"Let me tell you what I've decided to do with those photos, Don Fernando," Wilson said. "And a good decision is a good decision, even if it is made much longer after it should have been."
"Excuse me?" Don Fernando said.
"I have decided that many of them should be hanging, suitably framed, in the Jorge Castillo Classroom Building. The first thing Monday morning, I will take them to our state-of-the-art photo lab."
"I think that's a very good idea, General," Don Fernando said.
"You're not going to stop that, are you? Calling me 'General'?"
"You have to understand, Harry," Don Fernando said, "that I never got any higher than major, and never very close to general officers."
"When Jorge and I were in 'Nam, we thought majors were God," Wilson said.
"So did we majors in Korea," Don Fernando said.
They laughed.
"I never thought majors were God, did you, Gringo?" Fernando Lopez asked Charley in a mock innocent tone.
"Fernando!" Dona Alicia Castillo said.
The wife of Don Fernando-and grandmother of Fernando Lopez and Charley Castillo-was a slight woman, her black hair heavily streaked with gray and pulled tight around her head. She wore a single strand of large pearls around her neck. Her only other jewelry consisted of two gold, miniature branch insignias-Armor and Aviation, honoring Fernando and Charley, respectively-pinned to the bosom of her simple black dress and her wedding and engagement rings.
She was an elegant, dignified, and formidable lady.
Don Fernando smiled. "My darling, Fernando's been calling him that from the moment Carlos got off the plane. What makes you think he'll stop now?"
"Actually, Fernando," Charley said, "now that I think about it, no, I never thought majors were God-like. Other comparisons, however, have occurred to me from time to time."
Dona Alicia shook her head.
"May I finish, gentlemen?" Wilson asked. "As I was saying, I will order that they be copied with great care, enlarged, and three copies made of each. You should have your complete set in San Antonio by Friday."
"Oh, my God, you don't have to do that," Don Fernando said.
"Oh, yes, I do," Wilson said. "I'm only sorry that I didn't…"
"What happened, happened," Don Fernando said. "You tried."
"And our number is unlisted," Dona Alicia said. "You couldn't be expected to find someone who isn't in the book."
"My wife and I were deeply touched by your letter," Don Fernando said.
"Yes, we were, Harry," Dona Alicia said. "It was heartfelt. And then the maid threw it out before I could reply. Things happened that kept us from getting together before this. I'm just so glad it finally happened."
"General," Castillo said, "may I ask a question?"
"Of course, Charley."
"Sir, aren't you a little concerned that somebody might recognize the second lieutenant standing next to my father?"
"Yes, I am. But I don't see what I can do about that, do you?"
"I don't understand," Dona Alicia said.
"For what it's worth, General, I hope a lot of people do," Castillo said.
The general didn't reply.
"Thank you, Charley," Mrs. Bethany Wilson said. "And so do I."
"I have hanging in my office," Don Fernando said, "Jorge's medal and a photograph, a terrible one taken when he graduated from flight school. I will replace the photograph with this one."
"That's a great idea," Charley said.
Dona Alicia asked, "What about-would this be possible?-getting a photo of the plaque on that building to put beside it? Or perhaps having a replica made for the same purpose?"
"Abuela," Charley said. "Trust me. That's a lousy idea."
"Why is it a lousy idea?"
"The gringo's right, Abuela," Fernando said. "Just the photo. The photo's a great idea."
"Don't call Carlos that," Dona Alicia said, but then she let the matter drop.
[-VII-]
Room 202
The Daleville Inn
Daleville, Alabama 1920 8 February 1992 Dripping water, Charley Castillo was wearing a thick terry-cloth bathrobe-and not a damn thing else-when he went to answer his door. The somewhat sour-toned chime had been bonging steadily-amid the downpour drumming on the roof-since before he had stepped out from the shower.
There's no telling how long it's been bonging like that.
Either the motel is on fire or some sonofabitch has stuck a toothpick in the button.
Or, more likely, it's Pete Kowalski with the wonderful news that he's got his hands on an Apache and we can get in a couple of hours airborne tonight.
And my ass is dragging.
It was instead Miss Beth Wilson.
It was one of the rare occasions where he found himself momentarily speechless.
But then his mouth went on autopilot.
"I can't believe that you have the gall to show up here," he said, paraphrasing her greeting to him when he and Miller had first arrived at Quarters Two.
"You are a sonofabitch, aren't you?" Beth said.
"Actually, I'm a bastard," he said. "There's a difference. My mother was a lady."
"Are you going to ask me in? It's raining out here, in case you didn't notice."
"Since I seriously doubt you came here with designs on my body, may I ask why you want to come in?"
"I'm here to apologize," she said, "and to ask a big favor."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No, I am not kidding."
"You realize what will happen if you pass through this portal and Righteous Randolph hears about it?"
"I'm asking you as nicely as I know how. Please. I'm getting soaked."
"Won't you come in, Miss Wilson?" Castillo asked, and opened the door fully.
She entered the living room, took off her head scarf and then her raincoat. She was wearing a skirt and, under a sweater vest, a nearly transparent blouse.
Where are you now, Dick Miller, Self-Appointed Keeper of Castillo's Morals, you sonofabitch, when I really need you?
"Do you think this will take long, Miss Wilson?"
"It'll take a little time."
"In that case-you may have noticed that you've interrupted my toilette-please excuse me for a moment while I slip into something more comfortable."
When Castillo came out of the bedroom three minutes later-wearing slacks and a sweater and shower thongs-Beth Wilson was sitting on the couch holding a copy of the Tages Zeitung.
"What's this?" she said.
"They call that a newspaper."
"It's German."
"I noticed."
"What do you do, use this to keep your German up?"
"Keep my German up where?" Castillo asked innocently, and then took pity on her. "My mother's family was in the newspaper business. They send it to me. And yeah, I read it to practice my German."
She gave him a faint smile.
"Now that I am appropriately dressed," Castillo said, "and in a position to proclaim my innocence of even harboring any indecent thoughts of any kind whatsoever should Randolph come bursting through the door, his eyes blazing with righteousness, you mentioned something about an apology?"
"Randy's on a cross-country, round-robin RON," she said. "He won't come bursting through the door."
A round robin was a flight that began and ended, after one or more intermediate stops, at the same place. Cross-country meant what it sounded like. RON stood for "Remain Over Night."
"Oh, you speak aviation?" he said.
"My father is an aviator, you might recall."
"Now that you mention it…"
She shook her head.
He went on: "Lieutenant Miller is also on that recruiting flight. Remember him? You met him, briefly-"
"Recruiting flight?"
"You mean you don't know?"
"Know what?"
"What they do when these splendid young fledgling birdmen are about to finish their course of instruction and graduate-"
"Randy graduates next Friday," she offered. "We'll be married on Sunday at three in Chapel One."
"Thank you for sharing that with me," Castillo said. "As I was saying, when they are about to finish, they schedule one of those cross-country, round-robin RON training flights you mention, with stops at Forts Benning, Stewart, and-depending on the weather-either Knox or Bragg.