Family Ties

“By the way, Dad,” I said over the seat once we crested the ridge, “this is my girlfriend, Christy. Christy, this is my dad, David. I don’t think I introduced you earlier.”

“You didn’t,” Mom said.

Erin leaned forward and mouthed, Worst boyfriend ever.

Christy actually cut her off with a gesture. She wasn’t rude about it, but Erin got the message.

“Nice to meet you, Christy,” my dad said over the seat. “Sorry to rush you this morning, but…”

“It’s all right.”

“My fault,” I repeated.

“Nice to meet you too, David. My dad says he thinks he knows you. I’m supposed to ask you a bunch of questions about Vietnam. What squadron, what ship, what year? That sort of thing.”

“We don’t talk about Vietnam,” my mom said.

Erin and I looked at each other. We’d never heard her use that tone before.

“I can’t remember that far back,” my dad joked to lighten the mood.

“It was a long time ago for all of us,” Susan said.

“Right,” Mom agreed. She and Susan shared a look.

Erin and I did the same. Again.

What the hell was that about? her look asked.

No clue, mine said.

“Let’s change the subject,” Mom said.

“No problem,” I said. “So, Dad… tell me about the new plane.”

“Ah, right. It’s a sweet little ’72 Beech Baron. One of the guys at work…”

We buried Master Gunnery Sergeant Jeremiah John Kershaw with full military honors in the local cemetery on his family plot, alongside his parents and a baby sister. The day was crisp and achingly beautiful, with feathery cirrus clouds under the high blue vault of the heavens. The air rang with the sound of gunfire as the Marine Corps rifle squad fired three volleys and then the bugler played “Taps.”

I didn’t know if Christy was crying for her brother or Gunny, but it didn’t really matter. I put my arm around her and barely held back my own tears, although I would’ve been in good company if I hadn’t. Afterward the honor

guard folded the American flag with military precision and presented it to Gunny’s widow on behalf of a grateful nation.

We lingered at the gravesite and talked about the service. Then we drove to the local VFW, where the ladies of Lenore’s church served lunch. I felt embarrassed that I knew so little of Gunny’s life, although I heard plenty of stories over the next couple of hours. He was a remarkable man, a real character, and I wasn’t likely to meet anyone like him again.

We left the luncheon in a thoughtful but upbeat mood. We’d said goodbye to our friend, but we knew he wouldn’t want us to mourn forever.

Still, I couldn’t help but think about his loss and what it would mean to Susan. Gunny had been her friend as well as the camp’s unofficial major-domo.

Susan dropped us off at our rooms. She and Mom talked for a few minutes before she drove down the road to her own house. We had a big farewell dinner planned, but the afternoon was ours, so Christy and I changed into everyday clothes. I offered to give her a tour of the main camp, and Erin tagged along.

“Is it weird to have guys staring at you?” Christy asked her.

“Not really. Besides, they stare at you more in the real world. I mean, you know how guys talk to your boobs. And you’re like, ‘Up here! My eyes are up here.’”

“Maybe you have that problem,” Christy said with a laugh. “I don’t.”

“Okay, then whenever you bend over, and every guy stares at your butt.”

Christy nodded.

“Well, it isn’t really like that here. I mean, sometimes it is, but that’s mostly when you want a guy to look.” She glanced at me but didn’t say anything. “Everyone’s pretty cool otherwise. A couple of guys can be creepy at times, but most people discourage that kind of thing. I mean, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been ‘accidentally’ groped in the real world, but it’s never happened at camp. Not unless I wanted it.”

They shared a grin.

“It also helps that only families or couples are allowed,” Erin continued.

“No single men. Paul’s kind of an exception, but he couldn’t visit by himself if it weren’t for Susan.” She immediately realized she might have said too much, but she didn’t lose her cool. “You know,” she added, “since we’ve been coming here so long.”

“So it isn’t because your mom and Susan are… you know?”

Erin’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“I told her,” I said, “but she also figured it out on her own as soon as she saw them together. She has this knack for reading people. It’s… uncanny.”

“Oh, okay,” Erin said. “So… yeah. Paul’s an exception ’cause of Mom and Susan.”

“So,” Christy said thoughtfully, “no single guys around to be… um…

jerks.”

“I didn’t say that,” Erin said with a laugh. “Single guys are always jerks sooner or later—”

“You can say that again,” Christy muttered.

“—but not because they stare at you,” Erin finished. “Besides, sometimes it’s nice to have guys stare at you. I mean, I can always tell which ones are interested and which ones don’t have a clue.”

“I don’t think I’ll have that problem,” Christy said. “I’m too skinny and small.”