"That's as kind a way to put it as any, I guess."
There was a plaintive note in her voice. "Why?"
"Afraid of being rejected. Of course, it would serve me right. I wouldn't have anybody to blame but myself."
"It's hard to believe what that crash did to you," she said.
"Oh, I'm over all that."
"No, Roddy. Not all of it. Not if you're still afraid to come back to those who loved you the most. Incidentally, I had a visitor a few days ago asking about you."
"Oh? Who?"
"Dutch Schuler. He had been through Gainesville and found that Lila and I had moved up here."
"I knew he was back in the Air Force. What's he doing?"
"He's here on temporary duty at the Pentagon. Doing some sort of tests or demonstrations. Something to do with using the Pave Low in conjunction with law enforcement. Like riot suppression, I think. I told him Lila had said you might be here for the Fourth, but frankly I doubted it."
"Can't blame you. Did Dutch say anything about me?"
"He told me you seemed to have completely recovered from your alcohol problem, and your leg was about as good as ever. But he said inside you were still hurting badly. He didn't think you had ever gotten over what they did to you at that court-martial."
"I'm about over it now, Karen. Really. I've just learned the full story. Say, could I take you and Lila somewhere for breakfast?"
"We've already eaten," she said in that soft, melodious voice he remembered so well. "But if you want to come over here, I'll put the coffee pot on."
The traffic was mostly headed in the other direction as Burke came through Falls Church. He didn't normally drive home during morning rush hours, and he found the effect a bit strange. His was a quiet street flanked by large, fashionable homes. He turned into the long, paved driveway and parked beside the garage in back. He found the alarm system disarmed and the door to the kitchen unlocked.
"Daddy!" a small bundle of energy named Cameron shouted as soon as he stepped inside.
"Hi, there, Cam," Burke said, scooping him up. "Where's Mommy?"
"In the famby room with Punk."
Burke shook his head. "You'd better quit calling your sister that, boy. You'll wind up in deep trouble."
He found Lori and their bright-eyed daughter, a greatly reduced carbon copy of her mother, sitting on the sofa reading a Dr. Seuss book. He deposited his son on the floor and bent down to kiss Elizabeth and his wife.
"The patients appear in pretty good shape," he said with a grin.
"If they get any livelier, I won't be able to stand it." Lori looked up with a worried frown. "What's this all about?"
"Remember my telling you about being tapped for membership in the Foreign Affairs Roundtable?"
"Right. Sounded like a feather in your cap."
"Well, I'm not sure it's a feather I want after what I heard down in Mexico."
"What on earth did—"
"I accidentally ran onto something that looks mighty shady, and the Roundtable appears to be in the thick of it."
"How shady?"
Burke turned toward the kitchen. "I'm starving. Come on. I'll tell you while I get something to eat."
The taxi deposited Roddy Rodman at a modest brick home in a subdivision of near look-alikes, all on small lots, some with a few trees, others bare of anything but a determined stand of bright green grass. Each house was butted up close to its neighbor as if they were dominoes laid out on a table. He walked up to the front door and rang the bell, feeling as uneasy as a cold-calling insurance agent on his first day out. After a moment, the door was opened by a softly-smiling Karen Rodman. Just behind her came his spirited daughter, Lila.
"The prodigal father has returned," he said with a hesitant grin.
"Daddy!" Lila shouted, darting past her mother and throwing her arms around him.
Roddy hugged her and kissed her on the cheek, tasting the salty tears that had begun to flow. "Hey," he said, "I didn't expect this kind of welcome."
Karen led him back to the kitchen, where he found familiar-looking black cups on the table. He picked up one and stared at it. "Haven't I seen these someplace before?"
Lila was grinning now and wiping the tears away. "They just came yesterday. Thanks, Dad. You could have brought them with you."
Raising an eyebrow, he said slowly, "I don't think so."
Karen, who was dressed in white shorts and a flowery shirt that clearly showed the years had been kind to her, came over with the coffee pot and started pouring. "Sit down, Roddy. If you haven't had your morning coffee, I'm surprised you're in such an upbeat mood. You're really looking good, though."
As he sat down, Roddy glanced up at her and said as frankly as he knew how, "You've never looked better, Karen."
Her face aglow with a beaming smile, Lila looked from one parent to the other. "I'll leave you two to get reacquainted. I need to go finish getting ready."
"Where are you headed?" Roddy asked. "School hasn't started yet, has it?"
"Of course not. I have an appointment for a physical exam this morning."
He shrugged. "I thought it was the little kids just starting to school who needed physicals, not the teachers."
"I'm a little teacher just starting to school," she said brightly as she headed for her room.
As he sat in the comfortably-furnished kitchen sipping coffee, now alone with Karen, Roddy suddenly felt ill at ease, almost like being on a first date. His former wife sat across from him, looking as lovely as ever. She hadn't changed one bit since the last time he saw her.
"How's the dress shop coming?" he asked, breaking the silence.
"We're supposed to open in another week. The building is ready. We still have to move most of our stock in and set up the displays."
"You always knew what looked good on people. It'll be a success."
She gave him a rueful grin. "Nothing's guaranteed. But I don't need to tell you that. What did you mean on the phone by the full story about the court-martial?"
Roddy lowered his voice. "I'll tell you after Lila leaves. I don't want to get her upset."
She eyed him curiously. "It won't upset me?"
"You know what I mean. She's a lot more emotional. You were always the strongest one around here. If you hadn't been, you couldn't have put up with me as long as you did."
"Well, tell me about Mexico. When you first went down there, Lila came home from the library with an armload of guidebooks. She read me all about Guadalajara. Sounded like an interesting place."
Roddy told her about the breathtaking view where the road south from Guadalajara topped the hill to reveal a parnoramic view of Lake Chapala, about the American community around the lake and about some of his ex-Air Force cronies.
"Don't go anywhere," Lila admonished him as she came through the kitchen on her way to the car. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
When she was gone, Roddy put down his second cup of coffee and looked soberly at Karen. His voice had a bitter ring. "General Wing Patton is the bastard who was responsible for what happened to my aircrew. For reasons I don't yet know, he never told Major Bolivar about the change in that alternate frequency."
Karen stared at him incredulously. "Patton never… why did the Major testify the way he did?"
Roddy told her what he had learned from Chief Master Sergeant Clinton Black.
"Okay," Karen said, "granted Bolivar was dead and the sergeant couldn't prove anything. He still could have reported to someone what the Bolivar had told him. He could have testified to it under oath."
"Sure, he could have. But if the testimony of a chief master sergeant and a four-star general are in direct conflict, who do you think they're going to believe? The other thing was that Clint Black knew what Adam Stern had threatened Colonel Bolivar with. He didn't want to risk his good name and his family on something where he was bound to lose."