The Longest War
 

Author's Note: dedicated to Maureen K.

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Setting: Dennis Frye Airport, Erie, Pennsylvania, Late Summer, 1984; POV/John O’Keefe

“Let me down, Joey! Let me down now!”

“Put the baby down, Joey. But you’d better stay right by your brothers, Danny boy, or you’ll find yourself having trouble sitting down on the ride home,” Matt warned. Danny nodded, not a trace of triumph in the look he gave Joey as there would have been if it had been our father who’d given that warning. For good reason – when Matt gave Danny a warning, he meant it. For some reason, Danny was the only one whose bottom never felt the sting of our father’s hand, much less his belt. When Danny misbehaved, which happened on an average of once an hour, Dad was sparing the rod and spoiling the child.

I shook off the annoyance that Danny’s special treatment always triggered and searched the air for a glimpse of an approaching military plane. Instead, as we stood waiting on the tarmac – Matt was friends with the guy in charge – all that could be seen was a little Cessna, what Matt’s friend Dean called a “puddle-jumper,” doing lazy loops in the air. Suddenly, it went into a dive; I swore it was going to crash, but at the last second, it leveled out for a picture perfect landing. Matt whistled while Jamie and Joey whooped and waved.

“That pilot flies like you drive, Jack,” Mark teased.

“Not a safe way to fly at a public airport,” Dean griped. He then added, unable to keep the admiration out of his voice, “Hell of a pilot though.”

I don’t think any of us were surprised after that to see Luke jump out of the plane and head toward us. Of course our brother would be an amazing – and wild – pilot. What was surprising was the man walking by his side. It was another soldier, which wasn’t a big deal. Luke made friends easily and it was very like him to bring a buddy with him on his first real leave home. But to a man, we all just sort of stared, dumbfounded, as the two of them made their way across the tarmac to us. Luke had his left arm in a sling, so the other man must have been doing the flying. That was surprising, but still not the biggest shock.

It was Matt’s friend Dean who said it out loud first. “How fucking tall are those brothers of yours, Matt? And I thought you had only one in the Green Beret?” Luke was 6'9" but his friend, who bore a passing resemblance to the rest of us, who look enough alike to seem like clones of each other, was almost as tall. He has to be 6'7" or so, with high cheek bones and an aquiline nose that resembled Luke’s...and mine, for that matter. Though my nose wasn’t quite as large.

“Luke!” Danny managed to escape from Joey’s hold on his hand, and before anyone could stop him, was flying over the ground faster than any child his age should have been able to move. It shouldn’t have been more than ordinarily aggravating, but I could see what Danny hadn’t noticed, focused as he was on Luke -- a large luggage carrier was moving toward the runway. The driver seemed to be talking to someone on a walkie talkie and wasn’t paying any attention at all to an area of runway which, after all, wasn’t supposed to have a small child on it.

I was the family’s fastest runner so I took off without a second thought. I could hear Mark right behind me and the sound of Matt yelling as he held Joey and Jamie back. Wise decision – we didn’t need any other O’Keefes trying to be road kill. I felt a fear like I’d never felt before in my life when my mind told me I wasn’t going to reach my foolish, spoiled, bratty, loved little brother before the damn truck did. Even as my mind told me it was hopeless my legs somehow managed to move a little faster. Focused on Danny, I hadn’t looked back toward Luke and his companion, who’d been twice the distance away that I had been.

Yet, somehow, there was Luke, reaching Danny first, swinging him up onto his shoulder with his good arm, using his long legs to remove him from the path of danger, I took the time to glance around for his friend and was in time to see the guy toss the inattentive driver to the ground before jumping into his seat to bring the vehicle to a stop. I stopped to catch my breath.

“I’m thinkin’ that will surely hurt tomorrow,” Mark said, catching up to me. He too was breathing hard, though he wasn’t as winded as I was. Time to cut back on the cigarettes.

“Good,” Luke said, pressing Danny close as he jogged over to us. He turned and yelled over to the man in the truck. “Thanks, Red! Just leave it there now and come meet my brothers.” He turned back to me, grinning. “You need to improve your conditioning if you’re gonna be heading to Penn State in a couple weeks, Jackie. Can’t be letting a six year old get the drop on you.”

He just laughed at the sour look on my face and passed Danny over to Mark in order to give me one of his bear hugs. Same old Luke, even one-armed, he was able to squeeze the breath out of me. Not that I had much left to squeeze out.

Dean was yelling at his driver, Matt was yelling at Danny. Danny, who had caused all the commotion was hiding his face in Mark’s neck, and peeking out in that way of his that soon had all three of my older brothers laughing at his antics and all three of my three younger ones egging him on to even more reckless behavior. A deep voice spoke behind me.

“That’s one ass that needs a whuppin’, ain’t it? But I’m betting it never gets it, huh?”

“That’s one bet you’d win,” I said, a reluctant grin tugging at my lips as I turned around. I looked up at Luke’s friend. I held out my hand.

“Hi, I’m John O’Keefe.” I was pretty tall for my age, but standing right next to this guy, I could confirm that not only was he almost Luke’s height, but his big body was thick with muscles, unlike Luke and me, who were more the long, lean type. He looked at my hand and then into my eyes for a long moment. He took so long to take my outstretched hand that I was afraid he wasn’t going to shake it, like I’d been examined and found wanting, but before I could pull my hand back, he grinned and clasped it. Hard.

“I’m Red.”

He jerked his head at Luke, who was being swarmed by the younger ones.

“Hey Cuch, you gonna introduce me to your family or can I just have this polite brother of yours take me to that family bar of yours now and we’ll meet up later – after you tie down that devil pup of yours?”

Luke laughed. “John is definitely the most house-broken of the lot of us, Red, but any one of them could get you to the pub, or any pub, for that matter, blindfolded.....”

“Half-drunk,” Matt added, a big grin on his face. The rest of them had to try topping him, of course.

“On two hours sleep.....”

“In a strange town....”

“Hell, in a strange country....”

“But I’d get you there fastest...on foot,” Danny bragged, winning the biggest laugh. He was back in Luke’s arms, bouncing in his excitement.

“Your bouncin’ is hurtin’ your brother’s arm, pup, so let’s see if I can keep you reined in,” Red said, taking Danny from Luke and hoisting him up on top of his shoulders.

“Hey!” Danny’s expression was comical. He looked torn between delight at his high perch and annoyance at this stranger taking him away from Luke, who he considered to be his personal property. He looked back at Luke, who, for all that he was carrying on several different conversations, was watching to make sure that Danny was okay with the switch. Looking more closely myself at our hero brother, I could see that he was paler than normal, and there were lines of strain, or maybe pain, in his face. I interrupted the others to ask what should have been our first question.

“Luke, what happened to your arm?” He flashed me his usual easy smile.

“Nothing serious. Just a duck shooting thing.”

While the others all started teasing Luke about going duck shooting when he had been off on his first big assignment after basic training, I noticed that Danny wasn’t joining in. His small face was serious and he was tugging on Red’s hair to get his attention. I wondered how Red got away with having such long hair while in the service. It was thick, straight black hair, long enough for the braid he wore it in, to be tucked inside his shirt collar. I picked up my pace so I could hear what Danny was whispering in the big man’s ear.

“He means he didn’t duck when someone was shooting at him, doesn’t he?”

“Shh, pup, he don’t want a fuss made. But you’re as sharp as he said you were, aren’t you?”

Danny looked over at me and held his finger to his lips. “John is too, Red. He would have guessed too,” he said, giving me a smile. One thing you had to concede, Danny was generous. And right – I did find the duck shooting a suspicious claim. And it was typical that Luke wouldn’t want the family to know he’d actually been shot. They all saw his being a soldier as something glamorous – not something that could actually kill him. The realization that Luke’s arm sling was the result of an enemy bullet hitting him and not a sports related accident – it shook me.

I waited until later that evening – after Mama Rose had the thrill of feeding two men who managed to eat four helpings each of her stew and three slices of her cake – to corner Red. We’d learned that his full name was Steven Tecumseh Redraven, but he usually only answered to Red. I found him sitting outside on the back step, smoking a cigarette. He gave me a wry look.

“Don’t tell your brother – he’s been on my ass to quit. And he warned me that your Mama Rose wouldn’t let it rest until I promised her that I’d quit. Somehow being in the Marines don’t strike her as hazardous to my health as smoking would so it would be best not to set her off, and don’t you tell her either...”

“Wouldn’t dream of it – we O’Keefes don’t snitch – but we do have a strong sense of smell so you might want to walk while you smoke. I find it helps dissipate the smell.” I pulled out my own pack as I indicated the path that led down toward the park at the river. “Want to join me?”

Red grinned and got up. “Now ain’t you the surprising one. Luke said you were the golden son, who never does anything wrong. I would have guessed that smokin’ would count as doin’ wrong. He certainly thinks so.”

I grimaced. “Luke should realize, being ‘perfect’ brings its own stresses. Smoking is one of the more innocent ways to relieve it.” He just smirked at my attempt to sound worldly and I let it slide. I suspected any attempts to impress this man with my wicked ways would lead to more smirks – or outright laughter. Besides, I wasn’t one to brag about my conquests with girls, and even if I were, I bet he had enough stories to put mine to shame. I played at being a bad boy. Redraven looked like the genuine article. Funny that he was Luke’s buddy.

We walked along in companionable silence for a few moments, Red matching his longer stride to mine – and me finding it weird to walk next to someone whose stride was longer. Finally, I had to ask.

“How exactly did Luke get shot? We’re not at war anywhere, right?” I looked closely at the taller man but his expression revealed nothing. I waited for an answer but he stayed quiet. I was about to press him for an answer, the silence getting to me, when he finally answered with a question.

“What do you O’Keefes think a war is?”

I looked at him like he was crazy. But then I tried to think of how to answer him. And found that I couldn’t. I mean, I could think of a lot of definitions of war, given by philosophers and politicians, generals and poets. But what did I think war was? I wasn’t sure. And it was likely that what I thought it was wasn’t the same as what my brothers, or my sisters, or my parents thought. Red smiled faintly as he tossed away his cigarette butt.

“Wasn’t trying to stump you. Figured a smart guy like you, all good grades and scholarships for more than just playing soccer would be tossing all sorts of definitions of war at me.”

I blushed. “I could, but you didn’t ask me what General Sherman so famously called it, or what General Patton called it, or even what Sun Tzu, the master of war, called it. You asked me what I thought it was.”

“I’ll ask that instead then, for a start, what did all those other smart guys have to say about war?”

I thought he was probably humoring me but I rattled it off anyway.

“It was Sherman who said war was hell. Patton called it a bloody killing business. And Sun Tzu, who wrote ‘The Art of War’ said that all warfare is based on deception.”

Red grunted. “Notice that none of those smart old men claimed war requires some kind of formal declaration – it don’t. Two sets of folks deciding they want to start fighting each other is usually enough. My people never declared war on the white people who showed up in the place where they lived – and notice I don’t call it ‘their land.’ That is not a concept my people embraced until the white man came and called the land his. They just had no choice but to fight when guns started being fired at them, and the land they lived off of was declared the property of these newcomers. And my dad who ran off to be a hero in Vietnam, it didn’t make him any less dead that it was never declared a war. He was just as gone to my Mom and me. Point is, war is war – folks fight and some of them die. Ain’t no way to avoid that.”

“So you and Luke are fighting in a war?” I tried to keep my voice as matter of fact as his but I couldn’t keep it from shaking. I felt shaken. People died – people like my brother? This was not what I wanted to hear. Luke was invincible. Bigger and stronger than anyone.

Red stared at me, an eyebrow raised in a way that made him look even more like Luke, at his most satirical.

“Boy, I don’t know what passes for smart in Pittsburgh, but back where I come from, even the dumb ones can figure out that the Green Beret are the toughest of the tough – what do you think Luke’s doing in the service? Building bridges? Baby-sitting?”

Well... yeah. Luke was an engineer. He was trained to build bridges. Won a design award in it as a matter of fact. Sure he was a Green Beret but he’d told us he mainly handled diplomatic duties, escorting Congressmen to Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, stuff like that, Baby-sitting, but on a really important level.

We’d reached the lake by this point. I leaned on the railing and stared out over the water that I’d sailed on earlier that summer. In summers past, Luke had gone sailing on it with me countless times – until he joined the service. I’d hoped he’d have some time to do it this visit. He was the next older brother to me. Joey was next in line after me. I was the first one born in this country. Luke, Mark and Matt had to take a test, along with Mama and Dad to become United States citizens. My older sisters Mary Beth, Mary Kate, and Mary Fran did too. Me, I didn’t have to, but young as I’d been, I’d helped the others study. Especially Luke, who hated tests.

Even after becoming a U.S. citizen, Luke had kept his Irish citizenship too, always retaining a fierce loyalty to Ireland. It had surprised Dad and Mama when he’d announced that he wanted to join the United States Marine Corps upon his graduation from college, but they were proud too. They felt that giving their son to the service of their adopted country was a way of paying back.

But none of us wanted it to be real. No wars. No guns pointing back. No sons with wounds from duck shooting.

I felt a large hand on my back.

“No need to look that worried, smart boy. Irish looks out for me and you can bet I’ve got his back. Ain’t nothing going to happen to either of us that we won’t be able to handle. We just need to work on his ducking, but I suspect that little pup of his is giving him hell over that already.”

I laughed. Knowing Danny, he was probably giving lessons. He might be a brat but he was a practical brat. He wouldn’t let Luke leave until he was sure that he was better qualified in “duck shooting.”

“So, where in Afghanistan are we involved in a war?”

“Did I say we were at war?”
 

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Setting: O’Keefe’s Bar, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Late Summer, 2010, POV/Brian Kinney

I sat quietly in the corner and watched the six O’Keefe brothers. If I were a sociologist, I’d be in seventh heaven with this front row seat. Or maybe it was an anthropologist this group needed. These guys offered quite a microcosm of group dynamics. The Caucasian, Heterosexual Male when his family is threatened – no that wasn’t quite right. When he thinks his family has been threatened in some way, in this case, by not being valued enough.

Luke O’Keefe, the fourth of Patrick and Rose O’Keefe’s seven sons, aka, the hero son, went off to all the world’s hot spots when he was twenty-one. He was barely out of college with his brand new engineering degree, which he hoped to use as an officer in the military to help build lives, not take them. But at six foot nine, with a facility for foreign languages and sharpshooting, the military saw something different. Oh, he became an officer in the Marines all right, but he was Green Beret, Special Forces all the way. All the way to Iraq, Sarajevo, and most notably, and primarily, Afghanistan. Covert Ops, Counter-Terrorism, Counter-Intelligence, whatever the suits in Washington wanted to call it. Fighting in a war there long before any of us ordinary citizens even realized we were involved in any war, certainly long before any war was declared.

Sure, he spent time in Sarajevo and Iraq, as well as Pakistan, Gaza, all the vacation spots, but he always returned to Afghanistan. The O’Keefe family was so proud of him – they had pictures of him on the walls in each of their homes. Always in his uniform. Actually, that wasn’t quite accurate. One family member didn’t display “Luke the Soldier” even though he probably believed in “Luke the Hero” more than any of them.

My lover, Danny. He always displayed pictures of the other Luke, the one he loved so much. Luke the laughing big brother. Luke the prankster. Luke the amazing athlete. Luke the best friend a person could ever have. Luke was the most important person in his world. I’d like to qualify that and say that he was the most important person before I came along, but I wasn’t so sure that was true. Danny loved me, no doubt about it, but for most of his life, he worshiped Luke. Luke was brother, father, hero, best friend, everything a boy could want, all wrapped up in one big, cheerful, understanding, heroic package. Danny’s pictures celebrated all those other aspects of his favorite brother.

But, as the years went by, and fresh-faced, cheerful Luke spent more and more time in the world’s war torn areas and less and less of his leave time among his brothers and sisters, who were starting families of their own – things changed. Luke changed. That steely-eyed soldier began to replace the grinning practical joker with his deep O’Keefe dimples. He came “home” less often. And finally, came the terrible news that he’d never be coming home again.

They say the war in Afghanistan is the longest one in U.S. history, at almost nine years, but for Luke O’Keefe, it started far earlier, with covert missions dating back to the eighties. He’d spent almost twenty years fighting in those mountains before he was shot down, reported missing, presumed dead in 2002.

And he was mourned. For over five years. No hero was ever mourned more. At every family gathering, a toast was drunk to their fallen hero. Trouble was, he wasn’t quite dead. He just didn’t come home when he was rescued from the hell he’d been kept in, and for quite a while, he’d been content, apparently, to let his family, who’d already mourned him so well, as he saw it, just go on thinking him dead.

The thing about mourning someone, though, is that you never really stop mourning them, missing them, wishing they were still there to tell the little day to day things to. And some part of you always keeps waiting for them to come home.

Even from the longest war.
 

****************
 

“What I don’t understand is why we have to meet with Redraven first? Why can’t Luke just come meet with us himself? What the fuck is wrong with him?”

Jamie kicked at a bar stool, sending it skittering across the floor before it toppled over with a crash. A raised eyebrow from Matt was all it took to make Jamie jump up to retrieve it and put it back where it belonged. This place might be called “O’Keefe’s” but there was no doubt which O’Keefe it belonged to. Primogeniture was alive and well in this family, and Matt, the eldest, had inherited the pubs that their father had built into a pretty nice business with the help of all of his children. In all fairness, as soon as he’d inherited, Matt had incorporated the family business with the help of his lawyer and accountant brothers and disbursed shares in accordance with the sweat equity the others had invested over the years.

But...it was Matt’s business. No ifs, ands, or buts. And it would take a bigger man than Jamie O’Keefe to kick one of his bar stools with impunity. Danny caught my eye and winked as Jamie dusted the stool off – I coughed to hide my snicker. Mark frowned at the two of us, no doubt for showing levity on this serious occasion, while John tried to answer the question.

“Jamie, we’ve been over this. Luke suffered from some very serious PTSD after his captivity. He still does. Red wants to make sure we’re not going to ....”

“That you’re not going to start kicking barstools and acting like an ass. I want to make sure you get all those tendencies out of the way now, Doc, and I’m willing to knock it out of you if that’s what it’ll take.” No one had seen Redraven enter the room from the back. He must have come in through the kitchen, and of course, no one heard him until he wanted to be heard. His dark eyes scanned the room. I was surprised to see that he was in full military garb – uniform, medals, green beret – the works. He turned to Matt.

“Where’re the girls?”

“Hello to you too, Steven, can I get you a beer?”

You had to give Matt credit. He rarely let anyone intimidate him – and in all honesty, Steven Redraven was a hell of an intimidating man. He’d been tough in his twenties, he was scary now, in his forties. But maybe it helped to have known a man when he was still a wet behind the ears friend of your younger brother’s...assuming that description ever fit Redraven, which I tended to doubt. The twitch of amusement on John and Danny’s lips made me think they agreed. The other brothers seemed to be holding their breath.

“Sure Matt, beer sounds good. Whatever you’re drinking. Do I need to go over the ground rules for today or are you going to handle the young’uns? And again, where are your sisters?”

I know my eyebrow flew up at Red’s firm tone to Matt and from the looks on the brothers’ faces, I wasn’t the only one taken aback. It wasn’t that Red was rude, it was just that no one pushed Matt. You waited for Matt to tell you how he wanted to handle something and that was how you did it. If you were lucky, he asked you how you wanted to do it, and if you were really lucky, he did it your way.

I guess Green Berets didn’t do it Matt’s way, necessarily. You would’ve been able to hear a pin drop as Matt and Red engaged in a staring a contest. Bad move on Matt’s part. He might have almost a decade on Red, but those black eyes and that thousand yard stare that dated back to, like, fucking Geronimo or something – they were hard to beat.

Just as I was sure that Matt was starting to look away, Danny jumped up, distracting everyone from the stand-off.

“We young’uns will all behave, Red. Jamie is just under a bit of stress – new babies and all that. Lack of sleep. I can remember how bad it was with Briana. Three babies at one time must be murder. We’ll make him sit next to Mark – he’s very calming.”

Murder was certainly in Jamie’s eyes – directed at his younger brother by the time that little speech was done. But, true to Danny’s prediction, Mark’s hand on his arm and a few softly spoken words seemed to calm him down.

Danny continued over to Red and the two of them hugged. Danny retrieved the beer from Matt and handed it to Red, who nodded his thanks to Matt. He hooked a barstool over with his boot and sat down before returning to his question, though in a milder tone after a long drag from his beer.

“Where are the girls? I really don’t want to have to go through all of this twice.”

Mark answered in his pleasant way, “We don’t want you to either, but then, we really thought we’d be seeing Luke fairly soon after being vetted by you. We don’t want Luke upset, but neither do we want our sisters disappointed if Luke chooses not to show up.”

“Plus we thought it would be a good idea if we heard your story in case it was too much for the girls to cope with,” Joey explained. I winced before he was halfway through his sentence – it didn’t take seeing Danny and John staring at him, appalled, to realize he’d put his foot in it big time. I grinned. Good old Joey – I’ve known the guy twenty years and he’s still blurting out the first thought that comes into his head. Mind you, a couple of the others felt the same or the O’Keefe sisters would be here too, but they had the sense not to say it.

Red was shaking his head. “Man, I’d hate to be y’all when your sisters find out what you tried to do. My own personal view is that those sisters of yours are pretty damn tough. Most women are. Tougher than men a lot of the time. I think they’d be able to take hearing what your brother went through a lot better than y’all will. But just like old Patrick underestimated Mama Rose, one of the toughest ladies I’ve ever met, you brothers take it upon yourselves to decide what your sisters can take. I’ll tell you – it’s for his sisters that Luke came back, every bit as much as for his brothers. They belong here.”

“We are here, big guy. And thanks for the props.”

Of course that was Mary Kate leading the charge, with Mary Pat right behind her. Mary Fran and Mary Beth were holding hands as they brought up the rear, heads held high. But I was wrong. They weren’t the last. Two more figures came in behind them – bent old Father Baker, leaning on the arm of a second priest. What the fuck? I could see the old priest, he seemed like a good idea, actually, someone who could actually handle this volatile group without fighting, but a stranger being brought into such a sensitive family gathering?

Red stood up at once to get a chair for the older priest; Fr. Baker, but I thought there was a good chance he was using that as a cover for talking to the other priest, confirming in my mind at least that this departure from the script hadn’t been known to him either. The two of them only exchanged a few words, too low to be caught by me, but it seemed significant. Wanting some clue to what was going on, I switched my scrutiny to Danny, whom I found looking suspiciously at the stranger.

And then my clever man smiled. He walked forward to the strange priest and gently led him over to a chair close to us, and not coincidentally, a bit removed from the others.

“Father Waring is it? Please, come sit by my partner and me. Let me bring you a glass of...what would you like? Brandy? Scotch?”

“A glass of red wine would be gratefully received, my son.”

Damn. Linton made one hell of a convincing Priest. But then again, he’d made a damn convincing butler when he was really the heir to an Earldom. The man was the ultimate chameleon. His hair was silvery blond, a lighter shade than it had been when I saw him in Germany the year before last. His beard was a slightly darker shade of blond, as beards often are, thick enough to cover that distinctive chin. His light gray eyes were covered by contact lenses, presumably, since Fr. Waring had deep brown eyes. There wasn’t a trace of English accent in his voice.

Jamie was up on his feet again. “Fr. Baker, it is always a pleasure to see you, but I’m not sure why ....”

“James, dear boy, you look exhausted. Sit down. Let me introduce my good friend Father Nicholas Waring, to you, and thank you, Danny, for your hospitality.” Fr. Baker’s gentle words were a rebuke to the others for their lack of courtesy and from the flushes on their faces, they understood it as such. After Fr. Baker finished making the introductions, Linton, in his guise as priest, gave them a sweetly forgiving smile. John started coughing.

“Someone should pound smart boy over there on the back,” Red recommended. I was happy to oblige, thumping his back enthusiastically, until an elbow from Danny ended the fun. It had served its purpose, John had stifled his unseemly laughter. Of course, now I was in danger of losing it but warning looks from Danny and Red quelled my amusement. For the moment.

It took several minutes for everyone to get settled down again, priests – both fake and real – sisters, brothers, Green Beret... and me. I wasn’t quite sure where I fit in but no one had challenged my right to be here so I was keeping quiet.

“So...what happens now?” Mary Pat asked, looking around at the assembled group. Red stood up.

“Now I tell you what Irish’s life was like, not just what happened to him, and where he’s been for the past several years, but what his life has been for the past twenty years.”

“We know what his life was for most of that time,” Mary Pat objected hotly. “What we don’t know is why he chose to stay away when he wasn’t dead, why he let poor Dad die thinking his favorite son was lost in Afghanistan!” Hard to believe, but tough M.P. was crying. Not in a messy way, but those were definitely tears on her face, which she brushed at impatiently with the back of her hand.

A couple other O’Keefes jumped in, on both sides of that point, and Red didn’t even bother trying to answer. Danny whispered to me, “Luke always called that Red’s ‘Indian in front of the cigar store’ look.”

“Still does,” Father Waring said out of the corner of his mouth. It was my turn to get a vigorous pounding on the back for my “cough.”

Father Baker smiled over at us before saying quietly but firmly, “The Lord be with you.”

Like magic, the O’Keefes all responded on cue, “And also with you.” And silence prevailed.

“Thanks, Father,” Red said. “As I was saying, I think you need to understand what Luke had been going through for those twenty years if you want to understand anything, Mary Pat. But for the record, worrying over Pat and not being here for him – once he was in any kind of shape to know who he was and that he had a father – that has been one of the worst things for him to cope with.”

“We’ll listen, Red...without interruption,” Matt promised, with a look at his assembled siblings that said he’d brook no more nonsense from them. Red nodded.

Red was a good storyteller in his own way, which was a far different style than that employed by Danny’s brothers, every one of whom had kissed the blarney stone. Red didn’t drag a story out for dramatic effect. He minimized – and that somehow gave it even more dramatic effect. I used the same technique for some ads. The old “less is more” concept.

Red told of Luke being pinned down for nights on end in a mountainside lean-to, waiting for reinforcements, protecting his men, giving his rations to the injured, and eventually taking on the enemy almost single-handedly. Almost, but not quite, because wherever Luke was, Red was there too, though he kept that part pretty matter-of-fact too. He didn’t need to say that whatever sacrifice Luke made, Red would have made also. To Red’s mind, that fact went without saying. The important thing to both men back then was finishing the mission, protecting their men – and watching each other’s backs. But what was shocking to the naive O’Keefes hearing this tale were the large number of times that they sustained major injuries. Gunshots. Knifings. Broken bones. Captured and tortured more than once. They always escaped. Or one of them got the other one out before it got too bad.

Until the last time, when Luke’s copter went down and he was held in a pit in an Afghan village for months. Starved. Beaten.

“Thing is,” Red said, “Luke went into that last mission with his mind made up – he was ready to come home. He’d had enough. He wanted no more of war. No more of killing. He knew I was interested in doing consultant work, but he wanted something different. Either way, we both were going to retire after hitting our twenty years. But even then, he had doubts about returning to Pittsburgh to live. He was a Colonel, he was used to taking charge. He used to joke about coming home and your Dad telling him which shift to work in the pub, and Mama Rose setting him up – which really wouldn’t have suited him. And no disrespect, Matt, Mark, but he probably wouldn’t have deferred to y’all very well either.”

“We wouldn’t have wanted him to,” Mark protested.

“Yeah, right,” Jamie muttered.

“Matt and Mark only step in when the younger boys need guidance,” Mary Beth said. “But they wouldn’t have done that to Luke.” A new debate sprang up, but Father Baker just had to clear his throat this time to quiet them down. They all looked sheepish when he shook his head at them.

“Lads, ladies, none of your bickering, please. I’m sure that Steven is not saying anything against the older boys – and I suspect that Luke had a tendency to be a bit dogmatic himself after twenty years of being an officer, for all that he no doubt presented his orders in a charming way.”

“Yeah, that’s always Luke, charming as all get out.” Red fell silent for a moment. Then he looked at Mary Pat again. “I could tell you about the PTSD. You’re a nurse. You’ve volunteered at the V.A. Hospital. You know what it can do to a man. I know you took care of your Dad through his illness, and I know it wasted his body. Well, I cared for your brother when that six foot nine body of his was down to less than a hundred and fifty pounds and he had more infections and parasites than you would have been able to name in your best day in science class. His hair had fallen out due to malnutrition, and he couldn’t walk because his leg had to be rebroken from where it had been broken and healed without any medical attention beyond what he could render to himself. He still has the pins in it that they had to use to put it back together – ain’t easy to heal a leg on someone our size and his calcium was so depleted it’s a wonder he ever healed.”

The girls were holding on to whichever brother was closest. I looked to see how Danny was holding up, knowing to wait for him to give a sign that he wanted comfort. He was looking down at his hands. Ah, rosary out, but discreetly. I put my arm around the back of his chair, trying to be just as discreet. He leaned into my side. He’d heard all of this already during his visit to Scotland but it didn’t make it any easier. It hadn’t been easy for Luke, being a prisoner of war, especially in a country where the Geneva convention is treated like a joke. If it had ever been heard of, that is.

“Don’t get me wrong. The physical injuries – Luke was able to overcome them. Once he was convinced to try to recover, that is.”

“What are you saying?” Mary Kate and Jamie asked in unison. Linton must have decided he’d had enough of the interruptions, because he stood up and spoke sharply.

“The quickest way to find out what Major Redraven is saying is to let him say it. I suggest that you will all learn everything you wish...and have time afterward to ask clarifying questions, if you simply stop with these constant interruptions.”

Everyone stared, looking a bit stunned. John nodded and inquired politely, “Jesuit, Father?”

“Have you any doubt, Jack?” If they were stunned before, the O’Keefes were close to true shock when they looked in the direction of the voice, the voice most of them had thought never to hear again.

“Luke.” Mary Beth stood up almost at once and walked over to him quickly. Luke looked braced for a slap but what he got was a weeping sister hugging him tightly, with two more right behind, Mary Fran and Mary Kate. I was a bit surprised by that. Even with her hardass attitude toward Red, I never thought Mary Pat would hold back from Luke. If Danny had worshiped him, she’d been right there next to him at the altar. To many, Mary Pat was the least lovely of the O’Keefe sisters. Her features were pretty, not beautiful like Angel or Mary Kate. She was caring, but in a no-nonsense, practical way, not in the sweet, maternal way that Mary Beth was. She’d always been a great athlete, but even there, Mary Fran had beaten her, due in large part to her outstanding height and strength.

Danny told me that before her fall from grace, Angel was the Princess to everyone in the O’Keefe family – except Luke. Of his three younger sisters, Mary Fran was always his buddy, but fierce little Mary Pat was his princess. The older boys used to joke that of course only a warrior princess would suit Luke, but the point was, Luke had a way of making M.P. feel special. Which was a feat, when a girl was the fourth in such a royal court.

The two of them stood staring at each other, Mary Pat with her stubborn face on, the arms crossed over her chest, legs braced, Luke with his arms hanging down, ready to hug, head tilted inquisitively, lips smiling faintly but eyes wary. He was in casual clothes, but you’d never mistake him for anything but a soldier. Even “at ease” his bearing and demeanor were that of a soldier. A hot one, I couldn’t help but concede, noticing the way his black slacks were molded to his long muscular legs and his green sweater emphasized his incredible torso. His hair was longer than it used to be, but still fairly short. Just long enough to run your fingers through, my wayward mind suggested, and I looked guiltily at Linton, who was watching Luke closely.

He’s here to protect him...from his family, I realized. The thought made me sad, even as I acknowledged that the concern might be valid. As tough as Luke undoubtedly was, no one can hurt a person like the people who love you...and whom you love. Like Luke loved Mary Pat, his little princess.

“You didn’t come to see Dad when he was dying,” she said.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Didn’t you listen to anything Red said,” Danny asked angrily. “He couldn’t come.”

“Easy, Pup, this battle is mine. Not yours...nor should it have been forced on John.”

Luke looked around and that fast, the Green Beret had replaced the brother they knew and loved....and thought they could boss and scold. Linton sat back down and Red got up to get himself another beer. This might not be a Luke that all of the O’Keefes were comfortable with, hell, most of them had never even seen this side of Luke, but this was the guy Red and Linton knew best and loved.

“Princess, you’re angry, I can understand that. You want to have at me for not letting you know I was alive, for not coming home to rehab, I can understand that too. I thought that having Fr. Baker here, who, incidentally, volunteered to help referee this get-together, and I would appreciate a little more courtesy to him and Fr. Waring... and Red too.”

“We’re not your troops, Luke,” Mary Kate reminded him. Red laughed.

“You’re the one who wanted the girls here,” Mark reminded him.

“I know, and this is why. They have the balls to say what y’all just glower and think about saying,” Red told him, grinning at the chagrin on Mark’s face. From the looks the sisters were giving him, he’d be hearing about this for some time to come.

I managed to bite back my laugh, which I only did because Danny was squeezing my thigh. Or was that Fr. Waring with his hand near my crotch? I didn’t want to draw attention by looking down, not that anyone was likely to look away from the drama in the middle of the room.

“Mary Pat...I wish I could have been here for you when Dad was ill,” Luke said gently, cutting to the heart of the matter. Pat had plenty of people around him – but it had been Mary Pat who’d borne the brunt of the burden of their dad’s illness – Mary Pat had no one to lean on. Danny had been focused on Briana and Rose and Matt was still dealing with the loss of his wife and learning to be a single father to his large family. The Jamie of those days wasn’t much better than I was – seeking relief from stress in sexual conquests. Each of the others had been caught up with their own family.

“He wouldn’t have cared if you were hurt – anything would have been better than thinking you were dead!” M.P. still wasn’t ready to give in. She was at the extreme, but Red was right; the others felt something of what she was saying, they just didn’t have the balls to say it. Luke shook his head decisively.

“No, it wouldn’t have been. He’d already gone through the pain of being told I was lost – you all had. Red wasn’t exaggerating, if anything, he probably soft-pedaled it a bit. What he hasn’t said to you all is that I was out of my head for a good part of the year after they found me.”

“After you escaped,” Jamie corrected him. ”You managed to take on a whole village right? And you....”

Luke turned his gaze on his second youngest brother and it was enough to make that big, brash guy swallow hard and shut up.

“I don’t know what happened,” Luke said flatly. “Take on a whole village...yeah. And slaughter them? Men, women, children. About forty people were found brutally murdered. Is that what you’re thinking? I pray that I didn’t do it. I don’t see how I could have, I was three quarters dead myself. All I have is nightmares, though, not memories, so I don’t know what happened for sure. But the nightmares were with me constantly back then, to the point that Red had to watch me twenty-four, seven, to keep me from killing myself.”

Luke brought himself up short, seeming to realize that in his rambling, he had divulged something they hadn’t been ready to hear. Red handed him a glass and he accepted it gratefully. The others were reeling from what had just been revealed. That their hero brother, the one they thought fearless, had actually been suicidal – they couldn’t wrap their minds around it.

“No, Luke, you wouldn’t have,” Mary Beth whispered. “That’s a ....”

“A sin?” Luke laughed mirthlessly. “Do you have any idea how many people I’ve murdered, Mary Beth – not counting the ones I can’t be sure of?”

“You are a soldier, Luke, that isn’t murder,” Matt quickly said, even as he reached out an arm to draw Mary Beth close. This line of talk was upsetting the two of them a lot – made sense. The older O’Keefes were still very Roman Catholic in their theology, and suicide was a big no-no. Much like homosexuality. I wondered if Luke planned on getting to that revelation too.

Luke was shaking his head. “I don’t recall that exception in the Bible. Vengeance is mine, said the Lord. And, thou shall not kill. I went into the service as a kid, I didn’t realize what I’d be doing.”

Red nodded. “That whole building bridges idea.”

Fr. Baker must have felt compelled to chime in at this point. “Luke and I have discussed his conflicted feelings about his duties as a soldier and his duty to God, as well as his very understandable depression after his long captivity, and the mystery that surrounds his escape. I don’t think anyone is in a place to judge his actions, or his feelings about the lives he had to take – but in reaching your own peace with him, I think you should consider that the man who has come closest to walking the proverbial mile in his boots is the most understanding. So is Fr. Waring, who also has worked with Luke in his rehabilitation and has a great deal of experience with war induced PTSD.”

Ah, a very neat way of introducing Linton into the mix, and providing a better explanation for his presence than his just being a friend of Fr. Baker’s. It had the benefit of being true too, except for the priest part. Luke’s strong need for spiritual guidance was revealed, and Fr. Waring was identified as the man who was helping with that. While I had no doubt Linton was helping with the PTSD, and perhaps even with Luke’s theological issues, I also knew that wily old Fr. Baker had no problem with bending the truth to suit the larger purpose. In this case, Luke’s reconciliation with his siblings. All of his siblings.

“You could have come to us,” Mary Frances said. I thought it was the first time she had spoken. Not surprising, given how much her sisters intimidated her.

“No...I couldn’t have, Frannie. I couldn’t go to anyone. No offense to any of you, but....”

“We were strangers to you by then,” Mark said, his voice sad.

“No more than I was to you,” Luke pointed out.

“But when Mama died, you were better then, weren’t you?” Jamie wasn’t ready to let it go.

Luke shifted his position to look closely at Jamie; to his credit, Jamie held his gaze. Must have felt on stronger ground this time. Danny tensed next to me but kept his mouth shut. This was something that bothered him, I knew. He would have liked to have had Luke with him then. I think it was only then that he really gave up hope of Luke still being alive. Watching Luke, seeing how he searched for the right words, it struck me that his sense of a tragic loss and that of his brothers and sisters were probably worlds apart. He’d spent decades seeing young men and women die at a moment’s notice, or with no notice at all. Young people with babies they’d never see, and some who’d never have the chance to parent a child. The death of one old lady, who’d been surrounded by children, grandchildren, and even a few great-grandchildren – that was not an occasion for grief.

But, he could never be that honest. Not with this gang. Luke finally spoke, his words carefully chosen. “Yes, I was much better,” Luke said. “I made the conscious choice not to reveal myself to any of you when I came for Mama’s funeral.”

That caused a huge commotion. Luke sat still and let the words wash against him. It was like waves slamming against a cliff – maybe over time, they have some effect, but as far as you can see in the here and now, the cliff is unimpressed. After a couple of minutes, during which various cross battles popped up, as they tended to do with this bunch, and neither Mark nor Fr. Baker were having any luck calling them to order, I saw Luke give a nod to Red. The big Green Beret didn’t even stand up. From his bar stool, he put his hands to his mouth and emitted this war whoop that must have been audible two counties over. Everyone shut up.

Except Linton. He looked at Luke and said, “I trust that doesn’t attract canines, or we may be in trouble. I’m certain every hound within a twenty mile radius must have heard him.”

“At least,” Luke agreed, a faint grin on his face. He held up a hand to forestall any more talk. “Please. Let me explain, then throw your stones. I made the decision I did because, one, I was deep in covert operations by that point and could not break cover. Two, I did not have more than twelve hours to spare here so I did not have the time it would have taken to go into all the explanations even if I did think such a security risk was warranted. Three, if word got out that I was alive, there were people who would have used a member of my family to get at me. And four, I ...I did not think it would be good or kind or whatever you want to call it, to make any of you go through the pain of finding out I was alive only to lose me again. Especially when there was nothing I felt I was needed for here. Not enough to justify your lives or the work I was doing.”

That last was aimed at Danny and Mary Pat primarily, but he took in the whole lot of them with his stern look. And, he was right, I realized. Mary Pat dealt well with losing Rose. It was her father’s loss that shook her to her core. She and Rose were never as close. She did her duty by her mother, but her life was made much easier once Rose passed on. In Danny’s case, he loved his mother dearly, but his trauma then was exacerbated by everything else, and adding Luke to that mix would not have helped. Hell, it would have been a disaster. Especially since Luke would have killed me right after he killed Simon, I thought ruefully. I decided that the wickedly amused look between Red and Linton, which seemed to encompass me in its scope, was confirmation of that paranoid thought.

It’s not paranoia if they really are imagining your bloody corpse, I told myself and edged slightly away from the formerly murderous Dr. Main dressed in priest’s clothing. Luke raised an eyebrow at us and we both gave him sweetly innocent looks in return.

“You may not be able to understand my actions, but I do think I understand you. All of you. And while you might not always believe it, I’ve never stopped caring about you all. Caring about you means I don’t want to put any of you at risk – from the results of my work, or from me.” A couple of the O’Keefes started to interrupt him but he just did his steely-eyed, ‘I’m a Colonel and the ranking officer so buckle it’ look.

“I’m just stating facts. In between missions, I live in an isolated place, far away from other people – there’s a reason for that. I can cope for specific periods, when I have a specific purpose. But I can’t live like I did when we were all young. The way most of you live now. The way I did in the army. With a dozen people around all the time. I am not able to live like that for long anymore.”

“We’d get on your nerves,” Joey suggested.

“I’d go insane...well, more insane than I already am,” Luke amended his answer after sharing a look with Red.

“You have one or two more things you need to discuss with them,” Red reminded him.

Luke looked down, then up. He took a deep breath. “At least,” he finally agreed. “I owe John a major apology, but so do all of you.” There were mutterings at that but a look from Luke brought silence again. They were learning. He continued.

“After I got my head back on straight, which took Red the better part of a year and a half to accomplish, I had him get word to an old friend here in the States to tell him how to reach us in case any of you were in need. We got that message in 2006. John wasn’t supposed to see me on the night that Danny was almost killed by ... by Edward Simon. The night that Simon did his best to have Jamie and Jack killed, along with Kinney over there.” Luke flashed his dimpled grin at me. “Yeah, I saw you over there, boyfriend, but since you’re pretty much the only quiet one in the room – not in clericals – I’ve no objection to you being here.”

Since being quiet had worked well so far I didn’t say a word. I did lift my glass to him. He laughed and returned to addressing the group.

“I saw Jack all alone on that roof, totally exhausted but still standing guard, not willing to trust Danny’s safety to all those various official people who were there whose job it was to take care of him. Which of course made it more difficult for me and my men to do what we needed to do, but it also made me proud of him and I couldn’t just leave him standing there. So, I ignored all the good reasons for staying secret and revealed myself to him. But, I made him swear not to tell anyone. I don’t know about you girls, well, no, I think I do. I’d expect you are the same as we guys are. You honor a promise. You never break a confidence. I hope you still live by those rules. Jack does. He’s got a lot of integrity, though he’s taken a lot of grief over the years from all of you for some mistakes he made when he was young, mistakes that are none of anyone’s business but his and his ...well, I’m getting off track. Point is, don’t be mad at Jack for not telling you what I told him not to tell. That blame belongs to me.”

Luke walked over to John and held out his hand. “I’m sorry, Jack. I never meant for this all to blow up on you as it did.” John stood up and hugged him. John tried to sit down again but Luke kept hold of his hand.

“Might as well come over here with me, Jack, as this next part is something we should have dealt with together years ago. I wasn’t here before, but I am now and may as well get it all over with. There’s something else that you all have given Jack a hard time over when the person you should blame is our Dad, well, blame him for being crazy with grief and crazy with love. I’d say blame our Mama for having too damn many children but the truth is, I'd not wish any of you away, annoying as you are at times. I do blame Fr. Xavier, for not providing better counsel to Dad when he was so distraught, but I also know Dad could be pretty persuasive. But I don’t think you have any right to blame us, when we were all of eleven and fifteen and we were doing what our priest and our father told us had to be done, and done in secret. But now is time to discuss our little brother David.”

All hell really broke out then and Fr. Baker was hard pressed to calm them down. I wondered if Luke was going to try discussing his orientation next. I hoped Linton had his magic medical bag handy as that would be sure to cause a few coronaries.
 

****************
 

Setting: Brian Kinney’s Loft, Pittsburgh, PA, Late Summer, 2010, POV/Luke O’Keefe

“Damn, that was one of the worst afternoons of my life,” John announced, flopping down on Kinney’s fancy lounge chair. He’d offered his loft as the best place for Red, Linton and me to go to and defuse without any of the others hunting us down. Danny and Jack were no problem, in fact, I welcomed the extra time with both of them, but I’d had enough family closeness to last me a decade.

“Nice place, Kinney. You don’t use it anymore?” Red walked around the place. It was to his taste. Very sparsely decorated yet sharp looking. Linton, on the other hand, preferred a more classic look. Persian rugs on the floor, oil paintings on the wall. Expensive but in a discreet way. Me, I liked things lived-in, comfortable. Our home in Scotland reflected a bit of everyone’s taste.

“It has its uses,” Kinney told him. He gave Danny a sidelong look. From my baby brother’s blush I guessed that a change in subject was needed before Red asked any more questions.

“Anyone want something to eat? I could go for a pizza,” I announced, looking through Kinney’s stack of take-out menus. It was really hard to get decent pizza in Scotland. John and Red agreed with pizza while Kinney and Linton wanted Thai, and Danny insisted he wasn’t hungry.

Kinney knew where to get chocolate cake – delivered.

We ate in silence, blessed silence. Every so often Danny would reach out and touch Kinney, or Kinney would brush Danny’s hair back from his face. I recognized the tactic – connection. Peter and I did the same type of thing. We just liked to reach out and touch, make sure the other was there. No need to say anything. Just be together. I caught Red’s eye and he smiled faintly.

“So, where do we go from here, Irish?”

Danny looked up at me, his eyes wide. “What do you mean? This was it, wasn’t it? You’re done with the war, aren’t you? You’ve finished, done your part. More than done your part. The war is....”

“Still going on,” I told him quietly. “More than ever. I don’t want to go back, but I owe something to the troops over there. Few people on our side know that country as well as I do.”

“But you said yourself, you’ve had enough of the killing,” John argued. I could feel my chest tighten. I didn’t want to argue anymore. The day had been nothing but arguing. I looked at Red – he’d explain better.

“Irish isn’t going to be fighting, not looking for it, at least. He’s going to be working with the Alliance in a very limited capacity. Using their resources to save lives.”

“Bridges and orphans, right.” Jack looked disgusted. He got up to go.

Danny was looking to Kinney for help. I looked to Peter, who sighed and put down the wine he’d been sipping.

“John, please. Do not leave like that. I assure you, this is not another charade. Luke, as well as Red and myself, will be in control of a completely new facet of the Alliance. We’ll be doing the background work necessary to help in rescuing hostages, getting assistance to ground troops that are cut off from aid, and yes, building those bridges and schools when the time is right, though not often personally. Your brother and Red feel that they’ve spent twenty years helping to tear this country apart – they want to play a part in putting it back together.”

“But at the same time,” Red added, “we know what will happen if the military pulls out too soon. It will be open season on women and children. We don’t want to see that happen. Not after all the work that went into giving them some kind of life – neither of us want to leave them to the mercy of the Taliban.”

“What do you think the three of you can do?” Kinney had pulled Danny close. He asked the question that my brothers probably wanted to ask.

“You’d be surprised. But we won’t be acting alone. There are the resources of the Alliance. And those are not inconsiderable,” Peter told them.

“You’re not coming home because it’s too stressful but you’re going to be spending your time trying to save a country at war,” John said.

I wasn’t sure if it was bitterness in his voice or just deep sarcasm. It might even have been amusement. I was no longer as tuned in to my brothers as I used to be. That made me sad. But, I intended to stay in touch with Danny, and John. Somehow. I’d learn how to read them all over again. I started now, watching the two of them go at it.

“Well, that’s the part that makes sense to me,” Danny told him, cracking a smile. “If you have to fight all the time, may as well be getting something worthwhile accomplished while you’re doing it.”

“You’re really okay with this?” John demanded. “Luke is never coming home and you accept that.”

“What I accept is that Luke’s home is where his heart is...and that’s not here in Pittsburgh,” Danny told him.

“I never thought you’d be the one to accept that first, Pup,” Red told him, glancing over his shoulder. He’d been giving us the illusion of privacy, by seeming to focus on the view. I knew him, he was listening like a hawk – or a raven. Making sure I was okay. I leaned back against Peter’s shoulder and felt his hand caress my neck. It felt good to be so cared for after a scene like the one at the pub. I loved my family but they could be draining.

“The dynamics that suited the lot of you as children and young adults do not serve you well as adults,” Peter commented

“I’m not sure they worked all that great then,” I admitted. “But, it was home then and it was all any of us knew. And now, like Danny says, much as I care, I have my own family. It isn’t one my brothers might understand, but it’s as real a family to me as theirs are to them.”

“Hey! That’s not fair! In one breath you quote me as the person who articulated your definition of family....”

“And in the next, you lump Danny and me in among the rest – and I might note that not only Mary Fran, but Mary Kate also, made it really clear that they were on your side. If sides have to be chosen,” Jack pointed out.

I sighed and closed my eyes. The ball must have been in my court because no one jumped in – one of the nice things about this particular group of men. And by closing my eyes I could tune out the silent exchanges that were always taking place. Red and Kinney did more making faces at each other than two toddlers in a sandbox....

“You’re right, of course. I’m as bad as the worst of us at jumping to conclusions and not giving anyone a chance to show they’ve changed. Damn, you all should be glad to see the back of me.”

“But we won’t be,” Danny said. “How dangerous is it going to be? You’re going back to the war. For real. Is that what you want?”

Red and Peter looked at me as seriously as John and Danny did. Kinney, he was keeping his eye on Danny, just as he should be. I wished Jack had a partner like that to watch his back.

“I have seen enough of one war never to wish to see another,” I said softly.

“What?” Danny asked, looking between the two of us.

“Jefferson,” Kinney told him. “It was his comment about war, after serving his country for twenty-five years that were filled with conflicts, the war for Independence, the conflicts with the Native Americans, the on-going problems with Britain that eventually led to another war a couple years after his presidency ended. He knew what he was talking about when it came to war. Kind of like the past twenty five years of your brother’s life.”

We all looked at him, a little surprised.

“What? Did you think all I ever took in college were marketing classes?”

“Nah, I figured you took at least a few courses in ....”

“Steven.” Peter didn’t have to say any more. Red shut up. He knew that Peter had an unerring instinct for when one of us was going to cross the line and he stopped us from putting our feet into the wrong territory .

“I’m not returning to the war, not really. I’m returning to the people, to the troops, to the work that needs to be done that I can do. I’ll give you another quote to think on... ‘You must be the change you want to see in the world.’”

“Gandhi,” Danny said. I nodded.

“Must be a lot of down time for reading,” Kinney said to no one in particular.

Red told him, “You’ve no idea.”

“I...we...need to leave something good behind in Afghanistan. John, you saw in Haiti the kind of chaos that we’d see in Afghanistan day after day, week after week...for years. We were able to accomplish a lot in Haiti but not as much as we wanted to, due to territorial fighting from all the do-gooders. We’d have less of that in Afghanistan because there aren’t that many who dare go in. For those who do, we can help protect them. We know that country like Kinney knows the back streets near Liberty Avenue.”

“Will we ever see you again?” Danny’s voice was steady, not a clue that the answer mattered any more to him than whether I wanted pepperoni or mushrooms on my pizza.

But I knew. I got up and moved over to where he was, displacing Kinney. He grunted but Danny whispered something to him and he got up without any more vocal complaint. I gestured for John to come over.

“I know you’re grown men who are more than capable of taking care of yourselves, and you don’t need me to watch over you. Hell, the worst trouble to come to you in the last decade was through me. But, I do want to see both of you, if you’re willing. It’s not fair of me to say you have to come to my place all the time, but I really don’t want to play favorites. Once I come here for one nephew’s graduation or a niece’s first communion, I’ll be getting the invitations at a rate of six a week.”

“Try doubling that in the spring and summer months,” Kinney called over from where he was standing by the window with Red and Peter. I ignored him. Damn eavesdropper. Danny grinned at me.

“We can meet in Afghanistan,” Danny suggested, his face deadpan. “I can help with those orphans and John is good with building things and....”

“Not on your life, brat,”

“Glad you said that,” John murmured. “Wasn’t sure exactly what I was expected to do with building – review the tribal building codes?”

That struck us as funny somehow. Danny’s lips started twitching and then I was grinning and before we knew it, the two of us fell together laughing, pulling John into a pile with us and tickling him until he was laughing and yelling for mercy.

After a while, John made his way off home and Red headed off with Danny and Kinney to check out a few clubs. Peter and I made our way up to the bedroom, where a large platform bed rested. We both stood and looked at it for a couple of minutes without saying a word. The lights in the ceiling. The links embedded in the wall and the matching leather ones on the bed posts.

“Brian mentioned to me that the “toy box” is in the closet in case we needed inspiration.”

“That thought might put me off my game for a month.”

“Oh, I think not.”

Peter kicked off his shoes and settled back against the headboard, then spread his legs, making room for me to lay back against his chest.

“Did you find what you needed from today?” He ran his fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes and let his hands sooth me.

“I did...and I didn’t. Despite everything, I have ties to this place, these people, every one of them. It hurt me that my little Mary Pat wouldn’t give me a hug until the very end, and even then, she was stiff.”

“You promised to write. And she said she was going to make you a cake to take back with you. I thought that was progress, quite sweet really, given that you are not the most faithful of correspondents.”

I chuckled. “I’ll admit to being terrible when it comes to writing, but she’s far worse at baking. Danny suggested we find out what she does and use her cakes as building blocks.”

It was Peter’s turn to chuckle. “You are all quite hard on each other. And you love each other very much. My brother and I never engaged in that kind of light-hearted teasing. Every so-called jest carried a sharp barb, and it was some time before I became skilled at defending myself, much less sending out barbs of my own. But, your family, for all the bickering and fighting – there is a lot of love there. Everyone kept trying to understand what to them was incomprehensible – how anyone chose to live apart. But they tried, as you did to help them understand, because you all love each other.”

“War changed me,” I said sadly.

“It did,” he said evenly, turning my head so that he could look into my eyes. “But most of the ways it changed you were good ways. The man you are is a good man, Luke O’Keefe. The war had a lot to do with who you are. I’d do anything to have spared you the horror of that captivity, but even that has deepened you as a person, because you came out of that experience a stronger man.”

“I don’t feel stronger,” I confessed, enjoying the simple comfort of his hand on my cheek. So many times I thought this man was lost to me forever. I suddenly asked, “Am I crazy to go back into the fire? To ask you and Red to go into it with me again, just because I need some kind of....”

“Reason to live,” he suggested. “You are making neither Red nor me go. You wouldn’t be able to keep us away. We both need this too. And don’t think we don’t know your other purpose in going back there. You’re going to be looking for the truth of what happened to you.”

Peter rolled us until he was leaning over me, his arms pinning me down in the big bed beneath the blue lights.

“Gandhi also said that an eye for an eye only serves to make the whole world blind. I’m not looking for any kind of vengeance. I hope you and Red realize that.”

Peter smiled lovingly at me. “We’re going back to the war with you, Luke, so don’t bother arguing with us. And I think Red will realize as much as I do that this mission is not for revenge, but for redemption.”

For redemption. For an honorable end to my personal war. The longest damn war.
 

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