Scott, meanwhile, spent a lot of time on his front porch, whittling, reading, and watching the raindrops fall. He spent some time each day in the community center, playing pool or just having coffee with people who got him.
The counseling center at the Oasis handled mental health needs for those who needed it most, but Scott found himself as a de facto counselor as well. There were a lot of men who wouldn’t dream of walking into the counseling building and signing up for a session. But, they had no qualms about sitting down and talking things over with Scott.
In 1998, Joe and Sam invited Scott over for dinner at their house. They’d gotten married a few years before, to the surprise of absolutely no one. They had a daughter, Chandra, named after Joe’s mother. Even as much as Joe gave away to fund the Oasis every year, they were still the wealthiest couple in Middle Falls.
They continued to live in the same little cottage that Joe had bought fifteen years earlier and showed no sign of moving anywhere else.
It was a gorgeous summer evening, and Joe had emphasized that they would be grilling steaks that night. Sam was good at almost everything, but the one exception was her cooking. Joe said that was how he managed to never gain any weight.
The three of them sat in the same backyard where Scott had first suggested the idea of the Oasis, ate steaks and once again had root beer to drink. Chandra lay on her stomach in the grass and watched the fish in the pond endlessly swimming.
“Things are going pretty good, don’t you think?” Joe asked.
“Which makes me think there’s another shoe to drop.”
“No, not really,” Joe said with a laugh. “A lot of the veterans we’re seeing are getting older and older. Vietnam is fading further in our rear view mirror. Just want to let you know we’ve managed to buy the twenty acre plot next to the Oasis, and Sam and I have been planning.”
“When you guys put your heads together, good things happen.”
Joe reached his hand out to Sam sitting next to him. She held it with a smile.
“We’re thinking we’re going to need more medical facilities than the Oasis can handle. So, we’re going to build a fair-sized hospital and staff it with doctors and nurses. We’re going to have a wing that can help dementia and Alzheimer’s patients, because there are so many vets living and suffering on the streets.”
“Then, we’re going to build our first section for women vets. They’re out there, too, and there will be more coming,” Sam added.
“Of course, of course. That’s all so great. Plus, there are almost certainly more wars ahead.” Scott glanced at Sam. He and Joe never talked about the future in any detail in front of her. “That’ll mean more vets in need of us for many years to come. I’m glad you guys are young.”
“Right,” Joe said. “So, that means we’re going to need even more barracks and individual houses for these people. It’s all coming. We just wanted to let you know.”
Scott had learned to keep his emotions in check. There hadn’t been room for too many feelings in this life he had chosen for himself. Still, a growing sense of satisfaction spread through him. He looked toward the setting sun and said, “Man, I’m glad I wasn’t ten seconds later getting back to the Dakota that night, or none of this would have happened.”
JOE AND SAM’S PLANS for the adjacent twenty acres proceeded apace. No project that large ever happened quickly, but by 2001, the ground had been broken and once again new buildings were taking place.
When Scott was a year shy of the day he had died in his longest life, he went to the doctor to be tested. Sure enough, they found the earliest stages of prostate cancer. With the early discovery, it was treated and Scott was declared cancer free.
Scott hadn’t shared with anyone what the day was that he had died in that previous life, but as it approached, he felt the old stirring to be on the road again. He borrowed one of the Oasis’s vehicles and drove west to the Oregon coast. As the sun set on what had once been the last day of his life, he sat on a rock, staring out at the frothing Pacific Ocean.
Happy emancipation day to me. When I go to sleep tonight, that will be it. I won’t have any idea what’s coming next. No idea what technological advance or earth shaking news is ahead.
He took a deep breath of the immaculate ocean air and held it deep in his lungs.
And that’s a wonderful thing.
Chapter Sixty-Two
The end of Scott McKenzie’s life was quiet and drama-free, especially when compared to the events that had transpired earlier.
The older Scott grew, the more the violence and uncertainty of that part of his life faded into the background.
The last twenty-four years of his life were spent in service to others. In many ways, he became the patron saint of The Rodrigo Hart Oasis for Veterans. He was the constant face of the Oasis, walking the trails with his weather-beaten jo, beating newcomers at pool and rummy, and always having an ear to listen to anyone.
In early 2018, cancer returned to him, this time in a different form. He cooperated with the treatments for a few months because he was enjoying his life so much and didn’t want it to end any sooner than it had to. Scott had little reason to fear death, although he had many questions about what might happen if he died of natural causes.
He got the chance to find out in the third week of September. The new Scott McKenzie Hospital Oasis for Veterans had been open and helping veterans for more than a decade. It was where he drew his last breath.
Scott was seventy years old and was surrounded by so many whose lives he had touched. His sister Cheryl, who he had once done his best to protect from the storms of their childhoods. Jerry and Lynn Werbeloff, who had been his constant friends for more than four decades. Joe and Samantha Hart, no longer young themselves, but still healthy and vibrant.
In addition, word had spread through the internet that the man once called The Angel was in his last days. Hundreds of veterans, many in a much-better place in their lives than they had been when they met him, came to pay their respects.
It meant everything to Scott to have a last chance to see so many of them, but it made it hard for him to focus on the job at hand, which was to die.
Finally, in the early morning of Friday, September 21, 2018, the ward was quiet. Machines hummed around Scott and his room was lit only by the green lights of the machines constantly taking his vitals.
Now is a good time. I’m tired of the pain and ready to leave.
He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
It’s been a good life.
Postscript
Scott McKenzie opened his eyes, mostly expecting to see his grandparents’ old house in Evansville.
Instead, he was in an all-white room. Everything around him was blindingly white—the walls, the ceilings, the benches.
“Hello, Scott, my name is Shamus. Take a moment and get acclimated. When you’re ready to talk, let me know.”
Scott rolled his shoulders, flexed his legs. The pain that had been with him since the moment he had been shot in Vietnam was gone. He felt young and vital again.
He kept his own counsel for a few minutes, breathing in and out, peering around at the endless white.