Free Walking on Water: A Novel by Richard Paul Evans Page B

has its occasional humor,” he said. “This one time after we’d been in the bush for six weeksthey flew us to Long Binh for some R and R. When we landed I was told that we were going to be inspected by a new general, and I wasn’t real happy about that. After fighting in the jungle for more than a month, the last thing I wanted was some starched stateside general casting judgment on us.
    “As he looked us over he focused his attention on this one guy, Private Forkey, who was standing kind of slumped. Forkey was regular military. He’d been in the army for eighteen years and was still a private. He’d been promoted to sergeant twice before, but both times was busted back down for insubordination.” My father grinned at me. “Forkey had trouble with authority. The general shouted, ‘Soldier, stand up straight and show some respect.’ Forkey looked the general in the eye and said, ‘What are you going to do? Send me to Vietnam?’
    “Even though we tried to keep straight faces, we all burst out laughing. Fortunately, it turned out the general was a regular guy after all, and he said, ‘I guess you have a point there.’ ” My father shook his head. “It was a crazy time. I had these two kids in my platoon from South Chicago. We called them the Polaski brothers, which was funny because they weren’t named Polaski and they weren’t brothers. They were both Polish and had come over together. Those boys were fearless. They had belonged to a gang on the tough Chicago streets and were what we called ‘two or ten.’ That means they’d been arrested and the judge gave them an option, two years in Vietnam or ten years in prison.” My father smiled. “Most of their conversations were about how they would get a mortar back to South Chicago. They eventually devised a plan to bring one over piece by piece.”
    “Did they ever do it?” I asked.
    “Probably not,” he said. “You would have heard about it on the news if they did. I think it was just an idea to keep their minds occupied.” His eyes grew serious. “In moments of crisis, you do what you need to do to survive. Mentally and physically. You’d be surprised what the mind is capable of.”
    “You’re a strong man,” I said.
    “So are you,” he replied. He settled back a little in his bed. “So you and Nicole had a talk yesterday.”
    “She told you?”
    He nodded. “Breaks my heart. She’s a sweet girl. You’re sure you’re not in love with her?”
    “It would be convenient.”
    “Love is rarely convenient,” he replied. “You still haven’t called Falene?”
    “No. Not yet.” Before he could ask why, I changed the subject. “How are you feeling?”
    “I’m still here.”
    “That’s a good thing.”
    “That depends on which alternative destination you’re thinking of,” he replied.
    “Want to play some chess?”
    He breathed out slowly. “No. Not today. Maybe I’ll read.”
    “Can I get you something?”
    “I could use one of the newsmagazines. I feel like I’ve lost touch with the world.”
    “I’ll find you one,” I said.
    I went downstairs to the gift shop and purchased copies of both Newsweek and Time . When I returned to my father’s room he was asleep again. I read the magazines while I waited for him to wake, but after an hour he was still snoring.
    I left the magazines next to his bed and went out to the nurses’ station to see if Dr. Witt was in. A nurse told me that he would be in around one. I checked on my father again, then went out and got some lunch, then went to a bookstore and picked up a couple of thriller novels, then went back to the hospital. When I walked into the room my father was sitting up and reading Time . “Thanks for getting these.”
    “You’re welcome,” I said. “Have you heard from Nicole?”
    “She said she’d be here around three.”
    “Maybe I’ll leave before she gets here.”
    “That might be better,” he said.
    It was already a few minutes past two, so I said goodbye