It was raining as Hannah and I walked across the well trimmed grass. The sun was going down, hidden by the steel gray clouds. Her hand was warm in mine as we moved between the gravestones together. The wind was blowing around us, slashing the rain against my heavy overcoat I was wearing to protect my Class-A uniform. Hannah was in her Class-A uniform, dressed in a skirt with high heels and nylon stocking. Both of us were wearing our red Airborne berets and I was wearing spit-shined jump boots.
We'd both been Airborne qualified over the summer in August when Atlas had been shut down for thirty days.
Both of our chests were heavy with ribbons. Aine and I were both wearing a Schützenschnur cord, which told everyone we were qualified on West German Army weaponry. Both of us had the gold medallions, which meant we'd shot gold standard on the pistol, rifle, and heavy machinegun. We had Airborne and Aine had an Air Assault badge.
We looked good, even with the rain.
Better than the people in the two caskets, held above the open graves, deserved.
It wasn't for them. Aine had insisted on wearing it, to remind me that I was more than what I was when I left. That I had become a man, with my own accomplishments that were recognized by all who saw the markings.
I sighed, walking past another row of gravestones.
Together we moved up to the grave site, where the priest, Father Tremain, was waiting with a bible in his hands. He nodded to us as we moved up and stopped at the end of the caskets. Aine and I had discussed it prior, and she stood at the foot of my father's casket, I stood at the foot of my mothers.
I had given the silver and onyx bracelet to the mortician to put in my mother's casket. I'd seen them in the morgue, I didn't need a wake or an open casket.
Seeing them in the morgue was more than I had ever wanted to see them ever again.
I stood there, silent, as Father Tremain gave a liturgy for two people who had put me on the face of the earth and then made sure I learned to survive on my own. Who had taught me about weakness, who had taught me that children were nothing more than irritants that could be sold for other people's pleasure, who had taught me that I was worth nothing but what they could extract from me, who had taught me that love was a lie, who had taught me about...
"My Paul," Aine's voice was a whisper, meant only for my ears, that pulled me from the dark thoughts.
The eulogy made me want to smirk. How their music brought joy to people. How they were beloved by people.
I wanted to make him tell the truth. That they were vile people, who stole, who destroyed other's lives, who were completely useless junkies.
But eulogies aren't about the truth. They're about making the dead look good because you don't speak ill of the dead.
The litany was coming to an end, the grave diggers moving up. The big backhoe was still silent, but one of the "diggers" was moving up to it, reaching into his pocket to pull out the keys.
The service came to an end. It had all been blurred words. I know I had heard the words, but I could not remember them. Not the individual words, not the meaning behind them.
It was just someone taking a long time to let anyone present know that the two caskets held dead people.
An elderly man, with a kind face, his back bent by the cares and woes of others over his lifetime, handed me a heavy box with a button. A cable went from the box to the ground, where it split to the two graves. His mouth opened, but all I heard was a buzzing noise.
I pressed the button and the two caskets shuddered for a moment before starting to lower with the whine of gears and pulleys.
Off in the distance lightning flashed.
Aine moved next to me, her small hand sliding into mine and squeezing gently. Warm moved up my arm, smothering the singing emptiness in my chest.
Thunder, muted and quiet, rolled over us.
I watched, silently, as the caskets lowered all the way down. One grave-digger climbed into the backhoe, the other jumped into each grave, popping the cargo strap ratchet, then climbing back up. I handed him the switch and he pressed it again, the freight frames lifting back up out of the grave.
The grave-digger went to offer his condolences, saw my face, and changed his mind, moving away so he could remove the mechanical casket lowering device from the graves.
Normally, people left at this point.
Aine stayed with me while I watched them get buried. I didn't bother tossing dirt into the grave, like many did, like was customary. Instead, I just watched the dirt be piled onto them, patted down, and then the carefully cut turf placed over the graves.
When they were done, it looked like they had been buried there for years.
I turned around, making an about face, and walked away, reaching out and holding Aine's hand.
"I hope this lets you put the darkness behind you, my beautiful Paul," Hannah said softly.
I just squeezed her hand.
Our shoes whispered on the wet grass as we walked toward the parking lot, holding each other's hands. Lightning flashed in the distance, the thunder soft and muted as it rolled over us. It was getting closer, slowly moving toward us. Out at Atlas I'd gotten used to counting how close a storm got since the site had exploded. Any lightning closer than ten seconds resulted in the bunker doors being closed and everyone moving uprange.
Nobody wanted another detonation before the lightning protections were put in.
sky ground sky ground PAIN sky ground
She squeezed my hand to pull me back from the memories and I squeezed in return.
When we got to the car she stopped me, reaching up to cup her hand at the back of my neck, and drew me down for a long lingering kiss. When we broke the kiss she smiled softly at me, her hand still on the back of my neck.
"Let us go home, I quiver for your embrace," She said softly. "Let us remind each other we are still with the living."
"I'd like that," I told her. She moved away, her hand sliding off my neck, smiling at me. I got into the driver's seat, slamming the door. When she got in, buckled in, and demurely crossed her legs, putting her laced fingers over her knee, I fired the little car up.
We sat in silence, the wipers struggling to push back the rain, the road hissing under the tires. It felt comfortable to me as we drove the two miles to my parent's old house, no, my house. It was my house now. We'd stopped by the lawyer when he opened so I could sign all the paperwork. It didn't come as a surprise to find out my parents were four years behind in the property taxes, but Aine had surprised me by pulling her checkbook out of her purse and just writing a check for the entire thing. She'd smiled back when I had seen the kittens on her check and smiled. I'd just signed my father's wrecked car over to the wrecking yard, who could part it out.
Now it was finished. The funeral was paid for, the caskets, the mortician's fees, everything. I'd even paid the utility company for the cost of the pole my father had hit.
Bet you didn't know that. If your family member slams into a utility pole and damages it, their survivors get to buy a new one.
And those things ran $1,250 for the pole, $2750 for installation.
But that was over, behind me.
Aine had handled most of it. Quietly, gently, holding my hand the whole time. She'd paid each bill, accepted the receipts, and quietly thanked each person standing there with their hand held out for assisting a serving member of the military during such a trying time.
Every time those people had left shamefaced.
It occurred to me during the whole thing that Aine had done this before, had been part of this before. I was grateful for all of it.
We drove by where the house was and Aine turned and looked at me.
"Where are we going, my Paul?" She asked, cocking her head slightly.
"I want to surprise you," I told her.
She sighed wistfully. "I like good surprises."
I dug out my cigarettes and lit one, cracking the wing window for the smoke, as we drove another three miles to a place outside of town.
When Aine saw the horses moving around the field in the rain she pressed her hands and her nose against the window.
"They are so beautiful," she said softly, her breath fogging the window slightly.
I pulled in, next to a sign that said "Horse Rides! $5 Child $10 Adult!" and shut the car off.
Aine looked at me, her eyes wide. "Really?"
I nodded. "I thought you might miss your home. Thought you might like this."
She jumped out of the car. "I love this! Oh thank you."
I followed her into the barn, where a man who had obviously just escaped the set of Rawhide was leaning against an empty stall, a hand-rolled cigarette in his mouth. He looked us both up and down from under his hat then pushed off, standing up.
"Ya sure ya wanna ride in that there suit?" He asked us. His voice was rough from years of trail dust and filterless cigarettes.
"I will go change. Permit me a moment of privacy?" Aine said. She was staring at the horses, almost trembling in excitement.
"Well," the cowpoke started.
Aine rushed outside, disappearing behind the hay bales. After a few moments she came running back, dressed in jeans and a loose blouse with combat boots. She moved up and curtsied in front of the cowpoke. "May I ride?"
The cowboy looked her up and down. "Ya done ridden' afor, right?"
She nodded, her eyes bright. "Yes, sir," she said.
"All right. Most of dem, dey don't like bein' out inna rain," he said. He led us down the row of stalls, naming each horse. Some he petting on the forehead, others were napping, some were eating.
A placid looking gelding poked his head over the stall door to nudge Aine, who giggled and rubbed his forehead.
"OK, I'd like that," she said. She looked at the cowboy. "He will let me ride him out in the rain."
The cowboy gave a slow nod. "Ya know how ta get 'im ready to ride?"
Aine nodded again. "Yes, sir."
I stood and watched as they saddled him up. The cowboy didn't seem surprised at the way Aine just vaulted into the saddle, setting her boots into the stirrups. She leaned forward and hugged the horses neck.
While I watched, the cowpoke led Aine out to the corral. When he unclipped the lead rope the horse stood stock still for a moment, then shuddered before racing off into the rainy grass and mud.
I watched as the horse pranced around, or raced back and forth. We were silent, only the horse's neighs and Aine's delighted laughter joining the thunder.
When the horse was rearing up, pawing at the air, the cowboy broke the silence.
"He's showin' off fer her," he shook his head. "Pretty young thing make all us boys act the fool."
"Yes, sir," I said, watching as she laughed and hugged the horse's neck again.
"Yer that Foster boy, aincha? Tha one e'rryone wuz lookin' fer a few year back, right?" The cowpoke drawled.
"Yes, sir."
"Aw, don't sur me none, boy," he said. "Made myseff Lance Cerprawl 'for I left the Corps. Ain't no awfisser here."
I just nodded.
"Uniform looks good on ya, boy. Gotcha a girl who matches ya," he mused. "Ya done good in hard times."
I knew he'd glanced at my Purple Hearts.
Finally, Aine came back, red faced, sweating, panting like the lather covered horse, but smiling.
"He's tired now. We had fun," Aine smiled.
Her smile was warm sunlight to my soul.
"Welp, lets put 'im up den," The cowboy said.
Aine insisted on rubbing him down and feeding him a treat by hand, then putting away the tack and gear. The cowboy mostly watched her, smiling, glancing my way now and then. As I paid him the ten bucks Aine ran behind the hay bales for a few moments before emerging wearing her Class-A's again.
She stopped in front of the cowboy, gave a curtsy, and smiled. "Thank you, sir. It was a lovely ride."
"Yer welcome, girly," He nodded back. "Ya take care now, ya hear?"
She smiled at him, taking my hand.
Together we walked back to the car.
"Did you see me riding, Paul?" She asked, still breathless, as I put the car in gear and pulled out.
"Yeah," I smiled at her.
"It was wonderful," she sighed. She gave a big yawn. "When we get back, I'm gonna nap."
"Want me to tuck you in?" I asked, waggling my eyebrows at her. She giggled and blushed.
When we got back in, I unlocked the door and we went inside. We showered together, slow, luxuriating in each other, the hot water, and the lather. When we were done I carried her to our bed, tucking her in. While she watched, I got dressed. Jeans, t-shirt, flannel shirt, boots.
I sat there with her, watching her drift off to sleep. Once her breathing had deepened and evened, and I could see her eyes flicking back and forth beneath the closed lids, I got up and headed into the front room. I stopped long enough to grab a beer out of the fridge.
The house felt... right. Like I could live here. Really live.
We could come back here. Raise children here. I could get my old job at the mill back. Here, in this house, in Aine's arms, I could live.
My musing was interrupted by a knock on the door.
Still thinking about Aine, about living here, about raising children here, I got up and answered it.
Gail stood on the front porch, Dave standing back by his truck.
"Paulie, I, like, want to, like, talk to you and junk," She said. She tried to look past me, into the house, but I shifted to block her view. "Like, alone, Paulie."
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Grabbing my hat off the hook I stepped out the door, closing it behind me.
"Then talk."