A Perfect Husband (16 page)

After his three-month recovery in Japan, Michael Peterson joined his wife, Patricia, in the Frankfurt region of Germany, where she was teaching elementary school at the Rhein-Main Air Base. It was the early 1970s, and Patricia Peterson was happy to have Michael back by her side. She had missed her husband dearly, and was anxious to start a family. By the mid-1970s, Patricia and Michael had become the parents of two beautiful boys, Clayton and Todd.

All of them enjoyed the expatriate life, spending their time with the American military families on the base. For Patricia, working for the Department of Defense was a way of fulfilling her dream. She loved being an educator, and raising her children away from American materialism was an extra bonus. Michael was happy to be a part of the air force's base as well. He spent his time writing, jogging, working out at the gym, and he socialized with a small group of Patricia's friends.

Patricia's best friend was Elizabeth McKee, a levelheaded young woman who had expatriated herself from America in the late 1960s. Also a schoolteacher at the Rhein-Main Air Base, Elizabeth was happier living overseas. Liz was very fluent in German and French, she enjoyed traveling around Europe, and she was good at teaching. Children of military families on the base flocked to her.

Elizabeth had many friends, and as time passed, she became extremely close with both Michael and Patricia Peterson. In many ways, they had become like family. In fact, Michael and Patricia became such close companions, they even talked Liz into spending a summer with them in Durham one year. It was back in the late ‘70s, the end of the hippie era, that Liz agreed to stay with Patricia and Mike in the Durham home they still owned. The three of them became very close during that summer in North Carolina, especially after Liz had some kind of abrasion surgery done to her skin at the Duke University Medical Center. Liz needed special care, and the Petersons became a great source of love and support for her.

Back in Germany, in the early 1980s, Elizabeth met Captain George Ratliff at a party held at the Air Force Officers' Club. If ever there was love at first sight, the two of them experienced it. George and Liz fell head over heels. An air force navigator who was almost ten years her junior, George Ratliff had come from a small Texas town. George was already married and divorced from his Texas A&M sweetheart, and his air force friends recalled how elated George was when he first met Liz. Even though they came from different backgrounds—she was a New England girl with a love of classical music, he was a Texas cowboy who drank beer—the two of them became inseparable.

On their wedding day in early 1981, Liz and George glowed. They had chosen to have a small civil ceremony at the Gothic-gabled Roemer City Hall, a medieval building that suited their storybook romance. Elizabeth's matron of honor was Patricia Peterson. George's best man was fellow air force navigator Randy Durham. Elizabeth wore a simple white dress with a garland of roses in her hair; George wore his military whites. The pair looked stunning, and shared vows that people believed could never be broken.

Missing from the occasion was their friend, Michael Peterson. He was the only person who avoided the reception, which was held in a small town called Klein-Gerau. Everyone there was absolutely delighted on that occasion. One of Elizabeth's sisters had flown over from New England, as had some of George's family, and Elizabeth and George were the two happiest people on earth. After a romantic honeymoon spent in a castle hideaway, the couple moved into an exquisite cottage in Klein-Gerau. They enjoyed the peace of living in a country setting, not far from the air force base, and it came as a big surprise when Elizabeth got pregnant right away. Shortly before Christmas of that same year, she would give birth to their first daughter, Margaret, a healthy, happy girl. They nicknamed her Gigi.

When Margaret was born, Patricia Peterson was one of the friends who helped out at the hospital in Wiesbaden. People recalled that Elizabeth couldn't believe how blessed she was at the time. To Elizabeth, it was a miracle that she'd found such a brave young man who adored her, that she was actually starting a family at her age, in her late thirties. And George was equally ecstatic. A quiet and shy type, he had always dreamed of having a true love with someone, of sharing a lifetime together.

A navigator on C-130 airplanes, large aircrafts, the size of 737 commercial jets, George Ratliff was a highly regarded officer in the U.S. Air Force who frequently spent long stretches away from his home. His main duty was to deliver troops and supplies along the Berlin corridor, but he was also called upon for certain top secret missions. George never discussed his military service, not even with his wife, and Liz understood that. There were certain things that Liz didn't need to know about. Her main concern was that her husband remained safe. She trusted that the officers in George's squadron were all top-notch, but she worried about his dangerous missions.

George and Liz Ratliff were living in the Cold War era, which meant George and his fellow air force officers were flying over Communist territory. His squadron supplied “special support” for the U.S. military, and often their missions were veiled in code, deemed “highly sensitive.” For the most part, Liz was content to keep uninformed about the secret military aspects of her husband's life. She really only wanted to know George as a loving husband and devoted father. Liz appreciated her time together with George. The two shared a unique bond, a rare connection that many people never find. The two of them would communicate without talking, and whenever he was home, George and Liz enjoyed happy times. Still crazy in love with each other, the two would soon learn that Liz was pregnant again. The news came very quickly, and George and Liz were elated to add Martha into their lives, just a little over a year after Margaret was born.

In his four years of service in Germany, George had become close with Major Bruce Berner, a senior flight officer who often flew back and forth between Frankfurt and Berlin. Flying special missions together along the three Berlin corridors of East and West Germany, the two men became good friends.

“It was always a real pleasure to listen to George direct a mission,” Major Berner would recall. “There was a sensitive navigational mission that he was dealing with all the time, which was serious business. He was actually standing up for most of the flight, navigating, directing the flight, directing every little turn that we made. And George would do it with a smile, so he was a really pleasant guy to be in that position, to essentially lead the crew.”

At the same time that George and Bruce were getting to know each other, the two officers' wives, Elizabeth Ratliff and Amybeth Berner, also began developing a tight friendship. Even though Liz was much older, Amybeth being in her twenties, both women had been raised in New England, and both women preferred European ways. As they shared their philosophies and perspectives, Liz and Amybeth found they had so much in common, Liz became like Amybeth's big sister. Liz was a role model for Amybeth, who felt hopeful that she too could be such a patient mom, such a loving spirit, if and when she might have her own child.

And Liz had her fun side. She liked to sip champagne with strawberries, she liked to shop in big cities, and she enjoyed a five-star restaurant now and then. It was through Liz that Amybeth would learn more about the finer things in life. From Wedgwood china to how to arrange place settings, from fine wines to Laura Ashley prints—Liz knew about these kind of things. And Amybeth loved learning about the beauty of a particular lace pattern or the simplicity of a certain wildflower arrangement.

A newlywed who was trying to start a family of her own, Amybeth enjoyed spending time at home with Liz and her girls, admiring all the special care Liz took with her daughters, Margaret and Martha. Liz was musically inclined, so she would sing to the girls, she would play the piano and the guitar. Liz went out of her way to make things special for the girls, and Amybeth felt that being around Liz was an enchanted experience. She and Bruce lived in Graefenhausen, a town a few miles away, where most of the other American military officers were. She and her husband were neighbors to Michael and Patricia Peterson, so the whole group became very chummy. Over the months, and then the years, the Berners, the Petersons, and the Ratliffs got to know each other well. They socialized together on occasions, and traveled in groups to cities throughout Europe.

“Officers' wives tend to live according to protocol,” Amybeth confided, “but the women in our squadron were very kind. Nobody had a snooty attitude, not in our squadron. In our small group, people were very personable, very caring. Maybe it was because it was Special Missions. Maybe because our husbands were gone a lot, and we needed each other.”

As George and Liz Ratliff continued to become closer to Bruce and Amybeth Berner, they all agreed that life in Germany was more enjoyable than it was in America. It was easy to go on trips, it was easy to hang out and do things socially, and no one focused on American materialism. No one tried to outdo each other with designer labels, no one placed burdens on each other by having to keep up with the latest toys. People in Germany seemed to be above that nonsense. The Europeans seemed more cultured. They talked about art and music, they talked about interesting films. And their sensibility seemed much more pleasing, especially to Elizabeth Ratliff.

Elizabeth wanted to make sure that her daughters remained in Europe. She wanted them to be cultured, she wanted them to have a slower-paced and peaceful life. But she also wanted them to have more of a “world consciousness” than most Americans had. It was very important to Liz that her girls would grow up with a worldly sense of being. Liz herself had grown tired of America. It was Liz's upbringing in Rhode Island, perhaps, that felt too puritanical and too hypocritical for her.

Liz had been raised by nuns in a Catholic school, and the nuns had been so strict and unforgiving, they had scolded her for the smallest reasons. Things like wearing patent leather shoes were considered too sexual. The nuns implied that men could see up Liz's skirt in the shoes' reflection. Liz found these kind of teachings absurd, and by the time she turned twenty, Liz announced that she planned to leave New England for good. Instead of seeking fame and fortune, Liz wanted to travel the globe, and she spent time traveling throughout parts of Asia and Europe before landing her teaching job in Germany.

Feeling the same way Liz did, once he met his wife, George became intent on staying in Germany as well. He was quite happy being a part of the 7405th Operations Squadron, flying classified missions throughout Germany and in other undisclosed parts of the world. He planned to continue his work for the U.S. Air Force, operating out of Germany, for as long as possible. But just months after Martha was born, Captain George Ratliff left on a mission to Central America, and he died under mysterious circumstances.

George Ratliff was on a top secret mission outside Panama—he was there during the time when the United States was making preparations for an invasion of the island of Grenada.

George's friend Bruce Berner hadn't flown that particular mission, known as “Goat Rope,” because his wife, Amybeth, had suffered a serious back injury and was hospitalized in Wiesbaden for a month. Bruce had to stay at home to care for Amybeth until she could get back on her feet again. On the day George Ratliff died, Bruce Berner happened to be at his unit's highly secured building on the base, working in the room where messages were transmitted. Often his squadron would receive directives from the Pentagon. But on that given day, when his commander took the call, Bruce Berner learned that George Ratliff, his thirty-four-year-old buddy, had mysteriously died in his sleep.

When Bruce's commander told the rest of the squadron about the sudden death, there was a lot of silence that followed. No one else had died on the mission, and there was no reasonable explanation why George Ratliff had died so young. There would be an autopsy report to follow, but because of the secret nature of George Ratliff's work, that information would not be released for years.

When the word of George's death reached Liz, she couldn't accept it as true. Bruce was the person who helped break the news. Others surrounded her, trying to console Liz—but it was as if her own heart melted away when she heard that her husband had died. George's friend Randy Durham received a one-day clearance to Panama to retrieve Captain Ratliff's personal effects, and then to accompany his body back to Bay City, Texas.

In Germany, with no one else to turn to, Elizabeth leaned on Michael Peterson, who helped her make the necessary arrangements for handling all the military paperwork, and for flying back to the United States for the funeral. At a loss because the military would not reveal any details whatsoever about George Ratliff's death, Elizabeth's other friends felt grateful that Michael was able to pick up some of the slack for the widow. Being a former marine, Peterson was good at dealing with military red tape. Michael had always been close with Liz. They were mutual admirers of each other, and he took on her plight without question.

But Michael's shoulder was not strong enough. From the moment of George's death, everyone around her could see that Elizabeth had no real will to live. At the burial ceremony in Texas, on October 27, 1983, Randy Durham presented Elizabeth with the American flag that had been draped over George's coffin. The widow was accompanied by Michael Peterson. She had been greeted by members of the Ratliff family, people who, understandably, shared her shock and grief. But Liz could not be calmed. Her grief was overwhelming. Her tears wouldn't end.

Just before she left Texas to return to Germany, Liz confessed to her sister-in-law, Connie Ratliff, that she wished to join her husband in death. Liz confided that she had roamed the Ratliffs' expansive property, hoping and praying for the universe to take her to Heaven.

But Elizabeth had her girls.

She knew she had to return home to them.

Liz felt she couldn't bear to go back to her house, so she sent word through Michael and asked that her friends have all of her belongings moved out of the cottage in Klein-Gerau. A crew of people got together and packed everything up, knowing that Liz was unable to face that pretty cottage alone. As for her girls, they were too young to know what was happening. People were pitching in, doing whatever they could to make life more bearable for Liz and her daughters. But of course, the girls would never remember any of that.

Michael was helping with the money Liz had gotten from George's insurance policy and what was owed to Liz from the military. And Patricia was helpful with the girls, trying to get them settled in a row house, located just a few doors away from the Peterson place, in Graefenhausen. But for Elizabeth—her life, as she knew it, had ended. Her days of being a stay-at-home mom were over, she would return back to teaching, and she began hiding behind a wall. Amybeth, who had lost her dad at a young age, knew how devastated someone could feel. Amybeth would go over and talk to Liz every day, trying to see if there was anything she could say to raise her friend's spirits.

“I know that you feel really bad,” Amybeth would tell Liz, “and death is a horrible thing. But I know that eventually you're going to feel better.”

“No, you don't understand,” Liz would insist, “he was the love of my life.”

And so it was that Liz could not be consoled. She would somehow go on, for the sake of her girls, but Liz was only going through the motions of existence. She would set special breakfast tables, she would sing little songs, she would spend weekends stitching pretty quilts—but having to do all of that at the end of every workday just left Liz feeling even more drained and depleted. As the weeks passed, and the holiday season approached, Liz began to slide into a deep depression.

Her sadness became greater. And there seemed to be no end in sight.

Liz had asked that most of George's things be placed in a special room in the house. She also had his clothes placed in her bedroom. She had some of them put away in closets and drawers. She had a pair of George's eyeglasses and other little items of his strewn around the room, as if George were still living with her.

Michael Peterson thought Liz was crazy. He had trouble dealing with Liz's mood swings. Other people would talk to her about her moods at length, trying to get her encouraged about being a new mom, trying to make Liz realize how fortunate it was that she had two beautiful daughters. She needed to celebrate Christmas, to have parties for their birthdays; there was so much life ahead of her.

Her good friends Thomas and Cheryl Appel-Schumacher, who also were connected with the air force base, tried their best to support Liz emotionally. They wanted her to be strong for her girls, and because Liz was so tearful and sad, they had grown quite worried about Margaret and Martha. Being one of the most practical of Liz's friends, Cheryl didn't want to see Liz grieving all the time. She knew it was unhealthy for the girls to see their mom so tearful. Cheryl would insist that Liz not allow herself to go to that dark place. She would encourage Liz to concentrate on the future, helping Liz regain her sense of faith.

But Liz loved George so much, she was so lost without him. She retreated into negative thoughts about herself. She began telling people that she'd lost hope. Elizabeth didn't think that anything would get better. She blamed herself for not being a good enough person. She started to believe that she had never deserved a man as wonderful as George.