Page 58 of All We Thought We Knew
We headed toward town. Thankfully the roads were clear, with melting snow pushed off to the edges of the pavement. It took a while for the heater to begin to warm the chilly air in the cab, but it felt good to get outside after being cooped up in the house.
We passed the Allyn farm. “I wonder if Paula is still around. Do you ever see her?”
Nash took his time answering. “She and I have talked a few times since I got back. She quit school and is staying with her grandparents in Lynchburg. They’re getting older, and her grandfather has dementia.”
“I always liked Paula,” I said. “I hope she finds someone to love again someday.”
Nash kept his attention on the road.
When we reached the outskirts of town, he steered the truck to a neighborhood of neat homes on good-sized lots. Trees filled the yards, with red and yellow leaves clinging to limbs that wouldsoon be bare. We passed the remnants of a snowman, his straw hat lopsided and his stick arms drooping.
Nash stopped in front of a stately redbrick house and cut the engine. A wreath of plastic pink and purple flowers hung on the front door, looking out of place in the wintry world around them.
“Is this where your friend lives?” I asked.
“Mr. and Mrs. Graham live in the main house, but they’re out of town for the holiday. Fred lives out back.” He paused, his expression solemn. “Fred is a couple years older than us, so I didn’t know him when we were growing up. His homelife was about like mine, and he quit school and joined the Army as soon as he was eligible. He was on his second deployment to ’Nam when he stepped on a land mine. He woke up in the hospital, paralyzed from the waist down.”
My heart sank hearing the sad tale. “I’m sorry.”
Nash nodded. “He’s had a hard time since he got back to the States. Mr. Graham was wounded in World War II and received a hero’s welcome when he finally made it home. Now he works with vets like Fred and me. He says it’s his job to make sure those of us who went to Vietnam know that our service was just as important as his.”
His words weren’t meant as a rebuke on my stance against the war, but I felt chastised, nonetheless.
“How did you meet them?”
“Someone at the VA in Nashville told me about the Grahams. They open their home every week to a group of us. It’s a safe place to talk about what we experienced in ’Nam.” His mouth quirked. “I’m not too keen on sharing personal stuff with strangers, but after I got back to Tullahoma, I decided to give it a try. I met Fred here. Since he doesn’t have family, the Grahams offered to let him live in their guesthouse.”
We exited the vehicle, with Jake leading the way up a concretedriveway toward the backyard. After a couple steps, however, I hesitated.
“Maybe I should wait in the truck. Your friend may not want a stranger showing up unannounced.”
Nash slowed his progress and faced me. “I wouldn’t’ve invited you if I thought you weren’t welcome. But I’ll understand if you’d rather not go in. Seeing Fred in a wheelchair can be a little unnerving.”
“I’m not afraid to meet him. I just don’t want him to be uncomfortable meeting me.”
“He knows about you and Mark. How we grew up together, and how Mark and I went to ’Nam on the same day. He’d probably enjoy seeing a face to go with the name.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of Nash talking about me and my brother, especially since there was no telling what he might say about me and my liberal ideas. But we were part of Nash’s childhood, same as he was part of ours. Our story wouldn’t be complete without him, and vice versa.
We continued to make our way around the house. A charming cottage stood in the corner of the backyard, with a wide, brick path going from the patio of the main house to the front door of the small dwelling.
Jake sat in front of the closed door, but when he saw Nash, he began to bark. Before we’d even reached the house, the door swung open.
“Jake, my boy.” A moment later, a man in a wheelchair appeared in the opening and reached to pet the dog where he stood, waiting. Uncertainty flashed across Fred’s face when he spotted me with Nash.
“Hey, buddy,” Nash said when we approached. “This is my friend, Mattie Taylor. We thought we’d bring you a little turkey and stuffing.”
I couldn’t quite read Fred’s expression as we shook hands. He almost seemed embarrassed.
“Come in.” He used both hands to make the chair wheels roll backwards into the house.
Jake happily followed. Nash sent me an encouraging smile before we entered.
The small home was cozy, yet I noticed there weren’t a lot of furnishings. A small sofa, a television set on a rolling cart, and a table with two chairs occupied the living/kitchen/dining area. A wide, open doorway led to what I assumed was the bedroom.
Nash put the foil-covered dish on the stovetop, then took a seat at the table. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I quietly sank onto the sofa.
“I guess the Grahams are glad they went to Florida to visit their daughter and missed this cold snap,” Fred said.
