"Everything will be fine. Our wedding is going to be perfect. Your cousins aren’t going to fight and your dad is going to dance with you at the reception. It’s going to be beautiful and you’re going to be the most beautiful bride, ever. Period."
Ashley sobbed softly.
"All…those…people…"
The front door creaked as it swung open. Rich nodded a polite hello to Mr. Trump.
"Well that about does it," Ashley’s dad informed. "The President says not to panic so I sure ain’t panicking."
"What else did he say?"
"All military leave has been cancelled and the President is on his way to a ‘secure’ location-probably Cheyenne Mountain I expect. He's upped the alert status of all military forces and slapped price freezes on gasoline and food."
Rich sneered, "Glad to see no one is panicking."
"Gotta take precautions ‘course."
"Of course…" Stone chewed on an idea. "Ashley, why don’t you get some things together and come stay at my parents’ house? Out there, away from town, might be a little safer, you know?"
She pulled away and gaped at him.
"You can stay in one of the guest rooms. Your parents could come, too, there’s plenty of room."
"No, Sir," Benjamin Trump left no room for misunderstanding. "My home is my castle. You’ll understand that when you have your own home someday."
Richard felt a vibration in his front pocket from his cell phone.
"Dad’s right," Ashley agreed because her dad’s presence allowed nothing else. "I’ll stay here. It wouldn’t be right-so close to our wedding day-to be sleeping under the same roof."
"I can take care of my family, young man," Trump insisted.
The vibration of his phone changed to an annoying loud buzz.
Rich tried, "Don’t you think-"
"It’s about standing your ground. About doing the right thing."
Richard tried to ignore his phone but both Benjamin and Ashley glared, as if asking, well are you going to answer that?
Dick reluctantly opened his flip phone.
"Hello…hey. Hi, Lori…"
Ashley grunted. Of course, Lori-an old friend of Dick’s-would interrupt their important conversation.
"He what? When? You’re kidding me. I’ll be there in twenty minutes; I’m at Ashley’s right now. Okay. Bye."
Richard closed his phone and explained, "I’ve got to go. Jon just-"
Ashley waived her hand dismissing his explanation. "Go ahead if you have to. I don’t care." She turned fast and stomped inside.
"She’s upset," Benjamin Trump stated the obvious. "I’ll calm her down. You go take care of whatever is more important right now."
Rich nodded, skipped down the front stairs, then stopped. He swiveled about and addressed his future father-in-law.
"One thing I’ve always wanted to ask you, Mr. Trump."
"What’s that, Dick?"
"The fourth biggest fence company in the county, right?"
Trump smirked smugly and nodded.
Dick questioned, "So why didn’t you ever build a fence around your own home?"
– Jon and Lori Brewer lived in the same ‘boonies’ the Stones called home, albeit along a different path through those non-distinct country roads.
The front of their home faced the snaking pavement of a rural route while the tall grass and rampant wild flowers of their back yard bordered thick wilderness. The quaint old cottage home oozed country charm as thick as molasses with potted plants and wind chimes dangling from the covered stoop.
Rich’s tires raised dust as he pulled into the small patch of dirt that served as both the Brewers’ driveway. He parked next to their white Explorer. Dick suspected Jon had purposely chosen a Ford over a Chevy, just for spite.
He rapped on the front door then walked inside without waiting for an invitation: knocking served merely a ceremonial purpose to the Brewers.
Lori paced with her arms crossed moving in and out of the early evening sunbeams streaming through the kitchen window. Rich gave her credit for not smoking a cigarette. His friend had kicked the habit a year ago but that day’s stress made a relapse understandable, maybe even expected.
Still, he should know better than to doubt her willpower. If she decided to stop smoking, then she would stop smoking. Of course, if she decided to give you a piece of her mind, you got it full bore. The word ‘subtle’ had no listing in Lori Brewer’s personal lexicon. Often times that attitude rubbed folks the wrong way. Occasionally she did so purposely to illicit a reaction. Probably not the best trait for a counselor.
Or was it?
Lori swiveled her head in his direction, rustling her shoulder-length brown hair.
"Oh great, well you got here in time to say good bye."
"I came as fast as I could."
Lori coated her words in frost as she said, "I’m sure the little princess was happy to see you come running over here."
"Whoa. Slow down. What's going on? You said Jon is getting called up? I thought he just got back from drills."
Jon Brewer-crew cut in place-marched across the adjacent living room. He heard their conversation easily.
"This isn't a drill," Jon told them both without looking as he searched behind the sofa. "In an emergency like this they can call us up real fast."
Stone recognized the stiff lip and wide eyes on Lori’s face, a combination of anger and disgust. He had seen the expression many times stretching all the way back to elementary school. She reserved the expression almost exclusively for her husband or parents although Rich had been on the receiving end on occasion, usually in regards to Ashley.
Lori’s next words explained her frustration.
"But you haven’t been called up yet, have you?"
Jon, hopping as he jammed a heavy work shoe on his left foot, peeked through the archway into the kitchen.
"I told you, my cousin heard the Governor has already made the decision to issue a full call-up. I might as well bug out instead of waiting around for the phone call, right?"
That, Rich knew, typified Jon Brewer: No waiting for things to happen; he lived by the doctrine of preemption.
Jon's cousin had been the subject of many late night beer-spiced conversations. That cousin worked as a civilian contractor in the Pentagon. Jon knew his direct line.
Richard asked, "Where are you going? Indiantown Gap?"
"Yes," Jon answered as he went searching for the second shoe.
"When do you leave?" Rich drifted to the archway between the kitchen and the living room where he watched Jon toss couch cushions.
Lori answered for him, "He doesn’t have to leave at all!"
"I’m going right away. I want to get down there to help organize the call-ups."
Jon found his other shoe and hopped again.
"That’s my hero," Lori spiked her words with sarcastic venom.
"Wait a second." Rich sensed a hidden motivation in Jon’s urgency. His question eased out slow with suspicion dripping from every syllable, "What did your cousin tell you?"
"Just keep watching the news," Jon said as he finished the second shoe.
Anger broiled inside Richard at the tease.
"What? What is going to be on the news?"
Jon-who at nearly six-nine stood almost a foot taller than Richard-came to the kitchen and hovered over his wife’s friend.
"West Point-poof! The Citadel-poof!"
"What?"
Lori cut in, "Everyone at West Point and the Citadel vanished two hours ago."
Jon clarified in forced flippancy, "Abracadabra! Just like I-80; just like Wrigley field. Poof."
Mr. Brewer watched with mild amusement as Richard digested that revelation.
Lori said, "So my soldier-boy-husband figures he needs to get a jump on the call up orders that his cousin tells him are coming. What if those orders don’t come?"
Jon ignored her.
Richard, in a daze, asked, "What does your cousin say about all this?"