Chapter Twenty-Eight Marion
twenty-eight MARION
Marion didn’t hesitate, and she didn’t ask permission. She followed her father to the parking lot and got in the passenger’s seat. He waited until she was in, then he turned the key. He made no sign that he’d seen her there, simply put the car in gear and headed home. They drove a while in silence, and she waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, she realized he was waiting for her.
“Does Mom know?”
He kept his eyes on the road. “She does.”
“She never told me.”
“Why should she? It was my secret to keep, and she respected that. Besides, she knew it wouldn’t change anything.”
“But it does, Dad. It changes everything.”
He glanced in the rearview mirror then pulled over to the side of the road and parked. Without changing his expression, he turned off the ignition and faced her.
“Explain to me how it changes everything.”
Marion knitted her brow, trying to pin her thoughts down. There was so much. How had her father gone from being someone that few people even noticed to being a hero? She didn’t think she’d ever been so incredulous or felt so proud as she did in the moment she’d learned the truth. But she’d also felt… betrayed.
“Why wouldn’t you want Pat and me to know that you saved a man’s life?”
“What would that have done? Would I have been a better dad? Would you have loved me more if you’d known?”
She shook her head right away, frowning. “Don’t be ridiculous. It wouldn’t have affected any of that.”
“Then what does it change? My life was your mother, your sister, and you. That’s all I needed. If I ever wanted to boast about anything, it would be about you, not me.” He shook his head. “That day wasn’t something I planned, and what I did didn’t deserve a medal. I was in the right place at the right time, but it could just as easily have been me in Jim’s place. Or Hank’s. We were all brothers over there.”
She thought of Daniel, of the loyalty she’d seen and heard when he talked about the men he’d fought with in Vietnam. Daniel wasn’t shy like her father, but he didn’t boast, either.
They were my brothers. I did whatever I could.
“But people deserve to know you were a hero.”
“Why? For whose sake, Bunny? Not mine. I never denied anything, did I? I never lied. I just didn’t feel the need to dwell on what happened. To be honest, I didn’t want people coming around with expectations. I just wanted to be left alone with my family. Jim was comfortable making speeches. He was always good at that. And most of the time he was as good a soldier as any other. He just froze up that one time, and I was there. The truth is, they’d have done the same if it had happened to me.” He nodded, smiling. “And then he went and paid for your schooling. Really, if I’d ever needed anything, that would have been it. Why would I need a medal when I could watch you flourish instead?”
Marion tried to find a weak spot in his argument but couldn’t. Thinking as a psychiatrist, she briefly considered asking him if he thought today’s revelation might help his episodes. Would the public acknowledgement of the truth ease his troubled soul when he couldn’t remember where he was? When he curled up in terror, believing he was still on the battlefield, would it help him get past that fear? In the end, she decided against it.
“So tell me, Bunny. Now that you’ve heard my thoughts, does Jim’s letter change anything?”
Marion exhaled, suddenly understanding. Sassy. It changed things for Sassy. After she’d gotten over the shock, Marion’s sympathy all flowed to her best friend. What had it done to Sassy to learn the truth at a time when she was already so weak? Her brother was missing, her father had killed himself in an alcoholic haze, and she’d just learned the truth about his war heroism. Sassy would feel very alone right now. And broken. She would need Marion more than ever. She felt an urgent need to get back to the apartment and to her friend.
“Actually, Dad, it does.” She smiled. “You may not think jumping in front of enemy fire and saving Hank’s life was heroic, but I do. Even more inspiring, I suppose, is the fact that you never wanted any thanks for what you did. You were satisfied with who you were, so you took it all in stride. You lived life the way you wanted, not waiting for anyone’s approval. That makes you an inspiration to me.”
His eyes sparkled with tears. “That means more to me than any medal ever could. My darling Marion, you have been my greatest joy. I’d love to say you were my greatest accomplishment, but you did it all by yourself.”
There was more that should have been said, and all the way home, Marion thought about the shame burning in her chest. As a child, how many times had she walked away from her father when he needed her, mortified that other people had witnessed him behaving strangely? How many times had she scorned the sight of him, paralyzed by his thoughts or huddled behind the furnace, wishing he could just be like her friends’ strong, reliable, normal dads?
Marion hadn’t admitted any of that tonight. Instead, she had convinced herself that confessing her ignorance to him after all this time could make matters more painful. Maybe he hadn’t noticed her embarrassment years before. He had never mentioned it, after all. If he wasn’t aware of how she felt back then, and she apologized for it now, wouldn’t that hurt him more?
So she kept her embarrassment to herself, and she told herself that it was better that way. He didn’t deserve to be hurt by her childhood prejudices. Her father was a hero; he was a good, honest man who had sacrificed himself for his friends.
Like Daniel, he called them his “brothers.”
What had Marion done for her own friend? She’d talked with her, fed her, cheered her as much as she could, but what had she really done? Sassy was more than her friend. She was her sister.
It was time to do more.
Back in her apartment, Marion grabbed the phone book. She flipped past a handful of pages, and when she got close to what she wanted, she stopped and let her finger slide down the list of names. Impatient for his supper, Chester strolled over and skimmed his tail across her face, demanding attention. Without taking her eyes from her work, she lifted him off the desk and placed him on the floor. He kept doing figure eights around her legs, but Marion had no time for cuddles.
“Ah. There you are,” she said to the book. “McKenny, Charles. McKenny, David J. McKenny, David P. McKenny, Fred. Where is… Ah! McKenny, Paul, M.D.”
She picked up the telephone and dialed his number, uncertain. She didn’t want him to think that she—
“Hello?”
“Paul? It’s Marion.”
His surprise lasted only a blink, then she heard a crunching on the other end of the line. Was he eating potato chips ?
“Well, well, well! Good to hear from you, Marion. How are you?”
She decided she couldn’t just leap in with the point of her call. A little small talk first. “I hate to admit it, but I’ve missed you.”
“It’s just not the same anymore, is it?” More crunching.
She scowled. “Are you eating chips?”
“I am.”
She thought that was a little rude. And now she was hungry. With everything that had happened today, had she eaten anything? Trapping the phone between her ear and her shoulder, she opened the kitchen drawer where Sassy had left an emergency supply of candy.
“Don’t put that in there. I don’t eat candy.”
“It’s Smarties, Marion. They make you smart.”
“Are you enjoying the community health centre work?” she asked, popping a couple of Smarties into her mouth.
“It’s fine,” he said noncommittally. “Kind of a solitary activity though, right? Waiting for appointments has never been my thing, and most don’t even show up. I mean, why would they? Do any of them know what a calendar means? Do they wear watches? You were right all along, Marion.” He crunched on a few more chips then paused. “Listen, it’s always nice to talk with you, but what are you really calling for?”
“I need help, and I’m wondering if you’re the right person to speak with.”
“Want to talk about it over lunch tomorrow?”
“Stop it, Paul. I need help right now. Besides, I thought you were dating someone.”
He chuckled. “You’re right. Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“My good friend is going through a lot. Part of it is that her brother’s in Vietnam, and he went missing at the end of January.”
“That’s tough.”
“It is. She’s a terrific girl, and she’s really suffering.” She deliberated over how much to share then went ahead. “Her name’s Sassy. She’s a hippy.”
“You have a hippy friend named Sassy? Well, good for you.”
“I do,” she said, unexpectedly proud of that. “Oh! You saw her! She performed the night you took me out.”
“I remember that. You freaked. So Sassy’s encouraging you to do new things? I like her already.”
“She does. In a way, she’s changed my life. And, uh, she’s actually the reason I called you.” She took a deep breath. “Here’s the thing, Paul. I read that the International Red Cross in Geneva put out a distress call to doctors from neutral nations because of the Tet Offensive.”
“I read that, too.”
“How does one get in touch with the Red Cross?”
“Why would you ask me that? I’m not a surgeon,” he said, sounding confused.
“No, but you know a guy who knows that woman, Claire Culhane, and you know some surgeons, so I thought you might point me in the right direction.” She swallowed. “I… I want to go.”
This time she felt his shock through the phone. “To Vietnam?”
“As a VPVN. A volunteer physician in Viet Nam.”
“Listen, Marion, when I suggested you live a little, this wasn’t what I meant. That’s nuts.”
She couldn’t stop now, or she might lose her nerve. “Do you know anyone in the Red Cross, or don’t you?”
“Listen, even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. That’s insane, Marion, and you and I both know insanity pretty well. Even if I was a surgeon, I’d think long and hard on this, and I’d probably decide against it. But if I was a woman surgeon, I would accept that the idea is beyond far-fetched. Probably suicidal. You’re not even a surgeon.”
“But I was, almost. I’m going, Paul. With or without your help.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, then he sighed. “I have a friend who’s going. Lee Willard, neurosurgeon. I’m not too surprised about him, to be honest, because he enjoys doing things that should kill him. He goes parachuting for kicks on weekends.”
“I want to talk with him,” she said quickly, her pulse hammering in her temples. “Please, Paul?”
She held her breath, practically hearing him consider the idea.
“I’ll tell you what. You might be nuts, but I do admire your courage. I’m sure the answer will be no, but I’ll call Willard and plead your case. He can talk with the CRC. Hang tight, Marion. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”