The Reunion

By Robert Callis

Curiosity has caused Carson “Kit” Andrews to drive over twelve hundred miles from his home in Kemmerer, Wyoming, back to Kankakee, Illinois, for his tenth high school reunion—curiosity in the form of finding out what has become of his classmates and friends after ten years in the real world. When he arrives in Kankakee, he encounters his best friend from high school, Mike “Stoney” Stoneman, who has also returned for the reunion, but for a different reason.
In high school, Stoney was a quiet, almost timid, skinny kid who hung out with Kit and several other friends who were not in the mainstream of high school society. One of those friends was a cute girl named Rae Huber. Stoney had a crush on Rae all through high school but never worked up the courage to tell her how he felt. Ten years later, when Stoney is an officer in army intelligence, he realizes she is the one for him, and he has come to seek her out and let her know the truth.
Unfortunately, Rae doesn’t show up. Stoney confesses his feelings for Rae to Kit, and they use the reunion to question everyone they could as to Rae’s whereabouts. When they finally got a clue, Stoney’s leave is almost up. Kit agrees to find Rae for his friend.
With this simple promise, Kit begins a long, complicated journey full of twists and turns in what he thought would be a simple search for an old classmate. A simple task becomes both time-consuming and difficult, with more than a bit of danger tossed in.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: May 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532075513

Robert Callis

ROBERT CALLIS is a native of Galva, Illinois. He graduated from Iowa Wesleyan University in 1965 with a B.A. majoring in History and minoring in English. At Wesleyan he was a member of Signa Tau Delta literary society. He attended the College of Law at the University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois. He is a retired commercial banker. This is his tenth novel and his ninth in a series about Kit Andrews. The other eight in the series are Kemmerer, Hanging Rock, Buckskin Crossing, The Ghosts of Skeleton Canyon, the Night Hawk, Above the Timberline, the Reunion, and Swifty. He has also written an stand alone novel, the Horse Holder, a story set during the siege of Atlanta during the Civil War. He resides in the foothills outside Boulder, Colorado, where he has lived since 1986.

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Copyright © 2019 Robert Callis.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-7550-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-7551-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019942678

iUniverse rev. date: 05/18/2019

Contents

Foreword

Chapter    One

Chapter    Two

Chapter    Three

Chapter    Four

Chapter    Five

Chapter    Six

Chapter    Seven

Chapter    Eight

Chapter    Nine

Chapter    Ten

Chapter    Eleven

Chapter    Twelve

Chapter    Thirteen

Chapter    Fourteen

Chapter    Fifteen

Chapter    Sixteen

Chapter    Seventeen

Chapter    Eighteen

Chapter    Nineteen

Chapter    Twenty

Chapter    Twenty-One

Chapter    Twenty-Two

Chapter    Twenty-Three

Chapter    Twenty-Four

Chapter    Twenty-Five

Chapter    Twenty-Six

Chapter    Twenty-Seven

Chapter    Twenty-Eight

Chapter    Twenty-Nine

Chapter    Thirty

Chapter    Thirty-One

Chapter    Thirty-Two

Chapter    Thirty-Three

Chapter    Thirty-Four

Chapter    Thirty-Five

Chapter    Thirty-Six

Chapter    Thirty-Seven

Chapter    Thirty-Eight

Chapter    Thirty-Nine

Chapter    Forty

Chapter    Forty-One

Chapter    Forty-Two

Chapter    Forty-Three

Acknowledgements

Foreword

This book is dedicated to my four children, Steven Tibaldo, Christine Arndt, Robert Callis, and Michael Callis. While an author’s books last beyond his life, his children are his real testament to his life on earth.

Chapter

ONE

Old time rock and roll music flowed out of the truck’s speakers as Kit sped down Interstate 57 in eastern Illinois. It was August and hot and muggy. Even so, Kit had the windows of his Ford pickup truck down, and his left elbow was resting out of the driver’s side window. He did not enjoy the heat and humidity. He was just reintroducing his body to it after a long absence.

This was the second day of a very long drive from Kemmerer, Wyoming. He had traveled east across Interstate 80 where giant semi-trucks seemed to dominate the highway interspersed with gaps of no traffic at all. Once he entered the state of Illinois, he knew it instantly by the sudden degraded condition of the highway. Illinois was one of the most politically corrupt states in the Union. Lack of tax dollars, due to mostly corruption, was reflected in the state’s attention to its highways. Not only was the road rougher, the traffic was heavier. Kit was pleased to finally head south on Interstate 57 with decreased traffic.

Kit had fled the state to avoid a mob hit placed on him when he became a witness to a murder in Chicago. That was almost five years ago. He had not been back since, nor had he felt any desire to do so. His mother still lived in his home town of Kankakee, and he was not looking forward to seeing her. They had an acrimonious relationship. She and his father had divorced when he was two. When he was growing up, she told him his father was dead. He learned how untrue that was when he accidentally met his father in Wyoming.

In the following years, Kit had established a business in Kemmerer, Wyoming. His firm consisted of his friend and partner Swifty Olson and himself. His father gave him the old Kemmerer bank building which Kit renovated. His firm specialized in locating and finding people and things, which had become lost or were deliberately trying to stay lost or hidden. He had become good at searching and had a growing reputation for professionalism and success.

He felt the hot August sun on his arm as he headed south. He passed the exits to Peotone and then Manteno. As he neared the Kankakee exit, Kit found himself sitting up a little straighter in his seat. Kit readjusted his cowboy hat as though he was about to meet an old acquaintance. He was surprised to feel a tenseness in his body as he spotted the exit sign for Kankakee. Kit had been gone for almost five years. He had not come back to see his mother. He had not come back for some feelings of nostalgia. He had come back for a ten-year high school reunion of Kankakee High School. He had come back to see some old friends and relive some of the good moments in his childhood. He knew there were other reasons, but he was unclear about what exactly they were.

Kit flicked on his turn signal and exited the interstate. As he entered the flow of traffic into Kankakee, he was surprised to see that not a great deal had changed in five years. Kankakee was an old industrial town set in the middle of fields of corn and soybeans. It had been a heavily union town until the major industries had left for cheaper labor in the American South. Then the industries left the South for overseas locations where labor was dirt cheap. Kankakee had become a small city with abandoned factories and buildings now resembling tombstones to its once prosperous past. He stopped to gas up his truck. Then he set his GPS for the address of the motel where he had made reservations. It was a short drive. As he had suspected, the better motels were located close to the Interstate.

He pulled into the motel parking lot. After checking in, he took his bags up to his room and set his suitcase on a folding stand. The room was sizable and clean. He was satisfied. He didn’t expect to spend much time there. All he needed was a decent bed and a clean bathroom. He washed his face and hands and checked his watch. It was almost five in the afternoon. He shrugged his shoulders, put on his hat, and steeled himself for what he hoped was a very short visit with his mother.

He started the truck and reached for the GPS. Then he withdrew his hand. He didn’t need a GPS to find his old home. He drove to the Kankakee River and followed it to the edge of town. The old house was on a blacktop road just outside of Kankakee. It was technically not in the city but used a Kankakee address. He pulled into the driveway of the brick ranch house and was pleased to see the large oak trees were still there and he parked in their shade.

As he walked to the front door, he became increasingly nervous as each step brought him closer to a confrontation he was not looking forward to. He rang the doorbell and stood there, like a small boy awaiting punishment he knew was coming but did not understand why.

His mother opened the door and they politely hugged. He followed her into the interior of the house. The drapes were drawn, and the inside of the house was dark and cool. Kit’s mother sat down, and he took a chair on the other side of the living room. Kit had written his mother he was coming, so she was expecting him. She looked much older than he remembered her. She had gained weight, and it was not flattering. Kit’s mother had smoked for much of her life and the effects of twenty years of nicotine were evident in her breathing.

They talked about the city, the weather, her health, and his trip from Wyoming. As the conversation slowed, Kit knew what was coming next and he braced for it.

I understand you have become reacquainted with your father, she said.

Yes, I have, replied Kit slowly.

I don’t understand why, she said. He abandoned us and left me to raise you with no help of any kind.

Kit paused. He could answer her with all the facts he had learned about his father. He could confront her with the fact she told him his father was dead and he did not learn the truth until he went to Wyoming. He could keep silent. He finally chose to pick his way carefully through a minefield of emotions and keep the conversation as civil as possible.

Mom, I understand all that, but he’s still my father, said Kit. Then he forced his mouth closed and kept it closed.

His mother went into a ten-minute rant about how his father had abandoned them and left her penniless. Kit waited until she ran out of breath and began to breath heavily.

Kit got to his feet. I’m sorry, Mom, but I have to go. I have an appointment with Mike Stoneman. You remember him. He’s on a limited leave from the Army, and I promised him I’d meet him for dinner tonight.

This was only partially true, but it was a good excuse to leave and get away from his mother.

Kit’s mother started to speak, but the look in his eyes and his facial expression told her this could either end well or in disaster. She chose well and thanked him for coming. He exited the house as fast as politely possible and soon was in his truck headed back to Kankakee.

Kit drove too fast at first and then forced himself to slow down both the truck and his emotions. He was angry. His mother had ignored the fact she had lied to him about his father being dead since he was little and did not answer his question about it. He sighed. Nothing had changed. His mother was an angry and bitter woman. Nothing was ever her fault. It was always someone else who was responsible for whatever had gone wrong in her life. Kit pulled over to a shady spot by the side of the road and parked. He closed his eyes and focused on slowing his breathing. After almost five minutes, he opened his eyes and realized his breathing was now normal. He looked in the rear-view mirror at himself. His face was still flushed, but it was receding. He had dreaded his visit with his mother, but he had succeeded in keeping the damage and emotional turmoil to a minimum. He checked his mirrors for traffic and then pulled back on the road.

Twenty minutes later, he was parking his truck in the motel lot. He exited the truck, locked it, and headed into the motel. As he was walking down the hall to his room, he passed an older couple who were visibly arguing. Is everyone in Kankakee pissed off? he thought.

He put the pass card in the security lock on his room door and pushed the door open when the light turned green. One step into his room, and he froze. He could sense something was not right. He could feel something, but he could not see anything. He stopped, stood still, and listened and sniffed the air.

Then Kit relaxed and smiled. Come on out, you skinny asshole, said Kit. You must have bought a railroad car of that smelly cheap cologne you used to wear in high school.

The bathroom door burst open and out stepped Kit’s best friend from high school. Mike Stoneman, or Stoney, as Kit had known him then looked quite a bit different after ten years. Stony was six foot four and weighed about two hundred and thirty pounds. He was wearing a white golf shirt and worn blue jeans that did little to hide the chiseled and heavily muscled body under them. His brown hair was cropped short in military fashion, and his skin was heavily tanned. The two old friends came together in a strong muscular hug, and their rough affection for each other would have been evident to a blind man.

Kit held Stoney at arm’s length. Who the hell are you, and what have you done with my skinny and undernourished buddy from high school? Kit said.

I grew up, said Stoney. Looks like you did too. I heard you had become a cowboy, or is that hat just for show?

A little of both, said a grinning Kit. Boy am I glad to see you. I was worried you might not make it, and you were the main reason I came back.

Enough of this emotional bullshit, said Stoney. Let’s go to Jaenicke’s and get something decent to eat.

Lead the way, replied Kit. Both men exited the room and headed for the motel parking lot. What are you driving? asked Kit.

The red Mustang GT to the left, replied Stoney.

You got the hotter ride, so you drive, said a grinning Kit.

Both men slid into the Mustang, and Stoney lowered the top. As soon as the top was secured, Stoney roared out of the parking lot, his tires squealing on the hot asphalt.

Fifteen minutes later, they were parked outside Jaenicke’s Root Beer Stand. The place had been a local landmark throughout their youth and for many years before that. They ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and large ice-cold root beers. When their order came, Stoney started the Mustang’s engine and they pulled out of Jaenicke’s parking lot. Stoney drove a short distance to a private spot right next to the Kankakee River. When Kit was a boy, he thought this spot was one of the coolest places in the world. Now he knew better.

So, what have you been doing for the past ten years? asked Kit between bites of cheeseburger.

Stoney waited until he finished his mouthful of burger and then responded. As you may recall, I didn’t have a plugged nickel to my name when we graduated. I went to the University of Illinois on an ROTC scholarship. It paid the bills, and I went to school and attended army schools in the summer. When I graduated, they made me a second lieutenant and I found myself in Army Intelligence. I went to special schools and got sent to all sorts of exotic places, he said.

Like where? asked Kit.

Oh, exotic places like shitholes in Africa, South America, Burma, Saudi Arabia, South Korea, and the highlight was a tour in Bosnia, replied Stoney.

What the hell did you do in those god forsaken places? asked Kit.

Nothing that I can tell you or anyone else without a top security clearance, replied Stoney.

So, was any of this dangerous, or did you spend your tours there in some hotel room? asked Kit.

Stoney looked at Kit and laughed out loud. When he recovered, he said, Let’s just say it was closer to a knife fight in Chicago on a hot July weekend than a weekend at a luxury hotel.

Sounds a little dangerous, said Kit.

It was dangerous, some of the time, replied Stoney. Most of the time it was boring as hell.

So, it’s safe to say you got shot at, said Kit.

It would be safe to say that, replied Stoney.

Lucky for you they were lousy shots, said Kit.

Not all of them were lousy, said Stoney. Some of them were terrible.

Kit laughed.

But, one of them was pretty good, said Stoney. He lifted his t-shirt and displayed some damaged and puckered skin on the right side of his chest.

Kit recognized it for what it was, a bullet wound.

Ouch, said Kit. What happened?

Sniper in Bosnia, replied Stoney. I was in a small convoy in the lead Hummer, and we got ambushed. The gunner in the Bradley behind me saw the flash of his muzzle and sprayed the area with his machine gun.

And? asked Kit.

There was no and. A fifty-caliber bullet from a Ma Deuce is a bitch. One burst from the fifty, and it got quiet as hell, replied Stoney. I yelled out I was hit, and the medic ran forward from two vehicles back and patched me up. A medivac chopper showed up fifteen minutes later and flew me to our med center. The wound was through and through and did not hit anything vital, said Stoney.

Any after effects? asked Kit.

I got R&R, a little tin, and a promotion to captain, replied Stoney. Hell of a note. You bust your butt and do a good job, and nothing happens. You’re stupid enough to get shot, and you get promoted. That’s the army for you.

What’s a little tin? asked Kit.

A Purple Heart, replied Stoney.

You always were clumsy, said Kit with a big grin.

Clumsy your ass, said Stoney, as he punched Kit in the shoulder.

Ouch! yelped Kit.

That’ll teach you to criticize your betters, said a laughing Stoney.

That’ll be the day, responded Kit.

Both men broke out laughing. When they stopped laughing, Stoney asked a question.

Why did you come back to this piece of backwater Illinois for a two-bit reunion?

Kit paused, as he thought about Stoney’s question. Then he grinned and spoke.

I guess I wanted to see what had happened to folks I knew as a kid. Did they turn out like I thought, or was I going to be surprised by what they had become.

So, did I turn out like you thought? asked Stoney.

Nope, replied Kit. I thought you’d be selling used cars to suckers on the north side of Kankakee. How about you?

I thought you’d be herding sheep for a living, said Stoney with a grin.

So, we didn’t turn out too badly for a couple of dweebs from high school, did we? said Kit.

Nope. We sure as hell didn’t, replied Stoney.

Both men were silent for a few minutes, as they watched the waters of the Kankakee River flow past them.

So, why did you really come back? asked Stoney.

Kit thought for a moment, and then said, I was curious. I wanted to see how things had turned out for people I knew. Mostly I wanted to see friends like you I really cared about and see what they are like now. I guess I wanted to see them and share what had happened to all of us. How about you?

Stoney answered without hesitation. Do you remember Rae Huber?

Of course, I do. She was a dweeb like us. We hung out together from about eighth grade until we were seniors, answered Kit. She was pretty good lookin’ back then. I wonder what happened to her?

I have no idea what happened to her, but I intend to find out, said Stoney.

Why the interest in Rae ten years after we graduated? asked Kit.

I fell in love with Rae during our sophomore year, said Stoney. She was good looking, but more important to me, she was genuinely a nice person. I could not get her out of my mind back then. I was so shy and such a nerd I never had the nerve to say anything to her during high school.

Kit was stunned by Stoney’s confession about Rae. He could see the intensity of Stoney’s feelings about Rae clearly in his eyes and the expression on his face. Stoney’s jaw was set. Something he did back in high school when he was kidded or pressed about something he cared about.

You were in love with Rae? exclaimed Kit.

Yes, I was. I was too shy to even say much to her, let alone ask her out, replied Stoney.

You were pretty shy around girls, but you never gave me a hint you were interested in her, said Kit.

I was afraid to let anyone even you, my best friend, know how I felt about her. I was pretty sure everyone thought she was out of my league. I was also afraid of what she might say if I did ask her out, said Stoney.

So, you were so afraid of rejection, you never gave her a chance to say yes or no? asked Kit. I can’t believe you never told me about how you felt about Rae.

That pretty much sums it up, said Stoney. I couldn’t bring myself to say a word to the girl I had fallen in love with and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna admit it to the likes of you. You would have ribbed me for years if I told you about her.

You know I would have, said Kit. So, you’re sure about this love thing? Love is a real tricky beast in my experience.

When you get shot and think you might die, the really important things in your life float to the top, said Stoney. I knew it then, and I know it now.

Have you connected with her since we graduated? asked Kit.

Nope, I haven’t, said Stoney. I finally figured out what a fool I was after I got wounded in Bosnia. I tried to find her when I got out of the hospital in Bosnia, but she seems to have disappeared.

Disappeared? asked Kit.

I used all the methods available, short of using my army intelligence connections, and she seemed to vanish into thin air right after we graduated, replied Stoney.

Why not use your army connections? asked Kit.

Because it’s illegal, and I am an officer and gentleman by act of Congress, replied Stoney with a wooden grin.

So, you searched and found nothing? asked Kit.

What I learned was she left Kankakee about a week after graduation, said Stoney. She and her mother lived in an apartment in south Kankakee. About a year after we graduated, her mother moved away and left no forwarding address. Both just disappeared. I did internet searches and was able to find her mother in Kansas, but according to records, she died about two years ago.

And Rae? asked Kit.

Vanished, replied Stoney. In this digital age, she just disappeared.

How is that possible? asked Kit.

In army intelligence, I learned you can disappear. You need to know how to do it, and it’s not easy. I think something happened to her, and she changed her name and went underground, said Stoney.

I didn’t think that was possible today, said Kit.

It is possible, said Stoney. One way is to find a child who died at birth or at the very early age of one or two, who was born the same year you were. Then apply for a social security number using their name and birthday and location. You can build an entire life history from that point.

I never thought of that, said Kit.

Or she could have just changed her name in some small county in the south where records are not digitized, or gotten married in a similar place, said Stoney.

OK, I get it, said Kit. I understand why you are here. You’re trying to connect with her here at the reunion.

Correct, answered Stoney.

What happens if the hot girl we knew in high school is now two hundred plus pounds and has ten kids? said Kit with a smile.

I’ll take my chances on that, said Stoney without smiling.

What happens if she doesn’t show up at the reunion? asked Kit.

My hope is she does show, replied Stoney. If she doesn’t, I’ll try to corner all her old friends and see if any of them have heard from her and learn what I can about where she might be.

That sounds pretty smart and logical, even for a dweeb like you, said Kit.

That’s Captain Dweeb to you, cowboy, snapped back Stoney.

Both men laughed.

If she doesn’t show, how about I help you with chatting up her old friends to see if they know anything about her whereabouts, said Kit. Two of us can talk to more people than just one.

I’d appreciate your help, Kit, replied Stoney. If she doesn’t show, I’ll need all the help I can get.

I’m pretty good at questioning people and finding folks, said Kit. It’s what I do for a living now, but I usually get paid for it.

How about I buy you a beer tonight? offered Stoney.

It’s better compensation than I’ve gotten for some of my work, replied Kit. It’s a deal.

The two men picked up their trash and tossed it in a nearby trash can. Stoney started the Mustang and they headed back to Kit’s motel. When they arrived, Kit asked Stoney, Where are you staying?

Right here, replied a grinning Stoney.

Chapter

TWO

After Kit had showered and cleaned up, he put on a clean pair of almost new jeans, a red cowboy shirt with pearl snaps and a wide leather belt with a western belt buckle. Then he pulled on his best pair of cowboy boots. Finally, he added a pearl grey Silver Beaver Stetson cowboy hat. He looked at himself in the mirror, grinned, and headed for the door. Then he stopped, turned around and went back to his suitcase. From a side pocket, he pulled out his Spyderco one-handed folding knife and used the clip to attach it to his right jean pocket. Satisfied, he left his room and knocked on the door to Stoney’s room.

Five minutes later, they were on their way to the Sand Bar, a tavern located on the banks of the Kankakee River. Stoney parked the Mustang and