When Happily Ever After Ends (5 page)

Stunned, Shannon felt chilled. She stepped backward and encountered the solid body of Zack, who put his hands on her shoulders and drew her protectively against himself. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she mumbled. “I—we didn’t mean anything.”

“You startled me, that’s all.” His face regained some color. “I came down here to be alone.”

“We—Zack and I—we were out riding. We just got back and were putting the horses away and saw the light on.”

“I thought I might have left it on, sir,” Zack interjected.

“Forget it. No problem. I didn’t mean to overreact, but I wasn’t expecting anyone to interrupt me.”

“Isn’t it time for dinner?” Shannon asked. “Come back to the house with me.”

“I told your mother I wasn’t hungry.”

“You won’t be eating supper with us again?”

Shannon must have sounded disappointed because he turned toward her and shook his head apologetically.
“I’m really not hungry. Not much of an appetite these days it seems.”

She shifted awkwardly, then let her gaze drift to the stacks of items from the trunk. She didn’t want to leave him alone. He was acting strange and she felt anxious. “What are you doing? Spring cleaning?” She smiled shakily, trying some humor.

“Getting my things in order.”

Puzzled, Shannon took a step forward. Behind her, Zack moved too. “What things?”

“Shannon, I don’t need an audience.”

On the cot lay a stack of papers with official-looking U.S. government seals, a drab olive-colored canteen, and an old phonograph record. “What’s this?”

“It’s ‘Where Have All the Flowers Gone,’ by Peter, Paul, and Mary.”

“I’ve never heard of them. What’s the song about?”

“About how young girls pick flowers and give them to young men who become soldiers who get killed in wars and end up in graveyards where flowers grow on their grave sites. Then the girls come and pick them and start the cycle all over again.”

“It doesn’t sound very happy.”

He sighed heavily. “It was a war protest song from the sixties. I liked it a lot.”

“Are all these things from when you were in the Army?” It was Zack who asked the question. For a moment, Shannon had forgotten he was still in the room.

“From when I was in Vietnam,” Mr. Campbell said. “It was a long time ago.”

Shannon said, “We read about the war in history class. My teacher said he went to Canada so he didn’t have to go fight.” Shannon knew her father had fought in Vietnam, but she’d never heard him discuss it. She asked, “What was it like over there?”

Paul Campbell leaned down and restacked a perfectly ordered pile of clothing. “I don’t want to talk about Vietnam.” His voice sounded cold and flat, making her shiver.

Shannon’s gaze swept downward to the cot. A gun lay on top of an old army blanket. Her stomach recoiled. She didn’t know her father owned a gun. He never went hunting like so many of his friends. He always said, “I want to
save
animals’ lives. I won’t destroy them.” She pointed to the gun. “Is that from the Army, too?”

Her father lifted the pistol. “No. It belonged to a friend of mine in Nam. He left it to me.” The weapon looked hard and dangerous. Her father retrieved a rectangular piece of metal and slid it into the handle of the pistol where the sound of metal clicking against metal had a tone of finality. “This is the clip that holds the ammunition.”

“Should you load it?”

“The clip’s empty,” he told her. “No shells.”

Shannon smiled weakly. “So it’s just a souvenir?” She stared at him, her eyes holding his, making her feel like she had somehow cornered him.

“Yes. That’s one way of seeing it—it’s a souvenir.”

“Zack and I can help you put everything away,” she offered.

“Yes, sir,” Zack added quickly. “It’ll only take a minute.”

“No, you kids go on up to the house. There are things I want to do by myself.”

“But Daddy—”

Her father flashed her a warning look, and she felt Zack tug on her arm gently. “We’ve still got to take care of the horses. Let’s leave your dad alone.”

She followed Zack into the stable area where Black and Pippin were munching on hay. Wordlessly, they put the animals into separate stalls and made sure they had feed and water. Outside the barn, Zack said, “I’ll walk you to your house.”

“You don’t have to. I know it’s late and maybe your grandma’s worried.”

He hesitated. “Okay. Maybe I should get my bike and get out of here. Are you all right? Did your dad upset you?”

“I’m fine,” she lied. “He’ll be fine, too,” she insisted evasively, more for her own benefit than Zack’s.

“Thanks for letting me ride Pippin. I really enjoyed it.”

“Me too.” She watched him retrieve his motorcycle from the empty stall where he usually stashed it. “See you tomorrow,” she called. He waved and
she watched him ride out of the barn and up the shale driveway that led to the highway.

Stars were beginning to appear in the darkening sky, and the air was warm and muggy, heavy with humidity left over from the summer rain. Shannon hugged her arms to her body and shivered. Things were not getting better with her father. He was retreating farther away from them, and it scared her. If only he could be happy again. If only she could devise some plan to draw him close. With a shake of her head, Shannon hurried toward her house, where she felt safe in the brightness.

   On Friday, Shannon met her grandmother in the hospital cafeteria. “You might want to try the salad bar,” Grandmother said as she led the way into the dining area. “It’s quite tasty and there’s all sorts of healthy things to choose from.”

Shannon’s eyes darted around the room. Sunshine gleamed through a wall of narrow windows decorated with miniblinds and hanging green plants. Doctors, nurses, and technicians in white sat at Formica-topped tables. She felt out of place. “Is it all right for us to be in here?” she asked.

“This is the staff cafeteria. Visitors eat in another.”

Two nurses greeted her grandmother, who introduced her as “my sweet granddaughter.”

“You look lovely, dear,” Grandmother commented as they chose a table by the windows.

Shannon’s pantyhose felt like they were suffocating her legs. “You know I’d rather be in jeans.”

“It’s just for an hour. It’s important to dress properly, Shannon.” Grandmother led the way to the salad bar. “What did you think of my new office?” she asked as Shannon heaped her plate with lettuce and vegetables.

The “office” was a tiny cubbyhole with a desk and a small file cabinet. Photos of Shannon and her parents were perched on the desk alongside a crystal vase that held a single red rose. “It doesn’t have any windows.”

“Yes, but I have a phone and the ear of the public relations manager. Together, we’re planning quite
a fête champêtre
for August.”

“A what?”

Grandmother laughed and settled in her chair. “A party. You remember—that charity ball I told you about.” Shannon nodded and took a bite of salad. “We’re holding it in the grand ballroom of the Read House.” Shannon knew the hotel to be one of Chattanooga’s oldest and finest. “We’re using a fairytale motif and the invitations will read: ‘Make Happily Ever After Come True.’ ” She flashed Shannon a smile. “Do you like?”

“Sounds good to me, Grandma.”

“We’ll have to buy you something very special to wear.”

“Are you sure Mom and Dad will come?”

“Well, of course they’ll come. It will be quite a social event and our family has status in the community, you know.”

Shannon had heard about her family status
many times. Her Grandfather Campbell had been well respected in the community both as a doctor and an outstanding horseman. She was only two when he’d died, so she didn’t remember him, except through old photographs. She sometimes wished she did. Shannon had been told that her grandfather had come home after work one day and dropped dead of a heart attack. It had been a shock to the whole family. “All right, I’ll buy a new dress,” Shannon said, smiling at her grandmother, “but something that makes me look sophisticated instead of like a kid.”

Grandmother arched an eyebrow. “Oh really? Could there be a Prince Charming waiting to whisk you away?”

Shannon giggled, partly to cover her discomfort. “What prince is going to ride away with me when I already have my own horse? Especially a horse that I like better than any prince.”

Grandmother laughed along with her. “Just you wait, young lady. In a few more years, your perfect Prince Charming will come along and then we’ll talk about the importance of that silly old horse.”

“Don’t let Black hear you. He’d be offended. He already thinks he’s a person.”

“Of course, I hope it’s not too soon. I know how much your father enjoys your riding competitions. He’s always had big dreams for you, you know.”

“I know. They’re my dreams, too. With Daddy’s help, they’ll come true.”

“How’s the training coming along?” Grandmother asked.

“Slow. Dad’s been busier than usual, so he’s not had much time to help me yet. He’s been pretty down lately, too.”

Her grandmother’s expression grew serious. “I am a little concerned about your father.”

“Me too,” Shannon admitted. Just then, someone greeted Grandmother. She smiled, but Shannon could tell that it was forced. “Let’s go back to my office when you’re finished eating and we can talk in private.”

“I’m finished,” Shannon said, rising quickly from her chair. “Let’s go now.”

The hospital halls were quiet. “Everybody’s still at lunch,” Grandmother reminded her. In her office, Grandmother sat behind her desk and Shannon settled in a metal folding chair.

“What’s wrong with Daddy?” Shannon blurted out, unable to contain herself a minute longer.

“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to alarm you,” Grandmother said with a kind smile. “He seemed rather distracted at your party and I’m a little concerned about him. Now you tell me he’s not helping with Black’s training.”

“He asked Mom to help, then he went away for a few days. He came back feeling happier, but I can tell he’s not his usual self. Mom just says to wait it out. That he’ll get over his blues eventually. We’re supposed to go to Nashville for a big horse show next weekend.”

Grandmother seemed relieved. “That’s good. I know that horse shows usually perk him up.”

“But the other night I found him going through his old army trunk in the tack room. There was a whole bunch of stuff I’d never seen before—old army
souvenirs,” Shannon confided, though she thought it best not to mention the pistol.

Grandmother laced her fingers together and leaned forward. “That was such a terrible time for him. For all of us really. Your grandfather was so certain that Vietnam was a noble war, and Paul—most of his friends, too—didn’t. We had some pretty heated discussions about it.”

“But Daddy went.”

“Yes. So did most of his friends. Several of them died over there, too. It was a sad, terrible time. Vietnam changed him, you know.”

“How?”

“It took away his idealism. He and your grandfather didn’t always see eye to eye on matters. Especially when it came to performing one’s patriotic duty.” Grandmother frowned and shook her head. “Your grandfather didn’t truly understand your father and his deep sensitivity toward life. Paul was always rather serious—even as a child. He wanted the world to be perfect and life to be fair. It isn’t.” She paused. “You know that, don’t you, Shannon?”

“I guess so. I’ve never really thought about it much.”

“Paul tends to be disillusioned easily. That’s why I was so glad he married a woman like your mother. She was never very close to her own family and was glad to join the Campbell household. She’s practical and lighthearted. It’s a good balance between them, I think.”

It pleased Shannon knowing that Grandmother
approved of her mother. She thought of how Heather had told her that
her
grandparents didn’t like her mother at all and they complained every chance they got. “Mom’s doubled the membership of the Pony Club in a year. We’ve got a picnic and the annual overnight camp-out already planned for this summer.”

“You mean sleep outside on the ground?” Her grandmother wrinkled her nose.

“It’s fun, Gram. We ride our horses on the backside of the mountain and pitch tents and camp under the stars.”

A gentle tap on the door made both of them look up. “Is this a private party, or can anybody come?” a woman asked.

“Madeline,” Grandmother said, rising, “come in and meet my granddaughter, Shannon.”

Shannon was sorry for the interruption, but she smiled at the small, plump woman who looked about the same age as her grandmother. “This is Madeline Lawrence. She’s on staff here at the hospital.”

“So you’re the reason Betty was otherwise engaged at lunch today, leaving us without a fourth for our bridge game,” Madeline said with a twinkling eye.

“I guess so.”

“You’re forgiven,” Madeline told her. “If I had a granddaughter, I’d want to have lunch with her, too.”

Shannon asked, “Do you have any grandchildren?”

“No … no grandchildren at all.” Madeline said with soft finality before turning to Betty. “Are we still on for the Little Theater tomorrow night?”