The Newcomer

“Here and there.” Cooper decided to wait him out. He sipped his coffee, excellent coffee, and just didn’t speak for a couple of the longest minutes of his life. “I didn’t get on with people so much after the war,” Rawley said. “It wasn’t like now—folks didn’t celebrate Vietnam soldiers too much. Made a person want to disappear. That, and bombs going off while you sleep—makes a man just want to be alone.”

PTSD issues, Mac had said. “Understandable,” Cooper said.

“I stopped by to see my dad sometimes. Just for a day or so, every few years or so, but not for long. I had burdens. You know.”

“I know,” Cooper said. And he thought, there are so many of us. Men without strong attachments who just wander. Cooper didn’t have PTSD issues that he was aware of, but he still felt like a loner often enough. And, like Rawley, after leaving the service he hadn’t gone home to his family. He’d kept moving.

“My dad used to fish off Ben’s dock,” Rawley said. “He’d have a shot of Wild Turkey sometimes before heading home. Ben found me. I hung out with a couple of vets around Eureka, not too far from the VA. Sometimes if we needed something, like food or money to eat, the VA was as good a place as any. Used clothes, too. Then Ben said my dad was doing poorly. He hadn’t been fishing in so long, Ben checked on him and my dad couldn’t get himself upstairs to go to bed most nights so he slept in the chair. Ben said my dad needed help. He said he’d give me a part-time job if it could be worked out.”

“So you came home to help your dad,” Cooper said.

“It’s different coming home because you’re needed than coming home because you’re needy,” Rawley said.

Cooper lifted his coffee cup to his lips. “Exactly right,” he agreed.

They drank their coffee in silence for a while.

“So, you have a house here,” Cooper said. “Place to live and a job. I guess that means you’ll be staying.”

“It’s almost habit now,” Rawley said.

“You keep this place real nice, Rawley,” Cooper said. “It must have made your dad real proud to leave it to you.”

“Like I said, it’s just us. Buried my mother some thirty-eight years ago. The Red Cross brought me home from Vietnam. Since I was an only son.”

“And then you went back?”

“Yeah. But that was okay at the time. I knew how to act over there. I wasn’t real sure over here. Times were different. Soldiers weren’t heroes back in those days. It was hard times here.”

“I’m glad you told me this, Rawley,” Cooper said.

“Why?”

“It’s not easy to work side by side with a man you don’t know anything about,” Cooper said. “I realize sometimes a man’s private.”

“I ain’t all that private,” he said. “Sometimes you get to know a person and you’re sorry.”

Cooper laughed. “I guess that’s true, too.” He drained his cup and stood up. “You order a box for your old man yet?”

“Yup,” Rawley said, standing.

“No funeral, huh?”

“A graveside prayer. A prayer for soldiers, that’s all he wanted. He was real specific. He was in the Army, too. But I think he ordered it up more for me. He was that kind of man.”

“Where is the service?” Cooper asked.

“Why?”

“I thought I’d come.”

“Why?”

“You’re my friend.” Cooper remembered the day Rawley handed him the envelope with Ben’s will and a key without a word and then just high-tailed it out of there. “In fact, one of my first friends since I’ve been here, even if you did leave me to deal with that shithole of a befouled bait shop alone.”

And at that, Rawley grinned. He had a good pair of dentures. “Stank up real bad, didn’t she?”

“Real bad,” Cooper agreed. “But that’s rotten septic over the dam. Now, I’d like to take care of that casket for you, Rawley. I think if Ben were alive, he’d want to do that.”

“Charity don’t sit well with me,” he said.

“Sure it does. You took all Ben’s old clothes and stuff to the VA. The washers and dryers, dishes, glassware and flatware went to some church group you knew about. You could’ve kept it and had a garage sale, but you didn’t. I have no doubt you’d give the shirt off your back if someone needed it. Now take the sign out of your truck, tell me what funeral parlor is taking care of the box, what time to be at the cemetery and where. Let’s not argue. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.”

So Rawley told him where to be at 10:00 a.m. on Thursday.

“You have a suit?” Cooper asked.

“I don’t need a suit. My dad might not even recognize me in a suit.”

Cooper laughed. “My brother-in-law is some big-shot executive, but he got fat. My sister sent me a few of his suits. I’ll be here at eight on Thursday morning with one of my hand-me-down suits that I never wear, anyway. If you don’t drown in it, it’s yours. With any luck, you’ll wear it exactly once. Unless you get married or something.”

“Coop,” he said, using a name on him for maybe the first time. “Ben was right about you. You’re a kick in the ass.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Flattery will get you nowhere.”

* * *

Rawley filled out the suit pretty well. There was more to him than met the eye. In his old worn-out jeans and shirts, with his thin hair and drawn face, he looked scrawny, like a skinny old guy, but in fact he was sixty-three, long-legged and had some strong arms on him. Cooper should’ve guessed; Rawley worked pretty hard at the bar, especially buying and delivering large boxes of supplies. And now that he thought about it, there had been no wheelchair lift in their house. Rawley had probably been carrying his father to bed. If he had a run-down look about him it probably had more to do with living an unstable life for forty years or so.

He had shaved, something Rawley didn’t do every day. His hair was slicked back, his nails clipped, his best shoes cleaned and polished. And he was very somber.

“I’ll drive,” Cooper said. “This is a tough day for you.”

“He’s resting now. The last few years were hard on the old man.”

“I’m sure. At least he had his son with him.”

“You ever had a son, Cooper?” Rawley asked.

Cooper shook his head. “No son, no wife. We’re a lot alike, Rawley. Couple of guys just moving where the wind blows us. Drifters.”

“Maybe that’s set to change,” Rawley said.

“Let’s get to the cemetery and say a last goodbye.”

There was no more talking until Cooper had driven them almost to the cemetery gates. Then Rawley said, “He was a real good father when I was a kid. When I was growing up. He was a better father than I was a son.”

After a moment of respectful silence Cooper said, “I think maybe a lot of us feel that way about our dads, Rawley.”

The cemetery appeared to be crowded for a Thursday morning—plenty of cars parked along the winding roadway. And then Cooper saw the Sheriff’s Department SUV and Gina’s old Jeep. And there sat the van from Carrie’s Deli. But Rawley was the one to speak first.

“What the hell,” he said. “What did you do, Coop?”

Cooper shook his head and looked for a place to park. “I didn’t say anything. I only told Sarah and Mac, that’s all. And I only told them so they’d know why I wasn’t going to be around this morning.”

“Well, Jesus,” Rawley said. “Lookit those people. Must be twenty or thirty of ’em. They didn’t know my dad.”

Cooper pulled along the side of the road and killed the engine. “They’re here for you, Rawley.”

“They don’t know me, neither.”

“Sure they do, Rawley. Maybe you don’t chew the fat a lot, but most of those folks see you all the time. You’re one of them. By the way, was there anyone you talked to regularly?”

Rawley shrugged and made to get out of the big truck. “Ben. Just Ben. Till you came around. Am I gonna have to make conversation with all of them now?”

“I don’t think they expect that,” Cooper said with a laugh. “If the spirit moves you, you might thank them for the effort.” They walked toward the casket. “It must be a comfort to know Ben will be holding the door open for your dad.”

The casket was covered with an elaborate spray of white flowers.

“I didn’t buy no flowers,” Rawley said.

Cooper said, “I just took care of that one bouquet at the end there. It’ll sit on the grave site after we’re gone.”

Rawley and Cooper stood on one side of the casket opposite the minister, who could only be identified by the fact that he held a bible. Mac and Gina and the others stood respectfully around the grave and waited for the minister to start the service.

“Shall we begin? Just a few words before we lay our friend William Goode to his final resting place—William was a kind and patient man. It was about a year ago when he told me he was tired, that he was ready to go, that he had no regrets about his life and hoped that when he met his maker it would be a joyful reunion. His wife departed long ago and he had missed her every day but was confident he’d see her again. And I thought to myself—I hope I face my final days with that peace and tranquility. Bill, as he liked to be called, was difficult to understand since his stroke a year ago, but I asked him if he’d made his peace with God and he nodded and said, ‘My staying any longer is a waste of time and medicine. This is enough.’

“He wanted one prayer. He wanted to honor our military and chose the veteran’s prayer. He was very clear—no elaborate fuss—just a prayer to ‘launch him’ as he put it. He said a toast now and again wouldn’t offend him. William Goode is right with God and on his way home. Here’s to you, William Goode.

“And William wanted a poem written by a soldier to be read at his burial. This poem—‘Final Inspection’—was written by Sergeant Joshua Helterbran.

The soldier stood and faced God

Which must always come to pass

He hoped his shoes were shining

Just as brightly as his brass.

Step forward now, you soldier,

How shall I deal with you?

Have you always turned the other cheek?

To My Church have you been true?

The soldier squared his shoulders and said,

No, Lord, I guess I ain’t

Because those of us who carry guns

Can’t always be a saint.

I’ve had to work most Sundays

And at times my talk was tough,

And sometimes I’ve been violent,

Because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny

That wasn’t mine to keep...

Though I worked a lot of overtime

When the bills got just too steep,

And I never passed a cry for help,

Though at times I shook with fear,

And sometimes, God forgive me,

I’ve wept unmanly tears.

I know I don’t deserve a place

Among the people here,

They never wanted me around

Except to calm their fears.

If you’ve a place for me here, Lord,

It needn’t be so grand,

I never expected or had too much,

But if you don’t, I’ll understand.

There was a silence all around the throne

Where the saints had often trod

As the soldier waited quietly,

For the judgment of his God,

Step forward now, you soldier,

You’ve borne your burdens well,

Walk peacefully on Heaven’s streets,

You’ve done your time in Hell.

After a brief prayer, the crowd began to disperse. Carrie James approached Rawley. “My condolences, Rawley. I have a couple of platters and a casserole for you. I could bring them by your house or you could take them now. I have them in the van.”

He lifted his brows. “You know I did all the meals for my dad, right? He was infirm.”

“I know. But you might not feel like it right now. And it’s important you eat.”

Cooper could tell he was speechless. It took a while but finally Rawley said, “I could make coffee.”

Carrie smiled and said, “That would be nice, Rawley. We’ll follow you home.”

* * *

It was a very brief open house at Rawley’s place—the folks had to return to work. But there were twenty of them including Cliff from Cliffhanger’s and his wife, Aunt Lou, Ray Anne, Stu from the diner and his wife, Belinda. Landon got a pass from school to represent Sarah, who had to work. A few of Rawley’s neighbors showed up. Carrie and Gina brought a couple of big trays of cold cuts, cheeses, olives, pickles, sliced tomatoes, lettuce and red onion. Some of Carrie’s small sandwich loaves and condiments were placed on the table. There were seven covered dishes that could be frozen—each one bearing the name of the contributor so the dishes could be returned. “If you just bring them by the diner whenever it’s convenient, Gina will see they get back where they belong,” Carrie suggested.

Rawley showed up at the beach bar first thing the next morning and his whole face looked different. He had not expected this kind of outpouring from folks he felt he knew only in passing. “Ain’t this place something?” he asked Cooper.

Cooper shook his head in wonder. “It really is something,” he agreed. “You okay on your own for a while? Like a few hours?”

“Take a day off if you want,” Rawley said. “I got things covered.”

Five

Another April day had dawned bright and clear. Four days after the funeral, Sarah finally had a day off. Leaving Rawley in charge, Cooper got out the Harley and took it to Highway 101 and drove the five miles to the exit to Thunder Point and to Sarah’s house. When she opened the door, she was just drying her hair, fresh out of the shower. She wore jeans and a T-shirt and her feet were bare—she was barely dressed and that made him smile.

“Well, Mr. Cooper, this is a surprise,” she said. “I don’t usually see you this early unless I walk across the beach with Hamlet.”

“I thought I’d take you into the hills to see the wildflowers—all that rain was good for something. I thought we’d just get out of town. But, seeing you, I’m having some second thoughts....”

“Are you now?” she asked with a laugh.

Cooper stepped inside, slipped his hand around to the back of her neck and pulled her lips onto his. She parted her lips for him, embraced him and he gave the inside of her mouth a healthy taste. “We haven’t made love in a while,” he pointed out to her.

“It’s been a few days,” she admitted. “But I want to see the flowers.”

“You will. You will. But first I want to strip you naked, kiss every inch of your body, turn you on, stir you up, make you scream my name...at least twice.”

“Only twice?” she whispered, breathless already.

“Then I’m going to put you on the back of that Harley and take you to see the flowers on the hillsides. And vibrate all your tender lady parts so you’ll want me again.”

She laughed at him. “Cooper, you are such a sweet talker.”

“Let’s not talk right now,” he said. “Let’s talk after.”

She took his hand to lead him to her bedroom. The bed hadn’t even been made yet. She stood beside the bed and said, “If you’re going to seduce me, you have to undress me.” Then she slid a hand over the crotch of his jeans and said, “Quickly.”

“Maybe we don’t have to be quick today,” he said. “Maybe we can be slow and easy and—”

And she laughed. He loved the sound of her laughter and hadn’t heard enough of it lately. “We’ve tried that,” she said. He lifted the T-shirt over her head and her hands went to the snap on his jeans. “It takes about three minutes for me to start begging and you to start delivering.”

“I have to admit, I do like that part.”

Lately he’d been concerned; Sarah had been quiet. Too many times he’d looked at her and found her staring off at nothing, distracted by some deep thought. Or he might say something and she’d miss it, her mind wandering. He knew something had been bothering her and now he knew it was not the inspection at the Coast Guard station.

And yet, when they were like this, falling into each other, she was entirely his, there was no question about it. You don’t fake this. Her body responded and her thoughts only wandered to him.

She shoved down her jeans, kicked them off, flopped back on the bed and waited for him to dispense with boots, socks, jeans, shirt. And then he just looked at her because, God, she was so beautiful to him. “You’re staring, Cooper,” she said.

He knelt gently beside her, laid down next to her, pulled her into his arms and while one hand cradled her jaw for a deep kiss, the other went roaming, immediately sliding into her most erogenous parts. She moaned and he smiled against her lips. He had been with too many women and yet, had never had a woman like this, a woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her. She wanted him as quickly, as powerfully, as completely as he wanted her.

He spent a few minutes kissing her neck, ear lobes, breasts, nipples, and then he was sliding into her. “Have I thanked you for coming into my life?”

“Over and over,” she said a bit breathlessly. Then she moved his fingers back to that special place, the place that brought it all together.

“I love it like this—skin on skin. When you come...”

“You do,” she finished for him.

“I do,” he said. But he didn’t move. He held her still, savoring the connection. “When I’m in this place, Sarah, I feel like I’m completely yours and you’re completely mine. I love you, Sarah.”

“Cooper, let’s say we love each other after...”

“You in a hurry, sweetheart?”

“I didn’t think I was, but I guess—yes. Do what you do so well.” She opened her legs wider, grabbed him with her legs to pull him deeper. “Ohhh, Cooper....” And he could feel her building to it. He took turns on her mouth, her nipple, moving in and out of her, massaging her, listening to the tempo of her sounds rising, increasing, and these were the sounds he loved. And when that great sound came...Cooper! He held her still and deep, his hands on her head holding her for his kiss. He felt her close around him, pulsing, and he really had no choice. He let it go with a loud hum, a long and low groan, a few moments later followed by many small, loving kisses and murmurs about how amazing she was, how beautiful, how erotic.

“Sarah, what you do to me...” he said. And then slowly, without letting go of her, he rolled onto his side, pulling her near, and just held her.

“So much for slow....” she whispered.

He chuckled and squeezed her. “We get the job done.”

“Yes, we do,” she replied, curling up next to him. “Am I going to see the flowers today?”

“Uh-huh. When I can let go of you. I can’t yet,” he said. “God, what you do to me...”

“You said that already.”

He ran a hand down her body, over a plump breast and down to the apex of her thighs. “I told my parents and sisters I was dating a helicopter pilot and my youngest sister asked me if I was gay.”

“Do you need a letter of affirmation for the family? Because that’s one thing you are not.”

He chuckled. “I just need you to be my girl, that’s all.”

“Does it make you nervous to love a commitment-phobe?”

Was that what was bothering her? Her avowed fear of commitment after a disastrous, brief marriage? “Nope,” he said. “I’m patient. And as long as you love me, I’m happy.”

“You’re not afraid I’m going to get scared any second and run?”

“Nope.”

She propped up on one elbow so she could look into his eyes. “I hope I don’t disappoint you, Cooper.”

“You haven’t yet,” he said. Then he grabbed her, rolled with her and looked down into her eyes. “You’re everything I want, Sarah. When I said I loved you, it wasn’t conditional. And it wasn’t temporary. And it’s not something you have to live up to or down to—it just is. If you think I’m going to quit early, you’re crazy. See, the truth is, I could disappoint you. I might not be enough for you to stick it out. But I’m going to die trying. Now do you want to see those flowers?”

“I thought you wanted me to scream your name at least twice....”

“The day’s not over yet, Sarah.” And then he kissed her as convincingly as he could.

While she showered a second time, Cooper let out the dog and refilled his water bowl.

Women, he thought. They always had some mysterious list of requirements. They were famous for accusing men of not being committed enough or intimate enough but the evidence was in, sometimes there was no such thing as enough. And Cooper had been around the block—he was only capable of feeling his feelings. He wasn’t the best at expressing them, but he had gotten damn good at feeling them since he found Sarah. He felt them down to his toes. He wanted her forever. He’d love it if she wanted him right back, also forever, but the ball was in her court now. She had issues and he had plenty of time. He would concentrate on making her happy. For as long as it took. He was confident he could outlast her.

* * *

The flowers were just getting started in the foothills, but the ride was still fantastic for Sarah. Cooper took her into the foothills south of Thunder Point, getting off Highway 101 at Port Orford and traveling east into the Pacific Coast Ranges. They traveled down a couple of unmarked roads back into the wilderness and it seemed as though every ten minutes they were crossing a river. He drove them up mountain roads, then down again. It was fairly deserted out there, just the occasional house or vehicle, and the air was cool. They passed a sign for Wild Rogue Wilderness and Sarah thought that name suited Cooper perfectly. Along the side of the road the new spring growth bloomed in orange, white, purple and yellow. There were big orange flowers that looked like small sunflowers or large daisies, some that looked like pansies in pastels, little purple puffs and large white blossoms mixed with the green. Spattered among the pine were trees laden with new buds. They drove through a myrtle grove and up along a ridge where they could stop and look down a couple thousand feet to a rushing river that had a few fishermen along the banks.

They found a good spot to stop and Cooper helped her off the Harley. He found a big rock that overlooked the river and sat on it and she came to him, ruffling her hair to get rid of the helmet head. She pushed his knees apart and sat between them and his arms went around her, holding her.

“Lot’s more than just flowers out here,” she said. “This is beautiful.”

“I’ve never been here. It just looked like an interesting road.”

She sighed deeply. “I stay too busy with work, chores and Landon. I haven’t been exploring enough around here. I’m glad we did this today.”

“Well, there was that divorce last year,” he reminded her. “That probably took up some free time.”

“Tell me about it,” she said with a rueful laugh. “The lawyers were very efficient. Most of my time was spent licking my wounds, then looking for a place to settle with Landon. I couldn’t stay in that house and I couldn’t afford it, either.”

“No support?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? I make a little more than Derek, my ex. I have more time in the Coast Guard. And Landon was my responsibility, not his and mine. I never would have accepted support payments, but I would have liked it if Derek had called Landon, acted like there was some loss there, even if it was only a phone call.”

“I want to ask you something about that,” Cooper said. “You know, the divorce and stuff?”

“What stuff?” she said, caressing the arms around her waist.

“That’s over, right? Not just on paper, but in your head?”

She turned slightly to look at him over her shoulder. “Of course it’s over. What are you asking?”

“You’ve been in a real mood lately,” he said, and she turned back, looking down at the river. “Don’t bother denying it, we both know you’re not that great at hiding it. You’re in a real mood, running hot and cold, real distracted. And—”

“Cooper, I’m sorry about that. Just give me a little time, okay?”

“But that’s it—time for what? Is your ex giving you trouble? Pressuring you? Telling you he has regrets? Making you have second thoughts about the divorce? About us?”

“What?” she asked with a laugh, turning again. “Really? Oh, Cooper, I am so over Derek. I thank you for that, by the way. I was not interested in getting involved with a man, but you’re relentless. If there was anything left for Derek, it’s been long gone since the day you first kissed me.”