Gray Kennedy
Washington D.C.
October 1989
For the past eight years, Gray Kennedy had served the United States overseas. At first, he was stationed in Germany, but he had spent the last three years in Kuwait.
He had climbed the ranks in the U.S. Army and was a well-liked and highly decorated soldier. His commanding officers urged him to reenlist—to make a career of the military. But Gray was done. For years he had led the Army's most successful EOD teams. He had been all over the world. He had seen a lot of things he would always remember, and some he wished he could forget.
Gray was a devoted soldier who had scarcely been home during the past eight years. He was more than ready to get back to the states. He missed his parents and siblings, and felt like he hardly even knew his nieces and nephew.
He was in the middle of trying to remember all of their ages when someone handed him a folder. Gray looked up to find Colonel Eric Neilson smiling at him.
"Lieutenant," the man said with a salute.
"Colonel," Gray returned.
They held the official position for a second or two before letting the façade fade. They smiled and gave each other a relieved hug before Colonel Neilson gestured for Gray to have a seat.
The two men had met on Gray's first day of basic training. The colonel had taken Gray under his wing, and in spite of the fact that he remained stationed at home all these years, he and Gray had kept in touch.
"How does it feel not being at Fort Bragg anymore?" Gray asked, looking around Colonel Neilson's office as he sat in a leather armchair.
"Oh, we're all settled in D.C. by now," the colonel said. "We've been here for two years, and it's closer to Coleen's family, so she's happy about that."
Colonel Neilson sat in the chair next to Gray instead of crossing to the other side his desk. Eric Neilson was in his fifties and had made a career of the military. He was normally a stern, no-nonsense individual, but he didn't appear that way at the moment. Over the years, there had been a few soldiers who had a special place in his heart, and Gray was one of them. He smiled warmly and reached out to pat Gray's back as if he was relieved to see him.
Gray returned the smile, sighing as he sat back in the chair. "Thank you for this," Gray said, glancing at the folder.
"You're welcome. I checked on his wife a few years ago when you first called about him," the colonel said. "I called her myself and made sure she understood how to get all the benefits she was eligible for." He shrugged. "The kid was just barely out of basic, so his package wasn’t huge, but the girl was fine. Her family's got money."
Gray nodded. "I remember you telling me that."
Colonel Neilson gestured at the folder. "I guess you're still curious," he said, wanting Gray to explain why he wanted the file but not pressing him to do so.
Gray shook his head absentmindedly. He honestly didn't know why he was going out of his way to follow-up on the girl when had already been assured she was doing well. He stared blankly at the certificates on the wall, seeing only the memory of himself pulling a piece of paper out of Seth Shelby's hand.
"There was a note," he said. "It happened right after I got moved to Kuwait. There was a shooting at the Consulate, and I took a team in to sweep the place for explosives." Gray got lost in thought, remembering the scene while the colonel quietly waited for him to continue. "The kid was already gone when I got there," he said, finally. "I knew he had drug himself over to the desk after the shooting. I could tell just from looking at him that the note in his hand meant something to him—that he wrote it as he was dying. I don't know why I did it. I knew it wasn't protocol. I guess I was just compelled. I went over there, took the piece of paper out of his hand, and read it."
"And it said to take care of his family," Colonel Neilson assumed.
Gray nodded. He still had the note. He hadn't looked at it in a while, but he clearly remembered what it looked like. It was bloodstained, and he remembered the desperate handwriting. Gray's heart sank at the memory of it.
"Take care of my wife and child in Memphis. Jane and a baby."
Gray made a promise to honor that soldier's wish the instant he read the note. He glanced at his dog tags and memorized the name so that he could follow-up. He would take it upon himself to make sure Private Seth Shelby's wife and child were doing okay.
He probably should have been satisfied with the assurance Colonel Neilson gave him—that the girl was doing fine and the Army was doing all they could to help her. But he just couldn't let it go. He didn't feel right about getting settled into his new life until he had seen her for himself. He felt like his promise wouldn't be fully kept until he did that.
"The note said she had a child," Gray said.
"She didn't the first time I checked on her. He must have known she was expecting when he wrote the note. When you asked me to check on her again, she had already had the baby. A little girl. I called her myself to make sure she was still getting her benefits. She seemed fine." He gestured again at the folder. "She goes by Bishop and not Shelby. I have it written down in there. Jane Bishop. She had only been married to him a few months, so I guess she went back to her maiden name."
"Maybe she remarried," Gray said.
"I don't think so," Colonel Neilson said. "She didn't mention that."
"Why would she?"
"Because I asked her if anything had changed other than the birth of the little girl. She would have told me if she got married." Eric Neilson cleared his throat. "Lieutenant Kennedy, I know you're gonna do what you think you have to do, but just so you know, the girl's fine. It's been almost three years. It's probably better for everybody that she doesn't hear about the note now."
Gray scowled. "I'm not going to tell her about the note," he said as if that should be obvious. "I just want to see her with my own eyes—make sure she's doing okay."
"Are you going to tell her you knew her husband?"
"No, because I didn't." Gray shrugged and let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I don't have a plan other than to check on her. I might not even talk to her. I just want to see for myself that she's having a good life so I can check her off my list."
"Speaking of checking things off the list, we better get going. Coleen's gonna be mad at me if I don’t get you back to the house for dinner."
The gentlemen caught up in the car and then again at dinner with Colonel Neilson's wife. They talked for a few hours that night, but never again about Seth Shelby or his widow. In fact, Gray didn't bring Jane Bishop up again until the next day when he was on the phone with his mother.
"I can't believe you've been in this country for a whole week, Gray, and you haven't come home to see your mother!" She spoke in a lighthearted tone with a smile in her voice, but Gray knew his family was anxious to see him. He had been gone too long, and they were all ready to have him back. "Are you going to make it home for Thanksgiving?"
"That's more than a month away, Mom," he said. "I'll be home way before that—in a few days."
"Where are you now?"
"I was at Fort Bragg for a week, but now I'm in D.C. I'm stopping by Memphis for a day or two, and then I'll be home."
"Memphis?"
"Uh-huh."
"Is there a base in Memphis?"
"No. I promised a friend I'd check on his family. He died."
"Awww, honey, I'm so sorry. You don't have to be the one to tell his family about it, do you?"
"No, they already know. It happened a few years ago. I just told the guy I'd check on his family when I got back to the states."
She sighed. "That's so sweet of you, honey."
"I'll be home Friday, though."
"This Friday?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Oh that's wonderful. Maybe we could have a few people over that night like we usually do—a little welcome home thing—just your brothers and a few others. Everybody's so excited to see you."
"That's fine," Gray said. "I think my flight lands around four."
"Well, let us know, and we'll pick you up."
"I bought a truck," he said. "The dealership is delivering it to the airport. It'll be waiting for me."
"Okay, we'll see you at the house if you're sure." She paused with a sigh. Gray could feel her impatience on the other end, and it made him smile. "I don't know why you didn't just have them deliver the truck here and dad and I could pick you up at the airport," she said, wishing she could see him at the first possible second.
"The airport's fine. They'll pick me up right in the front, and I didn't think Dad would want to mess with the Chicago traffic that time of day, anyway."
"He won't. You know how nervous he gets in traffic. You probably did the right thing. I just want to see you as soon as I can."
"I know, me too," Gray said. "It depends on traffic, but I should be home by five or six."
"I'll tell your brothers," she said. "Kevin's all excited to talk to you about the show. John Michael's got work till six, but I'm sure Ginger will bring the kids over before then."
"Okay, that sounds good," he said.
Gray hung up with his mother, thinking about the spread of food that would most assuredly be in the kitchen when he got home—all the finger food he could ever dream of. His family lived in the Midwest, but they were transplants from Georgia and they knew how to cook some good, southern party food. Gray had been to so many of these get-togethers over the years that he could predict the menu down to the melted cheese dip and the meatballs and gravy in the slow cooker.
***
He thought of that meal as he choked down a granola bar while sitting in traffic in Memphis. He had been there for over an hour already. It wasn't normal traffic. There must have been an accident. The interstate was like a parking lot, and Gray knew he would get off at the very first opportunity and make his way through the city.
He finally made it to an exit and pulled over at a gas station, parking in one of the spots near the street while he found his place on a map. He had the widow's address and the address of the hotel where he was staying. He was good with directions, and it only took a glance at the map to figure out that her house was situated between his current location and his hotel.
If traffic hadn't been so bad, Gray would have taken the highway straight to his hotel, but now that he was being forced into the city, he figured he might as well drive by her place.
He quickly found his way to a brown and white craftsman style house. It was situated on a hill with a large yard, and he smiled at the sight of it—thinking if that was where she lived she was probably okay like the colonel had said. There were a few cars in the driveway and a sign in the front yard that said "apartment for rent".
Gray almost kept driving, but curiosity got the best of him once he saw that sign, and he turned into the driveway at the last second.