Chapter Twenty-Six

"Colonel?" Sgt. Tyrone Jones asked. He stepped inside Oliver Talbot's office, his hat crushed in his hands.

"Yes, Sergeant?" Lt. Col. Talbot responded, glancing upward.

"T-T's gonna make it, Colonel," the Sergeant stated, grinning from ear to ear. "He's out of danger."

Tyrone Jones clasped his smartphone in his massive fist. It contained a message from his wife announcing his son's impending recovery. As though it held his child's life, he clung to it and cherished it. Tears of joy sparkled in his dark brown eyes.

"I'm glad to hear it, Jones." Oliver jumped up and grasped Tyrone's other hand. As he did, he felt all the anxiety slip away from his comrade-in-arms.

Delighted over the glad tidings, Ollie wished for some of his own. The news of his wife's demise on top of Ivan's left him feeling low. Knowing Tyrone Jr would survive brightened his dismal aspect.

"You cannot believe how relieved I am," Jones babbled gleefully. In his joy, he completely missed his superior's red-rimmed eyes.

However, Major Alberto Gonzales noticed when he entered the Colonel's space. Swiftly, he ushered Sgt. Tyrone Jones to the door and then shut it.

"Bad news?" Gonzales questioned, pressing his back against the door.

For a moment, Oliver studied the Major. Then, he sank into his chair. Propping his chin in his clenched fists, he nodded.

Silently, the two men faced each other. Gonzales held his tongue. Biding his time, he waited for Ollie's answer. Time ticked away.

"My wife," Lt. Col. Talbot finally stated. "In Jamaica. General Amberley also. His wife." His words came out clipped.

Major Alberto Gonzales sorrowfully swiped off his hat and gripped it against his chest. Sinking into a chair, he bowed his head in silent prayer. Automatically, his rosary slipped into his sweat-soaked palm. Well-respected in Army circles, General Amberley served his country with pride. Both officers and enlisted men spoke his name with reverence. To lose such a man due to plague seemed an utter shame. Gonzales recalled working under him several years previously. Many would wish to send their condolences to the remaining Amberley family members.

"I'm deeply sorry, sir, for your loss," Alberto murmured, his eyes brimming with tears. Silently, his lips moved as he counted his rosary beads.

The Lieutenant Colonel silently watched the Major. Although they attended church services, the Talbots were not overly religious. Following his marriage, Oliver rarely considered his faith. He might have taken it seriously at one time. However, Liz's demeaning attitude toward his desires took the wind from his sails. Most of his aspirations meant little to her. Therefore, if she did not wish to participate, no one else should either.

Now that he was free of her, Oliver felt relieved. Suddenly, his emotions turned from gloomy to bittersweet. Their marriage might have succeeded if they treated each other with higher esteem. In a way, he wished it had worked out. However, both of them had a stubborn streak.

'No,' Ollie suddenly thought, 'it would not have succeeded.'

Oliver faced the truth. Shamefully, he abandoned Nicola to marry Liz. Throughout the marriage, he compared the two women. Elizabeth always came out on the short end. She was not Nic. The other woman was the only one who counted.

All Liz's shortcomings were because of Nicola.

Behind Ollie's closed eyes, he pictured the perfect woman. Petite, blue-eyed with brown wavy hair, Nicola perched atop his pedestal. Another woman could not compare to her beauty, charm, and wit. Vivacious Elizabeth Talbot fell pathetically short.

Because of Nicola, Oliver allowed Liz to play on his nerves. Her flighty attitude, insipid girlfriends, and sharp tongue all cut him down. A small smile curved his lips, then it widened.

Angrily, Lt. Col. Talbot shoved his thoughts aside. After a minute, they tried to creep back in. He felt ashamed of himself. If he allowed them to continue, his sadness would turn to joy. He chided himself for thinking only of Nicola. Facing of his wife's death, he should show more respect for Liz. However, despite his efforts, he realized his newfound joy.

******

"Stars and Stripes Forever" jangled on Lt. Col. Talbot's smartphone. At the sound of the Sousa tune, Oliver snatched it up.

"Hello?" Ollie stated, holding his tone to a low level.

"Dad? Can I talk to you?" Hank's quivering voice traveled across the miles.

"Sure, of course, son," the father responded.

Across from him, Major Gonzales stood. Oliver waved him from the room. Hastily, Alberto retreated. He comprehended his commanding officer's need for father-and-son time.

"When are you coming home, dad?" Hank asked. Far away in Naples, Florida, the boy perched on the edge of the bed. Moo-ma allowed him the use of her phone to make the call.

"As soon as I can," Oliver responded, smiling.

"Mom's dead." Hank Talbot dissolved into tears. Distressed, he sank onto his bed and curled into a fetal position. The phone lay next to him.

Over the distance, Oliver's heart broke. The desire to comfort his son tore at his emotions. Suddenly, he wished he were stateside. He longed for a stable lifestyle, maybe even a simple nine-to-five job. Arriving home after a long day to a loving family appealed to him. The Army took him away too frequently. Perhaps, he decided, he should think of retirement.

Retirement suddenly appealed to him. When Oliver returned to the states, he would discuss it with Nicola.

Nicola...Ollie's thoughts came back to her again. His reflections always came back to Nic. Then, his mind flew back to his grieving child.

"Hank," the father called out to his son. "Hank!" His voice grew assertive.

The child remained sprawled across the bed. From a far distance, he heard his father's voice. He longed to speak but couldn't. Tears choked him.

"Oliver?" Beatrice Talbot's voice responded to his calls.

"Is Hank okay?" Ollie snapped, concern filling his voice.

"He's overwrought, Oliver," his mother calmly explained. Gently, she sat beside her grandson and rubbed his back. "He asked to speak to you. I thought it would help."

"Please assure him I will come home soon," Lt. Col. Talbot responded. "Tell him I'm making plans. Once I get back, the current situation will change."

"I'm sorry about Liz, Ollie," Bea stated, dry-eyed. Although sorrow overwhelmed her, she could not cry for her dead daughter-in-law.

"Yeah, mom, me too," Oliver answered, swiping at fresh tears.

An elongated pause stretched between mother and son. So many words left unspoken, Oliver thought. The lengthy past sprawled behind them. The distance separating them did not permit hugs of reassurance. A single touch or a small quavering smile might have improved the circumstances. Ollie considered switching to a video call. However, he suddenly could not face it.

Like a child, Lt. Col. Talbot unexpectedly longed for his mother. He recalled the scent of her soft, sweet perfume, the cotton of her everyday dress. Memories of her tender smile panged at his heartstrings.

In his mind's eye, he saw his six-year-old self running to his mommy with a scraped knee. Sitting on the kitchen table, he watched her bandage it and kiss it better. Ivan appeared wearing a nurse's uniform. The white nurse's cap sat jauntily askew on his tousled hair. Dramatically, his brother bent to apply a kiss of his own. Oliver yanked his knee away, then kicked Ivan squarely in his skirted nuts.

If only he could replay his childhood with Ivan, Ollie thought. He would have approached the situation differently. He would have loved his brother instead of despising him.

"Mom, I..." Oliver wanted to say 'Ivan,' but his lips would not form the name. "I...I..."

"Yes, Ollie," his mother prompted.

"I...I want to speak to you about...I..." Lt. Col. Talbot knew he could not continue. "I'll come home soon, mom. When I do, I have many things to speak about with you. However, it can wait for now. But, soon, mom."

"It's all right, Ollie," Bea blithely reassured. "You'll find us right here when you are ready."

"Thanks, mom," Oliver sighed.

His mother blew kisses over the line and then said a hasty goodbye.