Ever After (24 page)

T
WENTY
-T
WO

A
s it turned out, Justin’s parents didn’t know even half of what he was involved in. Emily traveled back to Kelso with them that night, the night she learned of his death, and when his sister Jill came home, Emily sat in the other room so her parents could break the news to her in private.

Later, when the wailing had died down, they all sat in the living room, and Emily told them she would take care of letting everyone know, all the groups he was involved with.

“Groups?” His mother’s cheeks had been wet all evening. She clung to her husband’s arm, barely strong enough to be curious.

“Yes.” She looked at Justin’s father and then at Jill. Their faces were blank also. “He volunteers a lot of his time.” She realized she was still using present tense, but that was okay. It was too soon to talk about Justin in anything but present tense.

His mother raised her chin and sniffed. “He … he used to do volunteer work here. When he was in high school. But I didn’t know …”

“He didn’t like talking about the things he did for other people.” Justin’s dad sat up a little straighter. “What all did he do?”

That was one of the few highlights of the day. When Emily had the chance to tell them about Justin’s work. She told them about the Veterans, and how Justin believed it was no big deal. “He used to tell me someone needs to hear their stories, to keep their legacy alive.” She held a damp tissue in her hand and caught her tears as they fell. But her voice remained clear as she continued. She told them how he visited local classrooms, telling school children about the good the U.S. soldiers were doing over in Iraq.

And she told them about the teen center.

“My goodness …” His mother looked at her husband and then back at Emily. There was a catch in her voice. “Someone has to tell those boys.”

Emily nodded. “I will. Justin would’ve wanted me to do it.”

She stayed at the Bakers’ house that night, and she heard from her dad. Her mom was going to fly home with Justin’s body. And after the connecting flight through the air base in Germany, they were scheduled to arrive in two days. Plans for Justin’s memorial service came together sometime around midnight, and by one in the morning they were all drained. Sleep was restless that night, and several times she woke up, sobbing, her pillow soaked. But as morning dawned — as she gradually faced the day, and as the reality of Justin’s death hit her again — Emily knew it was time. She would drive back to Tacoma and break the news to the teens and the Veterans. Everyone he spent time with.

When she reached her residence hall again, when she was controlled enough to speak, she sat at a table and picked up the phone. The person at the school district would be the easiest of all. She took a deep breath, begged God for strength, and dialed the number. When she was connected to the right person, she explained she was a friend of Lieutenant Justin Baker.

“Yes, we know Justin.” The woman sounded all sunshine and smiles. “Several of our classes are writing cards and letters for him. They’ve taken up a collection of Jelly Bellies.” She laughed. “Every time Justin ever came to talk to a class, he brought Jelly Bellies.”

Emily exhaled.
God … what am I supposed to say?
She pinched the bridge of her nose and searched for the words. “Yes, well, I’m afraid I don’t have good news, ma’am.”

“No?” Gradual alarm filled the woman’s tone. “Did something … is he okay?”

“No … he isn’t. He was killed this week in Iraq.”

The woman on the other end gasped. It was a long time before she said anything. “I’m so sorry.”

“We all are.” She had promised herself, promised God, that she wouldn’t break down today. The people who knew Justin needed her to be strong. But there was no getting around the sorrow. It seeped from every pore, grew with every breath.

“When … when is the service?”

Emily gave her the details and asked her to pass on the news to the teachers and kids who knew him. She hung up the phone, then hesitated.

Her next task wouldn’t be as easy.

The rain hadn’t let up since the day before, so she wore her jacket. The one Justin liked best because it made her blue eyes stand out.

The Veterans met every day after lunch at the American Legion hall. They played bingo and poker or just sat around the table telling stories of the old days. War stories, mostly. Emily had only been with Justin once when he visited them. She thought it would be good for her writing someday to watch Justin interact with the old guys.

But their time that day had given her an even greater appreciation of the man she loved. He sat there in their midst, every bit a part of the group, and there was no getting around the pride that filled the room.

Justin wasn’t like other kids his age. He was a throwback. Hope existed for the entire generation if there could be one young soldier like Justin Baker, that’s what the Veterans thought of him. And they loved him for taking the time to remember them.

When Emily and Justin left that day, one of the men, an old guy in a baseball cap covered with military patches and hunched over in a wheelchair, his jacket not quite straight on his shoulders, pointed a finger in Justin’s direction. “I know you’re shipping out, but you be careful now, young man.” He patted the place on the table beside him. “We’ll keep your spot open.”

Emily tried not to think about the image as she drove to the hall that day. The old guy couldn’t have been serious about saving Justin a spot. Not with all the Veterans looking to get in on a conversation or a game of cards. Table space seemed to be at a premium. She drove without ever really seeing the roads or the stoplights, her body moving in a sort of automatic motion so that her heart and mind were free to think about Justin.

She pulled into the parking lot, walked up the flower-lined sidewalk, and peered into the window. The place was packed, but there at the table …

The old guy with the jacket was there, and beside him was an empty space. The place set aside for the young soldier, the one who had brought them hours of joy.
Okay, God … hold me up.

When the lump in her throat subsided, she pushed her way to the door and went inside. The action around the table and in chairs and sofas along the walls all stopped.

“Hey!” A big jovial guy waved at her, beckoning her to come closer. “You’re Justin Baker’s girl!”

What was she supposed to do? How could she say it, when every time … every time she heard the words cross her lips, they felt more shocking than the last? Justin Baker … dead? Even now she had his email in her pocket.

The men were smiling at her, waiting for her to join them. The guy in the jacket patted the empty spot beside him. “I’m Vern. You tell that young soldier of yours we’re keeping his spot open. Just like we said we would.”

“I’m …” Her tears cut her off midsentence. She hung her head for a moment, willing herself to find even a sliver of control. When she looked up, the expressions on all their faces had changed.

The jovial guy stood and came to her. He put his hand on her shoulder. “What is it, darling? Tell us.”

She dabbed at her tears and looked at him. Maybe if she said the words in a hurry, all at once … She took a breath. “Justin was killed in Iraq this week. A … a roadside bomb.”

The reaction hit them in slow motion. Beside her, the old guy took his hand from her shoulder — then removed his hat and held it over his heart. Around the room, the others did the same thing, taking off embroidered military baseball caps and holding them over their chests.

One of the men asked about the service, and Emily pulled out a few cards with the information. A muffled round of condolences came from the group, and she realized that their reaction was different than most. They’d been there, witnessed the destruction of war firsthand.

For the most part, the men’s eyes were dry. But before she left, Vern straightened his jacket and looked at her. His eyes brimmed with tears. “As long as I’m here, I’ll save him a spot. Just so you know.”

Emily nodded. She looked around the room, hoping they could see that she couldn’t speak or she’d break down, collapse right there on the floor. She left, and for a long time she sat in her car, her head on her steering wheel.
Why, God … why?
She’d asked the question over and over, but she never sensed an answer. She didn’t need one. It was enough to know that God held the number of their days, and that if He’d taken Justin, then it was Justin’s time.

But still she asked.

And she tried to convince herself that it was really true, that when he came home in the morning it wouldn’t be with a running embrace and whispers of love. It would be in a pine box, with an American flag draped across the top.

Now she had one more stop. The hardest of all.

The teen center wasn’t far from Puget Sound, located in the tougher part of downtown Tacoma. This was their afternoon, the one day a week when she showed up and mixed with Bo and Dexter and the guys, playing ping-pong and telling them the latest news from Justin.

They’d be expecting her.

As she made her way there, her eyes grew dry. Fear masked the sorrow, because how in the world was she going to walk into that teen center and tell them Justin was gone? And how would they react once she told them? What was she supposed to do with eight teenage boys being dealt one more blow, one more harsh bit of reality?

When she found a parking spot, she pursed her lips and forced the air from her lungs. Justin had been reading Philippians, chapter four. That’s what he told her. That meant he’d been focusing on the very thing she desperately needed if she was going to have the strength to leave her car, the strength to walk through the doors of the center.

Peace.

Please, God … breathe Your peace into me now. I can’t do this otherwise …

With her very next heartbeat, she felt God’s presence surround her. She could almost hear Him saying,
My daughter, ask and you shall receive.
His peace permeated her fear and sorrow, filling her with the promise of new life. One day the dark clouds of this time would lift, because morning always came. No matter how long and dark the night.

That was God’s promise.

She braced herself and forced her feet from the car and on in through the front doors. Bo and Dexter were playing a hot game of ping-pong when she walked in. They must’ve sensed something different about her, something in her eyes or on her face, because the smile that flashed on Bo’s face faded almost as soon as she took a step forward. He caught the little white ball in his hand and leaned his fists on the table. “Why you looking like that, pretty mama?”

Fear rang through every word, undermining the machismo he tried to put off. The others picked up on it, because they stepped away from the foosball table and the pop machine in the corner and drew close. Slowly, they gathered around Bo, their eyes on her.

She could feel God moving her forward, taking her closer to them. But all she could see was Bo taking his sweaty T-shirt off, wadding it up and throwing it on the ground that far-off summer day when Justin told them he was leaving. That, and the tears in the boy’s eyes when he looked at Justin’s picture in
Time
magazine
. Tell him we need him more … tell him we need him more.

Bo tucked the ball in his pocket and took quick steps around the table, his eyes never leaving hers. “Emily …”

Her name sounded strange on his lips. He’d never called her that. Justin’s girl, pretty girl, hot mama, yes. But not Emily. He came to her and put his hands on her shoulders. He searched her eyes, his lips slightly open. “Talk to me … why you lookin’ like that?”

Dexter came up, and then the guys who were planning to enlist, followed by the others. She covered Bo’s hand with her own and shook her head. “He’s dead, Bo. He’s dead.”

“
What?
” Bo swore under his breath and jerked away from her. “Don’t
say
that stuff, girl. Don’t say that about my homeboy.”

This was what she was afraid of. That the emotions these kids had bottled up would explode in a burst of anger once they knew about Justin’s death. She needed to be strong for them, but now — from nowhere — a wave of sorrow knocked her to her knees. She covered her face with her hands and began to weep.

Because Bo was right.

These guys needed Justin more than anyone in Iraq needed him. And now he was never coming back, never going to play another game of hoops with them again, never sit on the steps of the center and shoot the breeze about girls and school and the reason he believed in God.

She didn’t dare look. Didn’t open her eyes to see how the guys were reacting. She heard someone slam their fist on the table, and another boy kick a trash can. At least that’s what it sounded like. And that’s when she knew she had to look, because she was doing this for Justin. He wouldn’t have run from the raw pain that filled the room.

He would’ve embraced it.

She opened her eyes and looked around. They’d all scattered. Bo stood, face to the wall, his hands behind his head. Softly, he hit his forehead against the brick again and again and again. She could hear him saying, “No way … not my homeboy.”

In the other corner, two guys had dropped to a pair of chairs, their heads all the way back, eyes focused on the ceiling. No tears, no anger, no emotion. Nothing. She shifted her attention. Dexter was gripping the trash can. He picked it up with both hands and slammed it against the cement floor. Other guys were responding like Bo, their faces to the brick wall, shutting out the world.

She knew where to start. She went to Bo, and when she was close enough, she put her hand on his shoulder. She had no idea how he would respond, whether he would spin around and shout at her or knock her hand off him and run from the building.
God … the peace You’ve given me, give it to Bo. Let me show it to him. Please, God …

She dropped her voice so only he could hear her. “Bo?”

Slowly, she felt the tension leave his shoulder, and then the rest of his body. He turned around, and she saw that he’d skinned his forehead on the bricks. But that wasn’t all. He was crying, weeping like a little boy who’d lost his best friend. Or the only dad figure he’d ever known. Anger twisted his features again, and he thumped his chest, ignoring the tears streaming down his face. “I
told
him not to go.”