Burn Down the Sky: Part Eight

 

 

6

 

The tall buildings of Chicago’s Loop shrank in Alan’s rearview mirror. Catching the last of the day’s golden light, the buildings appeared pristine and perfect against a cloudless evening sky. It was as if someone had painted them that way. Rush Hour traffic along Lake Shore Drive moved in fits and starts. There was a soft cool breeze off the lake, gently pushing waves against the shore. The air filled his senses with the soft scent of the lake and wet autumn leaves.

Alan’s mind was a million miles away. It should have been on his wedding in the morning, or at the very least how he would tell Donna that she would be spending part of their honeymoon in Paris alone while he was off in the Middle East for Kellerman. How was it, Alan asked himself, that at this stage in his career he would find himself kissing anyone’s ass, particularly Kellerman’s? Alan had paid his dues. Christ, he had paid more than his share of dues. All those years sleeping on cots, in roach infested hotel rooms, covering war and disasters in all those far-flung assignments should have garnered him greater respect. This was his time to step aside and let a new generation of correspondents take those assignments. They would still find romance and excitement and purpose in war and human turmoil, all of which had left him long ago.

This was revenge pure and simple. This was Kellerman’s payback for not getting on that chopper in the A Shau, or not coming along to Kabul with Alan and the Muj. He could easily see through Kellerman’s smug little smile and half-hearted praise. Simple revenge was all that this was, and from a man with half of Alan’s talent!

Donna’s red little BMW was parked in the driveway when Alan pulled up to the house. The elegant home overlooked a small beach and a bank of woods jutting out into the lake. High walls protected well-tended flower gardens and carefully trimmed hedges bordered the yard. The house was a world unto itself, a world that Alan sometimes felt as though he was a trespasser.

It was odd to think of it as home, as he had never really known a real home since leaving for Vietnam almost forty years earlier. For many of those years the idea of home seemed so abstract, and wholly alien to his life. For so long he had made himself believe that home was a place where the naïve went happily about their lives. It helped to rationalize the transient nature of his life to believe his reader’s impressions of the sorrow and misery of others helped them to appreciate the blessing of their existence.

Alan stood at the gate for a moment before entering. He had always felt like a stranger in this house. He felt like the odd, unnecessary chapter in a book stretching over many years. In that house Donna had raised three beautiful children, and a handful of grandchildren as well. Their memories filled the house, along with the memory of Donna’s husband. It had been seven years since his sudden passing, but there were reminders of him everywhere. A trunk of his things in the basement, as though he might one day return for them one day, only served to make Alan feel tentative and fleeting.

Alan turned the bottle of champagne, courtesy of Kellerman, over in his hand. He took a moment to sweep away those sadder thoughts as well as his conversation with Kellerman. He struggled from his dark mood, not wishing to subject Donna to any of this, not the night before their wedding.

He paused at the picture window. The roses he sent earlier were neatly arranged in a beautiful crystal vase on the Baby Grand piano in the front room. The card he had sent with the flowers was open beside the vase. He could see Donna in the dining room putting the final touches on a romantic dinner. She was exquisite, dressed in a long black gown that accentuated a figure that, even after three children and several grandchildren, was absolutely stunning.

She was more perfect to him now, and he found her lovelier with each passing day. He remembered that day, sitting beside her on the flight from Rome. Even then, hardly knowing more than her name Alan felt himself falling for her. It was as if he had been adrift on a stormy sea his whole life, and then all at once the storm broke revealing her welcoming shores. He watched her sweep a lock of her blond hair back behind one ear and knew at that moment that he was indeed home. She was his home at the end of a very long road. Two years later it came as a quiet reprieve from the troubles of the world that she agreed be his wife.

Donna greeted him at the door when he rang the bell. Breathless with excitement she flung her arms around his neck and held him tightly. Teary kisses fell over his rough neck, finding their way to his lips. They kissed deeply, her warm body pressed perfectly to his. Her face was filled with a radiant light. How she had missed romance those long years after her husband’s death, and how she had missed the salvation of being held in a lover’s arms. She drew back from Alan just enough to regard him for a moment. Life had given Donna her husband, and had taken him just as unexpectedly. Now it had delivered Alan to her, and for the time they spent together she would hold him in her heart just as dearly.

“Wow, what did I do to get so lucky?” He kissed her once more. She looked over at the flowers, but was too filled with emotion to speak. Tears ran down her flushed cheeks. Alan smiled, pleased to have had such a dramatic effect on her.

“Oh, you’re getting luckier than that tonight.”

“Why, Doctor,” he quipped, “you’ll be a married woman tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

They forgot about the dinner she had cooked. Instead they sank to the floor and made love beneath the piano. Passion carried them away, and for the first time in his life Alan felt that everything would be all right. Holding her in his arms he could see the rest of their lives together stretching ahead. The best years of his life lay ahead, and nothing, not Kellerman or anything else was going to rob him of that.

 When it was over they lay tangled in each other. Their arms and legs were tangled together. Their clothes were scattered across the floor around them. Quite out of the blue Donna began to giggle and then laugh out loud.

“Not usually the response I expect from a woman after making love,” Alan swept a hint of perspiration from her brow.

“It’s just that no one has done much of anything with this old piano in years. It’s just nice to see her getting some use again.”

He laughed with her. Then her laughter turned to tears again. They were sweet, joyful tears that bespoke the depth of their love and much more. Alan pulled her closer. He knew that she was thinking of her late husband, which somehow seemed all right. She sat up and wiped the tears from her face. Alan ran his hand over the smooth flesh of her back, and savored the gentle curve of her bare breast.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I promised myself that I wouldn’t do that, to either of us. I tried, I really did. There are just too many memories in this house.”

He stroked her bare back and studied her as though she was some rare species, or a precious jewel he had just discovered. The house was dark and quiet. The room smelled of the Lasagna she had prepared for dinner. It was all so perfect that he would have been content just to remain there forever. For the first time that house felt like home to him. He thought of Donna, and the ghosts that must have haunted her there.

“Sell the house, or give it to the kids,” he told her. “We’ll get that cottage on the Lake Superior shore, just like we talked about. You and me, a million miles from the world, fishing and taking long lazy walks to nowhere. We’ll get that dog you said we never have time for.”

“This isn’t fair to you, Alan. It’s unfair for me to be like this the night before our wedding. I planned a romantic dinner and, and…” She began to cry again

“Donna, don’t do that to yourself.”

“I love you, Alan. I don’t want you to think…”

“Are you sure that you can do this?”

“I think that its just part of the process, ya know?”

He sat and kissed her shoulder softly. He found it easy to sympathize with Donna, for Emina had intruded upon his thoughts earlier. He knew only too well how the past resonated in the present. She pulled him to her again, her lips begging for his. Her kisses trailed across his cheek. She breathed softly into his ear.

“Oh Alan, if I were to die at this moment, I would die happy to have loved you even this much.”

Half dressed and giggling like children they went into the kitchen. Together they stood at the stove feeding each other Donna’s Lasagna and drinking Kellerman’s champagne from the bottle. They reminisced over the last several years, and their fateful meeting on that plane from Rome. He thought about the conversation with Kellerman and wanted so badly to tell her, but could not bring himself to spoil such a perfect moment. He wanted to tell her, but the thought of ruining the wedding for her was more than he could bear. He would tell her in due course. It wasn’t something that he could keep from her for very long. He would tell her, but first he would give her one more perfect day.

Alan hardly slept at all that night. He listened to the waves at the lakeshore and the breeze rustling among the trees. Donna was asleep beside him, pressed warmly to his side. He studied her sleeping face and ran his hand over her warm side. The road that carried him to her side had been an arduous and long one, but he would have traveled it a thousand times to be beside her this way. He was suddenly filled with so much emotion that he nearly cried out.

“Please God,” Alan cried softly, “Watch over her while she is in Paris. Please God.”

 

 

 

It could not have been a more perfect day for a wedding. For a September day the weather was warm and bright. Puffy white clouds floated lazily against a perfect field of blue. Golden maple leaves floated down upon the intimate little ceremony in the backyard of the house, only adding to the beauty of the moment. One of Donna’s grandchildren ran among the chairs in the backyard trying to catch the falling leaves.

Alan was nervous, far more than he ever would have believed. In fact he was literally trembling. He had been through wars and faced death a hundred times, yet there he was, utterly terrified of marrying the woman of his dreams. He smiled to himself, and could well imagine why grooms often felt the urge to turn and run away from all of this. He could understand it well enough, but then that would rob him of the love of an incredible woman. Truth be told, there was no place else that Alan wished to be at that moment.

He looked over the collection of guests. It was a small affair, but it spoke volumes about the course of their lives that her side was full, and his side was nearly empty. There was Misses Sangee and her husband. Behind them was that odd kid from the mailroom who was always pestering Alan about being a foreign correspondent. Alan frowned that the kid couldn’t even manage a date to help fill in his side a little more. In contrast there wasn’t an empty seat on Donna’s side of the isle. There were children, grandchildren, Donna’s sister and her family, and several members of her late husband’s family. They were all sweet people who had accepted Alan fully into their clan.

The wedding march was not the traditional music, but rather an old Nina Simone song that Donna thought fit the ceremony at this stage in their lives. It was Simone’s smoky style that had seen her through the worst months after her husband’s passing, and that helped her to love again. The song was her favorite; a bluesy lament that captured precisely the two faces of love; passion and remorse.

I lost myself on a cold damp night,

I gave myself in that misty light,

Was hypnotized by a strange delight,

Under a Lilac tree…

As it began, and in the instant before Donna appeared in the doorway Alan’s heart skipped a beat. There was that instant when he feared that she would not show, or that all of this had been some kind of wonderful dream, which was about to evaporate before his eyes. The years and the wars rushed in on him in that instant of fear, but disappeared the moment she appeared. It was more than his fragile heart could take and a tear tumbled over his cheek.

Lilac wine

You’re sweet and heady, like my love.

Lilac wine,

I feel unsteady, like my love

Listen to me,

I cannot see clearly

Isn’t that she, coming to me

Nearly here…

The instant that her eyes met his Alan felt his soul afire. When her smile faltered ever so little he knew that she felt the same. Donna was beyond beautiful. In fact, she was simply the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. All the suffering and hardship he had known seemed like little more than obstacles leading to her door. Alan touched his cheek and wiped away the tear. He held out his hand as she came up.

Listen to me,

Why is everything so hazy?

Isn’t that he,

Or am I just going crazy, dear?

Lilac Wine,

I feel that I am ready,

For my love.

It seemed like a lifetime since Donned had been happy. Closing her eyes for a moment she said a silent prayer that this was not some wonderful dream from which she would awaken in the morning. Opening her eyes again tears had turned Alan and the beautiful alter into a vague watercolor wash of opaque hues. As the minister spoke, Donna heard superfluous words that only echoed what was already in her heart. Alan tugged gently at her hand and Donna looked up into his eyes. In them she found salvation from a raging world. She squeezed his hand tightly as the ceremony drew to its conclusion.

“Do you Alan Kirby, take Donna to be your lawful wedded wife?” the Minister said, “And before God do you promise to honor and cherish her, in sickness and in health until the day you die?”

“I do,” Alan replied confidently, unable to take his eyes off of her. She had to bite her lip as the sudden urge to laugh came over her for no reason at all. The upwelling of deep emotion was that great. It was enough that it almost made Alan laugh  as well.

“And Donna Martin,” the Minister continued, “before God on this perfect day that he has created, do you promise to honor and cherish Alan, forsaking all others, until the day you die?”

Alan’s heart beat madly, as if he was falling in love with her all over again. She nodded slowly and said, “Yes.”

  “Then, by the powers vested in me by the State of Illinois, and by the Lord God Almighty, I pronounce you husband and wife. Dear guests, may I be the first to introduce Mister and Misses Alan and Donna Kirby.”

As applause erupted and tears of joy flowed freely among the guests Alan and Donna shared their first kiss as husband and wife. He tasted tears on her lips, and wiped them from her cheeks with his thumbs.

“What was so funny?” he whispered in her ear.

She kissed him once more. “You just looked so serious, that’s all.”

Did he feel any differently walking through the quiet house that night, after all the guests had gone? How he had longed all those years for a place to come home to. He sat at the piano and ran his fingers lightly over the smooth black and white keys. How he wanted to feel content, as though he had finally come home at last. There would come a time when he would remember a feeling that none of this would last. He would want to believe that he somehow saw it coming. It would haunt him, and cause him to wonder if he might have prevented it all from happening. But for now there was only the quiet house and the tinkling of the keys.

Donna was already in bed. She was on her side. The wedding had left them both utterly exhausted. She was facing away from him. Her champagne induced flirtations at the reception about making mad love to him had surrendered to that exhaustion. It was all that she could do to stay awake long enough to kiss him goodnight.

Alan undressed and slipped into bed beside her. He drew himself to the warmth and excitement of her nakedness, and marveled at the simple way their bodies fit so perfectly together. From the sound of her breathing Alan could tell that Donna was nearly asleep. She nuzzled her buttocks against him and sighed with delight. How had he survived all those years without her, he asked himself? What remaining time they had, even if they lived to be very old, now seemed unjustly short.

Alan ran his hands over the smooth flesh of her hips and thighs. She stirred against him, content in his loving arms and turned her face to his. Her eyes opened and a peaceful, lover’s smile came to her. It faded finding trepidation in his face.

“Honey, what is it?” she asked.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You look so sad. I’ve never seen you so sad.”

“You just look so perfect that I wish this moment would never end.”

She touched his face. Alan ran his fingers lightly between her breasts, following their trail with his eyes.

“Now I know something is wrong.”

“Kellerman,” he sighed.

“Alan, when are you going to quit that job? Someone with your talent? You’re a better journalist than he is and you know it.”

“Afraid to retire.”

“Why? Look at all that you’ve done, and all that you’ve been through. You always talked about writing a book. This is your chance.”

“Afraid that I’ll miss something, something that will bring some sense to all that I’ve seen, some context to history, some purpose to the madness of the world.” He looked around the room for a time, wondering just exactly how he would tell her. In the end it just came out. “Kellerman has asked me to take charge of the Middle East office.”

“There?”

“Kuwait.”

“Oh, Alan not another war. Please!”

“He told me today.”

“Tell him you won’t. Why not someone younger, someone who hasn’t paid their dues?”

“I have to go.”

Donna stared at the ceiling. She felt empty as if all of the air in her lungs had suddenly gone out. Alan sat up. He half wanted to leave, to go down to the lake and clear his head.

“When?” she asked coldly.

“Monday.”

“And Paris, Alan? This is our honeymoon for Christ’s sake!”

“Two days. Give me two days and I’ll meet you in Paris on Thursday, I promise.”

“I am so pissed at you,” she said, but knew she could not remain that way for long. “You knew this all day and you didn’t tell me?”

“I couldn’t tell you, not and spoil such a perfect day. Are you mad at me?”

“I’m worried about you, Alan. There is a war going on.”

“I won’t be anywhere near the war.”

“Two days?”

“Two days, three tops. I owe you.”

“Oh, honey, I’m taking your credit card and having a nice shopping spree on Wednesday, and every day until you arrive.”

“Well,” he smiled, finding her sparkling eyes with his, “I suppose that’s a threat.”

“Oh no, that is a guarantee.” She ran her fingers across his chest

“Four days. What can possibly happen in four days?”

She drew him down into her arms, basking in the warmth and intimacy of his body and strong arms. They held tightly, not making love, only holding each other close, which in some way felt so much deeper and fuller. Donna thought that she could feel his tears upon her cheek.

“I love you,” she said with hardly more than the quality of a soft breath.

“I already miss you forever,” he whispered; though she was already fast asleep. “I already miss you forever.”