Page 78 of To Save Him

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-five

 

BEAMS OF LIGHT warmed the lower part of my back and legs as the sun streamed in the window and I stood in front of the fireplace mantel.  We hadn’t used the fireplace in years, but I had to dust the mantel once a week, picking up candles and framed photographs as I ran the duster underneath.  I didn’t actuallylookat the pictures much anymore, because they brought back too many painful memories, memories of a time when I was actually happy down to my bones.  The camera had captured more innocent times, and my heart cracked every time I allowed those emotions to creep in and remind me that all good things must come to an end.

One of the photos on the mantel was an eight-by-ten, a grainy color picture Gabriel had brought home with him on one of his first periods of leave.  It too was one of the pictures I didn’t actually look at anymore, but today I had to.  I needed to search all those fuzzy faces to see if I recognized anyone else.

I picked up the picture and, like Pavlov’s salivating dog, my eyes welled up with tears.  I blinked and drew a sharp breath in through my nose, forcing myself to focus.  Long ago, I had come to the realization that I would always mourn the loss of my son, always have a hole in my heart that he used to fill, but I needed to find a way to be strong—stronger, at least, than I was.

I blinked again to clear my eyes and force myself to concentrate on the task at hand.  The landscape photograph showed members of Gabriel’s platoon—five rows of soldiers dressed in fatigues, looking straight ahead as if awaiting orders.  In front of the platoon were three men whom I assumed were officers and in front of them was a sign containing details that meant nothing to me…for, if nothing else, this was where I sent my son to die.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and gritted my teeth.  I was doing it again, allowing myself to wallow in emotion instead of completing my mission—which was to find evidence of Brandon’s existence in my son’s life so I could quit fretting over the fact that he seemed too good to be true.

The faces were so small that I wondered if I would have been able to spot my son without knowing that he was standing in the row second from the top, seven bodies in.  I wanted to believe I could identify him no matter what, but I wasn’t so sure now.  Not only were the faces small, but they were all wearing camouflage hats.  Still…there was Gabriel, my boy, under the bill of that cap.

God, there was no stopping those damn tears…so I let them fall.

I moved to the couch and, when I was able to control myself, I scrutinized the picture, looking at each face, trying to recognize features, hoping something seemed familiar.

But nothing.

One of the men in the front was halfway recognizable as one of Gabriel’s first leaders.  I couldn’t remember the man’s title or name, but I knew there was one other picture of Gabriel and another soldier with that man, actually smiling and laughing.  I couldn’t remember the circumstances or the details, but I did recall that Gabriel really liked him.

And maybe the other soldier had been Brandon.

I stood from the couch and replaced the photo, practically sprinting to my office before sitting at my computer.  I’d planned to look through all Gabriel’s emails to scour for photos, rather than absorbing his words.  I had a few pictures saved on my computer as well, and I planned to look through those first.

I found the picture I’d wondered about and determined the other soldier wasnotBrandon—it was a young man from Florida named Mark.  And, after spending my morning looking through pictures, I knew Brandon was nowhere to be found.  I sat in my chair, angry with myself for wasting valuable writing time, but then I acknowledged that what I was doing instead was important.  Brandon’s origins were dubious and they were moored even further in doubt after my snooping.

I needed to find a way to ask questions without arousing his suspicion—and without giving away that I myself was suspicious.

JR appeared in my doorway but I didn’t hear him until he said, “Were you gonna make something for lunch, mom?”

I startled in my chair and it felt like my heart skipped a beat.  I closed the browser on my computer screen a little too quickly before saying, “Yes, let’s go make some sandwiches.”

We went to the kitchen and mainly worked in silence, gathering what we needed to put together a simple meal.  My brain was circling around the idea of Brandon and trying to figure out if he really was who he said he was—but JR was thinking about something different, although Brandon was part of his thought process, and he needed to share.  “Hey, mom?”

“Yes, son?”

“You know how registration’s next week?”

In the back of my mind, I’d remembered.  I wasn’t ready for my kids to go back to school, though, because, for both children, this year would be a milestone—Annabel would be in her senior year in high school and JR would be in eighth grade, and I didn’t feel prepared for that.  I was tired of letting go, especially when it came to my children.  But I nodded just the same, letting JR know that I did indeed recall.

“Well…I wondered if Brandon could come with us.”

That seemed like an odd request, but I hoped my expression wasn’t giving it what I was thinking.  “Well, that partly depends on his work schedule.”

“I’m thinking about signing up for Junior ROTC and wanted him to come with me.”

With that comment, I could kind of understand why JR would want Brandon to come along.  Brandon, having had some military experience, might be a bit of an inspiration.  “Well, we could ask him.”

JR was quiet for a bit as he grabbed two different kinds of chips out of the bread box on the counter.  I glanced over and saw by the look on his face that he was struggling with something more, so I didn’t say another word, hoping the silence would coax it out of him…which it did.  “Is it weird that he feels kind of like a brother to me?”

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