Chapter 2 - I Knew The Name Mason Before She Touched Me
Security separated us.
Not dramatically.
The dining hall manager sent me to his office.
The duty officer took Laura to another room.
General Hale tried to follow me.
I stopped at the door.
“No.”
“Evelyn.”
“You're not my commander anymore.”
His face tightened.
“I was never your commander.”
“Exactly.”
That hurt him.
Good.
I closed the door.
Ten minutes later, base security reviewed the dining hall video.
Laura hit the tray.
Laura grabbed my clothing.
Laura shoved me.
I struck once after being grabbed and shoved.
Nobody needed a general to interpret that.
I was still required to give a statement.
Fine.
Laura was removed from the dining hall pending her chain of command reviewing the incident.
Also fine.
Then Hale asked to speak with me.
This time I agreed.
He entered carrying two coffees.
I looked at them.
“Still terrible?”
“You used to drink it.”
“I was twenty-four. I also ate vending-machine tuna.”
He almost smiled.
It died quickly.
He sat across from me.
“How long have you been at Fort Garrison?”
“Seven months.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Seven months?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
I stared at him.
“I work for dining services, David. Does your staff send you employee alerts when middle-aged women get hired to serve lunch?”
His embarrassment almost made me feel bad.
Almost.
“What brought you back?”
“My sister lives twenty minutes away. Her husband died last year. She needed help with their house. I needed work.”
“That’s it?”
I looked at him.
“Were you hoping for a secret mission?”
“No.”
“A revenge plan?”
“Evelyn.”
“They were hiring.”
He sat back.
That ordinary answer bothered him.
People prefer old ghosts to have dramatic reasons for returning.
Rent and family make poor legends.
His eyes moved toward my apron pocket.
“Why were you carrying the photograph?”
“I carry it sometimes.”
“After all these years?”
“Yes.”
“Why today?”
I didn't answer.
He noticed.
Before he could ask again, someone knocked.
Laura entered with a captain from her unit.
The captain introduced herself, explained that Laura had requested to speak with me, and made it clear I could decline.
I looked at Laura.
“Five minutes.”
Her captain remained near the door.
Laura stayed standing.
Her face was beginning to swell slightly where I had hit her.
I felt no satisfaction.
Less than I expected, anyway.
She looked at my scars.
Then forced herself to look away.
“My father died at Fort Garrison.”
“Yes.”
“In a dining facility fire.”
“Yes.”
“My mother told me he went back inside because a soldier was trapped.”
I said nothing.
Laura's eyes hardened.
“You were the soldier.”
David closed his eyes.
I looked at her.
“No.”
“What?”
“I was already outside.”
She frowned.
“That isn't what I was told.”
“By whom?”
“My mother.”
David said quietly:
“Laura—”
She turned.
“Did you know?”
He didn't answer quickly enough.
She looked back at me.
“Then why were you burned?”
There were questions I had imagined from her.
That one was near the top.
I put both hands on the table.
“Your father supervised the evening shift at the old dining facility.”
“He was logistics.”
“He was a 92G.”
She stared.
“A culinary specialist.”
“I know what 92G means.”
“Do you?”
Her face hardened.
David interrupted.
“Evelyn.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Not like this.”
I almost laughed.
“Twenty-four years, and now you want pacing.”
Laura stepped closer.
“My father was not a cook.”
“Yes, he was.”
“He was an operations NCO.”
“Later.”
She shook her head.
“My mother said—”
“Your mother spent most of your childhood describing food service as logistics because she knew you were embarrassed.”
That hit.
Not because Laura disagreed.
Because she remembered.
“You don't know anything about my childhood.”
I looked at the photograph in my pocket.
“I knew you when you still refused to eat peas.”
She went still.
“You were around me?”
“Sometimes.”
“How often?”
“Enough to know your father packed ketchup packets in his pockets because you put ketchup on scrambled eggs.”
Laura looked sick.
“Why don't I remember you?”
“You were eleven.”
“I remember Colonel Hale.”
“Captain Hale then.”
She turned toward David.
He looked down.
I continued.
“Your father, David and I worked in the same support battalion.”
“Were you a cook too?”
“Yes.”
The word hung between us.
The same job category she had reduced to trash less than an hour earlier.
Laura looked away.
I let her.
David said:
“Evelyn was also one of the strongest soldiers in the company.”
“I don't care about that.”
Laura's answer surprised me.
Good.
She looked back.
“I care why my father died.”
Fair.
I nodded.
“During the fire, accountability showed one soldier missing.”
“The one Dad went back for.”
“Yes.”
“So Mom was right.”
“About why he entered.”
Laura frowned.
I continued.
“Private Davis wasn't inside.”
“What?”
“He had taken a supply cart to the rear loading area before the alarm. He was safe.”
“Did Dad know?”
“Not when he went in.”
“And you?”
“I knew Davis had been sent outside.”
“So you followed my father.”
“Yes.”
“To tell him.”
“Yes.”
Her breathing changed.
“Did you find him?”
“Yes.”
“Was Davis there?”
“No.”
“Then why didn't you both come out?”
David stood.
“Evelyn.”
I turned.
“Sit down.”
He stared.
Twenty-four years earlier, Captain Hale could make half the dining staff run faster by clearing his throat.
Now he sat.
Laura watched him.
Then looked back at me.
I chose the next sentence carefully.
“Your father knew nobody was missing before the fire trapped us.”
Laura stared at me.
“What?”
“I found him. I told him Davis was outside.”
“So why was he still in there?”
I could see the photograph in my mind.
The tiny version of Laura.
Samuel’s hand reaching toward it.
“Ask your mother.”
“She’s dead.”
I knew.
Diane Mason had died fourteen months earlier.
That was part of why the photograph had been in my pocket.
Laura continued.
“You're the one standing here.”
She was right.
I looked at David.
He looked older than he had ten minutes earlier.
Then back at Laura.
“Your father started toward the exit with me.”
“And?”
I touched the burned corner through the fabric of my pocket.
“Then he saw something on the wall.”
Laura stopped breathing.
The five minutes were over.
Nobody moved.
I said:
“He turned back for three seconds.”
Laura whispered:
“For what?”
I pulled out the photograph.
May you like
Her face changed before I answered.
For the first time, she understood why one corner was burned.
