Catching Colleen

So of course, Jeff called a month later. I answered our land line and he asked for Colleen; I explained she was out and I could take a message. I did not know it was he, at first.

"Are you her husband, Serge Kowalsh?" he said.

"I am."

"I'm Jeff Bakehurst. I was engaged to Colleen many years ago."

"Jeff! Colleen's told me a lot about you. You must know that you are very important to her--she has wonderful memories of the best of your time together. I hoped to meet you someday."

"Well, I was calling to congratulate her and you. And I read of your troubles a few months ago, in the papers."

I let there be a pause. "Yeah. We're in counselling about that. Uh, Jeff, she's really not around. But I'd like to invite you and your family over for a get-together, so you can meet me and Renée. We invited your parents to our wedding but they couldn't make it."

"Serge, uh, I'd like that. I might be a little uncomfortable, I don't know how much you know about how we broke up. Took me a long time..."

I said, "Jeff, I'd love to meet you and your family. Colleen has no hard feelings about your relationship. You both were victims of a terrible event. How about you leave your phone number and I'll have Colleen call you. She can talk as much as she wants, or set up a get together, or whatever."

And that's what we did. I marked down his number. Colleen was surprised when I gave it to her.

"He called? I am surprised. He lost all his confidence... When he got married, I hoped he'd turned the corner. Did he seem scared?"

"Yeah, very. Diffident is the word I would use. He sounded quiet and hesitant. Reticent. Anyway, set it up and I'll go, or you can see him alone, or get the families together. Whatever you feel comfortable with."

"Jeff," she said, "is a mild-mannered, geeky sort of guy. He was a tennis player in high school, a chess player. Not a wimp, but mild, gentle, good. He's an engineer. He's not built like you, but he's like you a lot. He has...a code. I'd like you to meet him. I'll like him to meet Renée, and I'd like to meet his family and see his parents again." She paused. "I'll see if he'd like to come over for a dinner, barbecue in the backyard. Low key, no pressure, you know? Maybe invite his folks, or mine too."

There are lots of hurt souls in the world, gentle people going through life with visible and invisible scars. Some are self-inflicted, like Carol's drug issues, and some are the result of other things like the trauma and self-guilt Jeff suffered. I worried the tragic events with Skip would scar Renee, Colleen, or me. Perhaps Jeff would always feel a guilt, a failure, because of that terrible event. There are many good people suffering, perhaps for life. It was sobering.

So we had Jeff, his wife Brittany, daughter Kelly, and son Fitz (named for grandpa Fitwillis--Brittany's deceased father, I discovered), Colleen, Renée, me, and Jeff's mom and dad Linda and Jarvis. It was a mild evening in late September, with a breeze out of the north. Jarvis Bakehurst was a funny, funny man. Linda spent most of her time rolling her eyes at his jokes, but he had me rolling with laughter. That's probably why the meat was overdone.

Jeff was shorter than I, thin, with a moustache, wearing shorts and a polo shirt. His wife Brittany was short and round, smiled a lot, was easy to talk with, and carried the baby Fitz. Daughter Kelly was a little younger than Renée, but they seemed to get along talking together, laughing, and getting jokes that we oldies did not realize were jokes. We were eating hot dogs and chicken breasts that I had overcooked on a charcoal grill, and everyone was pretending that carbon tasted good. We were drinking beer and pop.

After about half a beer, the evening was no longer awkward. Jeff and Jarvis laughed when I talked about accidentally hitting an umpire with one of my throws to second and some of my other embarrassing moments. Jarvis eventually wandered away to talk to Colleen and Brittany.

Jeff and I got serious when we talked of why Colleen and he broke up.

"Does Brittany know what happened, why you broke up?" I asked.

"Yeah, but not in detail. I've never really gotten past it."

"It's tough. You did all you could from what she said. You're lucky you're alive."

He nodded. "And Renée's hostage situation?"

I froze for a second. It was only 4 months ago. Counselling went on. I literally shook myself out of the reverie. "I'm sorry. I have nightmares about if I had missed that shot..." I shook my head. "I thought he was going to shoot her soon. I didn't know he'd already killed Carol and her parents. I just saw something in the way he acted. Thank God it worked out." I trembled with this memory.

"At least you were able to act."

"No, at least both of us and our girls are okay. We were both lucky. In your case, they eliminated you so they could go at Colleen. Maybe your fighting them led them to run off sooner. Maybe stabbing you shocked them into realizing they needed to get away. Who knows?" I thought for a minute, swirling beer around in the bottle. "I'm glad it was you with her, Jeff, now that we've met. Someone who loved her. I can see how you still feel about her. One thing she told me was that she knew you loved her and did everything you could to protect her."

He was looking off.

The women came over then, and I found myself holding an 18-month-old boy, Fitz, when Brittany handed him over. Colleen and Linda were there, looking at the babe in my arms, and I was surrounded.

"That looks pretty natural there, Serge," Brittany said.

"It does, doesn't it?" Colleen said. "You should get used to that. Those skills might come in handy in about 7 months." I looked at her. My mouth was open without words for a few seconds.

"Here? You tell me here? All day you must have known and you tell me here?" I called out, "Renée, your mother has something to tell you."

"Already know, Dad!"

Jeff shook his head and said, "We're always the last to know, Serge. The women are in cahoots."

I hung my head despondently. "It's just not right," I said. I felt Colleen's hand on my shoulder.