HOME IS A WOUNDED HEART
BY
JILL HARGAN
(SANTA FE, FALL 1971)


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Robert McCall sat at the kitchen table and stirred absently at the coffee in front of him. He didn't remember if he'd put any sugar in it. He didn't really care... not about the coffee... not about anything right now.

He could hear the buzz of voices coming from the living room but he felt no desire to join the company assembled there. He was, after all, an outsider. Even in the beginning, when he and Kay were first married and life should have been wonderful, he'd never felt quite comfortable here in the home where she grew up. Her father had seen to that.

Jake had never liked him. He was a foreigner; an unpardonable sin in Jake's eyes. Never mind that he worked for the United States Government and fought the same repressive dictators Jake hated so much. Never mind that Robert's own father had died in the same bloody war Jake was so proud of serving in. Nothing mattered except that, in his father-in-law's eyes, he'd somehow brainwashed Kay and stolen her away. As if anyone could brainwash Kay. There were times when he wished his wife were less sure of herself and her opinions.

Robert sighed, picked up his drink and walked out onto the porch. None of that was important at the moment. He leaned up against the white, wooden railing and stared out at the mountains rising darkly against the night sky. The beauty of the surroundings offered no solace to his grief-stricken soul.

He'd seen death often enough... had been the cause of it too many times to dwell on. Nothing he'd ever encountered in all his years with the Company had prepared him for this however. There was no way you could prepare yourself for the loss of a child.

Little Kathy... even now he could still see her. Such a frail thing... so tiny in that big hospital bed... all the needles and tubes... too weak to talk. He closed his eyes against the painful memory. She was too young... too young. There'd been too little time with her... less than three years. It wasn't enough.

Of course, how much of that time had he actually spent with her? He could see Kay's accusing face in his mind, telling him how he was never home with the children. They needed a father. He always argued with her... expounded on how important his job was. He'd always felt he helped to make the world a little safer... that he was doing it, in part, for Scotty and Kathy and all the world's children. Kay was right though, he had to admit. He wasn't a very good father. He couldn't count the number of Christmases, birthdays and innumerable other important times in his children's lives he'd been on assignment.

He'd been on just such an assignment when he'd gotten word of how bad Kathy was. He'd wasted no time in flying back, only to be met by Kay's scathing sarcasm. Nice of him to drop by indeed! He knew his wife was only venting her own fear for their daughter but he wondered sadly why they couldn't support and comfort each other at this time instead of lashing out.

The screen door creaked open and a small, blond head poked out.

"Daddy?"

Robert turned to see his son standing timidly in the doorway. Not quite six, Scott probably wasn't completely aware of what had been happening around him. Robert beckoned him closer. Scott smiled and came over to stand beside his father.

"Everybody's too sad in there," the boy announced. "Mom won't stop crying."

"I know," Robert told him and put his arm around the small shoulders. "She misses Kathy."

Scott was silent a moment then he looked up at his father. "Granny Michaels says Kathy went to heaven with the angels and now she won't be sick anymore." He paused another moment as if considering that information. "How long will she stay?" he finally asked.

Robert looked down at his son in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"How long will she stay in heaven?" Scott repeated.

The question struck Robert dumb for a moment. It never occurred to him the boy thought his sister would come home. They'd all carefully explained that Kathy had to go away. He supposed they just took it for granted Scott understood them. He knelt down to be on eye level with his son.

"Listen to me, Scotty," he began and wondered just how he could explain death to a five year old. "When a person is sick and goes to heaven, they don't come back."

Scott's young face registered confusion. "But Dad... you go away all the time and you always come back."

"That's different, Son. I go to different countries as part of my job but that's not the same as what happened to Kathy."

Scott shook his head. "I want Kathy to come home," he insisted gravely.

"I'm afraid she can't," Robert told him, willing him to understand at least that much.

Two big tears spilled over and ran down Scott's face. "Does that mean when you go away, you won't come back?" Scott asked with a noisy sniffle.

"Answer him, Robert."

He didn't have to turn around to know who was there. The tone in Kay's voice grated on his ears. She was still angry with him and she was using Scott to get back at him. He mentally counted to ten. He didn't want to create a scene right now.

"You can't, can you?" she went on. She walked over and took Scott's hand. "You can't promise your son that you'll always be here."

Robert sighed heavily. "No one can do that, Kay. I could get hit by a bus on the way home from the office."

"Better that than a sniper's bullet or a grenade in some god forsaken jungle."

"I don't think now is exactly the right time for this..." he began.

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Kay asked meaningfully. "There's never a 'right' time." She took Scott and walked back into the kitchen.

Robert sighed again. God, they couldn't even get through poor Kathy's funeral without a confrontation.

The kitchen door opened again and Robert looked up to see who else was looking for him. With his luck it would be Jake. Instead he saw Kay's grandmother standing there. Robert gave her a slight smile. He liked this woman and sometimes wondered how she could have given birth to someone like Jake. She walked over and took his hand.

"It's a rough time," she observed. "I know what it's like to lose a daughter."

Robert didn't say anything but she didn't seem to expect an answer from him. She turned to look out toward the mountains and he followed her gaze.

"Kay wasn't always like she is now," she commented.

"I know," Robert replied. It struck him Kay had become a lot like her father and he wondered when that happened. He realized he hadn't been around to notice the change. "I suppose it's mostly my fault," he conceded. "My job keeps me away so much of the time. I know she resents it."

"There's more to it than that."

Robert turned to study the perceptive woman beside him. He nodded in agreement. "I know she's afraid all the time. I've tried to tell her it's no different than being married to a policeman but she doesn't see it that way."

"Do you have to do it?" she asked him quietly.

"It's my job," Robert replied automatically then, after a moment of thought, expounded. "I feel what I do is important... a contribution of sorts."

Grandma Michaels listened to him and was silent for a while. "I'm sure it's important," she said finally. "But is it more important?"

"More important than what?" Robert asked.

"Than your wife... your family."

Robert didn't answer. Kay had used the same argument many times but it had never sounded like this before. Kay was always angry and accusing. This woman was not judging him in the least. She was just asking... and for the first time he actually considered the question.

"I don't know anymore," he answered at last. "I used to, but now..." He trailed off in uncertainty.

Grandma Michaels gave him a wise smile. "Now isn't a time to make life changing decisions," she advised. "Now is a time to grieve, like the good book says. There'll be a time later to answer those kind of questions."

"I hope you're right," he told her.

She patted his hand. "You and Kay, you'll work it out. Just don't give up. Now why don't you come on in. The neighbors have brought all kinds of food. We're getting ready to serve some dinner."

He looked at her and for the first time in days, felt hungry. For the moment he pushed all his doubts aside. He took Grandma Michaels' elbow and escorted her back into the house. He would consider what she said. She'd made him think. But she was right. Now was not the time.