Page 10 of All We Thought We Knew
I didn’t glance at the closed door on my right when I reached the bottom of the steps. When I dragged myself from Mark’s room last night, I knew I’d never step foot in there again. What would be the point? His things were gone. He was gone.
The space felt as empty as I did.
I drew to a stop in the kitchen doorway. Nash stood at the sink, scrubbing a propped-up frying pan.
“Morning.” He didn’t smile but nodded to the table. “There’s pancakes and bacon, but they might be a little cold by now. Coffee’s still hot though.”
Confusion spun through me. “Dad hiredyouto cook?”
He chuckled. “He hired me to help with the farm. The cooking part evolved.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Not only was he the farmhand and chauffeur, but he was the housekeeper too?
I moved to pour myself a cup of coffee from the percolator. A hefty dose of cream and sugar lightened the dark liquid. After I took a long sip, I said, “I saw Mama.”
He nodded but continued scrubbing.
I heaved a sigh.
Nash and I may not agree on some things, but right now I needed him. He was the only person who would give me theinformation I required to help me understand what I’d walked into when I came home. Talking to Dad about it was out of the question. “Tell me about her diagnosis.” When he glanced over to me, I added, “Please.”
Nash stopped what he was doing, toweled off his hand, and motioned me to the table where we both took seats.
“I got back to the States in February, but I didn’t come to Tullahoma until the end of March.” He paused, his expression convincing me the memory of his homecoming wasn’t pleasant. “I stayed in town looking for a job, but I hadn’t seen your folks yet.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know what to say to them. It might sound crazy, but I blamed myself for Mark’s death, even though I wasn’t there when it happened.”
I sat silent. I blamed him too, but now wasn’t the time to bring that up.
“When I finally got the courage to come out and see them, they welcomed me. Your dad asked what I planned to do now, and I told him I was looking for a job. Any job. He didn’t hesitate. Said I could come work for him.”
A soft smile formed on his mouth. “Your mom... she’s been good to me. I wasn’t here long before I noticed she was tired all the time. Ava said it was normal aging and told us not to worry. It was real hot the first week of August, and she collapsed out in the barn. Your dad took her to the hospital, and that’s when they discovered the cancer. Doc sent her to Nashville for surgery, but when they opened her up...” He grew silent and simply shook his head.
I swallowed hard. Guilt, pain, and regret tightened my throat. “I still don’t understand why she won’t try to fight it.”
He looked out the window, then back to me. “Not every battle can be won, Mattie.” He stood and returned to the sink.
I watched him wash and dry dishes, doing it all with one hand. If anyone knew the truth of his statement, it was Nash. Knowing what losses he would suffer, would he still willinglyhead off to war and take my brother with him? While they’d spent three years fighting the enemy in the jungles of Vietnam, I’d moved to Nashville to attend Vanderbilt and participated in student sit-ins to protest the war. We were beginning to feel like we were making a difference when Mama called with the worst news I could imagine.
Scratching came from the outside door. A loud bark followed.
“That’ll be Jake,” Nash said. He finished drying off a plate and stored it in the proper cabinet, then strode to open the door. A German shepherd stood on the porch.
“Hey, boy.” Nash patted the animal on the head. “You ready for breakfast, too?”
The dog barked again. Nash motioned him in and shut the door.
My mouth gaped. “Dad lets you have a dog inside the house?”
The corner of Nash’s mouth lifted. “Your mom’s the one who said Jake was welcome. Not much your dad could say after that.”
Jake walked with a limp as he slowly made his way into the kitchen. When the animal glanced my way, I was surprised to discover he only had one eye. Furless scars crisscrossed his face, evidence something bad had happened to him.
Nash didn’t wait for an inquiry. “Jake is a war dog. He and Gerald, his handler, were both injured by a grenade. The Vietcong target the dogs, hoping to keep them from detecting land mines and tunnels. The powers-that-be up the chain of command were going to have Jake euthanized because of his wounds, but Gerald wouldn’t leave Vietnam without his partner. I don’t know the whole story, but someone snuck Jake onto the medical transport airplane in a wooden crate, even though it was against regulations. I met Gerald at Walter Reed in Washington.”
Nash took a bag from the pantry and dumped a handful of dry dog food into a bowl. Jake hobbled over and began to eat with more gusto than I’d expected.
“Are you keeping Jake for Gerald until he’s well enough to come get the dog?”
A shadow darkened Nash’s face. “Gerald’s dead. He committed suicide. Couldn’t stand the thought of being a cripple all his life.”
