Distribution Ch. 10

"It made me livid to hear Ms. Dickens assertion that we might profit from Mackey's and Elsie's love letters. Can you fathom the workings of that woman's mind? I wanted to assure the judge that profiteering was not the motivation for us considering to do a book. Anyway, who knows if there would have been a profit? Hiring a ghost writer would be a risky step. Also, those letters are too private to be made public."

Paige was stroking my cheek. "I agree with you."

The bus was about to pull out when we came to a stop. Paige jumped out of the truck, blew me a kiss and said that she would phone me later. The driver opened the door and I watched her disappear as the door closed behind her.

Our nightly telephone conversations were a tug-of-war. They began innocently, but I was always on the alert to avoid asking what she was wearing or if she was touching herself. It became a game. We would start with a catch-up session, what we'd done that day, who we'd spoken to or exchanged e-mail with. I was busy and I could tell that she was too.

Invariably, she would change the subject, like she was not interested that I was being inundated with questions from antique automobile buffs.

On Wednesday, I was able to sidestep the question about what she was wearing by informing her that I was ready to make the second distribution. "Shall I mail your dad's check or wait and give it to you on Friday?"

"I'm not going to be able to come until Saturday morning, and I'll pick up the check then," she said.

"What?" I asked, flabbergasted. "I have antique dealers coming on Saturday to bid on the stuff we found in the attic. Nadine begged off working that day because her stepdaughter is going to be here."

"I'm sorry, Honey. Mona has a dance recital on Friday night and I promised to be there. I'll catch an early bus on Saturday."

"I'll see if Charlie will help me," I said, thinking out loud.

"I'm really sorry to let you down, but this is important to Mona."

"I understand," I said and I did. What kind of activities was I missing seeing my own kids perform in?

We talked again on Thursday, and the subject of what she was wearing didn't come up. Paige was more interested in what I was hearing from home and my sister.

"Have you spoken to Henrietta?" she asked. I told her that I hadn't.

"Did you deliver the most recent distribution checks for the library and the church to the judge's office?"

"Not yet. I'll write all the checks tomorrow and drop the two checks off to the judge's clerk late in the day."

"That's devious. Gordon and Nancy won't get their hands on the checks until sometime on Monday."

"Gee, I hadn't thought of it that way," I said, and heard her giggle.

Her call on Friday came late, after the dance recital. I told her that there was no need for her to catch the early bus because Nadine had agreed to help out after all.

"I'll take the eight o'clock and be there by nine-thirty," she said.

"Don't be surprised if I send Charlie to meet you. The dealers are coming at nine."

~

As it turned out, I didn't send Charlie. Nadine had parked her car in back of my truck so it was more convenient for Matilda to drive her stepmother's car.

Matilda, or Tilley as she preferred to be called, was the twenty-one year old daughter of Fredrick Meriwether. Like her father, she was tall and outgoing, and unlike her father, her hair was dark.

Nadine was stationed outside, registering the dealers and sending them inside in groups of three. Charlie stood behind a table where the items he had repaired were on display. He explained what he had done to each item, the materials he had used and often got into long discussions with interested dealers as to the period of the item.

The dealers were the same ones that had been there before so they knew the routine. I handed out clipboards that had a listing of the items in the same numerical sequence that they could be found in the living and dining rooms.

We were ushering the second group of dealers into the house when Tilley returned with Paige. "What do you want us to do?" she asked.

"Tilley is going to serve lemonade and cookies to the dealers waiting outside. I'd like you to stand near me so I can put my arm around you."

Paige looked into my eyes, touched my cheek, and stuck her tongue out at me before leading Tilley into the kitchen to find the lemonade and cookies. She then helped Tilley carry everything outside. I didn't see her again until I was calling the winning bidders inside to settle up. We did very well. All in all, it turned out to be a successful day. Moreover, the dealers left happy, telling me that they would like to be called if I ran across any more antiques.

As I learned much later, Paige had entertained the dealers by describing how Harold had located the opening to the attic and how he and I had worked in the wasp infested attic to collect and lower the antiques. According to Nadine, Paige had made it sound like I'd performed acrobatics in order to bring the fragile antiques to ground level.

Before she and Tilley left for the day, Nadine said it was their turn to entertain and that we should meet at a local steakhouse at seven.

"Now, what was that about me standing close so you could put your arm around me?" Paige asked after everyone was gone.

I pulled her to me. Her kiss was soft and slow. Her eyes were closed, but they opened wide when she heard what I had to say. "I wanted to put my hand on your ass, but you preferred to go outside and put on a show for the dealers."

"What did I warn you about?"

"Your period?"

"Yes, and it's a gusher. It must be all the sex we've been having."

"Let's go upstairs," I said.

"Brian, did you hear what I just told you?"

"We'll have to find something else to do. I suggest that we talk. I have some news, but first, I want to hear about the dance recital."

We lay on the bed, facing each other and Paige began. .

"I enrolled Mona in a ballet class to give her a sense of achievement. I learned last night that dance lessons were a big mistake. My daughter is so far behind the rest of her class that she'll never catch up," Paige said, making it sound funny, but I could tell that Mona's inability to keep up with her class was disturbing to her.

"I'm glad you went to watch her dance."

"I hated it that I couldn't be here with you, but it's a good thing I was there. This was her first time to perform in public. She wants to quit the class. I told her to give it some time."

"You did the right thing. She may improve so fast that it will surprise both of you."

"Sure," she said, sarcastically.

"Would it help if I was to talk to her?"

Her eyes glazed over, and her lips engulfed mine. "Would you, Brian? She'd listen to you."

"I'll speak to her tomorrow."

"Tell me your news," she said, pushing her body to a respectable distance.

"The telephone rang about seven last night and I thought it would be you. This old dude says, 'this is Corporal Ramsey. Is this the fellow that found Sergeant Peoples' letters?'"

"I told him that I was the fellow and Corporal Ramsey broke down. His granddaughter came on the line and told me that they were calling from Denver where Miss Adams' article had appeared in the newspaper that day. The Corporal's voice came back, 'I didn't know he outranked me. He didn't look like any Sergeant I had seen. He didn't sound like a Sergeant either, but by God, I owe everything that happened to me after that to him.'"

"The Corporal's voice faded and the granddaughter told me his story. Her name is Mary Jo and her grandfather makes his home with her and her family. He's eighty-nine and has a myriad of health problems. Mary Jo told me that she just happened to find the newspaper article and that she was reluctant to tell her grandfather about it at first, because she knew how it would affect him."

"Why wouldn't he have known that Mackey was a Sergeant? Don't they wear stripes on the battlefield?" Paige asked.

"They didn't meet until they were in the same hospital ward and none of them wore stripes there. Corporal Ramsey said that he didn't find out that Mackey was a Sergeant until weeks later when an officer came into the ward looking for Mackey.

"But I'm getting ahead of the story. It seems that Mackey was helping other patients out anyway he could, mainly writing and reading letters for them. He approached Corporal Ramsey to ask if he would like help writing a letter to his family or his girl. The Corporal brushed him off, saying that he had neither a family nor a girl. Mackey persisted, suggesting that they write a letter to an imaginary girl. The Corporal dismissed this idea as lunacy, but Mackey already had the letter started. He even chose the fictitious girl's name, Mary Jo."

"No way, that's the same name as the granddaughter," Paige said.

"Yes, she was named for her grandmother. Listen to this. The Corporal said that every time his hand ached he would take the letter out and imagine what Mary Jo looked like. He said it got him through a lot of sleepless nights."

Paige eased forward to plant a kiss on my lips. "Don't tell me he went home and looked for a girl named Mary Jo."

"He was discharged and naturally lost track of Mackey. As you recall, Mackey and Elsie were in Denver in the seventies, but I guess Corporal Ramsey wasn't much of a newspaper reader. He'd lost two fingers, but the granddaughter hinted that that was not the worst of it. She said he's been plagued with nightmares. He got a job in a machine shop and eventually convinced the foreman that he could handle a drill press. That was nineteen-fifty, the same year he met Mary Jo. After that meeting, he went back to school and eventually became a close-tolerance machinist."

"What an incredible story. Are you sorry that we've given up the book idea?"

"Here's the best part. Mary Jo is going to send me a copy of the letter. I haven't checked my e-mail today. Let's go look," I said, getting off the bed.

"You didn't finish the story. Who was the officer that was looking for Mackey?" Paige asked, as we walked into Mackey's room to fire up his computer.

"Corporal Ramsey said he knew the guy was an officer by the sound of his voice. He was also wearing a blue robe like some of the officers wore. He had a white cane and there was an orderly by his side. The officer yelled out in a booming voice, 'Sergeant Peoples.' Mackey was at the other end of the ward, helping a corpsman change a patient's bandage. He grabbed his crutches and hopped to attention, responding with, 'Colonel.'"

"Oh my, was that the Colonel who lost his sight?"

"Yes, he was actually a Lieutenant Colonel. Corporal Ramsey said every man in the ward did his best to stand at attention, until the orderly who was with the Colonel whispered something, and the Colonel barked the order, 'at ease.' Mackey headed toward the Colonel, but of course, the Colonel couldn't see this and shouted to Mackey that he had saved his life."

Mackey's chair was the only one in the room. This gave Paige an excuse to sit on my lap as I booted the computer.