father walked out into the backyard. The man pulled up another lawn chair and sat down next to his son, “you going to stop now or do I get in?”

“I kind of like playing with myself these days,” Nate said as he pulled a beer from his cooler and then said, “you can have a drink though?”

“No thank you,” the elder Caldwell replied, “if your mother smelled beer on my breath right now, I’d be in the dog house.” He nodded in the direction of the dog, who did not seem too happy about it.

“Yeah well,” Nate replied, “be the favorite son and you can get away with anything.” Nate then looked too his father and said, “and don’t you go to pointing out I’m the only son, cause, I’d still be even if I wasn’t.”

“I won’t say that the thought didn’t cross my mind but,” Joseph Caldwell then looked at the sky and said, “gorgeous day.”

“Doesn’t look like that over there,” Nate replied, “you know? It’s beautiful there. The sky always looks likes waves of colors and, that big planet, it’s kind of like Jupiter only more purple, it’s just hanging up there most of the time. Sometimes even, it gets pretty high in the sky, and really big, and…” Nate saw the strange look he was getting, “I told you this story before, right?”

Joseph looked away for a minute and said, “it’s not that son. Oh, and yes you have told me, by the way. No, I just couldn’t help but think something. When you aren’t out here scratching the paint on my garage, or just laying up there in your room, what are you doing?”

Nate looked carefully at his Dad, then to the wall, then back to his Dad, “you’re finally putting up vinyl siding? I thought you told Mom…”

Joseph waived it off and had a hard time with this, “son, you’re almost thirty. I’m worried about you. Your mom is worried about you…”

“Don’t tell me,” Nate held up a finger, “you rented my room out and I have to leave now, right?”

“I’m not joking son,” it was hard enough as it was.

Nate just shook his head and said, “Dad, that’s about all I got left.”

“OK if you won’t stop making jokes,” Joseph told him, “how about stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Oh come on Dad,” Nate let loose with, “I’m not doing that. I’ve got a life now.” He looked down at his phone and said, “speaking of which, I do have to go to work in a couple of hours. I better hurry up and finish this beer. Only five let to go.”

“I spent all that money,” Joseph replied, “to send you to college so you could sell used cars? You know, the least you could do is go get a job at the plant. With your education I’m sure you could even get a managers job of some kind.”

“Dad,” now Nate was getting flustered, “I’m not ready to deal with all that just yet.”
Joseph ignored the outburst, “Nate, son, you spent your entire childhood dreaming of being in the Army. It wasn’t that long ago for me when you used to come out here and dig up your mothers roses and pretend they were in the trench’s or something. You know what, I was against it, your mother was against it, and we supported you anyway. You went and really made something out of yourself.”

“No I didn’t,” Nate replied. “All I did was prove to myself how big of a screw up I am. Dad, I never told you every thing. I just can’t…” Nate growled out the last words, “talk about it. OK?”

“Nothing is ever what we think it’s going to be son,” Joseph said.

“Dad,” Nate protested, “I don’t need this speech.”

“It’s not that speech,” Joseph replied, “it’s a variation. Trust me, you’ll like it, I practiced it all morning.” Finally Joseph sighed, “I don’t know what to tell you son. I’ve never been through anything like what you have. I don’t know anybody that has. Elves, Orcs, talking monkeys, I thought those were all just bad movies.” Joseph then stood up and walked towards his back door. As he did he said, “maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t help you. Maybe that’s what you need though, son. Find somebody who can.”

Joseph then stopped by the back door and looked back at his son, “when you first got home, you said something about going to Florida? Did you know somebody there? Maybe you should go talk to him.”

Nate huffed, threw his ball over the fence, and then mumbled to himself, “I really wish I could.” Nate continued with the plan after that. He finished his beers, got ready, and went to work. He was early as usual and his sales manager never complained about that. The simple fact was, that Nate had nothing else to do so, he spent as much time working as he could. Now if it would only help his sales.

The girl that worked in the trailer, Natalie, was at her desk as usual. She was a strictly an eight to five kind of gal and Nate usually got there in the middle of her shift. When he walked in to hang up his coat, she reached out and shoved a slip of paper in his pocket. She was not very discreet about it. Once Nate saw what was on the little crumpled up sticky note, he asked the girl, “is this… you know… your number?”

“Well,” Natalie replied, “you’re cute and all but, I have a boyfriend. That’s a friend of mine. She read some of that stuff about you on line, you know, from last year. She wants to meet you and I promised I’d give you her number.”

“I see,” Nate put it back in his pocket but, had no intentions of putting it in his phone. Instead he got to work and forgot all about the number until, a few hours later when this little blond headed woman came up and asked for him by name. Nate smiled at the woman and said, “um, Natalie’s friend, right? Look I’m really sorry but…”

The blond headed woman replied, “sorry Mister Caldwell, I don’t know any Natalie.”

“Oh,” Nate then wondered and asked, “reporter? Groupie? Bill Collector?”

“Sorry,” the woman replied, “none of the above. Um, my name is Doctor Didi Compton and I’m with the Center’s For Disease Control. I was wondering if…”

Nate threw his hands up, “I seen all them commercials. I just say no to fairies. Trust me, I been doing it all my life.”

“Uh,” of course Didi knew all about the Fairy Dust commercials but, she had no idea why this guy would think she was here about that. She just clicked her teeth and said, “glad to hear it. No, not why I’m here. I tried to find you through the VA and they said…”

Now, Nate went from happy to disgruntled, “ok this is about my time in the Army. I was certified clean…”

“Mister Caldwell,” Didi pleaded, “can you let me get two words out?” When he nodded she said, “I have a little project I’m working on and I was told you were with the rangers? The Gold Straw mission? Is that right?”

Now Nate was nervous, “that would be accurate, uh-huh.”

“So you encountered Orcs,” Didi said, “right? You have experience with them?”

“Oh,” Nate backed off, “I see. Well, Miss Compton, there are a lot of guys running around now, that have a lot more experience than I do. So whatever disease you think they gave me…”

“We tried to contact Katherine Mack,” Compton told him, “she’s the one we actually wanted but, I was told she’s back over there now.”

“Katie?” Nate blinked, “she went back over there?”

“I guess,” Didi just shrugged and continued, “look, Mister Caldwell, I talked with this woman named Patterson, do you know her?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Nate thought it sounded familiar but, then, suddenly he realized, “Captain Sharon Patterson?” When he go the affirmative nod, Nate exclaimed, “that bitch!”

“I guess you do know her,” Didi replied. “She gave me your name and said that you did qualify for the security clearances I needed. She also told me you’d been there on the original whatever you guys call it, attack, defense, whatever?”

“Miss Compton,” Nate now tried to sound polite but firm, “I’m at work here. I don’t know what you think I can help you with but, trust me, I can’t. So, if you don’t mind I have cars to,” Nate looked around the lot that was devoid of customers, “not sell right now.”

When Nate got home that evening he found his mother in the kitchen. She was really getting too old to do the supper routine but, Henna Caldwell was too stubborn to quit. It was long past the time that most people ate dinner and, as Nate could figure, that was why he suspected she was preparing tomorrows meal. She did take the time to stop slicing cucumbers as her son walked in and got a beer from the refrigerator. She looked at him drink it and said, “before and after?”

Nate looked at the beer and then said, “worried about my health ma?”

“More like my wallet,” Henna replied. “That stuff is expensive enough when just me and your father drink it.” Then she added, “and there are leftovers in the fridge.”

Where his dad had his heart in the right place, Nate’s mother was generally more effective at this. She didn’t worry about the heart being in the right place, she was more concerned with his buttons being correctly positioned. She was guilt tripping him but, Nate was ahead of her this time, “you know I do buy my own, um, I mean beer and dinner.”

“You mean,” Henna turned around shaking a knife at him, “instead of spending it on things like a place to live?”

“Look Ma,” Nate told her, “if you and Dad want me to move out I can…”

“You don’t get it Nate,” Henna told him. “I like that you’re here, well, most of the time. I don’t like it for you though. When you got out of high school you couldn’t wait to leave. Now all you do is, well I’d say live in my basement but, I don’t have one.”

Nate whined in return, “mom, I already got this speech from Dad today.”

“He’s no good at it, god bless him,” Henna replied. When all Nate did was fidget, she just hit him with it, “it was that girl, wasn’t it?”

Nate squirmed even more, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh,” Henna replied. She held up the glasses that were hanging around her neck and she nodded too them, “these work you know. That reporter woman, right? I know who she is and I saw her number on your phone.”

“MOM!” Nate exclaimed, “you’ve been snooping on my phone.”

“Next time get a password,” she told him, “and a clue. What happened over there Nate? I’ve seen boys come home now, and you’re the only one I’ve seen moping around. You remember Shirley Hiller? Her son just got home and he’s already got a job up in Philadelphia.”

“Um,” Nate just shrugged, “who is Shirley Hiller?”

“That’s not the point Nate,” Henna turned back around and went back to chopping cucumbers. She also told him, “you know what the point is son.” Then, between chops, she pointed the knife at the kitchen table, “you got some mail today. Got some yesterday too. Come to think of it, you haven’t opened any of it in a week.”

Nate scooped up the mail. He figured the trash can in his room was just as good as the one down here and, besides that, his mother wouldn’t complain about it until she emptied his can, in a week or so. Who used mail anymore? When Nate got in his room he realized the answer to that question was in his hand. He sat down at his childhood desk and began flipping pieces into the trash can. He somehow thought this was more fun than his bouncing ball game.

The first half of the stack were advertisements, about the only thing the Post Office seemed to handle any more. Then he got to something that was a genuine envelop with that rare thing called a letter inside. It was post marked from Florida and came from some office called Orange Grove Media. Nate mumbled when he read that part, “well there’s an original name.” He almost flipped it, figuring it for a more expensive advertisement but, it came from Florida? Nate opened it up and read, mostly out of curiosity but, when he saw the name Thompson he felt like he had just been hit in the gut. Then he saw the name Dana in front of it and became confused. “What is this?”

Nate read the letter three times. He realized it had been hand written and that the signature, by none other than Dana Thompson herself, was real. Nate sat there for nearly an hour, looking at the letter, looking at his phone. Finally he made a choice and it was probably the hardest in his life. Given what he had been through, that was saying quite a bit.

The phone rang several times and Nate was about ready to hang up when a woman’s voice answered. Nate felt scared and he almost did not speak. He stumbled to get the words out, “hello, is this Angie’s mother?”

It took a second before the woman replied, “you must be Nate Caldwell. I don’t know anybody else that would call me from Pennsylvania. Did you get my letter?”

“Um, yes ma’am I did,” Nate told her and then apologetically he said, “first, let me apologize. As your daughter’s commanding officer, it is unforgivable that…”

The woman interrupted with a very warming tone, “commanding officer? Mister Caldwell, I don’t know you but, I do know my daughter. Nate, may I call you that?”

“Um, yes man, go right ahead,” Nate felt his forehead and it was covered in sweat.

“The Army sent me her things after they declared her missing,” Dana Thompson replied. “She had this journal and, well, she wrote quite a bit about you and the time that you two spent together.”

Nate choked, “anything specific?”

“Lots actually but,” Dana paused for a minute and it sounded as if she were talking to someone else on her end. Finally she came back on, “I’d like to meet you Nate. How would you like to come to Florida for a few days? I’ll take care of the travel arrangements, if that’s all right with you?”

What could Nate say, “um, I… I… yeah I guess. Sure.”