Lionel stepped off the plane in L.A., looking shell-shocked. He would never see his brother again. He had a three-week leave before going to Germany, and someone drove him home, he remembered later on. He felt the way he had when John had died, and that was only two years before … twenty-six months in fact … and he had the same terrible numb feeling now.
He rang the doorbell because he no longer had a key, and his father stood there staring at him. They had gotten the news the night before. And everyone was there, except Vanessa, who was flying home that afternoon.
There would be no burial, because they weren't sending him home. There was nothing to send, except their fucking telegrams. And Lionel stood staring at Ward, as the older man let out a groan of agony, and the two men fell into each other's arms, partly out of relief that Lionel was still alive, and the grief that Greg was gone. Eventually, Ward led him inside, and together they cried for a long time. Lionel held him in his arms like a little child, as Ward keened for the boy he'd loved so much, the boy he'd pinned all his hopes on, their football star. And now he was gone. And there was nothing to send home. Nothing at all. They had only their memories.
They moved like wooden people for the next few days. Lionel was vaguely aware that Van was there, Val was staying with them, Anne … but no Greg … there would never be a Greg again. There were only four of them now.
They had a memorial service for him, at First Presbyterian Church of Hollywood. And all his high school teachers came. Ward sat thinking bitterly that if those bastards in Alabama had let him stay on the team, or at least kept him in school, he would still be alive. But hating them didn't help anything. It was Greg's own fault for flunking out. But whose fault was it that he'd been killed? It had to be someone's fault, didn't it? The minister's voice droned on, saying his name, and none of it seemed real. And afterwards, they all stood outside, shaking people's hands. It was hard to believe that Greg was gone, that they would never see him again. And Ward glanced at Lionel a thousand times, as though to be sure that he was still there. And the girls were too. But it would never be the same again. One of them was gone. For eternity.
CHAPTER 37
A few days after the memorial service, Vanessa went back to New York, and Val moved back to her own place again. And Lionel spent most of his time alone in the house. His parents and Anne were never there. They were at work, and she was in school, and he felt a hideous magnetic attraction for Greg's room. He remembered the days when he and John had been friends, and now they were both gone … together again somewhere. It all seemed so unfair, and he wanted to scream all the time.
A couple of times he went out for a drive, just to get some air. His old Mustang was still at the house. He had left it there when he went to Vietnam. Greg's car was there too, but he didn't want to drive it now. It was sacred, and just looking at it hurt his soul.
He took the red Mustang out one afternoon, a week before he was due to leave for Germany, and he decided to stop for a hamburger before he went home. It seemed like the first time he'd been hungry in weeks, and as he parked the car and walked inside, he noticed a two-tone gray Rolls-Royce and thought that he had already seen it somewhere, but he wasn't sure where, and he wasn't really interested. He sat down at the counter and ordered a hamburger and a Coke, and then glanced in the mirror ahead of him, and as he did he sat up straight. Behind him, reflected in the mirror that he faced, was his youngest sister with a much older man. They were holding hands and they had just kissed. She was drinking a milk shake, and he looked as though he were teasing her. They were laughing and then he saw them kiss again. He was horrified, the man looked as old as Ward, and he wanted a better look, but he was afraid to turn around. And then suddenly he remembered who he was. It was the father of her friend … what was her name? … Sally?,… Jane? … Gail! That was it!
And as the couple left, the older man had an arm around the girl and they kissed once more, once outside, without ever noticing him, the couple sat in the car for a long time, and Lionel could see their lips meet again, and finally they drove off as he stared, his hamburger forgotten, his appetite gone. He left his money on the counter, and drove home rapidly, and when he got there, she was upstairs, the door to her room closed, and Faye and Ward had just gotten home. Lionel looked as though he had just seen a ghost, but none of them looked very well these days; they were all still mourning Greg. Ward looked and felt like an old man suddenly. At fifty-two, one of his brightest hopes was gone, and Faye looked tired and pale. But Lionel looked worse than either of them. And Faye noticed it as he entered. He was fighting with himself about whether to tell them or not. They had enough on their minds, but he didn't want her getting in trouble again. They had all been through that once before, especially Anne, and she didn't need that again.
“Is something wrong, sweetheart?” Faye asked him gently as he sat down in the den. But everything was these days. Ward glanced at him despairingly, and Lionel decided it was unfair to say anything. He would talk to her himself first … but what if she ran away again? And this time he couldn't stay to help them out. He couldn't spend five months looking for her with John. There was no time to waste. He sighed deeply and sat back in the chair, looking at them both, and then got up and closed the door. And when he turned around and faced them again, they could both see that something was wrong. “What is it, Li?” Faye looked at him with frightened eyes. Had one of them gotten hurt? Vanessa in New York? … Val on a set? … Anne? …
He decided to come right to the point. “It's Anne. I saw her this afternoon … with a friend of hers …” His heart turned over as he thought of it. He was older than Ward. And he could just imagine what he'd been doing to her.
“Gail?” Faye looked even more nervous now. They hadn't monitored the friendship much. She seemed all right, and her father seemed very nice too, and the girls went to the same school. But Lionel totally stunned her with his next words.
“Not Gail, her father, Mom. They were at a hamburger joint where I went, kissing and holding hands.” Ward looked as though he'd been punched. And he couldn't take much more now. And Faye stared at him in disbelief.
“But that can't be. Are you sure it was Anne?” He nodded slowly. There had been no question of it. “But how is that possible?”
“Maybe you should ask her that.”
Faye's heart almost stopped, thinking of all the times she had stayed there, and they had never questioned it. What if Gail hadn't even been there? Or worse yet, if she had … if the man was really sick … Faye began to cry. They couldn't go through anymore, and most particularly not with her. God only knew what her involvement was with this man. Faye jumped instantly to her feet. “I'm going to get her down here right now.” But Ward reached out and touched her arm.
“Maybe we should all calm down first. It could all be a big mistake. Maybe Lionel misinterpreted what he saw.” He looked apologetically at his son, but he didn't want it to be true. He couldn't handle another tragedy, and God only knew what the child was into now. And she was seventeen. It would be harder to control her than it was at fourteen, and that had been hard enough.
Faye turned to her husband with a determined look. “I think we should talk to her.”