sight of someone approaching. Tall and lanky, with dark hair that was already receding parted neatly to the side, he reminded me of those guys you met from time to time who looked middle-aged from birth.
“You must be John,” he said with a smile, squatting in front of me. “My name’s Tim Wheddon.” He extended his hand. “I heard what you did for Savannah—I know she was grateful you were there.”
I shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Despite my initial wariness, his smile was more genuine than either Brad’s or Randy’s had been. Nor did he mention my tattoos, which was unusual. I suppose I should mention they
weren’t exactly small and covered most of my arms. People have told me I’ll regret it when I’m older, but at the time I got them, I really didn’t care. I still don’t.
“Do you mind if I take a seat?” he asked.
“Help yourself.”
He made himself comfortable, neither crowding me nor sitting too far away. “I’m glad you could come. I mean, it’s not much, but the food’s good. Are you hungry?”
“Actually, I’m starved.”
“Surfing will do that to you.”
“Do you surf?”
“No, but spending time in the ocean always makes me hungry. I remember that from being on vacation as a kid. We used to go to Pine Knoll Shores every summer. Have you been there?”
“Only once. I had all I needed here.”
“Yeah, I suppose you did.” He motioned to my board. “You like the long boards, huh?”
“I like ’em both, but the waves here are better suited for the long ones. You need to ride in the Pacific to really enjoy a short board.”
“Have you been there? Hawaii, Bali, New Zealand, places like that? I’ve read they’re the ultimate.”
“Not yet,” I said, surprised he’d know about them. “One day, maybe.”
A log crackled, sending small sparks up to the sky. I brought my hands together, knowing it was my turn. “I hear you’re here to build some homes for the poor.”
“Did Savannah tell you that? Yeah, that’s the plan, anyway. They’re for a couple of really deserving families, and hopefully they’ll be in their own homes by the end of July.”
“That’s a good thing you’re doing.”
“It’s not just me. But hey, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Let me guess, you want me to volunteer?”
He laughed. “No, nothing like that. That’s funny, though—I’ve heard that before. People see me coming and usually they run the other way. I guess I’m way too easy to read. Anyway, I know it’s a long shot, but I was wondering if you know my cousin. He’s stationed at Fort Bragg.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m posted in Germany.”
“At Ramstein?”
“No. That’s the air force base. But I’m relatively close. Why?”
“I was in Frankfurt last December. I spent Christmas there with my family. That’s where we’re originally from, and my grandparents still live there.”
“Small world.”
“Have you learned any German?”
“Not a bit.”
“Me neither. The sad thing is, my parents are fluent and I’ve heard it at home for years, and I even took a class in it before I went. But I just didn’t get it, you know? I think I was lucky to pass the class, and all I could do was nod at the dinner table and pretend I understood what everyone was saying. The only saving grace was that my brother was in the same boat, so we could feel like morons together.”
I laughed. He had an open, honest face, and despite myself, I liked him.
“Hey, can I get you anything?” he asked.
“Savannah’s taking care of it.”
“I should have guessed. Perfect hostess and all that. Always has been.”
“She said you two grew up together?”
He nodded. “Her family’s ranch is right next to ours. We went to the same schools and attended the same church for years, and then we were at the same university. She’s kind of like my little sister. She’s special.”
Despite the sister comment, I got the impression by the way he said “special” that his feelings ran a little deeper than he was letting on. But unlike Randy, he didn’t seem at all jealous about
the fact that she’d invited me here. Before I could puzzle over it, Savannah appeared on the stairs and stepped onto the sand.
“I see you met Tim,” she said, nodding. In one hand were two plates with chicken, potato salad, and chips; in the other were two cans of Diet Pepsi.
“Yeah, I just wanted to come over and thank him for what he did,” Tim explained, “then decided to bore him with family stories.”
“Good. I was hoping you two would have a chance to meet.” She held up her hands; like Tim, she ignored the fact that I was shirtless. “The food’s ready. Would you like my plate, Tim? I can go up and get another.”
“Nah, I’ll get it,” Tim said, standing. “Thanks, though. I’ll let you two dig in.” He brushed the sand from his shorts. “Hey, it was nice meeting you, John. If you’re in the area again tomorrow or whenever, you’re always welcome.”
“Thanks. Nice meeting you, too.”
A moment later, Tim was heading up the stairs. He didn’t look back, merely called out a friendly hello to someone going in the opposite direction, then bounded up the rest of the way.
Savannah handed me the plate and some plastic utensils, switched hands and offered me a soda, then took a seat beside me. Close, I noticed, but not quite close enough to touch. She propped her plate on her lap, then reached for her can before hesitating. She held up the can.
“You were drinking beer earlier, but you said to get whatever I was getting, so I brought you one of these. I wasn’t quite sure what you wanted.”
“The soda’s fine.”
“You sure? There’s plenty of beer in the coolers, and I’ve heard about you army guys.”
I snorted. “I’m sure,” I said, opening my can. “I take it you don’t drink.”
“I don’t,” she said. No defensiveness or smugness in her tone, I noted, just the truth. I liked that.
She ate a bite of her chicken. I did the same, and in the silence, I wondered about her and Tim and whether she was aware of how he really felt about her. And I wondered how she felt about him. There was something there, but I couldn’t figure it out, unless Tim was right and it was a sibling-type thing. I somehow doubted that was the case.
“What do you do in the army?” she asked, finally putting down her fork.
“I’m a sergeant in the infantry. Weapons squad.”
“What’s it like? I mean, what do you do every day? Do you shoot guns, or blow things up, or what?”
“Sometimes. But actually, it’s pretty boring most of the time, at least when we’re on base. We assemble in the morning, usually around six or so, make sure everyone’s there, and then we break into squads to exercise. Basketball, running, weight lifting, whatever. Sometimes there’s a class that day, anything from assembling and reassembling our weapons, or a night-terrain class, or we might head to the rifle range, or whatever. If nothing’s planned, we just head back to the barracks and play video games or read or work out again or whatever for the rest of the day. Then we reassemble at four o’clock and find out what we’re doing tomorrow. Then we’re done.”
“Video games?”
“I work out and read. But my buddies are experts at games. And the more violent the game, the more they like it.”
“What do you read?”
I told her, and she considered it. “And what happens when you’re sent to a war zone?”
“Then,” I said, finishing my chicken, “it’s different. There’s guard duty, and things are always breaking and need to be fixed, so you’re busy, even when you’re not out on patrol. But the infantry are the forces on the ground, so we spend a big chunk of our time away from camp.”
