Mists of Time

By Doug Summerfield

Terry McDonald lives at the edge of the Snowy Mountains in eastern Australia. Her grandfather owns a large station at the head of the Murray River where it leaves those mountains to travel across a vast interior of mostly barren land.

Grandfather raised Terry on that station and it’s her life. She’s never been any further from home than the town of Albury. Work on a cattle station is a full time job and fills her days with purpose and satisfaction. Riding the hills and valleys of the upper Murray River is about as close to heaven as a person can get. She can’t think of anything better than the rugged life of a jillaroo in the Australian outback.

When her workday ends, she climbs to the little graveyard up from the house. She talks to mom and tells her all about the exciting little things that happen each day. She doesn’t talk to dad. He isn’t in their cemetery. Terry doesn’t know where he is. Nobody will talk about him, like it’s some great secret. But that’s a minor thorn in Terry’s life because she has a loving grandfather and about anything else she might want.

But when everything you have is taken away, life can become devastating. Survival depends on being able to grasp something of substance. Terry has nothing. Only a vague wish to know who she is. Events beyond her control will send Terry to America, searching through the mists of time for a ghost she never knew.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Doug Summerfield
• Release date: Jul 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301373727

Doug Summerfield

Author Doug Summerfield lives in the Denver area and spends most of his writing time in the mountains of Colorado. A peaceful place, where time stands still if you will only let it. Writing is a slow process. It takes time to create and shape something extraordinary. Something to brighten the everyday world with excitement and hopefully let us see life is out there just waiting for us to... go for it! Most of us spend a lifetime trying to get ahead, from the excitement and promise of youth through middle age and the graceful rest of retirement. Many, just content to survive and others foraging ahead to whatever future awaits them. It’s a journey, a lifetime journey we only get one shot at. Too many times we bypass life in our quest for, whatever. We miss many important events that could be earth-shattering if we would only recognize what is coming our way. It’s the journey, not the destination we should enjoy on our travels. It’s the same with a good book. What is the character feeling. Hearing and thinking. What would you do in the same situation? Would you like to be there? Is your life heading the same way? Most stories are going somewhere, but if we miss the excitement as we travel on, we miss much of life. Read slow. Let the words carry you away to imaginary places we seldom get to see unless we occasionally look about and realize there is a whole world out there going by in the distance.

Book preview

Mists of Time

Author

Doug Summerfield

Published by Fantasy Workshop Inc.

Copyright 2013 Doug Summerfield

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment and may not be re-sold or given to other people. If you would like to share with someone, a copy may be purchased at

www.fantasyworkshop.net.

Thank you for respecting the Author’s dedication in providing this work for your enjoyment.

This book is fiction. Any names or characters, places or incidents, are imaginary or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locale or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

023456.010113.6

TABLE of CONTENTS

Vietnam - Aug 1966

McDonald Station - Aug 1966

Sara and Danny

Murray River

Home to Ohio

Rockhampton - Nov 1967

Wedding - Jan 1968

War - Mar 1968

McDonald Station - Oct 28, 1984

America - Aug 1985

Elizabeth - Sept 1985

Loss - Jun 1988

Michael Carson - 1990

Goodbye

Ocean Journey

Friends

Alaska

Dad

Aunt Liz

Doctor Michael

Harry

Terry and Michael

Forever Running

Author Page

Vietnam - Aug 1966

Danny saw a puff of concrete explode from the road as he started toward the barracks. He stopped, and looked in wonder at the spot while another bullet ‘thunked’ into the building in front of him. He heard glass break in the bus and turned in time to see a man come tumbling down the steps, knocked off his feet by the force of a bullet that tore through his shoulder.

Danny finally reacted and dove behind the bus to the man’s side. He couldn’t believe it! Someone was actually shooting at him! Danny looked at Greg and saw the man’s collarbone through blood welling from the wound. The eyes in that young face were squeezed tight shut and the mouth wide open in a silent scream as the man arched his back in pain. Man? His friend was eighteen, the same age as Danny, and not even shaving regularly. Hardly man enough to be lying on the road with a bullet through his shoulder.

Danny was not sure what to do. The Air Force hadn’t trained him to be a field medic. He wasn’t supposed to be shot at. That was the army’s job. He grabbed the soft-cover from his head, folded it in half, and pressed it to the wound. Danny heard more glass breaking in the bus. He looked in the door and saw the driver slumped at an awkward position, half in the seat, with the rest of her dangling to the floor.

Get out of the bus! Danny screamed, and was awed at the sound of his own voice.

His mind was calmly wandering along, while his body was frantically reacting. It all seemed like a dream. A ricochet whined from under the bus to slam into Greg’s leg, throwing it sideways in a spray of blood. The man’s scream was no longer silent.

Danny looked for a safer place, and decided to drag Greg between the buildings. He didn’t know how to move the moaning man. Another scream from the bus galvanized him into action. Thankfully, Greg passed out when Danny lifted him by the good arm, to clumsily hoist the man over his back and stumble to an alley.

Other men were diving between the buildings. It had only been a few seconds since the shooting started, and it took time for people to react. Danny jumped up and balled his fists when a man in combat-dress dodged around the corner from the back of the building and into the alley.

I’m the good guys, mate. The man grinned and pushed past Danny to the front corner of the building near the fighting. It was the first time Danny ever heard a real live Australian accent, but he didn’t care how the man talked, as long as he carried a gun.

Danny eased out from between the buildings then dashed twenty feet to the bus, followed by yells of ‘get down fool!’ and ‘stay under cover!’ He ducked up the steps to the driver. Not five minutes before, he had been joking with the girl while she drove the busload of military people around the airbase. She couldn’t be any older than Danny and he had to help her.

Danny ignored the Australian, who followed him and crouched by the door, calling Danny an idiot and yelling for him to get out of the bus. Danny was suddenly aware of the destruction around him as bullets slowly tore the bus to pieces and the wounded were crying out or moaning in pain. He quickly lifted the girl and pushed the long hair back to look at her face. Danny stopped in shock when he looked at the blood on his hand. The girl was shot through the head... dead.

The Australian appeared beside Danny, and with one look at the girl said, You can’t help ‘er, mate. Get out!

With that, the man crawled farther into the bus, looking for survivors of the first hail of gunfire. Danny could hear many guns firing now. There were explosions all around. Some were far off and some close by. One loud bang rocked the bus and Danny fought down nausea. He went to help the Australian.

A man was trying to crawl up the aisle. Danny grabbed his shoulders and pulled him off the bus. Not as many bullets were flying around at the moment, so Danny threw the man over his shoulder and ran for cover between the buildings again. By the time he returned to the bus, the Australian helped another wounded man out the door and Danny carried that man to safety too.

Danny carried four more wounded servicemen to safety in the next five minutes. His last trip to the bus was made under more intense firing. Something slammed into his arm and it went numb. Danny looked down to see blood spreading on his sleeve. He had been shot! He couldn’t feel his fingers, but they moved. Danny held the arm and looked in the bus.

The Australian was not in sight, so Danny went up the steps to where he could see into the back of the bus. The Australian was crawling up the aisle, spreading blood behind him from a wound in the hip. Danny ran down the walkway and helped the man. Glass flew from a broken window and showered Danny. He could feel blood running down his face from cuts.

Nobody left alive in here, the Australian groaned. Lets get out!

Danny needed no urging. They tumbled out the door and Danny picked up yet another man and staggered once more to the safety of the buildings. He eased the groaning Australian to the ground and collapsed beside him, gasping for breath. Danny was six-foot-three and two-hundred-five pounds, but the last eight minutes totally drained him.

He looked around at the commotion going on, and realized help had arrived. There was another Australian working on the first one, and other men with guns watching for something to shoot at from the corner of the building. Medics were helping the wounded, and vehicles behind the building were carrying victims to the hospital. Danny just sat, exhausted, leaning against the building and watching all the activity around him.

A throbbing in his arm caused Danny to remember he had been shot... and that the feeling coming back to his arm made him wish he hadn’t been. He pulled the sleeve carefully up to where he could see a sliver of metal sticking out of his bicep. He hadn’t been shot. Something blasted a piece from the bus, and the aluminum speared itself into his arm. He touched the metal and could tell it was embedded deep in the muscle. He decided to let someone else pull it out. With painkillers, preferably.

A medic knelt beside Danny and started trying to find the damage that coated ninety-percent of Danny’s uniform with blood.

Seeing what the man was up to, Danny said, That’s not my blood, buddy. I only got hit in the arm.

Danny held out the wound for the man to see. Not quite believing Danny wasn’t hurt worse and just didn’t know it, the man looked a couple other places before getting to the arm. A quick glance at the metal and, They’ll have to attend to that in surgery, Airman. Then the medic was off to another patient.

Welcome to Vietnam, Danny muttered.

It was at that point, he realized he never saw who was shooting at him. Didn’t have a clue what they looked like, or even why they were attacking the airfield. Nobody had warned him about what kind of fighting might be going on in this country. He came with visions of visiting all the exciting oriental places. His thoughts turned to his little sister back in the states. Elizabeth was his best friend and confidant. He would have something to tell her in his next letter, that’s for sure!

Eh, Yank, ma names Dak.

Danny looked over at the Australian. The man was stretched out with part of his pants cut away. He still cradled a rifle in his arms. A large bandage covered his hip, and Danny could see the man was feeling no pain. He wished someone would give him a shot of whatever the Australian was having. His arm was now throbbing clear up into his neck. It hurt almost as bad as the time the tractor rolled off the jack and broke his forearm.

Danny. Danny reached his good hand over and shook Dak’s offered paw. How’s the leg?

Dak grunted and shifted his weight a little. Million dollar wound, as you Yanks like to say. I should get time at home with this one.

Your first time?

Na. Third. Both others in the same arm. Minor. I don’t think this one is minor. I can feel bone grating in there.

Danny looked around and realized the sounds of battle had stopped. He stood and staggered as he discovered he was a little shaky. He eased to the corner of the building and looked out. Soldiers were everywhere. Danny walked over to the bus and watched medics lay seven bodies on the ground. The ones who hadn’t gotten out in time.

Danny looked at the driver. She was so young and full of life not twenty minutes ago. Danny’s great adventure was over. It didn’t seem much fun anymore.

Danny choked back tears when soldiers zipped up a black rubber bag and the girls face disappeared forever. That could have been his little sister!

He walked over to look at his duffel-bag where he dropped it when the shooting started. It had a couple holes in it. Danny hoped they hadn’t hit any of his pictures. He hefted the bag and carried it on to the barracks he was headed for earlier. He dropped the bag inside, and decided he was going to have to find a hospital pretty soon. He went back to the Australian, and they talked while Danny waited for a ride.

I owe you, Yank. Thanks for pullin’ me out’a there. I don’t think I could’a made it on my own.

"I probably owe you, Dak. If you hadn’t showed up, I probably would have been the one in there when that bullet came looking." Danny’s infectious smile followed the words, and the Australian tried to laugh through his pain.

Well, I needed to do something when the crazy Yank ran back out there. Would have looked bad if I hid and let you get all the glory. Weren’t ya scared?

Danny thought about that for a moment. There hadn’t been time. Everything happened so fast. The attack only lasted about fifteen minutes. His part, less than ten. He never saw any enemy and bullets go too fast to see. It just didn’t seem real, now that it was over.

I guess I was too ignorant to be scared. I didn’t recognize danger when I saw it.

Medical personnel came with a stretcher and loaded Dak. Danny followed to the ambulance and got a ride to the hospital. He managed to get a shot to ease the pain, although he waited three hours to get the arm taken care of. They put him to sleep to do it, and it was the next morning before Danny fully woke up.

Exotic Vietnam. Danny’s grand adventure to help save the world from Communism and see the fabulous Orient, was not off to a good start.

***

Good morning. How do you feel young man?

Danny focused on a stern looking woman in a white uniform. It was a nurse. Danny was in a hospital. The memory of yesterday came flooding back and caused Danny to lift his head enough to get a look at his arm. There wasn’t much to see, only a big bandage from his shoulder to below his elbow.

Hungry.

That’s a good sign. I think they’ll feed you sometime today, but for right now, I get to poke around on you.

She did just that, and was not too gentle about it either. Danny was about to say something to the woman. She could slow down a little. She didn’t have to rip the bandage off!

I only have a few minutes, Airman Montgomery. The hospital is full. We have them bedded down in the hallways. You were lucky. We still had space in this storeroom when you came in.

Danny looked around and realized there were shelves in his room. He was indeed, in a storeroom. A lot of people get hurt?

A lot of people got dead, too.

The image of the bus driver came flooding through Danny’s thoughts. He pushed it away and concentrated on what the nurse was doing. His arm was all a dark amber color. Something they painted on to disinfect it, he supposed. There was a line of stitches about four inches long that were leaking enough to stain the bandage when it came off. It didn’t look good to Danny.

How is it?

The nurse poked at the wound with a swab and Danny could feel the touch, but no pain around the stitches. It was numb there.

Well, looks like a little infection we need to clean up.

The nurse collected a pan and other junk for tormenting innocent victims and proceeded to work on the incision. It didn’t take long, but the stuff she poured on the area when she was done, almost caused Danny to leap out of bed. He wasn’t able to stifle a groan of pain. The woman’s face softened while she studied the arm.

Sorry for the pain, but it was necessary.

She smeared white cream over the cut and put on a fresh bandage. She finished cleaning up and made notes on his chart. Then she stood at the foot of the bed and stared at Danny. He got awful uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

I’m sorry son. I came in here to throw you out, but I think you need to stay awhile, even as bad as we need the space.

What’s wrong?

Infection. Not much, but there shouldn’t have been any. Lets have the doc look at it later today, and if it’s better, maybe you can go to the barracks tomorrow. She gave him a quick pat on the foot and disappeared out the door before Danny could ask any more questions.

Danny ended up staying in the hospital for two more days. The doctors were not sure why the arm was still a little infected, and were discussing sending Danny to a bigger hospital with more specialists. It wasn’t too hard for Danny to convince them to take a ‘wait and see’ attitude and let him stay on the base. He could make daily visits for checkups, and if the arm didn’t get better, they could send him later.

So, Danny went to the barracks and started his tour of duty in Vietnam. It was different. It was hot and humid to the point you felt like someone tossed a steaming, wet blanket over you. Like you were carrying around an extra ten pounds. He was in an air-conditioned barracks, so Danny didn’t mind the heat for a few days. He slept all through the day and next night after getting out of the hospital. He managed to go to lunch the next day and was glad he did. The chow-hall served excellent vittles, and he discovered he was hungry. It was two more days before he felt like he was starting to get back to normal.

The people gave him an indefinite excuse from duty, so Danny didn’t have to do anything. It didn’t take long for that to get old. The arm was in a sling and only throbbed at a low level, so he didn’t pay much attention to it. At least until the end of the day, when the thing seemed to want to shoot pains at his neck.

The movie house was boring and so was the game room. Danny tried the flight-line. He wanted to look at all the different kinds of planes, but it was a busy place and restricted. It was funny that he joined the Air Force because he was fascinated with flying, and couldn’t even get close to a plane.

He finally had enough and searched out his squadron. He found the maintenance office and introduced himself to a Sergeant sitting behind one of the desks. When he told the man he was reporting for duty, the Sergeant put down his pencil and stared at Danny’s arm.

What kind of duty do you think you can do with a bad arm?

"Sarg, I can walk. I can talk. I can answer phones. I can hand people things. I can help out in here. What would you like me to do?"

"What I want, Airman, is someone who can fix things. I got all kinds of screw-ups that can answer the phones. I need help, and you don’t look like it."

Danny was not about to be sent off. He argued with the Sergeant and finally got the man to at least let him go with another technician to get familiar with the base. He got to see the airplanes. The electrician he was with had training on aircraft and was called to the flight-line to help when things got hectic. Danny found he was actually able to help the man, even with a bad arm.

He could hand his partner tools when the man climbed into a tight place in one of the aircraft. He did load-tests on generators that came in from the field and were repaired. There were quite a lot of them, and their problem was usually a bullet hole in something vital.

He handled all the reports so the other man could concentrate on fixing things. He delivered parts, and within a week, was able to work a full shift. He was surprised at the amount of energy the wound took from him, but was glad he was back to full strength. Four weeks after he arrived, Danny had the use of both arms and was a valuable asset to the squadron. He finally got to where he wanted to be.

Where you from, Montgomery? The squadron sergeant actually had a minute to slow down enough to talk to Danny one day.

Ohio. A farm outside Chillicothe.

Farmer, huh. How come you became an electrician?

Danny loved the farm where he grew up. He loved everything about farming and about the machinery he had to fix and all the things he needed to repair around the place. He graduated high school and was considering college, but the war in Vietnam cast a cloud over them all. It seemed things were heating up over there. Two years ago, nobody in town even knew where Vietnam was. Now, there was fighting and the Draft was a real threat to the young men in town.

I helped my dad around the place. I love working on things. Ain’t no farmin’ in the military, so I had to pick something.

So you chose electrical?

Na. I wanted in the motor-pool, but I guess that wasn’t in the Air Forces’ best interest, so here I am.

The sergeant laughed. That’s the way it was. You were promised one thing, but got something else.

It’s okay, this is just as fun. I wanted to go to college, but if I have to serve, at least electrical work is a good career move.

Not a career military man, I take it?

Na. Too much in the civilian world to do. I don’t want to waste a minute more in the military than I have to. Unless, I can figure out how to become a pilot.

Ha! Fat chance. You’re too valuable and already trained for work here. They have plenty college fodder for pilot training. I doubt you could get in.

Danny didn’t think so either and really didn’t expect to be allowed in pilot training. He almost didn’t even sign up. It was a confusing time. Many young men in his town were excited at the looming opportunity to go be a hero for the free world, and others didn’t want this thing intruding in their lives.

A few of his schoolmates went off to college, secure in the knowledge that the Draft couldn’t touch them while in school, and the fighting would be over by the time they got out. Others enlisted, and disappeared from town. Things turned ugly when some of his schoolmates returned home in a box. It got personal.

Danny was a farmer. He was also many other things. He was pretty good at electrical work. He helped dad put up buildings on the farm and helped put in the plumbing. He could frame a house and install drywall, paint, plaster, pour concrete and fix machinery. Machinery. He loved anything mechanical, and had three cars he was fixing up into hotrods between repair jobs on tractors and other machinery.

One was set up for racing. There was a local track, and he went to race as often as he could. He even won enough to mostly pay for the expense of maintaining a racecar. It was a battered ‘53 Chevy he was constantly rebuilding the engine on. Dad helped some, and Elizabeth was there to watch him race every time he went.

A 1957 red, metal-flake Chevy, two-door coupe, was his most cherished possession. He rebuilt the suspension, beefed up the engine, changed out the transmission and ended up with a magnificent street machine. It had chrome wheels, and the engine was the envy of the town kids. That car was probably the fastest in the area. Danny had many offers to race, but he loved the car too much to strain it racing for no real reason. And, he was an impressive enough person that he didn’t need the car to get the girls. He had to admit, it helped though.

Got a girl?

Danny thought about that. He left a girl behind. It was a tearful parting, promises and all that. But to be truthful, Danny was more interested in where he was going than what was waiting for him back home.

At least she told him she was waiting. A couple other friends of his went off to war, and Danny had seen firsthand what ‘waiting’ meant to their girlfriends. Danny had no illusions that she was sitting at home, pining away. He found he really didn’t mind. Elizabeth hadn’t been very fond of Danny’s latest girlfriend, and predicted a parting of ways anyhow.

I don’t know, Sergeant. I think so, but who knows. I don’t think I’m quite ready for that commitment yet.

And, it wasn’t long before a letter arrived, confirming Danny’s suspicions. The girl got a scholarship to college and didn’t want to be tied down while there. She would be graduating about the same time Danny got out of the service, and they could get back together then. Danny actually felt relieved.

Ohio farmland bred many a patriotic young man, and even though nobody seemed to know what Vietnam was all about, it rankled many of these young men that the Commies would dare attack a friend of ours, and many a young man willingly went off to war.

Danny felt the same, sort of. He was torn between his love of the farm, the life he was living, and what he thought was his duty. Had it not been for the Draft, the farm would have probably won out. But Danny figured he would eventually get called, so why not enlist in his choice of service and get it over with. He could have gone with two years in the Army, but even a four year enlistment in the Air Force, was not enough to stop him from joining an organization that was connected to his love of flying.

Danny went to boot-camp. He was a big kid and hardened with a lifetime of work. He qualified expert on the rifle range, learned how to make a bed tighter than a drumhead and learned how to scrub a floor that didn’t have so much as a dust-mite on it. The obstacle-course was fun, and he managed to piss off the trainers by being the first over the finish-line almost every time. Boot-camp was dull, and he was glad to get out and into the school he was promised on enlistment.

Danny already knew part of what was being taught, and he took full advantage of what they had to offer. He came out of school ready to conquer the world, but they only sent him to a base in Indiana to fix wiring. What a disappointment. The base had civilian workers, and they did almost all the work. What there was of it. They wouldn’t let the military enlisted personnel do much of anything but clean grease. Job security.

He was stuck in that place for over a year before he got a new assignment, Vietnam. He volunteered at the beginning of his enlistment, but the way things were going over there, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to go anymore. He went anyway, and was determined to be of service while he was there. Then go home and get on with his life.

There were no civilians in Vietnam, and Danny got to do what he was trained for. And he loved it. There was always plenty to do because things were getting shot up on a regular basis. It was an ‘on-the-job’ experience that would take years to duplicate in the states, and Danny was going to milk it for all it was worth while he was there. It also didn’t hurt, that you could buy all kinds of things at a fraction of the US price, and send it home where it was worth a whole lot more! He settled in for the long haul.

McDonald Station - Aug 1966

Da? I’ve finished with the cow and fed the calf. You want me to take care of the horses?

Donald McDonald pulled his head out from under the hood of the truck he was working on and smiled at his daughter.

No, baby. I’ll get to them in a minute. I’m just about done here.

He wiped his hands on a greasy rag and walked over to look out a dirt-encrusted window of the old barn.

Looks like a real storm blowin’ up out there tonight. We best get everything tied down. Why don’t you go on up to the house and fix us some supper and get things ready up there. I’ll take care of things here and be up in an hour.

Sara McDonald blew her dad a kiss when she left the building and headed up the path to the house on the hill. Donald turned back to the window and watched her walk slowly up the hill, and his heart pained him as he watched her pause twice before she topped the rise to level ground.

Rheumatic fever when she was five, had almost ended his role as a father, and at seventeen, his daughter still wasn’t in the best of health. He knew it was an effort for her to do any physical work, but she insisted, and he felt it probably did her more good than harm.

That was the second roughest time in his life, pacing the halls of the hospital until she was out of danger, and then caring for her over the next year while she regained some of her strength. The first roughest time, was six months before she got sick, when his wife had a run-in with a snake, and he was not able to get her to town soon enough.

Donald let his gaze drift past the house, to a little cemetery on a flat near the top of the hill. It lay under a massive tree that shaded most of an area scattered with headstones. His mom and dad lay there. Grandma and pa, his brother, an aunt, two uncles, and his wife. According to the doctors, Sara had a good chance of beating him in being the next resident of that little fenced-in park.

Donald sighed quietly and turned back to the truck. He was a short man. Not even as tall as his daughter. Only five-foot-five, he still weighed out at two-hundred-pounds of work-hardened muscle. Fifty-one years old, and feeling every one of them.

His face was weathered and creased from the Australian sun, and he moved with a plodding walk that made him seem slow and lazy. It was misleading, as the fifteen-hundred acre station testified. Slow, maybe. But he turned out a tremendous amount of work and they profited from it. The station was in better condition than most in the area. It was too bad there was only Sara to share it with.

He finished changing oil and slammed the truck hood. Donald hurried out back of the barn and started feeding the horses. He cast a glance at the sky. Tortured clouds rushed toward the station and it was almost dark, although not yet time for the sun to go down. The wind was kicking up and he finished feeding in the gloom of the storm, then headed for the house and dinner.

Sara was a good cook. The table was set and the smell of baked bread was in the air. Donald washed up at the sink and sat down to watch his daughter work. She took a couple years of cooking at school, and as soon as she discovered she could cook, she threw him out of the kitchen and wouldn’t even let him help with the dishes.

It was probably a good move because he was not too particular about what or how he cooked. Throw it in the skillet, burn it and eat. Simple. Not too tasty though. He was glad he wasn’t cooking tonight as he looked at a steaming plate of ham Sara set on the table in front of him. Bread, potatoes, corn and more followed the ham and they were ready to eat.

The meal was consumed with the sound of wind screaming through the eaves. Rain would soon follow and probably last most of the night. There would be a mess for him to clean up in the morning, but he was used to that and it would not disturb his sleep tonight. The truck was in good shape, and he could take care of any problems the storm caused while Sara ran in to town.

Sara sat with a small frown on her face. Donald was not looking directly at her, but saw the pain in that frown out of the corner of his eye, and his insides twisted. Her heart was not strong and it pained her at times. Storms seemed to elevate the pain, along with work and exercise, and there had been a lot of it lately. Donald lived with the constant fear that his last reason for life might someday be taken from him.

He looked up at her and a bright smile flashed across her lovely features. It never failed, she would have to be knocked off her feet before she would let him see the pain. And that had happened more than once. After Angela died, it seemed it was her comforting him rather than the other way around. He could not have found a better daughter if he looked the world over.

Da, Waverly came by today while you were over to Urals. Said to tell you, hi.

Donald chewed on another bite of ham before he answered. And?

What do you mean, ‘And’?

"That girl never comes here unless she wants someone to get into trouble with her."

Sara laughed and scolded her father, We never cause you much trouble. Be kind to Waverly. She needs all the help she can get.

Donald was glad it was Waverly. The girl watched out for Sara like a hawk, even while she was getting them into mischief. Waverly was aware of how delicate Sara was and yet they always had fun together. It was too bad the station was so far out in the country, because it kept Sara from seeing her friends as often as she wanted.

So, what does she want to get you into this time?

Sara told him Waverly’s parents were taking the family to Sydney and they invited Sara along.

Dak was hurt, Da. He’s in the hospital up there.

Bad?

It doesn’t seem so. He was hit in the leg somewhere and they had to operate. Seems he’s doing all right and can come home in two weeks to recuperate. Waverly talked her mom into going up there to bring him back until he gets well.

Dak was a local boy. His parents owned a small farm not too far from the McDonald’s and Sara and Waverly had grown up with him. The parents lost the farm and their lives one day when Dak was away at school and a wildfire roared its way across the valley. Fourteen people died that day, and Dak was too young to save the farm. The bank took it.

Dak finished school while living with friends of his parents in town. His one dream was to buy back his parents farm and make it a success. He was a hard worker and was saving his money. Fell in love with Waverly, and they were going to get married, but that damn war came along and Dak felt it was his duty to go.

He going to stay with Waverly?

Her parents invited him to stay with them until he’s better. He didn’t have anywhere else to go and was just going to stay on the base. Waverly couldn’t stand that.

Donald hoped she was right and the boy was going to be all right. He liked Dak and wanted him to get his farm back. He hoped the injury was not something permanent. Donald went back to his food and asked Sara why Waverly wanted her along.

Can’t she take care of that boy without your help? Or do you want to take Dak away from her?

Da! I wouldn’t do that to her! Besides, I tried already. Waverly is prettier than me and he wants her.

Donald sat back after he finished his meal and studied his daughter while finishing his tea.

Baby, Ain’t nobody round here prettier than you, including Waverly. I didn’t know you were even interested in Dak. What’s the real reason he didn’t want you?

Sara’s customary smile diminished a little. She looked down and toyed with the food on her plate before answering. Same as all the boys, Da. They’re afraid I’m going to die.

She looked up at him and he could see a glisten of unshed tears in the corner of her eyes. The smile was still there, but it was a strained smile.

Tommy... and that Dennis fellow too?

Sara looked off into the dark outside the window and studied lightning in the distance.

Yes.

Donald hadn’t heard this before. He looked down in thought. Jesus! Have I been so blind to think she stays here because she wants too? Nobody wants her? He looked back at her and felt ashamed he didn’t recognize what was going on.

I’m sorry baby. I didn’t know. What happens in the future doesn’t matter. At least it shouldn’t. If something happens to you, that shouldn’t stop a boy from sharing all the happiness he can while you’re here. God, I can’t imagine what life would have been like without you. Even if you left... tomorrow....

He stopped and swallowed hard. Every minute I’ve had with you was a lifetime of joy, baby. There’s someone out there that would think the same if he knew you. You just haven’t met him yet.

Sara turned back to her dad and the smile was less strained. Well, maybe he’s in Sydney, Da. You think I could bring him home if I find him?

A mischievous glint was in her eyes now and Donald laughed. Sure baby, I don’t want you living up there! Besides, I could use a hand on the station.

Their happiness with each other pushed gloom back out of the room and the rest of the evening was spent talking and planning Sara’s trip to the big city. Since she had never been to a town any larger than a couple thousand people, it was going to be an experience for her.

Donald’s mind was in a whirl while he got ready for bed that night. He was always worrying about Sara. For himself he realized. For his loss, if she should not survive. Granted, he always tried to do what he thought was best for her, but had he really ever cared about what she wanted? It was a sobering thought, and he was not real sure if he had done right by her.

Donald and Sara arrived at Waverly’s house in town before noon on the day of the big trip. Sara packed light, and Waverly was fussing at her for not bringing more ‘stuff’. Donald put her things in the Martin’s van and carried Sara’s purse into the house for her. It was the same routine that always followed Sara wherever she went. The Martin’s fetching for her. Waverly always anticipating what she needed and diving in ahead so Sara wouldn’t have to exert herself. Dad always watching every move she made and Waverly’s mom and dad always one or the other around watching her.

When they were packed for the trip to the train station and getting ready to lock up the house, Donald shook Mr. Martins hand and thanked him for taking the trouble to invite Sara. Watch out good for her Hank. Don’t let her get too excited.

Da!

The outburst from Sara shocked the group into immobility. Sara included. They all looked at her in alarm, afraid she was having some kind of attack.

Da. Could we all sit down for a minute, please?

Donald caught her arm and guided her to a sofa. The rest gathered around to help with whatever might be needed.

Would you all sit down, please? Sara asked.

They complied, with mystified looks on their faces. It was some time before Sara spoke again.

Mr. and Mrs. Martin, you have no idea how much it means to me to be invited to go with you to Sydney. I’ve never seen a big city. Never been on a trip farther than town here. It all seems so... wonderful....

A tear appeared in the corner of Sara’s eye and she paused. I can’t go.

The shocked expressions on all their faces showed the confusion and concern whirling through their minds. Donald put his hand up to feel her brow.

Are you sick, honey?

Da, stop!

The outburst floored them all. Real tears began to trickle down Sara’s cheeks and a quiet sob escaped her lips.

"Da, please! You can’t make the Martin’s responsible for me! Don’t you see what you’re doing? All of you! You protect me every move I make. I’ve accepted it because I love you all and I am sick, but you won’t let me live, either! You put me up on a shelf like a pretty piece of fragile china, and every time one of you passes by, you check to be sure I’m secure. On the rare times you take me down, you’re all so careful, until you get me back on the shelf all safe and secure so you can go on about your lives. The only problem is, you won’t let me live either."

There wasn’t a sound in the room.

"Da, I could fall over dead right now, and there wouldn’t be a thing you could do about it. It might happen tomorrow, or next week, or next year. If it happens on this trip, there probably won’t be a thing the Martins can do about it either. They can’t be responsible for me. You can’t be responsible for me. Help some, yes! And thank you! But Da, from now on, only I am responsible for me. Do you all understand? Me, not any of you. If you want me to have any kind of life on this earth, you have to let me go free. Do you understand what I’m saying?"

The expressions on all their faces said they didn’t. They all looked at each other, wondering what to say at this outburst.

Donald tried to calm Sara. Honey, I didn’t mean they were....

Da, stop.

He did, and they waited.

Da, if you don’t want me to go on this trip, please say so. There’s always the possibility I won’t make it back. We live with that thought all the time, and it needs to back off. I would like to go, but I don’t want you to suffer while I’m away. This trip isn’t that important in our lives.

Donald eased off his knee and searched behind himself for a chair. He needed a seat right this moment. Waverly sat next to Sara on the arm of the sofa. The Martin’s both were silent. Sara watched her dad and waited for him to speak. It took a while.

Sara... I... we....

He looked at his daughter and realized she was an adult, had been for some time. He was so busy trying to care for and protect her that he hadn’t noticed. Neither had the others.

I’m sorry, honey. I guess I haven’t been as observant as I should be. What do you want to do?

"Da, I would like to go, but I don’t want you to worry the whole time I’m gone. I couldn’t enjoy the trip if I thought you were unhappy. And there absolutely can be no blame on the Martins if something should happen. It just can’t be that way."

Donald felt something rip out of him with his next words. "Sara, you go. You’re right, and I suppose I... we have all been overprotective. You go, and just call Ural often so he can let me know how things are going. I’ll be all right and you should have some new experiences."

Sara went to her dad and hugged him for the longest time. Waverly and both the Martin’s had tears in their eyes.

Sara stood and wiped her eyes. "There’s another requirement I must insist on for the trip. If I’m to enjoy the experience, I don’t want any of you telling anyone I’m easily broken. I want to be treated like everyone else. I know what I can and can’t do. I know when I’ve had enough, and will make my excuses. If I have to go to my room and rest, you all must go about your business. If I feel I need someone to be with me, I will ask. I wouldn’t intentionally put any of you in a bad position. Mr. and Mrs. Martin, I know you have thought of the burden I will be to you, and I’m ashamed to be such trouble, but you must let me be responsible for my actions and not blame yourselves if anything goes wrong. I can’t go unless I’m sure you can accept this thing."

It was an eye-opener to all of them. There was some embarrassed discussion and assurances that all would work out, but the trip was resumed with none of them really sure how to act. Donald held Sara for the longest time, then stepped back and told her to enjoy the trip. The rest of them got in the lorry and took off for the train station.

Sara and Danny

Danny tossed his tool-belt into a locker and slammed the door. Holding his other arm to ease the pain some, he went into the Sergeant’s office and waited until the man was off the phone. The base maintenance office was always a busy place. Seems every time they got the place fixed up, there was another attack and they had it to do all over again.

What’s up, Danny?

It’s this arm, Sarg. I got those damaged insulators up on the pole, but I couldn’t put enough pressure on the nuts to tighten them. I guess I got to go see the Doc, again.

Well, I told you to do it last week, but you wanted to be the he-man. Let’s see it. Don’t want the Lieutenant to accuse me of letting you goof-off.

When the Sergeant pulled the sleeve away from Danny’s arm, he wished he’d looked last week. The skin around the area where the piece of aluminum struck on his arrival was as tight as a drumhead. The arm was a healthy tanned color, but the Sergeant could see a faint darkening deep in the muscle. It looked bad. Bad enough that he called for a jeep to take Danny to the hospital immediately.

You fool. You could lose your arm messin’ around like that. Get over to the hospital and don’t come back without a note sayin’ you’re totally cured.

Danny didn’t think he would try to avoid Doc this time. He hoped that if he gave the arm a little time, it would clear up, but it suddenly went the other way. It was infected with a kind of pain that made you nauseous. Danny was sweating, but not from the heat. He was glad the Sarg called for a jeep. He was not sure he could have walked all the way to the hospital.

His first two months in Nam was an experience, for sure. First, the attack on the day he arrived. Then, the hospital wanted to send him to a specialist, which he managed to talk them out of. Four weeks of light duty while the arm healed and then off to doing what he was trained for, installing and repairing power to the base. It was fun, sort of. He loved the work, but the memory of bloody, dark hair kept invading his sleep.

He’d done and learned a lot on his Dad’s farm, and the Air Force completed his education. Danny not only knew what he was doing, but was good at it. They were short-handed in the squadron, and Danny was carrying his load by the third week and doing it by himself. The man he’d been assigned to when he first arrived, was so busy, he didn’t have time to spend with Danny. He got to the point where he would assign a task to Danny and come around and check on the progress occasionally. The visits came less often when the man realized Danny did not need his help or advice. Soon, Danny’s assignments were coming from the maintenance office, and Danny rarely saw the other man. Things were going fine, until the arm flared up. It was now so weak, his hand had difficulty holding a wrench.

At the hospital, it didn’t take long for a doctor to see him, and even less to make the diagnosis.

You’re going to Sydney, Airman. There isn’t anything in there, but infection has invaded the area next to the bone, and it will take more than we can provide here to stop it. I just hope you haven’t waited too long to come to us.

Danny was getting scared. He hadn’t thought of the possibility of losing an arm! It was just an infection! Those only needed to be drained and drugs did the rest. At least up until now.

When will I go? Danny asked.

As soon as we can get a flight, the doctor answered. "If there isn’t a plane headed that way, I’ll have the base commander send you over in a two seat fighter. You will be in Sydney before tomorrow."

The doctor readied a syringe, which he now shot into Danny’s good arm.

That will hold you until they can do something. It’ll reduce the pain and start the antibiotics you’re going to need. Now, get out front. I’ll have a driver take you to the flightline.

Danny sheepishly put on his shirt and thanked the retreating back of the doctor. Guess I should have come sooner, he thought. It was not like when he got hurt back home. Most of the time, he didn’t even quit what he was doing when he got injured. Sometimes, blood got in the way and he would have to put a bandage on to keep the stuff off his tools or ball bat, but he healed quickly and very rarely with any infection. Oh, well. He’d never been to Sydney. Might be fun. Danny walked out of the room, torn between the excitement of Sydney, and the fear of losing his arm.

The flightline was always busy. Planes covered most of the ramp and there was almost always one in the pattern. Danny thanked the driver and made his way into a terminal. He didn’t even have time to find a seat before there was a page for him over the loudspeaker. A lady at the counter told him there was a ride waiting for him and where to find it. Danny went back into the sweltering heat outside and across to a security gate. There was another jeep waiting, which took him to a hanger across the base. A jet was sitting alongside the hanger with its engines running and a pilot already in the cockpit.

You best hit the head, Montgomery. This will be a long flight.

Danny thanked the driver and went into the hanger.

I’ll bring in your flight-suit in a minute. The pilot’s in a hurry.

After Danny came out of the restroom, the driver helped him get into coveralls. They had a hard time with the arm because it wouldn’t bend, and Danny was soaked in sweat by the time they were done. He was groggy from the shot and sick with pain.

You’re in bad shape, man. I see now why they held a jet just for you.

The driver wiped Danny’s face with a towel and pulled a helmet over his head.

This mask is for oxygen. Leave it hooked up the whole trip. You need it.

Danny had