Officer Jones

Chapter 22

After Maloney declared the Rockfield Fair open for business, I followed my mother to the historical society exhibit. I could tell she was shaken up and I wanted to comfort her. I also needed to put an end to this gap between us.

I trailed her into the small exhibit tent and began to help her move artifacts. “What are you doing, JP?”

“I thought you could use some help.”

“I’ve been doing this for twenty years, I think I have it down pretty well. Go find your father-he is very proud of your triumphant return and wants to show you off to his constituents.”

“Like a prized pony?”

She turned her back on me without a word.

“Are you happy I’m back?”

Silence.

“I’m a reporter, Mom, I can tell something is wrong.”

She suddenly turned in my direction. “No JP, you gave up being a reporter a long time ago. Now you’re just a stranger with a death wish. I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t!”

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t attach myself emotionally. I can no longer be your mother.”

“You’re going to quit being my mom? I think that’s against the rules.”

“You were a hostage for six weeks, but I’ve been one for twenty years! You got lucky this time, but eventually I will have to bury you. I can’t do it anymore, I have other children and grandchildren who need me, not to mention your father.”

The dam broke and she began sobbing uncontrollably. I limped to her and encased her in a hug.

“I’m done with that life, Mom. I promise”

“It’s who you are, JP. Between you and Noah, I get scared every time I hear the phone ring.”

I wrapped the hug tighter. “I promise you I’m done.”

This time she hugged me back, but I felt the doubt in her squeeze.

“Is everything alright here?” my father’s voice broke the moment.

My mother wiped the tears from her eyes. “We’re fine, Peter. I’m just glad our son is home safe and sound.”

“I don’t know about sound, but it is good to be home,” I said.

“We’re glad to have you back, son. You can stay as long as you need,” my father added somberly, before turning excited once again. “Come with me, JP, I want to re-introduce you to an old friend of yours.”

For an instant I thought he meant Gwen, and I broke out in a cold sweat. But it turned out to be anything but a friend-it was my old spineless classmate, and my father’s successor, Bobby Maloney. Having grown up with Bobby, it was no surprise to me that he didn’t have the guts to warn my parents that he was going to drop the Lisa Spargo bomb on them this morning. But before I could even protest, my father was tugging me in Maloney’s direction.

The crux of our problem had always been his jealousy of my relationship with Gwen, and while I can’t fault anyone for falling for her, I didn’t appreciate his constant attempts to undermine me behind my back. And it didn’t stop once we graduated. While I was off covering the Gulf War, he would travel every weekend to New York from North Carolina, where he attended college, to “comfort her.” Hitting on a guy’s girl while he’s avoiding missiles in a war zone has to be against some sort of etiquette. And while I’m no psychologist, it seemed to me that his sudden return to Rockfield, in which he sought out my father’s former position, reeked of someone not having gotten over the past.

My father gave his successor heartfelt congratulations on the speech. Maloney seemed to be eating up the approval. They discussed a couple of local issues for a few minutes until my father spotted a group of his longtime supporters. He excused himself, leaving Maloney and me awkwardly together. There was silence, followed by more silence.

Finally he spoke, “So what do you think your doing, Warner?”

I was surprised by the aggressive tone. “What do you mean, Bobby?”

“It’s Robert.”

“Who is Robert?”

“I am, dammit. What are you doing in my town?”

“Your town?”

“Stop answering a question with a question. What are you doing here?”

“I guess you guys don’t have cable in Rockfield yet. I was captured by…”

Maloney looked like he was about to blow a gasket. “I know your story, Warner-the whole goddam world knows your sob story. They can try to make you out to be some sort of hero, but everyone here knows you’re nothing but an opportunist. And if you think you’re going to waltz in here and take my job, I can assure you that you’ll have the fight of your life on your hands.”

I began to laugh, but caught myself when I realized he was actually serious. “I was just thinking about starting a little farm. I hear they demonstrate a lot of farm equipment at the fair.”

“Nobody in this town wants you here. They don’t respect a fraud, so go back to whatever exotic locale you came from.”

I flashed him my smuggest smile. The one that had irritated people on all seven continents at one time or another. “I’m just here to enjoy the fair, Mr. First Selectman.”

He glared at me, but wouldn’t look me directly in the eye-now that’s the Bobby Maloney I remember-before storming off.

A certain peace came over me as I limped around the fairgrounds-just me and my cane. Some people stopped me, while others gawked. The Maloney Doctrine, stating that nobody wanted me here, sure didn’t seem to be adding up.

I purchased some chicken, along with an expensive cup of suds they tried to pass off as beer. I checked out the lumberjack competition, and then a few art exhibits. The afternoon sun heated up, but a soft wind breezed through, and the smell of pine briefly replaced the aroma of cow shit. I was about to head to the Ferris wheel, my favorite amusement ride, when I heard it.

“John Peter! John Peter!”

It couldn’t be.

I turned.

It was.

Moving toward me, awkwardly, sashaying over the mucky grass in her two-inch heels, was Lauren Bowden. Her blonde hair was both magnetic and blinding.

To toss more salt in my wounds, she was escorted by Cliff Sutcliffe, wearing an expensive black suit. He looked like he’d come to pay his last respects to my happiness.

My instinct was to flee the scene, but the cane was now officially a handicap.

“You gotta be kidding me,” I muttered.