Engagement: A Novel

By Denise Gelberg

"A sweeping, poignant tale of love, war, and the pain of political disenchantment." KIrkus Review. On the last weekend in May, 2003, Tomas Jorgensen and Sunny Adler celebrate their respective graduations from the US Military Academy and Vassar. Just a week later, they're celebrating their marriage at West Point's Jewish Chapel. Full of joy and great expectations, they begin their lives together, he as a second lieutenant at Fort Drum and she as a teacher at a school serving military families. But before their first anniversary, they're tested in ways they never could have anticipated, as Tomas is deployed to fight in America’s war on terror. Engagement's story of shattered illusions, courage and love provides a bridge between those who served in Iraq and Afghanistan and the civilians they vowed to defend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Denise Gelberg
• Release date: Jan 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370566075

Denise Gelberg

Writer, teacher, Brooklyn native, Denise Gelberg. devotes herself to writing about the things that occupy her thoughts during long swims and runs. An advocate for children, she has written about the current state of education reform in the United States, including the book The Business of Reforming American Schools (SUNY Press). Fertility, her debut novel, tells the story of a sterile, brilliant, workaholic attorney whose life is changed by a medical malpractice case involving a newborn infant. Her latest book, Engagement, provides a glimpse into the complexities of the Iraq War as seen through the eyes of a conservative-leaning West Point cadet and his liberal fiancée.Denise Gelberg lives with her husband and two dogs on fourteen acres of rolling hillside ten miles west of Ithaca, New York.Readers can visit Denise Gelberg's Facebook page or her webpage - http://denisegelberg.forpr.net/. She can be followed on Twitter or contacted at [e-mail].

Book preview

PART ONE

Summer 2002 - Fall 2003

CHAPTER ONE: Milestone

TOMAS JORGENSEN HAD DREAMED OF Ring Ceremony since he was eleven, when his family stopped at West Point on the way home from a tour of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt’s Hyde Park estate. It was an unscheduled stop, made at least as much for a place to use the bathroom and get some lunch as to see the alma mater of Robert E. Lee, William Tecumseh Sherman, and Dwight David Eisenhower. It was during that unplanned visit that Tomas got to witness nearly a thousand senior cadets receive rings that would forever mark them as West Point officers. As his eyes scanned the sea of cadets in their crisp white uniforms, a great hope began to take root inside of him, a hope that one day he, too, would learn how to defend his country at West Point.

For five years he kept his hope to himself, but as his parents began to press him about college, he divulged his secret: I want to attend West Point and become a US Army officer. His announcement caused his mother, Barbara, to grimace, but his father, Magnus, dismissed his ambition out of hand. You’ll do no such thing. You’re far too bright to waste your intelligence marching around in an Army uniform.

His parents suggested other options––Princeton, MIT, Johns Hopkins, Cal Tech––but Tomas was resolute. He yielded only so far as to say he’d apply to those schools if he failed to gain admission to West Point. In exasperation, in his junior year Barbara and Magnus finally gave their permission for him to write their congressman, requesting a nomination to the US Military Academy. They were chagrined, if not surprised, that after submitting his record of academic achievements and interviewing with the congressional aide, Tomas was selected as the congressman’s first choice among his ten nominees to the service academies. When he got notification of his admission to West Point, Barbara took solace in seeing her son happy, but Magnus was left bewildered. Somehow his boy had veered very far off course.

Now, after three life-changing years at the Academy, the time had come for Tomas to receive his West Point ring. He and one thousand senior cadets ––firsties––marched in lockstep toward Trophy Point, where artillery captured from American enemies was on proud display. Soon he would don a gold and granite ring of his own design. As he matched his steps to the cadence of the band, he inhaled the smell of fresh-mown grass. When he thought of his mother and Sunny looking down on him from the slope, he held his head a bit higher and promised to remember this moment forever.

§ § §

THE HUDSON RIVER PROVIDED A breathtaking backdrop as the Firstie Class paraded with machine-like synchronicity toward its iconic destination. Parents, grandparents, girlfriends, and even a handful of boyfriends strained to find their loved ones in the sea of cadets dressed in spotless India Whites adorned with red tasseled sashes and brass buttons. Though on that muggy August day a fine gray mist covered the hillsides lining the river, the excitement felt by the thousands of guests looking down from the slope could not be dampened. Then, just as the ceremony was about to begin, a break in the clouds allowed a bit of sun to stream onto the field. Almost in unison, the spectators put away their umbrellas; a few optimists even put on their sunglasses.

When the ceremony got underway, each speaker underscored the solemnity and symbolism of the West Point ring. As part of his invocation, the Army chaplain cited the ring as both a mark of the wearer’s achievements and the bond between each graduate and the Academy’s values and history. The Commandant of the Corps of Cadets, himself a West Point graduate, described how rings donated by previous graduates or their families had been placed in a crucible with gold, to create the rings of this Firstie Class, thus linking the cadets in the Class of 2003 to the service and sacrifice of those who preceded them in the Long Gray Line.

When it came time for the rings to be distributed, military efficiency was on full display. In a matter of minutes, officers and NCOs, in their dress blues, handed out jewelry boxes and congratulated each of the thousand cadets. After the Alma Mater was sung, the order everyone had been waiting for was given: Class of 2003, you may don your rings! Simultaneously the cadets executed the command, placing the rings on their right hands, class crest closest to their hearts. When the order, First Class, dismissed, reverberated through the amplifiers, it was as though a hypnotist had snapped his fingers, bringing everyone on the field and on the slope out of a trance. Cadets broke into cheers; spectators applauded.

Confusion followed the well-rehearsed ceremony as loved ones sought to find their special cadet. Tomas’s three guests stood near Sedgwick Monument, the spot he’d designated as their meeting place. Standing a bit over six feet tall in her stocking feet, Barbara Heglund Jorgensen towered over the two young women standing beside her, Sunny Adler, her future daughter-in-law, and Sunny’s roommate from Vassar, Jessica Coen.

TOM-MY, TOM-MY, we’re over here, Barbara shouted over and again, all the while madly waving her purple scarf. Great stature had a number of advantages, and visibility in a crowd was one. Tomas quickly spotted her and made his way to the two people he loved most in the world. The moment he saw Sunny, her red hair shining in the sunlight, he could have sworn his heart stopped beating in his chest.

Sunny welcomed him with her best impersonation of the upper class cadets who’d put Tomas through his paces over the years. Cadet Jorgensen, she ordered sternly. Hand out for inspection! Tomas happily complied so the three women could examine his new ring. It was Sunny who weighed in first. Gorgeous, TJ, absolutely gorgeous. Then, as almost an afterthought, she looked up and said, As are you, Cadet Jorgensen, in your very striking India Whites.

Oh, I’ll second that, Jessica said. You West Point men are definitely looking fine today.

Oh, yeah? Tomas dared, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Fine enough for you to finally agree to be fixed up with one of my buddies? If you want, we can arrange for him to wear his India Whites on your first date.

Jessica creased her brow as she shook her head. I think I’ll continue to take that under advisement, she said, dodging another of Tomas’s matchmaking attempts.

Suit yourself, Tomas chided, but let me just say, you’re missing out big-time.

Jessica’s response irked Barbara. She still hadn’t quite forgiven her for the scene she’d made the previous summer at Tommy and Sunny’s engagement party. What in the world could she have been thinking––lecturing his West Point friends on President Eisenhower’s warning about the growing power of the military-industrial complex? To be fair, that was before the terrorist attacks of September 11th. Losing her cousin, a bond trader at One World Trade Center, may have softened Jessica’s stance on the military. If not, Barbara hoped she had the good sense to keep her opinions to herself on this celebratory day.

So, Mom, what’s the verdict? Tomas asked.

Tommy, the ring is beautiful. May you enjoy wearing it for a long time to come.

I want you to know I gave the design a lot of thought. I opted for ten-carat gold since it’s stronger than fourteen, which might come in handy given the service I hope it’ll see. I chose polished granite for the stone, taken from a quarry right here on the Academy’s grounds. And starting today, any fool will be able to see I’m a West Point man. He stopped himself from adding that at the following night’s banquet, a black-tie affair commonly known as the Ring Hop, he would give his mother and Sunny jewelry with the same design, tokens of his thanks for their support over the years.

I know how hard you’ve worked to get to this day, Sunny said. I’m so glad you’re pleased with your ring. She had to fight the instinct to reach up and embrace him. The Academy’s prohibition of PDAs, public displays of affection, was a thorn in her side.

Barbara, would you do the honors and snap a picture of us? Sunny asked.

Of course, dear. Barbara focused on the beaming couple in the viewfinder of the new digital camera she’d picked up that morning on her way out of town. There was no doubt they looked lovely together: Tommy, with the same chiseled features and piercing blue eyes that had drawn her to his father, and Sunny, who wore her natural beauty so lightly, as though her glowing skin and perfect figure were nothing out of the ordinary. She took several shots. There, she said, I’m pretty sure there’ll be at least some good ones in that bunch. I can’t wait to show them to Dad. I’ll try to send the best ones to your folks, Sunny.

Oh, that’s so sweet of you! I’m sure they’ll love them, Sunny said.

"Well, hold your praise. First I’m going to have to learn how to send them. But this will be a good motivator."

It’ll be a no-brainer for you, Mom, Tomas said. Now how about one with you and me?

Sunny and Barbara switched places. Sunny had to aim high to shoot Tomas and his mom. As she looked through the viewfinder, she was once again struck by their stature. Viking heritage, Barbara would always say whenever anyone commented on the family’s extraordinary height. It occurred to Sunny that one day she might give birth to a child who would ultimately match or even surpass Tomas’s six-foot-four-and-a-half-inch frame. It gave her pause.

Then it was Jessica’s turn behind the lens. Barbara put Tomas in the middle so that he was buttressed by the women in his life. Jessica had no sooner framed the shot than the signal came for a different kind of excitement.

Get going girl and take that the picture! Tomas bellowed.

Okay, okay. Jessica snapped twice. Then Tomas took off at a run.

What’s going on? Jessica asked.

Ring Poop, Sunny said. Remember I told you about it last night?

Oh, Jessica nodded, though still perplexed. This is Ring Poop?

The three women watched as firstie cadets began running the gauntlet to their barracks, hoping to get there without being waylaid by the newly minted plebes. If they failed they’d be surrounded by a gaggle of young cadets, fresh from the grueling weeks of Cadet Basic Training (CBT), who would yell the poop at the top of their lungs and ask to touch the ring for good luck.

"Oh my Gosh, Sir/Ma’am!

What a beautiful ring!

What a crass mass of brass and glass!

What a bold mold of rolled gold!

See how it sparkles and shines!

It must have cost you a fortune!

May I touch it please, Sir/Ma’am?"

The plebes did their best to be true to the old West Point tradition. While they were at it, they’d give a little payback to the firsties for some of the hazing they’d received at their hands during CBT. Each time they succeeded in ambushing an upperclassman, they chanted the traditional poop and pawed the captured firstie’s ring. Tomas’s soccer skills proved invaluable in outmaneuvering them, though. He sprinted, darting this way and that, outsmarting a quartet of plebes who’d made it their business to catch and surround their company leader. He thought he’d succeeded in avoiding Ring Poop entirely until he saw another gaggle of plebes from his company lying in wait at the entrance to their barracks. They got off one round of Ring Poop and touched his ring before he was able to dash up the barracks stairs.

Back in his room, he methodically hung up his India Whites in the required place in the closet, positioning his hat precisely in its appointed spot on the shelf. Then he changed into his civvies and hit the bathroom before running all the way to meet Sunny, his mother, and Jessica at the caravan of buses chartered to ferry the celebrants to New York City. As the bus in front of them filled and pulled away, Tomas and Sunny hugged Barbara and Jessica before queuing up to the next bus. In no time that bus, too, had filled up with firsties and their dates. Barbara and Jessica blew kisses and waved goodbye as the driver closed the door and joined the convoy of buses headed to the Big Apple.

§ § §

THE INSTANT BARBARA AND JESSICA had extricated themselves from the loading area, eager cadets and their dates took their places. The two women took in the scene once more and then turned and walked away.

It was so nice of you to join us today, Jessica. Having you here for the Ring Ceremony made it more festive.

Sunny’s always talking about the elaborate rituals at West Point. This is our senior year, so it’s now or never in terms of taking in at least one of them. I’m glad I came. I thought that point about the West Point ring’s connection to the past––to those who served before––was really poignant. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tomas so happy. It was worth coming just to see that dazzling smile on his face. If I may say so, Mrs. Jorgensen, the orthodontia paid off in a big way.

Barbara laughed. I’ll tell the dentist you think so. In terms of Tommy being happy, he’s wanted to be an Army officer for a long time, and today was a sign he’s closing in on his goal.

I’ve learned a lot from Tomas. I admire his desire to serve. It would probably be good if all of us did some sort of national service. I don’t think the military is for me, but there are so many other ways we could work to better the nation. Anyway, I’m glad someone of Tomas’s caliber is in the Army, particularly given the threat posed by Al-Qaeda, she said, her eyes narrowing. It would be fine with me if he helped to obliterate those fanatics from the face of the earth.

You have lots of company on that point, Barbara agreed, myself included. But I confess, a military career wouldn’t have been my first choice for Tommy. You know moms––we have a thing about keeping our kids safe.

Oh, that’s my mom, for sure. She always says as long as she worries about me, I won’t get hurt.

Barbara laughed. If that’s true, Tommy’s going to sail through his career without ever requiring so much as a Band-Aid. It struck her that Jessica could be quite charming. She reminded her of some of her students at the university, bright and attractive, projecting a self-assurance that never failed to surprise her. I’m heading over to the hotel now. Care to join me for a drink? You are of legal age now, aren’t you?

I absolutely am––as of last month––and what a night that was! I’ve recovered, but I think I’d better head back to campus. My half of our dorm room is still full of boxes of books and garbage bags of clothes. I really have to get my side of our room squared away. Sunny’s, as you would expect, is as neat as a pin. I’d better get to it or she’ll show me up.

I understand completely.

I do appreciate the invitation, though, Mrs. Jorgensen.

Again, it was very nice of you to mark the Ring Ceremony with us.

Jessica gave Barbara a hug. I’m happy I came. I don’t think I’ll forget that Ring Poop anytime soon. I’m glad I got to share it with you. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day––or night, I should say.

Thank you, dear. I’m sure I will. And for your mom’s sake, drive carefully on your way back to campus.

§ § §

BARBARA WAS PLEASED THAT JESSICA had turned down her offer. She now had the rarest of treats––an evening to herself. She’d planned her time well. She would enjoy the luxury of reading the novel that had been beckoning from her nightstand for over a year. As she walked to the Thayer Hotel, she patted the book tucked safely in her purse.

Of all the Thayer’s amenities, the one that was of particular interest at that moment was the rooftop bar and its stunning view of the Hudson River Valley. As soon as she got off the elevator, she made a beeline for the railing. Scanning the landscape, she thought back to the first time she’d sailed along the fjords of Norway. She’d been just about Tommy’s age then, impossibly slim and pretty. More than once she’d been mistaken for a runway model. She’d always thank whoever it was for the compliment and explain she was actually a doctoral student in Norwegian history. Thinking about that time, when everything seemed within her grasp, stirred emotions she hadn’t felt in a long while. It cheered her to know that some fragment of them lived on.

Before heading to the bar to order a martini, she found an armchair overlooking the river and laid down her book to reserve it. She was actually giddy at the thought of being unencumbered by a single childcare or household responsibility. It did occur to her that caring for an eighteen-year-old hardly qualified as childcare. Perhaps another name was warranted, but no matter. That night and for the next thirty-six hours, she was free to do as she pleased.

It tickled her that Tommy was so excited about his ring. She was also pleased that things had gone well with Sunny. The time they spent together on the slope above Trophy Point had been easy and congenial. She gave herself a pat on the back for taking another step toward becoming the kind of mother-in-law Sunny might learn to love.

Thinking back, she felt she’d earned a passing grade for the way she’d handled Sunny’s entrance into their lives. Tommy was only a sophomore in high school at the time, so she could be forgiven for paying scant attention to the little redhead he brought home after school one day. But one day soon turned into two and then three afternoons a week. And after finding them alone in his room with the door shut, she had a heart-to-heart talk with him about keeping his pants zipped lest he alter the course of his life.

Her assumption that Sunny would be a passing fancy had been incorrect; Tommy never tossed her into the storage bin of high-school memories as he had his Game Boy and samba shoes. On the contrary, Sunny soon became the center of his life. His other passions––principally music and soccer––were relegated to some outer ring of affection. And, when he was all of nineteen, without breathing a word of it to anyone, he gave Sunny an engagement ring––the result of having saved nearly every cent of his first year’s cadet stipend. All things considered, Barbara thought she’d demonstrated a modicum of self-control after that bombshell, or at least in comparison to Magnus.

News of Tommy’s engagement prompted one colleague to suggest that Barbara sabotage the relationship. After all, he asked, don’t you think Tomas should have the chance to finish growing up before applying for a marriage license? But Barbara never considered it. The reason was simple: Sunny was kind to Erika. Unlike every other kid Tommy had brought to the house, Sunny was neither afraid of nor disgusted by her special-needs daughter. If anything, she seemed fascinated by her. Even Erika’s meltdowns didn’t scare her off. Instead of retreating, Sunny would ask for ways she might calm her down. It took a while for her to realize it wasn’t possible to engage Erika in play; failing that, she followed Erika’s lead and did whatever she was doing, be it coloring or playing with bubbles. The deal was sealed for Barbara when she realized that Sunny sensed Erika’s wants and needs better than Magnus or even Tommy. Somehow that teenage girl understood her daughter, a child who had yet to utter a single recognizable word. At long last, Barbara had found a compatriot in the battle to break through to her mute and distant child. Much to her surprise, that compatriot was in the person of her son’s girlfriend, really just a child herself.

Though it was hard for her to imagine, Tommy and Sunny would soon be husband and wife. And right after they married, he would leave the safety of West Point and be posted to one of the many places the United States Army had boots on the ground. From what she gleaned from reporters and pundits, one of those places, Afghanistan, was continuing its long history of armed resistance against foreign occupiers. And President George W. Bush was beating the drum about Saddam Hussein and his weapons of mass destruction. What if Bush decided to send US troops into Iraq?

It was a train of thought that roused the demons that’d taken up residence in her head following the 9/11 attacks. Barbara motioned to the waiter and ordered herself another martini; that and a good book comprised her strategy for keeping fear at bay.

CHAPTER TWO: Yin and Yang

TOMAS AND SUNNY COULDN’T BELIEVE their luck in grabbing two seats in the first row of the bus. Seeing only the driver and the road before them made it easier to pretend they were alone instead of in a bus full of cadets and their dates. Tomas turned to Sunny with the smile that had been plastered on his face all afternoon. You know, as I marched to Trophy Point, I kept imagining you up on the slope. Knowing you were there made today perfect.

I wouldn’t have missed Ring Ceremony for all the tea in China, Sunny said, gently rubbing her foot against his leg. Of course, I’m not a huge fan of tea, but you know what I mean. Nothing could’ve kept me away. I have to say, your description of Ring Poop didn’t do it justice. Watching you dodge those plebes was hysterical. So you got pooped just once?

Yup, just once. I lucked out that they said the poop right or I would have had to stand there for God knows how long until they did it to perfection. You know, sometimes they screw it up on purpose.

You caught a break.

I definitely did. Anyway, I’m glad I outran nearly all of them, but I’m even happier you had fun.

I did have fun.

Well, I know you’re not always the biggest fan of the Academy’s rituals, and today featured plenty of those.

I have nothing against a little pomp and circumstance. Today’s was very beautiful, I must say. I especially like the idea of some portion of your ring coming from the rings of former cadets.

That’s a great new tradition, started just last year for the Academy’s bicentennial. You’ll see, Sun. The more you’re immersed in Army life, the more you’ll appreciate all the ceremonies and traditions. They’re the yin to the yang of the mission we’re on. If you’d seen us out in our field exercises just a few weeks ago––hot, sweaty, caked in mud––you wouldn’t have recognized us. We were disgusting. But today was a chance to showcase the spit-and-polish side of military life.

You could never be disgusting to me.

Trust me on this, Sunshine. I was truly disgusting.

Well, you know I always trust you.

I like the sound of that, he said, reaching for her hand.

Never doubt it. Even if I’m not always sure about the Academy, I trust you implicitly.

Tomas’s face fell. You don’t trust the Academy?

"I didn’t phrase that exactly right. What I should have said was I don’t understand it, you know…why it operates as it does…so many rules. I mean, if they want to create good leaders who can take command in difficult situations, why put such an emphasis on following rules and obeying orders? To me it just seems contradictory."

She stopped in her tracks when she saw Tomas’s stony expression. She gave him a quick peck on the check before adding, I know it all works for you, TJ. I’m sorry.

Actually, I’d like to point out that the things you see as contradictory are anything but; they fit together to create a beautiful, dynamic whole, he said, pulling his hand away from hers so he could use it for emphasis. We come here as teenage punks who think we know it all. It’s training that turns us first into soldiers and then into leaders of soldiers. Teaching us to obey orders, to be fastidious about planning everything––from how our bed is made to where we place our hat on the barracks shelf––all that training creates behaviors we’ll rely on when we’re in the field. We’re taught to be disciplined in how we operate out in the world and how we deal with our own thoughts and fears. Soldiers’ lives will depend on how well we internalize that training. Trust me on this, Sunny. None of it’s unreasonable or frivolous. It’s all part of the architecture of creating the next generation of leaders, for the Army and for the country.

She smiled at his enthusiastic defense of his beloved school. Well, we’ve already established that I trust you, TJ. I know how much you’ve learned at the Academy. But I’ve been learning, too. The only difference is I’m studying at one of the most liberal colleges in the country.

I get that, Sunny. But remember, soon you won’t be an outsider to military life. Once we’re married you’ll be in the Army, too. We’ll be in this together, at least for the foreseeable future.

I love that idea, you know, that we’re in this together. You’ve got to admit I’ve come a long way since you started at West Point. I even know what to do when the bugle sounds at five o’clock: drop everything, face the American flag, and put my hand over my heart––not bad for a pampered college student from a left-leaning campus.

He willingly fell for her attempt to make nice. No, not bad at all, he smiled. And pampered is the last word I’d call you. I know you work your butt off at school. Now it was his turn to steal a feel, putting his hand on Sunny’s thigh. You do realize, though, that depending on where I’m posted once I’m commissioned, we may be living on an Army base. That means you’ll need to partake of military life a bit more often than the five o’clock flag salute.

You can’t scare me off. I’m ready for our adventure, even if it begins on an Army base. You’ll have your drills and field exercises, and I’ll get to join the Army Wives Benevolent Society.

Tomas looked puzzled. I’ve never heard of the Army Wives Benevolent Society. How’d you learn about it?

You’ve never heard of the AWBS? Her look of mock surprise gave her away.

Sunny?

Okay, I just made up the AWBS. But I think it would be another good acronym for the Army. Maybe I can suggest it once we’re married.

Her flippant attitude toward the acronyms that abounded in the Army had long been a small bone of contention between them. She felt they cloaked the Army in a veil of inscrutability, while he believed they made life easier, at least once the alphabet soup of terms was mastered.

Okay. You got me on that one, but really Sunny, you’ll have to be on board with all the routines of an Army post once I’m an officer.

Sunny caught some impatience in his voice. Don’t worry, TJ. Once we’re married I’ll study the Army routines and acronyms like I studied for my SATs. I may learn even a few more than you know.

Then I’ll happily be a student at the foot of a master.

You think I’m kidding, but I’m not. Once I sign on to the Army way of life, I’ll be Army all the way. She saluted him to bring home the point.

He felt sure she meant what she said, that once they were married she’d put aside whatever complaints or misgivings she harbored and become an asset to his military career. One of the countless things he loved about her was that once she committed to something, she was in all the way.

I can’t wait until we get to the city, Sunny said dreamily, happy to steer the conversation to a safer topic. It’s so nice of Jessica to let us use her family’s apartment while they’re at the shore.

Just thinking of what he was going to do to her in the Coens’ apartment––and what he hoped she’d do to him––aroused him. It’s going to be great, Sun. When you get back to Vassar, please thank Jessica for me, he said, squeezing her thigh. Tell her I owe her big-time.

Now it was Sunny’s turn to grin like the Cheshire Cat. She knew she probably looked like a lovesick dope, but she didn’t give a damn.

§ § §

ONCE IN THE CITY, THE lovers skipped dinner in order to surrender to another hunger. They made a beeline for the Coens’ home in the Chelsea section of Manhattan, retrieving the key Jessica had left with the doorman. The moment the door to the apartment slammed shut, Tomas gave chase while Sunny laughed and shrieked on her way to Jessica’s bedroom. They stripped off their clothes and made love, first urgently, then more slowly. Both times they felt a sense of mystery, as though a power greater than them was at play. As they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, Sunny’s phone alarm rang, ending their cherished interlude.

Quickly the lovers pulled off the sheets and remade the bed, threw on their clothes and headed downstairs to return the key to the doorman. Catching a cab to 44th Street, they arrived at the theater just moments before the lights dimmed and the first bars of the overture to The Producers rose from the orchestra pit. Sunny and Tomas, hands entwined, sat in the center orchestra among a cluster of cadets and their dates. The show’s mocking portrayal of the Nazis in Act II momentarily took Tomas aback, but nothing could spoil this day for him. When, in the wee hours of the morning, he and Sunny stepped off the bus at West Point, he was certain he was one of the luckiest men alive.

CHAPTER THREE: The Home Front

SUSANNA ADLER WAS TOO PREOCCUPIED to notice the brilliant red sky through the kitchen window that lovely autumnal evening. Dinner’s ready, she called as she brought the salad, bread, and bowls of lentil soup to the table. Daniel put aside the Nero Gazette. He came into the kitchen and gave his wife a kiss on the top of her head before sitting down.

Susanna grabbed the dressing from the fridge and then took her seat across from her husband of twenty-nine years. She ripped a piece of bread in half and dipped it in olive oil. You know, Danny, I’m bound and determined to make it the perfect day, a day they’ll always remember.

I just need one clue as to what we’re discussing, Suz.

Oh, sorry. The wedding. I haven’t been able to think about anything else since I got up this morning. I think I even dreamed about it last night.

Thanks for the clarification. Okay, now continue. You want to make it a day they’ll always remember. See what a good listener I am?

Score one for Danny, she said, licking her finger and recording an imaginary point in the air. But here’s the thing. I just don’t get what Sunny and Tomas are thinking. Getting married just days after they both graduate? Right before he has to report for duty? It’s obvious they have no idea what it takes to make a wedding.

Daniel knew the signs all too well. His wife’s anxieties were rearing up and threatening to carry her off. Though any effort to tame them had little chance of success, that never discouraged him from trying. It was no wonder Susanna deemed him the family’s resident optimist.

No point in getting yourself worked up, Suz. However the wedding turns out, they’ll end up the same way––married. By the way, this soup is delicious.

I’m glad you like it. But how can you be so matter of fact about our only daughter and the only wedding we’ll ever make? she asked as she rapped on the oak table. "Guests will be coming from all over the country, and the Jorgensens may have family coming from Norway. If they’re going to schlep all that way, I want to make it worth their while. They should have a wonderful experience, something they’ll always remember. I want that for every one of our guests."

Of course you do, Daniel said. You always want to make things nice for everyone around you. That’s who you are and that’s part of the reason I love you. Did I also mention that you’re still one helluva babe? He reached under the table and patted her thigh.

Danny, could you please be serious?

I am serious. You’re hotter than the day I met you.

Thank you. I appreciate your appreciation. But could we get back to the wedding?

"Sure, Suz. It’s just that I love you and I hope you’ll remember to be good to yourself as you do your magic for everyone else. Promise me you’ll try to keep your eye on the ball––that being balance."

Fine for you to say. Your involvement will likely consist of going to the menu tasting. With Sunny carrying such a heavy course load this fall, doing her senior thesis, and student teaching in the spring, there’s no way she’s going to have time to devote to the details of planning a wedding. And the truth is, she’s all of twenty. What in the world does she know about weddings?

The more appropriate question might be what in the world does she know about choosing a life partner? Daniel couldn’t help chuckling at the absurdity of the idea.

Well, that ship has sailed. Those kids have been bound and determined to be together since high school. Nothing we or Barbara and Magnus said made a bit of difference. And who knows? Maybe the kids are right. Look at all the solid, mature matches that ended up divorcing: the O’Connells, the Randels, Tim Evans and Jenny Hart, the Hoffmans, Susanna said, rattling off the failed marriages within their circle.

Exactly. That’s why you should give yourself a break. The whole thing is out of our hands, said Daniel.

Well, as you know, I don’t do so well with that out-of-control feeling.

I know, sweetie. Daniel took hold of his wife’s hand. But please, go easy on yourself. You’ve got a full plate with work, the house, and you know, he said, nodding in the direction of the basement door.

Thank you for acknowledging my workload, Susanna said as she served herself and her husband some salad. You know, Danny, maybe it’s a blessing that Sunny is marrying Tomas. Though I certainly have my reservations about them marrying so young and Sunny entering the wandering existence of a military wife, the fact that Tomas isn’t a Jew, that he doesn’t carry that terrible gene that could match up to Sunny’s––I admit I find some comfort in that. Her eyes began to shimmer. They won’t be cursed with bringing a child into the world only to see it suffer and die.

I know, sweetie. It’s crossed my mind, too. He picked up Susanna’s hand and kissed it. They sat quietly holding hands.

Of course the Jorgensens have their share of troubles, too, Susanna finally said. Erika is lost to them, locked up in her own mind. Such a beautiful girl, too, with those blond curls and translucent blue eyes. More’s the pity. Maybe whatever plagues Erika is due to some sort of chromosomal curse, too. But I’ll take my chances on Sunny and Tomas. I just have this sixth sense that things will be all right for them.

May they have a slew of beautiful, healthy babies, Daniel wished aloud.

From your lips to God’s ears.

But maybe they can wait until they’re finished growing up themselves before they tackle parenthood.

Well, Danny, that’s another thing we’ll have nothing to say about. I guess that’s as it should be. Susanna got up to get the Parmesan cheese from the fridge. You know the worst part of this wedding planning?

I don’t, but I bet you’re going to tell me, Daniel said.

You’re such a Brooklyn wise guy!

It’s who I am. And you married me anyway.

Guilty as charged, Susanna sprinkled some cheese on her lentil soup. The worst part is that the kids want to be married two hundred miles away from home. I ask you, what in the world do I know about planning an event at West Point? What knowledge do I have of hotels, limousine companies, or bands in the Hudson Valley? I tell you, I’m flying blind.

Maybe so, but knowing you, before everything is said and done you’ll do the equivalent of a master’s thesis on West Point weddings, Daniel said. You know, of course, that Sunny will love anything you do, even if you don’t drive yourself to drink.

Just because Sunny’s sweet-natured doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve the best. Susanna stopped talking when she heard the footsteps on the basement stairs. She didn’t miss a beat as their son came into the kitchen. I was hoping you’d join us for dinner.

What’s that about the precious princess deserving the best? Justin asked as he went to the fridge and took out a beer. "Now what is the girl who has everything getting?"

We were just talking about the wedding, how it’s going to be a lot of work. I just want to make sure it all comes out well, that’s all, Susanna said, ignoring her son’s sarcasm.

Of course. Nothing but the best for the darling girl, he said as he took the lid off the pot and ladled some lentil soup into the bowl his mother had left for him. With soup in one hand and beer in the other, he joined his parents at the table.

Good day at work, Justin? Any high points in your lessons today? Daniel asked.

The familiar lament began. You just don’t get it, do you? No matter how good my lessons are––and believe me, the kids love them––they get me nowhere.

Still no leads on a permanent job, dear? Susanna asked.

Are you kidding? After Bill Brookins comes off his medical leave next month, I’ll be back on the dreaded daily sub list, getting a 6:00 a.m. call for a job in Nowheresville Central School that’ll pay seventy-five bucks a day. That’s if I’m lucky.

Any pregnant teachers? They’re a sure bet for a long-term sub opening, Susanna asked.

Justin threw a scornful look his mother’s way. Show me a woman tech teacher and I’ll show you my collection of hens’ teeth.

Daniel hesitated a moment as he weighed the costs and benefits of another go-round with his son. Well, he finally said gently, you could broaden your search and apply for other subjects. You’d be terrific at teaching middle-school math and science. And you’re certified in physics. Those are hard-to-staff subjects. I know they’re beating the bushes for people who can teach them.

I don’t know where you’re getting your information. I haven’t noticed any beating of the bushes at the schools I’ve been at, and this is my second year subbing. So much for getting a master’s in teaching, he said, his voice thick with contempt. He tore off a piece of bread before adding, And so much for your career advice.

Daniel had become more or less hardened to his son’s barbs over the years. Lately their sting barely affected him. Try not to get discouraged, Justin. You’ll get your chance. A lot of young teachers have to sub for a long time before they’re offered permanent positions. As I’ve told you before, even back in the age of the dinosaurs, I had to go through a couple of long-term sub positions before landing a permanent appointment.

Yeah, well, I’m not holding my breath, Justin said before chugging half the bottle of beer.

Don’t give up, honey, Susanna said, patting her son’s hand. You’re smart, you’re good at what you do. When the teachers in Dad’s generation start putting in for retirement in a few years, you’ll see; you’ll get a tenure-track job.

Yeah, right. I’m already twenty-eight. By the time you were thirty you had a mortgage on this house, me, and Jeremy on the way. You certainly weren’t living in your parents’ basement and walking neighborhood dogs to come up with the money to pay back your student loans, he said before downing the rest of the beer.

Daniel mustered every ounce of empathy left in his dwindling reserve. I know how frustrating this is for you.

I don’t think you do. How could you? Justin pushed away from the table and headed to the fridge for another beer.

It was a small thing, the way he pushed out his chair, but it drained what was left of Daniel’s patience. Well, as hard as it may be for you to believe, Justin, everything hasn’t been a slam dunk for your mother and me. We’ve had our share of disappointments in work and in life, some might say more than our share. We’ve each had bosses who’ve overlooked our worth. But here’s a newsflash for you: the world wasn’t made for any one of us. We all just have to keep at it. I wish I had more glamorous advice, but that’s the hard truth of it. I have to believe that if you do a good job, remain pleasant and patient, and be a good colleague, people will take notice.

So now it’s my fault I don’t have a permanent job? Justin yelled. I’m not ‘pleasant and patient’ enough to suit you?

Susanna had to will herself to remember the happy, cheerful baby who’d enchanted them despite his unplanned arrival just fourteen months into their marriage. Justin lit up their lives those first few years. She remembered how they marveled over his beautiful red hair, a hidden gene that both she and Daniel unknowingly carried. Looking at him now, she tried to think of that merry little boy rather than the hostile man sitting beside her.

Justin, all Dad is saying is that your hard work will eventually pay off. That’s all. No need to get upset. You’re not alone in finding it hard to get a permanent teaching post. But it will happen. I know it will, Susanna said.

It better. I don’t plan on growing old waiting.

§ § §

THE SHEER LIGHTNESS OF BEING that Barbara Heglund Jorgensen had experienced just weeks before during Ring Weekend was now a distant memory. At the very moment her son was changing for dinner back at West Point, she was locked in a struggle to get her daughter into the shower. Erika had hated the feeling of being naked from the time she was an infant. As a little one, she’d scream bloody murder through every bath until she was dried off and tightly swaddled. Now, nearly six feet tall, she was too big to place in the bathtub and far too large to swaddle. It was only with a series of bribes––peanut M&Ms––that Barbara succeeded. Of course, Barbara had to go into the shower stall as well, all the while keeping her supply of M&Ms within reach so she could wash her daughter’s closely cropped blond curls and do at least a cursory job of cleaning her body.

Magnus pulled into the driveway just as the weekly ordeal was winding down. After dropping his backpack on a kitchen chair, he went in search of something from the basement wine cooler. There was a Shiraz to his liking, one of the bottles his collaborator from MIT had brought when he and Barbara had him to dinner. Magnus took it upstairs. He poured two glasses, plucked out the new issue of Archaeology Today from the pile of mail, and then sat down in the family room with his wine. He was into the second paragraph of an article on Mayan civilization when Barbara came down the stairs. He could tell from her wet hair, the sweatpants, and sweatshirt that she’d completed another round in the shower with their daughter.

How’d it go? he asked in his clipped, Norwegian-accented English.

It went, more or less. Score one for Barbara, zero for body odor. She’s up in her room now on the computer. Thank goodness for that. I don’t know what we’d do if she wasn’t so mesmerized by it.

Magnus searched his wife’s face. Time and worry had left their mark on the beautiful girl he’d fallen hard for when he was in grad school, but she was still lovely. He wondered how she kept it up, day after day, taking care of a child who gave nothing back, who never improved, and who never would. Thank you, Barbara. You know how much I appreciate everything you do, not only for Erika but for all of us. You’re a wonderful wife and mother.

Well, I don’t know about that, she said as she opened the refrigerator to search out the makings of dinner. In my opinion the chance of me winning a mother-of-the-year award is slim to none.

On the contrary, you’re an outstanding mother. How many women could have raised a son like Tomas? A boy who excels at academics, athletics, and music? You should take well-deserved credit for nurturing him.

Maybe so. Still, I think another mother might have figured out some way of creating a better home life for him, one he wouldn’t have felt the need to run from. He ran from us to Sunny––and then to the Army. I think he felt he had to escape all this, she said as she swept her arm across the kitchen. I don’t blame him, really. Sometimes I wish I could escape. But still, it makes me sad.

This was a subject on which they could agree: the melancholy their son’s absence engendered, the gaping void they both felt. Magnus got up and embraced his wife. She allowed herself to fall into his arms and share the longing they had for their boy. As she pulled away, she dried her eyes with the back of her hands. Thank you for that, Magnus. It’s been a long day.

I can only imagine. Any word from Tomas?

Well, just an e-mail about a soccer game. He scored the only goal. His team won, one to zero. He seemed pretty happy about that, Barbara said, thankful to have some good news to report.

That boy is a natural athlete. I hope the United States Army will have the sense to put that physical prowess to good use, Magnus said before returning to his journal article. Oh, I poured you a glass of wine.

Thanks. I could use one. As Barbara sipped the wine, she decided it would be another night of broiled salmon and salad. Oh, did I tell you I heard from Susanna? She wants a list of our guests for the wedding. We’ll have to work on that, if not tonight maybe this weekend.

Did she give you a cap? After all, we have a good number of relatives, and there are a lot of colleagues I would like to invite, Magnus said.

She said fifty to sixty for each side, plus the kids’ friends, for a total of one hundred fifty.

That will set them back a pretty penny, Magnus said, eyebrows raised. Then he turned his attention back to the Mayans.

Well, I was thinking, Barbara said. "We could contribute something. After all,