Woodstock Day Four #2
Ron chuckled. “That ain’t gonna happen.” His broken-tooth smile killed me.
“Dad should have come to the festival,” I said. “Maybe smoking a little weed would have set his soul free.”
Guttural laughter spewed from Ron’s throat. And mine. We held on to our stomachs. It was the first time we’d done it in ages.
After the laughter subsided, I remembered Leon’s words about forgiveness. “Maybe someday I can forgive him. It’s just gonna take me a while.”
Ron caressed my freckled cheek with the back of his hand. “I know you can do it.”
We gazed at one another a few seconds before I said, “Can I ask you a question?”
He nodded.
“How does Livy fit into this? I mean, I get she’s your girlfriend and all, but she told me she was happy she could help you. What’d she mean by that?”
“She’s the one who came up with the defection plan.”
I gripped the arms of the chair and leaned back. “Figures.”
“Hold on a minute. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive. I . . . would’ve shot myself.”
That was hard to hear.
Ron tugged on his beard. “I’m sorry I never told you about her. I, well, we didn’t want you mad—”
“Mad?” I said, all riled up again. “You both knew I blamed myself. Livy deserves part of that blame, doesn’t she?
If it weren’t for her, you would have picked me up from my music lesson, I wouldn’t have written about it in my diary, and you wouldn’t have gotten in trouble.
Look what happened to you!” I leaned in again, touched his leg.
“Hey,” he said tenderly. “I don’t blame either one of you. War doesn’t take long to humble a guy. I got myself to ’Nam.”
“Why didn’t you write me? Nine months is a long time to go without hearing from you. I imagined all kinds of terrible things.”
“I didn’t think writing you from Canada was a good idea. That may have been a bad decision; I don’t know. I just did what I thought was best at the time.”
I glanced longingly toward the stage. As much as I wanted to be sitting here with him, hearing more of the story, I was tangled up in blue from having to say goodbye to Leon.
“Livy’s connected with protest organizations here in the US and in Canada. She had the whole thing set up when she met us in Hawaii.”
“Livy was in Hawaii with you and Mama?” With a deadly eye roll, I slumped low in my chair. This new revelation about Livy pushed me over the edge.
“There was a reason for that. Honolulu is where couples go for R & R. Whether you’re already married or you want to get married.”
I bolted straight up. “Are you and Livy married?”
“No.”
Sighing loudly, I placed a hand over my heart.
“But she posed as my fiancée. She went through the wife training program at the base on Waikiki Beach. Instead of taking me to the wedding chapel, she took me to the airport to catch a flight to Vancouver. She got me a fake passport. I couldn’t have done it without her.”
I thought back to Livy showing up at Kress out of the blue, then buying me the records for no reason, and not giving up when I told her I couldn’t go to Woodstock.
She kept her promise to Ron that she would let him be the one to tell me about his defection.
She was a much better friend than I’d given her credit for.
“Everything finally makes sense,” I said with a sigh. “Everything except Mama. Are you telling me she helped Livy?”
Ron nodded. “She’s been in on it from the beginning. We’ve been corresponding through a secret PO box. I couldn’t risk sending letters to the house.”
“I found them the night I left. She hides them in our bathroom.”
“We couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you. That’s why Livy and I came up with this festival plan. So I could tell you face-to-face.”
A ghastly notion sent shivers down my spine. “Does Dad know Mama helped you?”
“God, no,” Ron said, with a firm shake of his head. “And he never will. Our mother is not weak. She’s as strong as steel. She risked everything for me.”
My head reeled. All I could do was give him a painful stare.
“I told you I had some heavy shit to tell you.”
“Heavy indeed,” I said with a groan. I pictured our mother’s sweet face. “I’m so proud of Mama. But she must be so worried about you up there.”
“Not as worried as she was when I was in ’Nam.”
“Are you lonely?”
“Not really. I’ve got friends. Been writing music with a cat from Memphis named Jesse Winchester. He fled the draft and moved up to Montreal a couple of years before I got there. Great musician.”
I wanted to hear more, but the thought of leaving Leon was starting to consume me. With a firm grip on the handrails, I glanced at the bowl. “Leon and Johnny have to leave right after Hendrix.”
With a growing smile, Ron said, “You like him, don’t you?”
I stared at him like he was the biggest dumbass on planet earth.
“No, you don’t. You love him.”
I smiled.
“We’ll finish this later.” Ron stood up and cracked every one of his knuckles, a habit of his that used to drive me insane. “Where are you going after this?” he asked.
With a tilt of my head, I lifted my eyebrows. “That is a very good question.”