My Heart Can't Tell You No (7 page)

Love,
Maddie.

Twenty-one-year-old Joe McNier refolded the letter. He had read it four times already. He glanced over at Jackie Baker after reading Maddie’s reference to him in her letter. Somehow they had managed to be in the same unit, but John was separated from them, going into the Air Force instead.

God, he wanted to go home. He had no right to be here. He was hot, sweaty, and scared half to death. His face itched unmercifully, either from the week’s growth of beard or the rash he’d been plagued with since fighting the persistent heat and humidity. He was sure he had faced weather such as this back home at times, but at least there he had the relief of a bath whenever he liked. He wasn’t sure which caused the incessant itching, but was positive he would never feel clean again in this lifetime.

It was no different today than it had been for the past three months they had been in-country. They hadn’t seen any action for two weeks, and he was glad, more for Jackie’s sake than his. Jackie had been excessively careless ever since they arrived in Vietnam. But they had only one more lousy day in this hell hole before he and Jackie would be on their way out.

Out of habit, his eyes scanned the lushness of the valley stretching out around them; the trees and foliage so thick in most spots he was sure the VC could be creeping over half the hillside and he’d never know it. Only the absence of gunfire and the fact that they were only a day from base camp assured him they were, for the most part, safe enough to actually sit and read their mail. He could almost hear the continuous rumble of truck engines going to and from the camp. He assumed it was only his intense desire to actually be there that fired his imagination, for other than the sounds of the jungle, there were only the soft conversations of various groups of men behind him.

He glanced at Jackie again, who was working on his sixth reading of a letter from Tom. This time though a false laugh came from him.

“Hey, Irish, guess what.”

“What?” Joe pushed his helmet back on his head.

“Remember Sue?” asked Jackie.

“The cheerleader, yeah, I remember.”

“Guess what happened to her. God, and they say ya don’t get paid back for your sins.”

“What happened?” Joe didn’t like the look on his friend’s face.

“She was in a car wreck. She was
entertaining
some guy when he ran into a tree. Can ya beat that? The steering wheel crushed her skull. Needless to say the poor jerk that was driving was killed too. God, I only wish her death would have been as long as she made Brenda’s.”

It was the first time their suspicion had ever been spoken, making Joe look a little closer at him.

“We don’t know she’s the one that killed Brenda,” Joe said quietly.

Jackie just grunted, then became very quiet as he spoke. “Why couldn’t I have just left her alone? She’d be alive now if I could’ve left her alone.”

“She loved you, Jackie.”

“She’d be nineteen now. My baby would be three years old.”

“I know.”

“What the hell did she see in a goddamned jerk like me?”

“You’re a good-lookin’ guy.” It wasn’t a compliment, just a fact.

“Good-lookin’. It was my
good
looks
that got me into that mess. Brenda would’ve been with me if I looked like a dog, I know she would’ve. But Sue, she wanted me as a Goddamn showpiece. What I wouldn’t do to have been ugly at eighteen. My looks be damned.” Joe didn’t like his tone. It was making the hair on the back of his neck stand erect but he couldn’t fully understand why. “Well, it looks like we’re gonna make it outta here,” Jackie continued. “We’ll be back to the real world in a month; that is if we don’t get some broad to give us head while we’re driving.” His sarcastic laugh escaped him.

“Yeah, we’ll be home. I just read Maddie’s letter again. She said she misses you.”

“I know, you told me. I miss her too. Tom says she’s growing like a weed. Remember the day Lew brought her and Mom home? You didn’t want to have anything to do with her, then, after Lew left, we found you holding her. Hell, Mom didn’t even let me and John hold her yet, and there you were, not letting anyone take her from you until Mom had to feed her. Take care of her, Joe. She’s my little mouse.”

“Take care of her yourself. She’s
your
sister.”

“I know.” Jackie smiled. “But just in case. So, how about going and getting me some extra clips? Then maybe I’ll have a fighting chance to make it to tomorrow’s Jeep.”

Joe left him, not liking the way Jackie was talking. He hoped it was only a spurt of fatigue wearing him down. Things would look brighter as soon as they were on their way out of here.

The shot made everyone drop to the ground for protection, but, when there was no more fire they got up and looked around in anger. Some stupid son-of-a-bitch let his rifle go off. Joe moved back toward where he had left Jackie, but his steps slowed when he saw his friend’s hand lying awkwardly from behind the tree he had been sitting against. Joe’s mind froze, shock setting in before he even rounded the tree. There lay Jackie Baker, Jack and Sarah Baker’s pride and joy and prize football hero of their city. Most of his face was gone, leaving only a bloody mass of flesh and bone where his rifle had pressed when he squeezed the trigger. Joe’s eyes moved to the ground, where a note was scratched on a piece of Tom’s letter. It read, “
Looks
be
damned.
”

Joe met John Baker in California a few weeks later. They were going home. There was little joy as they greeted one another. They were alive, but they were accompanying the coffin of Corporal Jonas L. Baker. The man had died a hero they said. Died in the line of duty; a sniper’s bullet bringing his death. Only Joe knew of the short suicide note and the way Jackie’s rifle was positioned. He wasn’t about to tell the officials or the Baker family any different.

The front of the funeral home was somber, but in the rear, where the men were smoking, Lew tried his damnedest to get their minds off the boy whose middle name was the same as his.

“So, you’re gonna be a cop?” Lew said to eighteen-year-old Bob Green.

“Hopefully.”

“Good God, what’s this town coming to when they hire the likes of you?”

“Better watch it, Lew, he’s liable to write ya a ticket now just to get on the good side of the chief,” said Tom Baker.

“Well that’s what I was hoping he was becoming a cop for. To take care of our tickets.” He moved closer to Sarah’s chair where he kept a keen eye on her.

“I can’t do that.” Bob smiled uneasily.

“Hear that, Sarah? The little snot won’t take care of our tickets. What good is he then, huh?” Lew tried to bring Sarah’s mind into some kind of coherency.

“Bobby’s a good boy,” she said dully, not really hearing the conversation.

“Good for nothin’,” Lew smiled.

Joe looked back into the room. Their laughter couldn’t have made any situation sound sadder. Their laughter was forced, so they wouldn’t have to deal with the reality of the death.

He looked at Jack, standing to one side of Sarah, both lost and alone as they smoked cigarette after cigarette. The torture of losing a child showed plainly in their eyes as they sightlessly stared at objects that just wouldn’t focus for them. Tom and John were wearing forced smiles as well as Bob; all three feeling as if their right arms had been ripped away, but keeping up the front to keep from showing the depths of their grief. The time for that would come later, when they were alone and could express their agony. Lew kept up the joking. He was a Godsend. Joe knew he was going through his own kind of torture. Jackie had been named in part for him, and, although Lew was his uncle, the few years separating their ages made them seem more like brothers. Like Sarah and Jack, Lew had watched Jackie grow into a man, but Lew had a special relationship with him that Joe respected. When Jackie, John or Tom would be out later than allowed, it was Lew they would go to. He had always accepted them into his home with open arms.

Joe looked at Maddie. She was so young; just past eleven. She shouldn’t have that look on her face; as distant and removed from reality as her parents as she clutched John, taking the only comfort the war offered in allowing one brother to return to her.

“Maddie?” Joe knelt before her, making her eyes move slowly up to meet his.

Her response was slow in coming. “Where were you when he was killed? You were supposed to be there. I told you to take care of him. Why weren’t you there? You could have stopped that man that killed my brother.”

“Oh, Maddie.” She couldn’t have hurt him more if she’d stabbed him in the chest with a bayonet.

“It’s time to go in now.” The funeral director approached them.

At the end of the sermon they watched as everyone moved out the door, allowing the family a moment or two of privacy with the flag-covered coffin, but when it came time for them to leave, Sarah hesitated.

“I want to see him,” she said stiffly.

“No, Sar, you can’t.” Lew’s pain was evident.

“I want to see him!”

“But, Mom . . . ,” Joe started, not finding the words to tell her that the Jackie she remembered wasn’t the Jackie in the box, a body without a face.

“I think it can be arranged.” The funeral director approached them with a thin handkerchief. “You have to understand that you will not see his face, it will be covered.”

“It doesn’t matter. I know my son. I have to know it really is him in there and he won’t be coming back. Just to see his hands. I know his hands, I’ve held them for over twenty years.”

“I understand.” He gestured toward the room they had occupied earlier. “If you could give me a moment alone, it can be arranged.”

When the eight of them returned Joe was shocked. Though his face was covered, there were proportions of a face beneath the cloth that he knew really were gone. The funeral director knew his work well. Sarah walked with Jack’s and Lew’s assistance to the open casket. Her hand shook as she reached out and covered that of her son’s. She stroked it as her face tightened into a grimace, her eyes and nose reddening, trying desperately to keep back the tears.

“It’s okay, Sar, let it out. You’ll feel better. Cry—let him know you love him and miss him.” Lew spoke softly to his sister.

“Oh—my baby,” spilled from her mouth as she bent to kiss his hands, holding them to feel the cool skin that once was held inside the security of her body.

Her tears were flowing unashamedly now, her crying a comfort to the ache she felt in her mind and her heart. Jack’s jaws clenched tightly as his reddened eyes strained to remain clear. Lew’s eyes were glassy as he tried to hide his face, but kept a secure hold on his sister. Sarah straightened, but her hand stayed on her son’s until finally she turned to leave. She almost made it to the door when her knees crumbled beneath her, making Jack and Lew take her weight as they sat her on a chair in the front row again. Her sobs shook her body.

“Our baby, Jack. They stole our baby.”

“I know,” he said through clenched teeth as he knelt before her. “I know.”

When John, Tom, and Maddie moved up to the casket Bob and Joe stood behind them. Tom’s and John’s faces were made of stone, but their eyes told the depth of what they were feeling. Maddie stepped closer, reaching over her brother’s body she touched his hand, then slid her fingers under his palm to hold onto it. Joe could see the small jerks of her body, but he couldn’t see her face. He couldn’t see the sobs that were silently ripping through her and were stealing her breath away until she couldn’t breathe. John though, could see this. He ripped his sister away from the coffin, and carried her outside.

“Is she all right?” Joe asked as he, Tom and Bob rushed through the door behind them. The sight of Maddie still trying to get her breath frightened him more than even the sight he had witnessed in Vietnam.

“Breathe, Maddie! Breathe!” John ordered sternly, then softened his voice. “Come on, kiddo. You can do it, take it slow. Relax, you’ll be all right.”

John’s soothing voice and stroking hands began working as her breathing slowly came back to normal before turning in his arms and clinging to her oldest surviving brother.

“I want him back, John. I don’t want him to be dead,” she whispered, tearing at Joe’s heart with her words.

“I know. Come on, you gotta be strong now. We have to go to the cemetery yet, and ya gotta be strong for Mom. She’ll need you to wait in the car with her while we put Jackie in the hearse. Can ya do that for me?”

Bob, Lew and Joe were pallbearers, there was no question about that. But when questioned earlier about the remaining three, Tom and John said they wanted to be part of the escort. Jack, on the other hand, didn’t say a word. One look at his angry grief made it clear that he was carrying his son to his grave as well.

Joe carried a bouquet of Jackie’s flowers to a lonely grave about thirty yards away in the small country cemetery. Jackie would have wanted it that way. Brenda would have appreciated it.

CHAPTER V
 

June 1984

“H
i,” came a small voice from the darkness outside Joe’s house.

Joe glanced toward the screen door, not seeing the body that went with the sneaky little voice until Robby walked inside.

“What are you doing down here?” Joe knelt down to look at the boy’s smiling face. Such brown eyes. He didn’t look at all like his father. “It’s past your bedtime, isn’t it?”

“It’s summer. I wanted to come down and see you. I followed Mommy; she don’t know it, though.” His giggle warmed Joe.

“Then I think we better get you back home. You don’t want to worry your mom, do ya?”

“Too late.” Maddie’s voice came from the screen door, a sternness to it as she entered and looked down at her son.

“Uh-oh.” Robby laughed, hurrying behind Joe.

“‘Uh-oh’ is right. You get back here.” Maddie had her arms crossed, tapping her foot in a manner that made Joe look up at her and laugh. How many times had he seen Sarah in the same position when scolding one of her children.

“Nope.” Robby’s arms went around Joe’s neck from behind, climbing up his back and nearly pulling Joe off balance. “I wanna stay down here. He can be my daddy from now on, can’t he, Mommy?”

“No, he can
not
be your Daddy. You don’t just go pick one out of a hat, Robert. Mr. McNier already has a little boy. I’m sure he doesn’t want another one.”

“Sure I do.” Joe stood up, taking Robby along with him as he clung to his neck, and moved into the living room before dumping the youngster onto the couch and sitting next to him. “Sit down, Maddie. You can stay for a while.”

“No thank you,” she said distantly then looked at her son. “Mr. McNier and I don’t have anything to talk about, Honey, so let’s go home now. Jackie’s up at Gram’s waiting.”

“His name’s Joe, Mommy. Please can’t we stay? Please?” Joe hid his amusement as he watched Maddie weaken as she looked at her son. This boy had a special grasp on her heart and it was easy to see why when he looked at the handsome features pleading pitifully. “Please?”

“Just for a few minutes!” she scolded him as she threw the shirt on a chair and stomped over to it, sitting down irritably as she crossed her shapely legs.

“I can stay!” Robby’s eyes were huge as he smiled while leaning over Joe’s shoulder, peering into his face. “Whatcha got to eat?”

“Robert!” Maddie’s surprised scolding brought a smile to Joe as he picked the child up and moved to the kitchen.

“What are you hungry for?” he asked.

“Pizza?” Robby asked hopefully.

“I think that can be arranged. Sit there, I’ll make one.”

“Joe, don’t. You don’t have to make him something to eat. Believe it or not, we do feed him quite well at home,” Maddie said, standing in the doorway.

“Nothing wrong with an evening snack.” He took a pizza from the freezer and opened the box. “You like pepperoni?”

“Yeah,” Robby answered. “My favorite.”

“Mine too.”

“I’m going to a birthday party next week. Are you?” the boy asked him.

“Not that I know of.”

“You can come along. My Uncle Lew’s nice.”

“Lew’s birthday?” Joe looked over at Maddie with a smile in his eyes, making her look toward Robby but Joe’s eyes stayed on her. “I know I’ll like your Uncle Lew. You could almost say he’s my uncle too. Or maybe more like a brother. I’ll go along, if your mom promises not to get on any swings while we’re there. I’m getting too old to save her anymore.”

“Promise, Mommy. Please.”

“I don’t think Mr. McNier will have to worry about anything like that,” Maddie told him icily.

“No. I don’t either,” Joe said as he looked at her appearance. “Not dressed like that anyway.”

“Don’t you like the way Mommy’s dressed?” Robby asked Joe.

“Let’s just say I liked the way she was dressed when I got her off the swing at Lew’s birthday party the last time I went.”

“How did you dress the last time he went, Mommy?”

“I don’t know. It was too long ago. Mommy doesn’t remember.” She reached down and took the boy’s hand then started back to the living room. “Come on Robby, we’ll wait in here.”

Joe watched her leave the kitchen’s doorway. He very much doubted she had forgotten that hot July day. He knew he would never be able to erase it from
his
mind.

July 1973

Joe was refilling his glass from the keg of beer in Lew’s front yard; an almost grassless, narrow lawn that ran between a long dirt lane and Shamokin Creek. It was one of the few chances he had lately to actually get out with his friends since starting his newest job.

“Hey Lew! Happy birthday! What are ya now anyway?” The voice behind Joe had a very familiar ring to it, bringing a soft smile to his lips.

“Twenty-two,” Lew’s smiling voice answered.

“Uh-huh, and that would have made you . . . eight . . . when you and Janet had your first child?” laughed the new arrival at the party.

“Try a lot closer to
forty-two
,” Janet responded.

“Thirty-eight, only thirty-eight, Gert! Don’t
add
any years onto it!” Lew reprimanded his wife, using the nickname he sometimes gave her.

Joe turned from the keg, quite prepared to lift that voice into his arms and greet her with a friendly kiss on the forehead. It had been over a year since he had seen Maddie because of his third-shift position with the ambulance service. But when he turned, he almost bumped into a pair of shining brown eyes with dark hair that was windblown except for what was pulled back into a loose ponytail. His thoughts of the neighbor child quickly evaporated as his gaze moved to the lips that were full and very inviting and he felt the first stirrings of need in his loins. The smile that spread over her lips invited his gaze to move lower, seeing breasts thrusting against the bib of a pair of overalls that were cut off very short. It didn’t take much creativity to imagine how those delectable breasts would feel in his hands or taste under his kiss. The shapely legs that flowed from the frayed denim made his mind wonder at their strength as they would wrap around him and pull him into her depths.

“Well, look at you! When did you grow that?” Joe heard that familiar voice again, but from that very
unfamiliar
form.

His body stiffened as he jerked his gaze up to those dark eyes.
It
couldn’t
be!
was his first reaction. Then seeing it was indeed Maddie, he was overcome with guilt and embarrassment. Maddie was only fourteen. She should be short and stubby, not standing before him with developed breasts and long slim legs that invited any man’s fantasies to run rampant. Not with a mouth that made him starve to taste it. Not with eyes that reached into his very soul.

“Well, when?” she asked again.

“When did I
what
?” he croaked through a suddenly dry voice, taking a large gulp of beer to moisten his parched throat.

“Grow it. When did you grow it?”

“Grow what?!” He choked.
Good
God!
Was
that
his
voice?
Did
it
actually
crack?
He
was
twenty-four
years
old!
His
voice
wasn’t
supposed
to
crack
anymore!
And
grow
what?!!
He turned back toward the beer keg as his eyes immediately looked down at his pants. He prayed the erection he had felt coming on a moment ago wasn’t showing.

“Your mustache,” she said with a roll of her eyes. It was clear to Joe that she thought he was a bit on the stupid side at the moment.

“Oh, that. I-I don’t know for sure. Last year sometime.”

“You look nice with it.” She looked at him a moment. “What’s the matter with you?!”

“You changed, I guess. I expected to turn around, pick you up and kiss your cheek.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, glancing down at the ground. “Ya better not. You’ll hurt yourself. I got fat. But you can still kiss me—I guess.”

“I don’t know, in front of all these people? They might start talking.” He covered up his previous embarrassment by teasing her.

“Why?” Her eyes said she had no idea of the picture she presented.

“Hey, brat, get me a beer,” Lew called from the table.

She picked up a glass and moved to the tap, but when she tried to fill it, all she got was a glass of foam, making her look at it with confused disapproval. “What’s wrong? I did it the way you did it.”

“Not quite.” Joe took the glass from her and filled it properly.

She took the glass to her uncle, her appreciation of the man showing in the way she slid next to him on the bench and smiled up at him.