Free 2013: Beyond Armageddon by Robert Ryan Page A

Leah. We couldn’t have wished for a better wife for Zeke. I guess since you’re technically a wife-to-be, I’d like to take this occasion to semi-officially welcome you to our family. Have you two set a date yet?”
    “No, but I’m thinking we will this weekend. I know he’s ready, and so am I.”
    Still holding up his glass, Hank said, “We love you, kiddo.”
    “Yes,” Rita echoed softly, eyes shining with emotion. Leah heard Valerie sniffle beside her and started to laugh.
    “Jesus Christ,” Hank said. “You people will cry at a good steak.”
    In the year she and Zeke had been dating, Hank had used that line many times, and it was funny every time. Leah loved being part of a family that wasn’t afraid to express their emotions. Such a refreshing change from her own, where everybody always kept everything inside, except for the constant explosions of anger by her parents. She couldn’t remember ever hearing the word “love.” With Zeke she heard it every day.
    Hank went on. “Let’s see if we can get through this without getting thrown out before Zeke even gets here, all right?” He held for the laugh, then proposed another toast.
    “Here’s to Zeke. He’ll be… pushing fifty tomorrow. We thought we’d never get that boy married.”
    Leah smiled and blushed. Rita, sitting to his left by the window, gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. “Hank.”
    “Ouch, woman.” He rubbed the spot with comical exaggeration, then looked at her tenderly. “He turned out to be a pretty good kid, didn’t he, sweetheart?”
    “He was always good.”
    Hank shrugged an apology to Leah for doting on their son. “I know all parents say that, but she’s right. Even when he was real little you could see it. Most little kids scream bloody murder when you try to take their toys, but Zeke would come over and give it to you, like he wanted you to have it. There was always some charity drive going on—you know us Catholics—and Zeke always led the class in selling cookies, raffle tickets, whatever. Then he couldn’t wait to be an altar boy. He almost became a priest, until he discovered girls. Did you know about that, Leah?”
    “What? That he wanted to be a priest, or that he discovered girls?”
    Rita elbowed the side of his bicep.
    “What? I don’t mean to be crude, but if he’s still a virgin at his age—”
    “Dad.”
Valerie’s face was red.
    “He’s right,” Leah said. “Pushing fifty and still a virgin might not exactly be ideal husband material. And yes, Zeke did tell me about the priest thing. He applied to the seminary at Catholic University but changed his mind. The girls thing.”
    Hank held up his glass. “Thank goodness he chose girls, or we wouldn’t have you.”
    Rita’s eyes welled up again. Hank saw it and wiped his hand over his face and looked away. “You people are embarrassing. We’ve barely finished one drink. I’d hate to see how you get when you’re really sloshed.” Warm laughter once more enveloped the table.
    Rita said, “I was just remembering how close we came to losing him. And you. Both at the same time.”
    “I guess Zeke told you about that, too,” Hank said.
    Leah nodded. “He was hit by a car and you were shot down in Vietnam, right?”
    A cloud came over Hank’s face. “December ’72. I was co-pilot on a B-52. The so-called Paris Peace Talks had fallen apart, and we got orders to bomb the bejeezus out of North Vietnam, help them make up their minds. The Christmas Bombings, they became known as. Our plane got shot down. I was lucky. The cease-fire was signed a month later, and we were released in February. Operation Homecoming.”
    “Thank God,” Rita said. “It took a couple weeks before they could tell me you were still alive. The Christmas from hell.” She caressed his arm where she’d hit it before. “For you much more than me. You ended up at the Hanoi Hilton with a broken leg.”
    “The Hanoi Hilton,” Hank said. “Those were some