CHAPTER 1
THE TRUTH STONE
Love means to commit yourself without guarantee.Anne Campbell
The plane landed and taxied up closer and closer to where Sandy stoodamong the cluster of military wives and families. Behind them, a bannerheld by two men and rippling slightly in the breeze, read, "Welcomehome from Iraq!!!" As the jet whine settled into silence, the cabin dooropened to allow a stairway to drop down. A soldier, squinting in thebright California sun, appeared at the top and waved to acknowledge thecheers of the crowd. Sandy's eyes filled with tears. She watched eagerly forher husband.
There he is! He's home. He's home. Greg's home, he's safe and tonightwe'll be together. Aching to disobey instructions and race to him, shecould only wave frantically until he spotted her. He broke into a run, hisduffel bag bouncing against his shoulder. My handsome Greg. She rushedinto his arms, hugging him tightly while he squeezed her so she couldbarely breathe. "Let's go," he whispered. Walking beside him, holding hishand, looking up at him, she knew she must be dreaming.
The dream continued through that day and that night and the nextday. Greg had come home. Nothing could ever pull them apart again.After their second day in the motel room, they drove her aging VW upRoute 80 to Berkeley and the studio apartment they'd rented in 2003, afew months after both had their degrees from the university.
That's where he'd confessed ages ago, it seemed, that he wanted to goto Iraq. "You know I've always dreamed of flying a helicopter, the sameway my dad did in Vietnam," he explained, idealism burning in his voice."The war won't last long and I can use that experience for the rest of mylife." When she didn't speak, he added, "I won't be leaving right away. Mydad told me you need math skills to be able to land and maneuver thehelicopter. I have those but I'll have to learn more, of course so I'll haveto do some training."
Trembling partly with anger and partly with fear, Sandy demandedto know, "What about us?"
He snuggled her in his arms. "Let's get married as soon as possible."She closed her eyes and leaned against him and whispered heragreement.
A tiny gathering in Berkeley City Hall replaced the grand weddingthey had planned almost from the day they met in the eighth grade. Theweek-long honeymoon became two nights in a luxury hotel and the yearthey expected to be apart stretched into a little more than two, but thenightmare had ended. He was home, safe and alive. They'd be togetherforever and ever.
As the days folded into each other, she waited for him to talk aboutIraq but he seemed more anxious to concentrate on the future. "I wantto get an old car," he told her, "so I can look for a job." When she askedabout Iraq, he answered quickly and changed the subject. She gave up.He'll talk about it when he's ready. At least, he's home and I can touch himand hear his voice and feel him close to me in bed. I should be grateful forthat. Still, she ached to share their separate adventures—to laugh and crytogether over their stories.
Several days after his homecoming, he phoned to tell her excitedly, "Igot it. I got the job. I'll be flying for KMIT, covering the Bay Area News."That night they ate out and drank several celebratory toasts to his goodfortune. "We can move," he told her, beaming. "Let's start looking thisweekend." Eventually, they found a two-bedroom apartment on HearstStreet. Life was full and wonderful, except for that first morning Sandyhad to rush to the bathroom. I feel lousy.
As the day wore on, the nausea passed but when she threw up againthe next morning, she decided to tell him. While he was dressing forwork, she eased in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders."Sweetheart, I think I have some news for you." She linked her handsbehind his head. "Remember the night we celebrated your new job.Well ..." she paused dramatically, "I think we're pregnant." Insteadof sweeping her into his arms, he stared at her without moving before,belatedly, as though realizing what she wanted, he pulled her to him andheld her.
"That's great. Are you sure?" She wondered why his voice soundedshaky.
"Well, I've thrown up two mornings in a row and yet I feel betteras the day goes on, so I guess I am. Aren't you happy about it? Is it toosoon?"
"No, no, it isn't too soon and yes, I'm happy. I'm just—well, surprised,I guess." He held her for a long time. "I'd better get going. I'm a little late.You take it easy today and we'll talk some more tonight. I'll just grab abowl of cereal and I'll call you later." He finished dressing, ate quicklyand was gone.
The incident passed and once she had seen a doctor and received thefinal diagnosis, Sandy invited both sets of parents to Sunday dinner. Theywere ecstatic, slapping Greg on the back and patting Sandy's stomach.Greg smiled and laughed with them, but Sandy couldn't shake heruneasiness. She did her best to ignore it, telling herself she had betterstart preparing. A few nights later, searching in her drawer for clothesshe could wear to fit a thickening waist, she stopped and grinned. "Greg,look what I found." As he came into the room, she showed him the small,white, ocean-polished stone lying in her palm. "Remember this—thetruth stone? Remember when our eighth-grade class went to Santa Cruzfor our end-of-the year outing and I found this on the beach? I teasedyou that it was magical. 'If you hold this in your hand,' I told you, 'youhave to tell the truth or demons will come and tickle you to death.'" Shegrinned again. "Let's do it. Let's try it—come on." She closed her eyes."Yesterday, I had an extra brownie which I'm not supposed to eat becauseI'm not supposed to gain too much weight." She opened her eyes and heldout the stone.
He stared at it before slowly taking it from her palm. Sandy waitedfor him to speak but had to strain to hear him when he finally said, "Ihave something I have to tell you. Let's go in the other room and sit onthe couch."
Sandy's stomach contracted. Afraid it would hurt the baby, shecaressed her stomach as she sat down next to him. Holding the stonetightly, his head drooping, Greg began his story. "When I was in Iraq, Ihad to rescue wounded guys and fly them to the field hospital. I kiddedwith one of the nurses on duty." He smiled slightly. "It helped becausewe saw some pretty awful sights." He paused and continued in the samesubdued tone. "We became good friends. One night when she was goingoff-duty and it was dark, I offered to walk her back to the nurse's tent."Sandy wrapped her arms around her stomach to ease the pain. "We saidgood night and she turned and gave me a hug." He told the rest quickly,as though to get it over with. Sandy longed to cover her ears yet knewshe had to hear it. "She was embarrassed and apologized but I told herit was okay because I understood. I don't know how it happened but wewere both lonely and we ..." he stopped again. Sandy held her breath. Hetook a deep breath. "We slept together." A scream rose in Sandy's throatbut nothing came out. "It only happened once, I swear," he added, stilltalking fast. "I swear on the truth stone that it only happened once andI never visited her again but ..." His knuckles had turned white fromgripping the stone. He finished in one breath. "But once was enough. Shegot pregnant and sent a message to me and that same day, when she wasriding in a jeep, it hit a land mine and she was killed."
The scream came out. Sandy jumped up. Greg reached for her butshe pulled away. "I have to get out of here." He tossed the truth stone onthe couch and bolted after her, his face contorted in fear, but she grabbedher purse from the kitchen table, ran out the back door, jumped into herVW and started the engine. He banged on the window. "If anyone askswhere I am, make up something," Sandy yelled, as she backed out of thedriveway.
She screeched away and headed down the coast toward Monterey andCarmel, with no idea of where she was going. Near the road to Carmel,she found an Econo-Lodge just off the highway and swerved into thedriveway. In the room she rented, she dropped her purse on a chair andflopped, fully clothed, on the bed. Emotionally exhausted, she couldn'tmove. Sleep came and went until, around nine o'clock, she dragged herselfup to go in search of a vending machine. She found one and took twocandy bars and two bags of potato chips and a 7-Up back to her room, saton the bed to eat and watched television for a while. Around eleven, sheundressed and crawled naked into bed.
The following morning, she showered, wrapped herself in a towel andcalled the health club where she worked as a fitness trainer to say shewould be out for a few days. Taking a deep breath to stop her shaking,she called Greg's cell phone, grateful when she was directed to his messagecenter. "I'm in Carmel. Please don't try to find me. I'll be home when I'mready." She found her undergarments, picked up her rumpled t-shirt andjeans, shrugged and put them on again before heading, heavy-eyed, toa tiny coffee shop next door. Fortified by a doughnut and two cups ofcoffee, she walked to the beach, shutting her eyes from time to time toblock out the image of her husband and the nurse. This won't be his firstchild. Unbearable pain sliced through her, bringing an energy-sappingdepression. I have to lie down. At the motel, she roused herself enoughto buy a toothbrush and toothpaste in the tiny shop. A brochure in arack in the lobby caught her attention, "San Carlos Borromeo de CarmeloMission." Mission Carmel. Well, I haven't been in a church in a long time.Maybe the atmosphere will help. She slipped it into her purse.
Another day dragged by. She ate and slept in a daze, washing outher underclothes each night and climbing into her jeans and t-shirt eachday. She wandered around Carmel center and bought a sweatshirt for thecool nights. Searching in her purse for her charge card, she found thebrochure. Well, why not?
A docent with a small brood of tourists stood to one side of the heavywooden double doors of the chapel. When she announced, "We'll visit thegarden first," Sandy breathed a sigh of relief. Alone, inside the chapel, shedrew comfort from the quiet of the slightly musty-smelling old building.She slid into a pew near the rear and stared at the high, arched ceilingbefore slowly moving her gaze around the white walls, the crucifix overthe altar and the candles burning in their tall holders on each side of it.Yearning to share her grief with someone, spill out the story and cleanseher mind of it, she closed her eyes and folded her hands in her lap. God,I haven't talked with you in a long time, if I ever did, but I wish you couldgive me some answers. I love him deeply but can't be with him right now. Ihurt too much. Sudden anger filled her. Her eyes popped open. How darehe? How dare she? She sat in silence, waiting yet uncertain why, until sheheard the hum of the tour group coming in. She slipped out as soon asthey had passed.
Absently, she pulled out the brochure she'd stuffed in her pocket.Father Junipero Serra is buried here and there's a statue of him. It says thatif you rub his toe, it will bring you good luck. She roamed the grounds,found the statue and rubbed a toe, checking first to make sure no one waswatching. I hope I rubbed the right toe. The thought made her giggle andshe felt slightly better.
She found the garden. A marble bench looked inviting, but a youngman in army fatigues was sitting there. Oh, just what I need. Oh, well, I'mtired. He looked up and smiled, moving to give her room. She manageda smile and said, in a flat voice, not eager to start a conversation, "I guessyou're in the military."
"You guessed right."
An unexpected impulse prompted her to continue, "My husband was,too. He flew a helicopter in Iraq." Her throat constricted but she was ableto add, "He just came home for good."
"That's a tough place to be. I've been there myself. Where was hestationed?" She told him, amazed by his reply. "That's where I wasstationed. Maybe I knew him."
"His name is Greg Bentley," she said, hesitantly, doubting they hadknown each other, but he surprised her again."
"Oh, sure. I remember him—helicopter pilot. Nice guy. You can tellhim you talked with Adam Moore. Is he with you, by the way?"
The hurt stabbed through her. "No," she blurted, "He stayed athome." She hadn't intended to keep going, but an instinct assured herhe'd understand. Once she began, the words tumbled out and soon shehad revealed the whole story.
Embarrassed, she stopped and apologized but he waved his hand. "It'sokay. I can see why you need time to think about it." He gestured towardthe garden and spoke in a voice full of sorrow, "It's so peaceful and normalhere that it's hard to believe it's in the same world with a place like Iraq.I don't mean the country, I mean the situation." He looked at her. "Doyou mind if I talk a little bit about it?" He continued without waiting. "Iknow it must be almost impossible for you to accept what happened butI've heard similar stories." He paused to watch a bird hop around, lookingfor seed. Heavy sadness gave his words poignancy. "Iraq is hell. You neverknow when you'll be blown up. Things are very immediate there. Youalways have to be on the alert. You can't even remember at times whatit's like back here. It gives you a sort of surreal feeling, as though nothingaround you is really happening, but that you'll wake up soon and thenightmare will be over, except it keeps happening. People do things they'dnever dream of doing here at home, things they often regret."
He sighed and laid his hand on hers. "Your husband loves you deeply,I'm sure. He's a truly fine man. He was in a hellhole and didn't thinkhe'd live to get home to you. He had a human slip. I hope and pray youcan find it in your heart to forgive him. He came home. That's the mostimportant thing. Lots of people won't be coming home from Iraq. He'shere. He's alive. You have the rest of your lives together and a child toraise and who knows how many more."
Lost in his words, Sandy felt no need to speak. They sat in a silencebroken only by the chip-chip-chipping of the bird. Slowly, imperceptibly,Sandy's answer slipped into her mind. When she stood up, Adam did thesame. She patted his arm. "You have no idea how much you've helpedme, Adam—helped us. I think I know what I have to do but I want to bealone awhile to be sure. Thank you." She hugged him quickly and headedback to her car.
As soon as she reached the motel and her room, she flopped on thebed and allowed his words to flow over her. He came home. That's the mostimportant thing. You have the rest of your lives together and a child to raise.She lay there for a long time before reaching for her cell phone. She dialedbut clicked it off before it rang. On the third try, she held the phone toher ear and listened to it ring. Greg picked up. "Hello. It's me," she said.
"Thank God. Oh, thank God."
Before she lost her nerve, she told him, "I went to the Mission todayand met a guy who just came back from Iraq. He told me what it was likeand I ..." she waited for her voice to stop shaking. "He told me some ofwhat you went through. It helped me to see things a little differently andI'm willing ..." she stopped again, but pushed on to say, "I'm willing toat least try to work things out. It won't be easy but we'll ... we'll do ittogether."
"I love you so much," he whispered.
She ignored his whisper and said, "I'll be home tonight." As she wasabout to hang up, she remembered to tell him, in a more normal voice,"Oh, he also said he knew you."
"The guy you talked with? You're kidding. What was his name?"
"Adam Moore. Did you know him?"
"Did you say Adam Moore?"
Puzzled at the odd tone in his voice, she replied slowly, "Yes, that'swhat he told me. Why?"
"Adam Moore was in that jeep that hit the land mine. He was killedin Iraq."
CHAPTER 2
VERA'S DIARY
There is nothing impossible to him who would try.Alexander the Great
Cornelia found the diary in the top cupboard in her mother's kitchen,leaning against the inside wall near the luncheon set—the delicate EnglishBone China with its border of flowers that had been a wedding present toher parents, making the trip with them from England to America. Tearsdampened her eyes as she read the name written inside the front cover ofthe diary. Vera Jane Metcalf.
"Geoff," she called to her husband, "I've found my mother's diary."She caressed the cover. "A little piece of her," she said, showing it to himwhen he appeared in the doorway. "I'd love to sit right down and read itbut I think I'll save it till we're done. That way I can keep her around atiny bit longer." She bent down from the ladder to lay it on the counterand turned her attention to packing the dishes.
Two hours later, Geoff yelled, "Well, looks like we're finished and it'sfive-thirty. All the boxes are in the car. Are you ready to go?" Corneliachecked the four rooms and the closets to be sure nothing had beenoverlooked, retrieved the diary from the counter, glanced around andclosed the door.
