Another Soldier's Coming Home

Ah, Poppa Gino's is the perfect location for my mission today. Buck glanced around the restaurant at Yuppie moms and kids, a few local businessmen, and a handful of studying college students. The low hum of conversation mixed with clanging dishes and worn red and white checked tablecloths added to the ambience he had searched for. Shelia would feel comfortable here.

Arriving a good twenty-five minutes early, he selected a booth on the aged brick back wall where he had a view of the entire restaurant. Buck knew Sheila would sit on the outside of the booth, hemming him in. She'd want to be able to see both the front and back doors. Just good old Operative 101.

"Hi, Mister," a blonde, curly-headed little girl's cherry-cheeked face peaked over the back of the black plastic booth surprising him.

"Hi, yourself. What's your name?"

"I'm Mandy and I am four-years-old." She held up four chubby fingers. "Where did you get that white line on your face? Are you old?"

"I'm so old I don't have enough fingers to show you just how old that is. Buck laughed. He ran a finger absently along the scar on his right cheek. "This is called a scar. I got it playing hide and seek with some bad boys."

"I have two brothers, but they aren't as old as me. They are bad boys sometimes. Do you have a little girl or boy? I think you would be a nice daddy, but your scar might scare them a little.

"I used to have a little girl, but she grew up on me." His eyes threatened to water as he thought of Sarah and the many years he missed being with her due to his clandestine travels all over the world.

"Where is she? Is she going to come eat with you?"

"I'm afraid not today, Mandy. My daughter is a surgical nurse at the Mayo Clinic a long way from here. "

"Mandy, sit down and put your coat on." An attractive woman got up from the booth and turned to Buck. "I'm so sorry." She donned a red coat and smiled. "I'm afraid she'll talk you six feet under if you let her."

"No problem. I enjoyed her. She's a sweet kid."

The woman buttoned Mandy's coat and took the child's hand as they walked to the cashier's.

Buck didn’t think about his daughter as a little girl anymore. He had forgotten how sweet and precious she had been. Damn kids. Why do they have to grow up and leave home? Not that I was home much. Taking Sarah and moving away was probably the smartest thing Rachel ever did. At least I didn't have to worry about their safety when they were gone. Can't believe Rachel has been married fifteen years and Sarah grew up.

The bell above the door jingled Sheila's arrival. She stood just inside surveying the restaurant. My God, she's as pretty as ever. She was tall and suntanned with flaming red shoulder-length hair. She wore a simple pique sundress that showed off her creamy white shoulders. After giving Poppa Gino's the once over, she came toward him.

He stood and kissed her cheek. “Chanel Number 5--still. Yum, you smell good." She laughed. Someone's cell phone played "I Got Friends in Low Places".

He offered to let her slide in the booth first, but she shook her head and smiled. "You know better than that, Buck. You get in. I'll just sit on the outside, but then you knew that, didn't you?"

He smiled and glanced down at his watch as he scooted in. Shelia followed him. "You're as beautiful and punctual as ever. I guess your stint in the Iraqi jail didn't break you as badly as I heard." Muffled banging sounds came from the kitchen.

"I was able to cope in my own way and I have contacts." She scanned the restaurant. "Nice place." A waitress dropped a cup on the floor. Neither Buck nor Sheila flinched although several patrons jumped. They eyed each other for a moment and then grinned. "What’s a respectable place like this doing letting you in, Buck-man?"

"Only the best for you, old pardner. Seriously, Sheila, how have you been getting along? Played any duplicate bridge lately?"

"I can't complain and yes. I still play bridge every chance I get, but I don't play that much duplicate any more." Ice cubes tinkled into glasses and an occasional squeal erupted from a toddler. "I haven't found a partner as good as you were, so I lost interest in duplicate. I haven't earned a masterpoint since we took the tournament in Dubai eight years ago.

Buck took out a pack of Dunhill cigarettes from the inside pocket of his blue seersucker coat. He looked down at the three cigarettes left and chose one. He put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with the restaurant's matches. “We did play in some interesting tournaments, didn't we? Remember when we beat that old Colonel Bushbaugh and his cross-eyed, sharped-nosed wife?

"Oh, God, yes! She screamed at him all through the next three rounds about not bidding game against us. If I remember correctly, it was her bid to make, not his. What a bitch!"

They smiled at each other. Buck picked up Sheila's hand as he turned and studied her. “I heard The Company put you on waivers. Nasty business that Lisbon terrorist bombing. How did you manage to escape? Was it really bad?"

"It was a hairy situation, for sure, but I recruited help from a third party. Obviously, The Company looked askance at my choice of "friends" and they cut me loose soon after. They blamed me for the extensive collateral damage."

A waiter appeared at the table for their orders. "You still drinking rum and coke?"

"Naturally." Sheila measured the waiter against professional criteria. Satisfied, she picked up a napkin and began absently folding and unfolding it.

"Make it two rum and cokes, then." The waiter scurried away. People at a nearby table laughed; one of the students dropped a book and cursed.

"We made a good pair… you and I..once upon a fairy tale. We could still make it work---professionally or personally or both." She let the words linger in the air as she watched him stub out the cigarette. His heart thudded reminding him just how close they were...once...eons ago. "You know why I’m here, Buck. My people need your expertise. They want you to work for us. And, I need your answer--the correct answer-- today."

The waiter returned and set drinks down in front of them. Buck started to pick his drink up, but Sheila laid her well-manicured hand on his arm. "I believe I'll have your drink," she said watching his expression. "You can drink this one." Sheila scooted her drink across to Buck.

"Always playing Mata Hare, aren't you? Isn't there anyone you trust?"

"Let's just say I haven't lived this long by being careless or trusting." She clinked her glass to his in a small salute and sipped the brown liquid. Then, she ironed out her wrinkled napkin on the table and set her glass down.

"Well, what’s it going to be? Ready to join my people and make some decent money?"

"I don't know. I sometimes think there are younger men who can carry on the fight.. and do a better job. I'm a bit weary of jetting around and dodging death.

"Nonsense. You're still the expert ammunitions and explosive guru you always were. Perhaps the right incentive will entice to join us. My people pay well--very, very well. On a personal level, I can offer you anything else you might want." She winked and smiled. “Don’t forget we made wicked bridge partners.”

"I need the money, so I don't have much of a choice. Can you give me two weeks to tidy up a few things around here?" Buck reached for the cigarettes. He looked down and chose the one he wanted. He slipped it into his mouth, and lit it. "You still pruning and babying that bonsai tree of yours?"

"No. I lost it when my safe house was blown and Marcos torched it. Fortunately, I wasn't home at the time, but my tree was cremated. I haven't had the heart to start another. Anyway, what do I need with attachments? They just hurt you in the end."

"I'm sorry--about the tree, I mean. You had that tree since before I met you."

"Can you spare a girl your last cigarette?" Sheila picked up the pack and removed the final one. Buck lit a match. She cupped her hands around his and looked into his eyes.

"I can always get more."

"I can give you eight days," she said inhaling deeply and watching her smoke float on the air to other parts of the room. "Not one day more. It'll be like the old times we shared, Buck. It'll be good."

The cash register cha-chinged as Gino invited a couple back. "How do you deal with working against your own country, Sheila?"

She coughed and spewed smoke and words, "What the hell did this country ever do for me? Nothing! They turned their backs on me." She inhaled deeply. "When I needed my country the most, they acted as if I didn't exist. Damn the United States! They hung me out for the vultures, Buck!" She stared at him and inhaled again. "Don't pull that patriotic crap on me. When you’re ready to deal, call me……I might answer." She took one last drag, jabbed the butt down several times in the ash tray, and flounced away. At the door she turned around and took one more look at Buck before slamming out of Poppa Gino's.

He watched her leave. The front windows quaked from the assault of the door. Buck took out his cell phone and punched in a familiar number. "It's done. She actually asked for the cigarette. She'll be dead in less than fifteen minutes. She never suspected a thing." Picking up the crumpled cigarette package and placing it in his pocket, he threw a twenty on the table. He'd finished his last mission for his country. All debts were paid. It was time to retire.

A car backfired as Buck walked out into the sunshine and put on his sunglasses. He dropped the crumpled cigarette package into the nearest trash can and began to whistle "Another Soldier's Coming Home" as he waited to cross the busy street.

(Words 1757)