Then Surely We

"Ayla, I have Mo on the line. Can she jump in?" he asked.

I was startled and about to say please no, but then I said, "Yes, please."

"Okay, Mo and Ayla on the line, too," Kyle said.

"Hi, Ayla," Mo said with that little girl's voice. How could she sing so forcefully? I didn't understand Mo: her meek demeanor with a hard edge seemed contradictory to my experience.

"Mo, good to hear from you. Are you going with Kyle to the homecoming?" I asked, and Gil heard me and smiled. He looked at me as if to say, did you really ask that?

"Do you think I should? Kyle?" Mo asked.

Kyle sounded confused. "I never, yeah, why don't you? I have to fly into RDU. Could you pick me up there, Mo? You do think it's appropriate, don't you, Ay?" Kyle asked.

"Of course."

Mo said, "I feel honored."

*

Dr. Maureen Murray narrating

I was waiting at RDU when Kyle emerged from the restricted area. He smiled and we hugged, and it was longer than a usual hug. He did not lift me, but I think he considered it. I held his shoulders. We had more personal communications now, chats and voice, but he lived now in Columbus and worked for Zenger, so we weren't dating. When or if he was ever ready, I would be willing.

"So good to see you, Mo," he said. He looked straight in my eyes now when he saw me, longer than in the past. It made me a little self-conscious, excited.

"Good to see you," I said. He actually held my hand as we walked over to get his bags. He was so much more open, smiling, than he was at the funeral. He also didn't have that deep, dark-eyed look that went along with his depression. Maybe he was coming out of it.

We had plenty of time to talk as I drove us to Jacksonville. He was worried about the homecoming of the Sixth Marines. "This is a role I didn't expect. I'll be the only husband of a deceased, and she was a higher ranking member of the unit. How do I act?"

I was driving. I said, "Act as you think a good man would. You've no reason at all to be uncomfortable." He looked at me, not wanting to bring up her affair. "Kyle, your respect for your marriage should not be reduced by anyone else's disrespect of it. Even hers." How could I convince a married man that his wife's affair did not deprecate him?

"You keep bringing up that Bradstreet poem," he said.

I laughed. We were making the turn at Kinston and heading toward Jacksonville.

"Bradstreet was a role model for a loving spouse," I said.

"Well, I'm sure ready to put the whole thing behind me. I want to remember Jill the way she was, not the way she acted the last six months or so."

I nodded again. "Maybe you'll be able to after the homecoming."

Kyle looked out the window at the scrubby pine trees across a swamp and seemed lost in thought.

We met up with the Kinnisons at the motel as we removed bags from the trunk of my car. I'd met Gil and Ayla, but somehow I'd missed Dan and Penny Kinnison at the funeral and gathering. Also, I'd missed the children.

"Mo, this is Dan and Penny Kinnison, Jill and Ayla's parents," Kyle said. I stepped forward and Mrs. Kinnison held out her hand.

"You're song was so beautiful at the grave," Penny said, shaking my hand. She looked at me awkwardly for a moment, then leaned forward and hugged me.

"Thank you, I was nervous. I sing at a lot of weddings, but not many funerals," I said. "And I wanted that to be special for Kyle."

"You work with Kyle?" Dan joined in then, shaking my hand.

"I do, although I only see him a few times a year at meetings," I said. "We exchange a lot of emails."

Kyle stayed by my side, so I never felt abandoned or lost among the Kinnisons. He watched over me as if I was a kid. (Sometimes I used that to advantage, but sometimes I wanted to be my age.) We spent the late afternoon at the indoor pool at the motel, watching the kids splash. They were not quite sure what to make of me. Sometimes they treated me like another child, so I joined in their splashing, and sometimes they remembered I was an adult. I wore a one piece suit that actually almost flattered me. Kyle enjoyed tossing the girls in the water over and over, and I much enjoyed my two throws also.

I asked him to the side, "You're very good at this. Have you had practice tossing little people? Maybe in a bar?" He looked at me, not getting it at first, and then guffawed, laughing for some time. I'd never seen him laugh so heartily. He didn't know what to say.

Ayla was a vision. The woman was tall and thin and sexy, and her breasts were more than just a suggestion. She also wore a one piece suit, and no, Kyle did not toss her. She was such a contrast with her round, short husband, yet they seemed so in love and happy with one another. It was heartening. He was the brilliant mathematician dedicated to wife and children, she the beautiful wife who saw the best in her husband and his best in them.

When I met Jill those few times, I assumed she was the beauty of the family. She was pretty, but Ayla was in a league of her own.

We had a late supper at a local shrimp restaurant and talked for an hour until the little girls looked sleepy from all the swimming and driving. We returned then to the motel, and Kyle walked me to my door. He hemmed and hawed for a moment.

"Mo, we're not starting from zero, you know, but it's only been four months since she died. Seven since I found out about... but four since she died."

I kissed my finger and touched it to his lips. "Shhh, I understand. We have time. And her family is your family. They are lovely. The girls are delights. Ayla, Gil, her parents... You have so much love in you all. I see why you had such a great youth." My heart broke for all the emotions he must feel. I let myself in, then.

Penny and Dan rode with Kyle and me to the homecoming next morning. The Gilstraps came in their minivan. We had special passes to get us in the gate, and there were signs directing us to the regimental area. It was the first time I'd been on a military base. I was shocked at the size, and that I saw no guns but at the front gate. We did pass some tanks and amtracs driving in the sandy soil, and Kyle told us about the things we were seeing.

The regiment returned to Camp Lejeune one battalion at a time, probably as they debarked the ship in Morehead City. Jill's unit, the regiment's headquarters company, arrived on a Friday morning about 11:00 with the infantry battalions returning over a long afternoon. The crowd stood about the field, held back by tape barriers that could be easily lifted. There was a podium and speaker system facing the crowd and an open area for a battalion to stand before release. A Marine band was playing off to the side.

Trucks left the company at the armory a quarter mile down the street so they could deposit their weapons. The crowd was impatient. They saw the company handing in weapons, and then marching toward the field, an interminable time for this crowd that had already waited seven months.

As it turned out, it was good they returned their weapons to the armory first.

Mrs. Devereaux gathered the families of the company's lost and wounded by the corner of the tape barrier.

"Hello, I'm Marge Devereaux, Colonel Devereaux's wife. I'm glad you were able to come," she said to us. There were ten or so who had been wounded. "I need to get everyone's name so Ike knows to whom he's speaking. The way it usually works is the company marches onto the field, the colonel will talk briefly, then he'll come to each of you wounded and then each family of a deceased Marine. From our left to right. If he gets it out of order, just correct him,and point out who is who," she said, "he'll talk to me about it later!" She smiled. So she had us stand at that corner of the ground, in front, the wounded to our left, and the other family of the deceased to our right.

I stood behind Kyle, to his right so I could look between Dan and him. It was a demure position, but I thought it was appropriate. It would be awkward introducing a co-worker to the colonel.

Mrs. Devereaux was a gracious and warm-hearted woman. I did not realize the responsibility an officer's wife assumed with military families: contacting, helping, organizing, counseling. She walked down the line, getting the family names and speaking with everyone; she recognized every family name, I could tell.

She made a point of speaking to Kyle.

"I'm glad you decided to come, Kyle," she said, holding out her hand to him.

"Thank, you, ma'am," he said, shaking her hand. Kyle was intently looking in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," she said.

Kyle nodded. "Thanks."

Mrs. Devereaux stood there for another moment, waiting expectantly, but Kyle said nothing. He looked intently into her eyes. I think he wanted to know if she knew, but he didn't find it.

"Okay, well, they should be here any moment," she said. "Again, I'm glad you're here." She left us then, just as the first unit marched onto the field. I doubted she had any idea that her husband messed around with Jill.

Kyle was on our left, Dad and Mom Kinnison beside him, then Gil with the girls beside Ayla.

Colonel Devereaux spoke briefly to the crowd as their sons stood at ease before them, facing them. There was tremendous anxiety and desire to see their boys, to break through the barrier, to clasp them again. Colonel Devereaux felt it, but he also needed to acknowledge that some had been wounded, some would be crippled for life, and some had not come home alive. He spoke clearly, emphasizing sacrifice and honor.

"On one awful afternoon four months ago, this headquarters company lost two killed and six wounded in action. Four more were wounded over the other months. Thank God we lost no more KIA from this company. I would like to greet you who have lost so much," he said, leaving the little podium, moving to the corner where Mrs. Devereaux stood with us all, shaking hands with parents and loved ones of injured, and then to us of the deceased. She gave the list to the older Marine who accompanied him.

Colonel Devereaux was a very tall man, fit, sunburnt, and handsome. He towered over most other Marines. He overshadowed me, literally, but I doubt he even noticed. He was accompanied by the stocky, fiftyish sergeant major of the regiment, a man who did not look eager to make friends. The colonel did all the talking as he and the sergeant major addressed each family, using the list Mrs. Devereaux compiled.

He worked his way down the line, from our left to right, speaking to the families and shaking hands, occasionally hugging a mother or father or wife. "So glad Sergeant Wilson is back on his feet," or "The Corps stands by its wounded," I heard clearly, but most words were private and probably well-meant. It was serious and sad as several wives, mothers, and fathers were crying. In most cases, a wounded Marine stood hard by each. A family to our right held an enlarged picture of a son lost.

He came to Kyle, first of Jill's family. I saw him clearly. Devereaux was five or six inches taller. The adjutant had the list and identified the family to him. Devereaux nodded, sagely.

"Major Kinnison's family?" the colonel said. He looked at the whole group, meeting eyes with his. "I am so sorry for your loss. She was a great Marine, a wonderful person in every way. Major Kinnison will forever remain a part of this regiment, this division, this Marine Corps. We will never forget her, nor will we forget her sacrifice."

He looked directly into Kyle's eyes. "You are Major Kinnison's husband? Kyle, I believe?"

"Yes, I am."

I looked at that big man, knowing the damage he'd done to the Kinnison family, the evil he'd visited on Kyle, I saw his arrogance, and I think the glee of victory. I think Kyle saw it, too. I remembered Tolstoy: "Our life has been joined, not by man, but by God. That union can only be severed by a crime, and a crime of that nature brings its own chastisement." I doubted the colonel was thinking of Anna Karenina, though.

"She was like my right arm. She ran her shop beautifully, her Marines loved her. Her loss will never abate," Devereaux said. He didn't abbreviate the motto. He said, very seriously, "Semper Fidelis."

He held out his hand to shake Kyle's.

Kyle glanced down at the hand and smoothly back at the colonel. He acted so quickly then, that Ayla later asked me if he'd planned it. He looked up into the colonel's eyes and said, also very seriously and clearly, "Semper Fi, my ass."

I don't think the colonel recognized the wind up, so when Kyle threw his right fist into the colonel's jaw, it laid him out on the grass, all six feet plus of him, and he didn't wake for five minutes. It broke his jaw, which I gather had to be wired shut later that afternoon at the hospital. The punch carried Kyle's whole body across the tape barrier and almost on top of the colonel. He maintained his feet for another second, though. There was a moment of shocked silence. Suddenly, there was noise and motion everywhere.

The sergeant major of the regiment mashed Kyle to the ground at my feet. Several Marines broke ranks to defend their colonel, jumping on Kyle and the sergeant major. People were yelling. I was so little I was enclosed and buffeted by the crowd, which was surging forward as if alive.

I looked to the right to escape the crowd's surge, but they were larger and overlooked me. I had no way to move, my feet weren't even on the ground. I saw through gaps between people. Gil had an arm around each of his girls and gathered them to him and away from the moving crowd. Dan with his arm around Penny moved to the right to Gil and the girls. I started to panic as the surge took me away from the Gilstraps. Suddenly I felt a hand grip my arm, tight, pulling me to the right and between two of the surging crowd; Ayla was pulling me into her family circle. My feet touched ground again. She gathered me in, saw I was okay, and suddenly smiled. Her left arm was around me, her right around her mom, with the girls safe in the middle. My left arm was around Gil almost naturally, and now I put my right around Ayla.

It was only seconds, but I was never so scared as moving in a crowd with my feet not touching the ground.

I don't know if she heard me in the uproar, but I said, "Thanks."

The crowd's surge stopped, people in front parting to avoid the pile of Marines on top of Kyle.

Mrs. Devereaux to our right stood stock still, gathered her wits, and lifted the yellow tape to go to her husband. She was concerned, and understandably. It would take her a few extra seconds, as her way was blocked by the pileup.

"This is a glorious day!" Ayla exclaimed to me, and I felt it too. The sun was shining, the regiment was home, it was warm. There was no shame in defending love. I wondered if I'd soon be dating a convict. I looked forward to telling my parents that.

I said to Ayla, "Probably not the WAY Anne Bradstreet would have done it."

Ayla looked at me and then laughed at that, and I thought that it's good to be understood.

There was chaos. I heard statements from the Marines like: "Major Kinnison's husband punched out the colonel!" and "Knocked him out with one sucker punch!" and from a band member, "Greatest homecoming ever!" Everyone wanted to know what happened and why. Marines still more or less in ranks were looking back and forth at each other and commenting, and I was laughing gently, but laughing with tears. Our group hug ended with the danger, though we stood closer together.

Ayla moved next to Gil, who said, "Kyle... Ya gotta love Kyle!" Ayla leaned her cheek against her husband's head then.

Mrs. Devereaux made it around the pile of Marines to her husband. She went to her knees beside him, her hand on his hair. A Navy corpsman from the company made it to him on the other side, and knelt also. He checked vital signs and then was feeling Devereaux's jaw gently. He seemed to reassure Mrs. Devereaux. Military police arrived, yelling at the crowd to back up, and sergeants and lieutenants were calling their men back to ranks. Several platoons were brought to attention by their platoon commanders or sergeants.

Mrs. Devereaux was stroking her husband's bristly hair; his hat was not in sight. MPs pulled Sixth Marines off Kyle now that the game of buck buck was over. Those Marines headed back to their ranks. Gil was nodding and smiling. Dan and Penny weren't quite sure what to do, but Ayla had an arm around her mom, who had a smug look on her face. Was she glad Kyle hit Devereaux? I didn't know.

"Dad," Ayla said, "Mom, take our car, if you want to take the girls to the motel. Spend the day at the pool. Or go shopping. Gil, Mo, and I will stay with Kyle." She looked over at me and I nodded. "No telling how long he'll be in jail. Might be overnight. Whatever it is, we'll find out. We might need to get him a lawyer."

Ayla was obviously happy. Dan had Penny by the arm and was all smiles now. "Make sure he's alright. It's good to see Kyle more like himself," he said as Gil handed him the keys to their minivan.

Mom Penny said, almost as if she were over her own depression, "We'll take care of the girls, don't you worry. Find out what they're going to do about Kyle. We'll love taking care of the girls." They'd find things to do. My parents were going to like them, I was sure.

This family needed Kyle. He was a goodness.

The girls were confused by the whole turn of events. Ayla said, "Girls, we'll talk about Uncle Kyle's bad language later." She was smiling; the girls must have wondered that Uncle Kyle did something bad and Mom was smiling about it. Ayla went on, "We'll talk about it later. Go with your grandparents, now, okay? We're going to stay with Uncle Kyle for today." She kissed them then, and Grandma and Grandpa led them by hand to the van in the parking lot.

Ayla looked at me and said determinedly, "We're going to talk about it. We'll talk about commitment and honor and always, always being faithful. They will know when always is."

I smiled at her.

You don't choose when to be virtuous. You try to live up to it every moment.

The whole company was called to attention with a snap, finally, every platoon back in order, every platoon and squad sharp and controlled again. Kyle looked a little woozy as two men lifted him under the arms and carried him off. It was the Regimental Executive Officer running things now, but he couldn't speak long because of the siren. A siren grew louder, and soon an ambulance pulled into the grass nearby.

Devereaux was moaning and coming to consciousness. Marge looked thoughtful as she knelt beside him.

I think it dawned on her what Kyle's motivation was. Perhaps she'd had other hints of the affair, other signs. She looked over at Kyle between two military policemen, and then at Ayla. She cocked her head as if in question, and I saw Ayla nod back.

Marge put things together. She was nodding as she ruffled her husband's hair and looked at him, her expression crestfallen. She looked directly at Ayla, twenty-five feet away, shaking her head slightly, and said clearly, completely out of other context, "I didn't know."

Chapter 12: Mo

Ayla Gilstrap narrating

Kyle was taken to the Provost Marshal for processing. It was not far, so Mo, Gil and I walked to it. We saw them take Kyle around back, but then he disappeared inside.

We went in the front and Mo marched up to a high desk she could barely see over.

"Might be best if I do the talking, Mo," I said, catching up.

She smiled. "Yeah, probably."

"Hi. I'm Ayla Gilstrap. They just brought my brother-in-law in for processing. We'd like someone to talk to us about how things work, how we can get him a lawyer, things like that."

The slim guy working the desk would have been happy to deal with Mo, but he was very happy to deal with me. So it goes.

"Processing can take some time, ma'am, but if you'll wait, I'll get someone to come out and help you once we know what's going on. His name is?"