CARTER'S VANGUARD: WILLIAM CARTER
II
Chapter 20 - By Christopher Patrick Lydon
Will sat quietly in the Bronco, remembering the last time he
had sat in it with his father, heading home nearly two years ago after being
stranded with Andrew. So much time had passed since then, so much had changed.
He was no longer the quiet boy that hid from his own shadow and cowered when
his father yelled.
Amazing how one person's love could change a person. Like the
love of a little girl for her baby brother that had kept him alive, Andrew's
love helped him be a stronger person in life. A tall goof of a hockey player
with dazzling blue eyes and a lopsided grin who didn't care what Will was,
so long as he was himself.
"You don't have to do this," Will said after a pause,
as the Bronco swept off of the highway and into Ottawa.
Major David John Carter of the 32nd Queens Company, decorated
for valour twice in the Falklands war, who saw action in the Gulf War, who
had served during the time of troubles in Northern Ireland; a man who had
seen combat, death, the viciousness of one man's hatred for another looked
at his son for a long moment. "You'll understand when you get older,"
he said after awhile, "if you ever have children of your own."
Will rested his hand against his jaw line as he considered the
Major, "That's what this has always been about with you, hasn't it? The
fact that you wanted me to put on a uniform and follow your footsteps."
The Major was silent again as the truck rolled onto Catherine
Street as he considered how to respond to Will's observation, "My father
was an officer in the army, as was his father, sixteen generations of sons."
He turned on the indicator and cut off another car as he swung the Bronco
into the parking lot, "That's a history you don't just turn your back
on."
Will shrugged, "It's my life now, my choices."
The Major gripped the wheel. "You no longer have a choice,"
he said softly. "The fact that you are... that you made another choice
means you can never join the army."
Will studied his father as he got out of the truck, "That's
your dream, not mine. Could you picture me in a uniform marching through Sarajevo
carrying an M-16? I was never meant to be a soldier."
The Major nodded to the Greyhound bus station, "When I
ran away from your grandmother to join up, I took a bus."
Will scanned the squat, long brick building with the buses pulling
out of the back, travelers moving to and fro. He sighed as he stuck his hands
in his pockets and looked at his father. He had never realized how important
the army was to that man. So important that he had disobeyed his mother to
follow in his father's footsteps; so important that when he had found out
that his son would never follow his dream he had been devastated. That kind
of wound could never be forgiven; his father would always hold him responsible
for that. But for the moment they understood each other.
Will pushed his way through the throngs of people, searching
for Peter, hoping they were on time. He breathed a sigh of relief when he
saw a small figure at the end of the long departure area.
* * *
"Hello there," the soft voice said, causing Peter
to look up from counting out his birthday money. "Is that enough?"
Peter stared up at the man towering over him, flinching when
the man reached down to brush his face tenderly. "Would you like a ticket?"
the man asked. He was overweight, too broad in the shoulders and despite the
fact his eyes looked kindly there was a menace about him. Peter backed up
a step. "Why don't you come with me," the man insisted. "I
can get you a ticket, I just need to get the money from my car..." His
hand went to encircle Peter's arm, a massive mitt that could snap the arm
if he tried.
It was like it happened in slow motion: one moment the stranger
was reaching for him, the next he was propelled backwards as a soldier grabbed
him from behind and threw the man twice his size up against a bank of travel
lockers.
Peter quivered in shock as the soldier lashed out with a punch
that sent the big man sprawling. Fists balled, the soldier advanced on the
stranger, coldly threatening, intent on more violence if the stranger struggled
again.
Peter started as he was shaken lightly out of his shock. Mister
Carter turned him gently away from the fight, wrapping an arm around him as
he drew him close, protecting him from harm as Peter buried his head against
Mister Carter's shoulders and began to cry.
Security arrived to restrain the Major, as the stranger tried
to scramble away. And almost as soon as it had begun, it was over.
* * *
Will nodded to the Major as he walked Peter out to the Bronco.
The Major was explaining to security what had happened, and Will just wanted
to get Peter away from the throng of people that were shuffling to see what
the commotion was about.
Once out at the Bronco, Will sat Peter down in the front seat
and leaned on the door looking down at the small student who looked shaken.
"Are you okay?" Will asked tiredly as he fumbled in
the glove box for a pack of tissues.
Peter accepted the tissue and blew his nose, dabbing his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whined.
Will smiled and knelt down so his eyes were level with Peter's,
"Nothing to be sorry about, at least not to me. Where were you going?"
"I-I don't know," Peter sniffled.
Typical kid, big plans to run away that involved great planning
to get to the bus station, but from there they had no idea. Will shook his
head slowly; if it weren't so serious he would have laughed at the simplicity
of thirteen-year-old logic.
"Well," he said, "why'd you run away? Those kids
still bullying you at school?"
Peter nodded, small little motions that caused his hair to flop
forward to hide his eyes, "They called me a f-fag..." Peter's eyes
welled up again as tears rolled down his cheeks.
Will looked back at the building and back at Peter; the kid
was all alone in his misery, feeling so isolated in the world. When all he
needed was someone to talk to, someone to show him he wasn't alone.
"I'm a fag," Will said in a firm voice.
Peter's head came up, his tear-streaked eyes searching for the
lie in Will's eyes, but not finding it he was even more confused.
"Yep," Will said with a slight shrug. "And G.I.
Joe in there, that's my dad. Even though we don't always see eye to eye, I
know he loves me." Will smiled, "Just like a certain mother who
is, right now, searching the whole of Merrickville for her son."
Peter looked suddenly so small, frightened. "Is she mad?"
he whispered.
"She's worried about you," Will said, watching his
father come out of the bus station, affixing his peaked cap onto his head
and marching with pride back to his truck. "Parents often get mad when
they're worried about their kids," Will said loud enough for the Major
to hear. "But it's only because they worry too much. Let's take you home,
and call your mother."
* * *
Peter had discovered the playstation when they had gotten back
to Will's home. Brody desperately battled the kid in an effort to beat him
at a kung fu game, he was losing the battle of button-mashing badly.
Old Mrs. Carter had given them a strange look when they had
come in together, but after the Major had spoken to her in a quiet voice she
had commandeered Brody's kitchen to fix Peter something warm to eat and a
round of proper tea.
Will blew out a sigh as he made the phone call, leaving a message
for Mrs. McCormick that he had found Peter and that the boy was safe and leaving
his address for her to pick him up when she got back from searching for him.
A quick call to the police to call off the manhunt and tell them the same
and Will finally hung up the phone.
The Major was standing in the dining room, watching Peter intently.
"What is it?" Will asked joining him.
"He looks so much like you did at that age," the major
said tiredly. "All I could see was you in that bus station, being touched
by that..." His fists balled up and he turned away to look down at Will,
"Is he..?"
" A Presbyterian?" Will asked. Raising an eyebrow,
he looked back at Peter, "Yes, but that's something he has to work out
on his own." He looked back at his father, "He just needs to know
there's people that care about him no matter what he is."
The Major looked at Will for a long time, "I can't forgive
you, you know that don't you."
Will nodded, "Yes."
"But you know I love you."
"I know," Will replied quietly, looking up into those
terribly sad eyes of his father. There would be no reconciliation, only understanding
that they were so radically different there never could be. But then, you
never could choose family; they often were the ones you were stuck with.
They say that time is a healer, but some wounds ran too deep.
And as deep as the hurt his father had inflicted upon him, ultimately the
wounds his father wore were just as deep. And that one moment would probably
be the last they would stand there talking to one another.
Will clicked his heels together and snapped off a crisp British
Army salute.
The Major drew himself up to attention and returned the salute,
slowly and deliberately, his eyes never leaving Will's as he did so. And with
that the Major walked out of the house to smoke a cigarette and wait for his
mother to be done fussing over the meal.
* * *
Mrs. McCormick had embraced her son, refusing to let him go
from the moment she had come into the house. Peter, embarrassed by the show
of affection in front of Mister Carter, tried to wriggle free, but Mrs. McCormick
wasn't about to let him go again so soon.
"Thank you," she managed between her tears, looking
at Will meaningfully.
Will nodded. "All part of the service," he replied
reassuringly. "I'm glad we got to him when we did," he said seriously.
"Thank you." Mrs. McCormick didn't need to know the
details of the stranger and the bus station, it would have sent her over the
edge. "I don't think I could ever repay you."
Will smiled, "Just make sure Sprog there," he nodded
down to Peter, "does his homework and that'll be thanks enough."
He smiled and knelt down beside Peter, seeing the blue eyes peeking out at
him from where they were smothered in his mother's arms, "And as for
you, trouble, you ever need to talk that door's always open," he pointed
to it, "so use it."
Peter nodded in his mother's arms, as they got ready to leave.
Once they were alone, Will let out a long sigh and flopped into the chair
across from Brody.
"You're a good person, Will," Brody said with sincerity.
"I learned from the best," Will said. "I remember
someone doing the same for me when I needed it."
"Aww, now you're just getting sappy," Brody complained
as he turned on the hockey game. "Now watch some hockey-it's good for
you."
