Enlisting Redemption

  Chapter 8

  The Road Back

  Vietnam - April 1970

  Peering off in the distance, Trevor spied her, dressed in a white sundress and a broad woven hat that protected the sun’s rays from her exquisite milk-colored skin. The sundress had images of tiny red poppies woven into a pattern along each of the extremities – the neckline, the sleeves, and the hem. Her shoulder length hair was a deep red tint that was accentuated by the long graceful waves that cascaded from beneath her hat.

  All was green – the hedges, the trees, the lawn - punctuated here and there by brilliant splotches of accentuating azure, crimson and tangerine emanating from flower petals. The spring air was just shy of tepid, complemented by a tingling hint of a breeze, the sun casting slits of golden beams through the tall sycamores overhead, as if the Gods had met on a whim for an afternoon of artistic enhancement of their playground below, striving if only for a few moments to paint a picture that was comparable to their own dreams.

  A butterfly flitted on its haphazard way into her tiny realm, pressing close for a moment, then dipping demurely away, only to return for a second, and even a third pass, as if it too, was enchanted by the fairy princess in the garden. As if on cue, she raised one hand gracefully and, the butterfly taking its perch thereon, the ethereal scene was somehow elevated beyond the realm of earthly plausibility.

  Peering through the foliage from his well-concealed vantage point, his heart pounding like a blacksmith’s anvil accepting its time-worn purpose, he felt a profound sense of guilt, as if he had somehow trespassed on another dimension, one not intended for human intervention. It was stunning. Indeed, she was stunning - there was no other way to describe the vision before him. Should he go forth and make himself known to her? Or was the scene before him just that – a vision of loveliness that was beyond the reach of mere mortals?

  Throwing caution to the four winds, he stepped from his hiding place, meaning to advance only far enough to make his presence unobtrusively known, but as he did so, the princess glanced his way and, sprouting wings, she vanished into the heavens.

  By now drifting slowly into consciousness, his memory yet clouded, Trevor struggled with furrowed brow to retain the fleeting image in his mind’s eye. His eyelids fluttering, he detected a distant voice announcing, “He’s coming to! Get the doctor!”

  Attempting to focus, he was for some reason unable to do so. Feeling as if he were recovering from a drunken binge, he slowly dragged his eyes open. The outline of a man’s face suddenly appearing before him, Trevor concentrated wearily, hearing the man say, “Private Sutherland! Can you hear me?” There was a brief pause, and then a second and this time a more insistent sound encroached on his now fleeting serenity, “Private Sutherland! Wake up! Can you hear me? If you can hear me, move your head.”

  Trevor struggled impulsively to move his head. The voice said, “Good! You’re in the hospital. You’re alive! Do you understand me?” Trevor moved his head a second time. The voice said, “You just rest now, we’re going to take good care of you. Get some rest.” Trevor closed his eyes and drifted into sleep, searching, searching for the vision in the garden of his lost youth…

  Vietnam - Three Days Later

  Trevor sensed rather than heard the nurse traipse into his room. Opening a single eye, he observed her supporting a tray of food as she inquired pleasantly, “How do you feel today, Private Sutherland.”

  “Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” he croaked and, attempting a tiny ill-conceived smile, he murmured, “But a lot better than yesterday, thanks.”

  “Excellent, private. It will take time. You just rest easy.”

  “Yes, Nurse Edwards,” he replied drowsily.

  “You have a visitor,” she announced.

  “Who is it?” Trevor replied groggily.

  “It’s a Private Wilson. He says he’s your buddy.”

  “I see,” Trevor replied. “Can you prop me up a bit? I’m quite uncomfortable.”

  Dan came into the room and, strolling briskly to the bed, he blurted, “How are you doing, buddy?”

  “Never better,” Trevor replied facetiously, attempting to smile, but finding the feeding tube too invasive to afford a full scale grin.

  “They tell me they’re going to airlift you out in a couple of days. I wanted to get by to see you before you leave.”

  “I say, I hadn’t heard. Where might they be taking me?”

  “Walter Reed, in Washington. That’s what they told me,” Dan responded.

  “How are you, Dan?”

  “I’m fine. I got out without a scratch, thanks to you.”

  “How about everyone else?”

  “Only fifteen of us made it, Trevor. Everyone is okay, except for Lieutenant Highsmith and Private Williams. The lieutenant’s alive, but they had to amputate both his legs. He’s already been airlifted out. I don’t know where they sent him. Williams is recovering. They say he’ll make a full recovery. I thought that he was dead, but you saved his life for sure.”

  “How about the remainder of the camp?”

  “By the time the Huey’s got there the camp had been completely overrun. They found three survivors, all three in bad shape. One has since died. In addition, there are four missing. God only knows what happened to those poor guys.”

  “Damn!” Trevor replied. “I don’t even know what in blazes we were doing up there.”

  “Me either. What I can tell you is this, we were attacked in some sort of major offensive by the North Vietnamese. Things are really hopping around here at the moment. I’m going back in with a new platoon, most likely in a few days.”

  “I say! Good luck, Dan.”

  “Trevor, before I go, I just wanted to thank you,” Dan said.

  “Why ever for?”

  “You saved my life! Hell, you saved all of our lives. I was interviewed the day we got back here. I said you deserved the biggest medal they have in this man’s army. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my hero. Whatever you do, wherever you go, buddy, you’re my hero for the rest of my life.”

  “That is quite sporting of you, Dan. I was simply trying to get out of there alive, but your words mean quite a lot to me.”

  “Listen, if I get out of here alive, I want to get together after this is all over, okay?”

  “Certainly, that sounds quite the thing to me as well. Right-o. Hey, keep your head down, old chap.”

  At this Dan turned to leave the room, waving one last time as he departed.

  Washington, DC – May, 1970

  Trevor was in rehab and, consumed with his daily workout of upper body exercises designed to restore full use of his arm and shoulder, he failed to notice the colonel that slipped in via the side door.

  “Good morning, sir,” the rehab specialist said on seeing the colonel approach.

  “Good morning,” the colonel responded. “Mind if I talk to your patient for a few minutes?”

  “Not at all,” the specialist replied. “Do you want privacy?”

  “Yes, please,” the colonel replied.

  Approaching the workout machine, the colonel announced, “Private Sutherland, I’m Colonel Struthers, Army Intel.”

  “Good morning, sir,” Trevor responded.

  “I’m sure you’re wondering what I’m doing here. I’ll cut to the chase, private. The Army is quite proud of you for what you did over there. I am here to thank you on behalf of the U.S. military. So, thank you, Private Sutherland.”

  Still uncertain as to why the colonel was there, Trevor took the outstretched hand with his good left hand and shook it.

  “In fact, the entire nation should be proud of you,” the colonel continued. “I’m here to talk to you about that today. Private, what you did over there was pretty damn crazy. I guess you know that. No need to answer that, we have the interviews with the soldiers you saved, and they all concur. You saved fourteen lives that day, not counting your own, and every one of
them says you’re a damn hero.”

  Uncertain as to what else could be said, Trevor muttered, “Thank you, sir.”

  “Now, I’m certain from what your buddies tell me about you that you are not going to like this, but I’m afraid that the U.S. Army feels that you should receive something in recognition of your heroism. There will be some press included with the awarding of some medals, and there will be a public ceremony at the White House.”

  “I say,” Trevor responded hesitantly, “Is there no way round this, sir?”

  “I’m afraid not, private. After all you’ve done, I apologize for putting you through this added responsibility, but the Army is in desperate need of some bona fide heroes right now. So you’re going to have to bear with us, private. Think of it as a duty to your fellow soldiers.”

  “I see, sir.”

  “Private Sutherland, for service beyond the call of duty, you are being awarded the Purple Heart, the Bronze Star, the Silver Star, the Distinguished Service Cross, and the Congressional Medal of Honor. In addition, the members of your platoon will be awarded the Army Valorous Unit Award and the Presidential Unit Citation. Private, you are about to be one of the most decorated soldiers in U.S. history. Congratulations.”

  “I…I don’t know what to say…” Trevor stammered.

  “You don’t need to say anything at all, soldier. You are now a bona fide American war hero, and you’re not even an American citizen. Now I assume that you know that you will be released from service due to your injury.”

  “Yes, sir, I am aware of that.”

  “Good. As soon as you are able, which from the look of you, appears to be very soon, the ceremony will be scheduled at the White House, and soon thereafter you will be honorably discharged from the U.S. Army.”

  “Sir, it has been an honor to serve in the United States Army.”

  “I wish you the best, Private. I will be in touch regarding the details of the awards ceremony.”

  Saluting with his left hand, Trevor responded, “Thank you, sir.”

  Returning his salute, Colonel Struthers shook his hand one more time and departed.

  The White House – June, 1970

  Trevor gazed out the window as the U.S. Army vehicle pulled up to the White House security gate.

  “Now, just stay with me and don’t say anything unless you’re spoken to, Okay?” Colonel Struthers instructed Trevor.

  Having no intention of doing otherwise, Trevor replied, “Yes, sir.”

  They were ushered to a holding room, and within minutes they were led to the White House Rose Garden, where members of the press had been arranged in front of a microphone strategically placed to show off the best features of the White House lawn. Trevor imagined that this was old hat to most of them.

  He was instructed to stand on Colonel Struthers’ left, and presently General Wheeler, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, came toward the pair. Both soldiers saluted and, General Wheeler returning their salutes, he immediately reached out to shake Trevor’s hand, offering, “Private Sutherland, it is a privilege and an honor to meet you. Our nation owes you and your fellow soldiers a great debt of gratitude. Well done, private, well done.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Trevor responded.

  General Wheeler now continued with, “The president will appear in a few moments. Don’t be nervous. He will speak to you briefly, and thereafter he will make a public announcement. You will then be asked to make a public statement. Please be brief, Private Sutherland.”

  “Yes, sir,” Trevor responded nervously, and at that moment President Nixon entered the Rose Garden. He walked directly to Trevor and, shaking his hand, he offered with an inviting smile, “Private Sutherland, welcome to the White House!”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  “I’ll bet you weren’t expecting to end up on the White House lawn when you enlisted a year ago!”

  Trevor smiled and responded, “No, sir. That was indeed quite the furthest thing from my mind.”

  “I can only imagine, Private Sutherland, I can only imagine.” He paused for a moment, still shaking Trevor’s hand. Then, releasing his grasp, he inquired, “How is your recovery from your injury coming along?”

  “I’m quite chipper, sir. The doctor says that in time I shall recover full use of my right arm.”

  “Excellent!” President Nixon responded. “General Wheeler has been telling me about your heroism on the battlefield. Let me say on behalf of the people of the United States of America – thank you! Our nation is indebted to you, Private Sutherland.” During all of this exchange the reporters were struggling among themselves to get the best photos, and the cameras were clicking at maximum speed.

  “Thank you, sir,” Trevor replied.

  “Now, let’s get on with this ceremony so that you can get down to the business of restarting your life, soldier,” the president said. He turned to the microphone and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, as you are well aware, we are here to today to honor Private Trevor Sutherland, our nation’s latest recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor. Private Sutherland is the first British citizen to be awarded this honor since World War II. I will now turn the podium over to General Earle Wheeler, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, who will read the citation.”

  At this General Wheeler stepped to the podium and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, it is a distinct pleasure to be here today to honor Private Trevor Sutherland. After exhaustive reviews with Private Sutherland’s fellow soldiers, the United States Army board of review voted unanimously to award Private Sutherland the Purple Heart, the Bronze Star, the Silver Star, the Distinguished Service Cross, and the Congressional Medal of Honor. In addition, the members of his platoon will be awarded the Army Valorous unit Award and the Presidential Unit Citation. Congress unanimously approved the awarding of the Congressional Medal of Honor on May 16, making Private Sutherland the three thousand and fifty-sixth recipient of our nation’s highest military honor in its history. I will now read the citation to you:

  On the night of March 27, 1970, a U.S. Army brigade of approximately one hundred eighty soldiers under the command of Colonel Ernest Jenkins was attacked at midnight by an enemy force estimated at two thousand combatants. The U.S. forces were overrun within four hours, suffering extremely heavy casualties. Colonel Jenkins was mortally wounded in the initial attack.

  Private Sutherland rallied seventeen soldiers from his platoon and counter-attacked the enemies left flank, breaking through their defenses and escaping into the jungle under cover of night. Private Sutherland then led his fellow soldiers on a three hour chase through the jungle, traveling some fifteen miles in the process, and evading the enemy forces until daylight.

  However, as two Huey helicopters approached the defensive position that had been set up by Private Sutherland and his buddies, a force of approximately one hundred Viet Cong closed in and surrounded them, attacking the small American force. Private Sutherland grabbed several hand grenades, leaped from his defensive position and singlehandedly counter-attacked the main force, successfully driving them back. In so doing, Private Sutherland sustained a flesh wound to his right shoulder.

  At that point two Huey’s swept into the adjacent open field and Private James Williams jumped up and ran towards the helicopter, sustaining a wound in his right side. Private Sutherland crawled from his position and dragged Private Williams to safety. He then led his fellow soldiers towards the choppers, successfully loading all of the soldiers, including Private Williams, save one. Lieutenant Bryan Highsmith took a grenade hit in the escape attempt and was immobilized by his injury. Private Sutherland retreated to Lieutenant Highsmith’s aide and carried him to the waiting chopper, taking a serious wound, again in his right shoulder, during his escape. Due to Private Sutherland’s heroic actions, fifteen members of his platoon survived.

  “This completes the citation,” General Wheeler said, stepping back from the microphone, and at this, the enti
re audience broke into spontaneous applause.

  President Nixon now returned to the microphone and announced, “I will now award the Congressional Medal of Honor to Private Trevor Sutherland, one of the most honored soldiers in our nation’s history!” at which the crowd applauded once again. Trevor came forward and President Nixon stepped behind him and draped the ribbon holding the medal over his shoulders, attaching it in back. The audience applauded once again, and President Nixon announced, “And now, we will have a few words from our newest recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor, Private Trevor Sutherland himself.”

  Trevor stepped to the podium and commenced, “Ladies and gentlemen, it is an honor and a privilege to stand before you today to receive this medal for saving the lives of my fellow combatants. However, in truth it is they who have saved mine. It is they who deserve this honor. Thank you.”

  He stepped back from the microphone and President Nixon spoke one last time, saying, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to announce to you that The United States Congress has on my recommendation awarded Private Trevor Sutherland honorary U.S. Citizenship. This honor has been bestowed only six times in the history of our country, having been awarded to such luminaries as Sir Winston Churchill. Congratulations, Private Sutherland.”

  The ceremony now at an end, Trevor responded, “Thank you, sir.”

  The following day the story of Trevor’s receipt of the Congressional Medal of Honor appeared in the press. But that was not all. The story from the previous year was dredged up and rehashed in the news. Trevor was suddenly hailed as a flawed everyman who had made up for his transgressions of youth. Two weeks later he received a letter welcoming him back to the University of Virginia with a full scholarship should he desire to return to college. After considerable thought, he decided to re-enter UVa in the fall semester.

  A Week Later

  Eyeing his wife across the kitchen table, Trevor announced, “I’ve decided to go back to college, Vanessa.

  “You’ve what!” Vanessa exclaimed furiously.

  Retaining his serenity despite her loss of control, Trevor responded, “You heard me - I said I’m going back to college at UVa in September.”

  “What prompted this decision, may I ask?”

  “They’ve invited me back, and I’ve decided that it’s an opportunity to make recompense. Besides, serving in the army convinced me that I need more knowledge.”

  “Where will we live?” she queried.

  “Vanessa, I’ve tried since my return, but the truth is, we’re not a match. I’m so sorry to be blunt about it, but I think it’s time we both moved on.”

  “You can’t be serious, Trevor. You’re just starting to recover from your war injuries.”

  “While that is true, it has little to do with my reasons for wanting to move on,” he responded diffidently.

  “Couldn’t we just give it a bit of time?” she moaned.

  “Look, I’m going to move back with my parents if they’ll have me. I can see you need some time to absorb this, so let’s just call it a trial separation for the moment. How does that sound to you?”

  “I suppose I can’t stop you, Trevor. But please do think about it, and be absolutely certain that this is what you want.”

  “Thank you, I’ll shall do that,” he responded, and so saying, he arose to pack his things.

  Washington - November, 1970

  Trevor pushed his way through the door to the rehabilitation room in search of Bryan. Spotting him in one corner, he approached him, saying. “Hey, Bry, how’s it going today?”

  “Getting a little better every day,” Bryan replied, and for the first time since that night in Vietnam he actually did look better to Trevor.

  The pair chatted for several minutes about nothing in particular. Bryan eventually inquired about Trevor’s return to UVa, Trevor indicating that he was doing fine, although he confessed that college had somehow become more difficult during his nearly two years away from it.

  Still unable to get over his feelings of guilt over Bryan’s demise, Trevor had gone over the events of that night so many times in his mind’s eye, wondering each time what he could have done to spare him from this ignominious fate.

  After watching the therapist work with Bryan for quite some time, Trevor inquired, “I say, what are they working on now?”

  “Well, they’re trying to rig me up with some sort of walking cane arrangement to get me out of my wheelchair,” Bryan responded. “The biggest problem seems to be that, unlike my left leg, I lost my right leg above the knee. If I’d lost both legs below the knee, then I’d have had both knee joints, and they could have equipped me with peg legs. You know, like Captain Hook, or whoever it was.”

  “I see,” Trevor replied. “That is indeed quite interesting, Bry. So you’re telling me that the problem is that they don’t know how to solve the problem of the pronation of the foot with respect to the knee joint.”

  “The what-nation?” Bryan blurted in stupefaction.

  “Never you mind,” Trevor responded, adding, “You’ve just given me an idea. I must get back to campus to work on it. I shall see you in a couple of weeks, Bry. Keep at it. You shall walk again, I’m quite certain of it.”

  Charlottesville - The Following Week

  Trevor glanced up from his spot in the coffee shop. Despite his two year hiatus from UVa, it was still his favorite hangout. Noticing a familiar face, he observed that the guy was heading straight towards him, obviously intent on interrupting his studies.

  Arriving at Trevor’s side, he said, “Uh, hello, Trevor.”

  Scrutinizing him for a moment, Trevor responded, “Ted? Ted Sarver? Is it you?”

  “Yes,” and, holding out his hand to Trevor, he added, “I was afraid you might not remember me.”

  Taking his hand, Trevor responded, “Of course I remember you, Ted. After all, we were fraternity brothers, weren’t we.”

  “Yes, of course,” he responded doubtfully.

  “Please, have a seat. What are you up to these days, Ted?” Trevor inquired graciously.

  Taking the proffered seat, Ted responded with obviously growing comfort, “I’m in graduate school here, studying business.”

  “I say, that’s excellent!” Trevor exclaimed, “I’m still struggling to get my undergraduate degree.”

  “I know, Trevor. Everybody at UVa knows. You’ve become the most famous student on campus. Heck, you’re probably more recognizable than the president of the university!”

  Chortling convivially at this, Trevor responded, “I remember when it wasn’t that way.”

  “Yes, well, that’s what I stopped by to tell you about,” Ted responded.

  Tilting his head in puzzlement, Trevor inquired, “Oh? What might that be?”

  “Hey, it may be nothing, but one of our former frat brothers came to see me this week. His name is Bob Symonds. You probably don’t remember him.”

  “No, I can’t say that the name rings a bell,” Trevor responded.

  “Anyway,” Ted continued, “Bob was at the frat house the night that Rebecca Carey did her act on Halloween.”

  Suddenly uneasy with the direction the conversation was heading, Trevor replied doubtfully, “I say, what’s this all about?”

  “Well, Bob says she’s alive, Trevor,” Ted exclaimed succinctly and, seeing Trevor’s incredulous reaction, he repeated, “Bob says that Rebecca is alive!”

  “What!” Trevor blurted in stupefaction. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Bear with me, buddy. Bob was really taken with The Wicked Witch Act two years ago, so much so that he told quite a few of his friends about it after he graduated and moved back to Baltimore. Eventually one of his friends told him that he had seen a woman perform what appeared to be the same act at a place in Baltimore.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I’m afraid not. I realize it sounds crazy, but I thought you’d want to know.” r />
  Trevor peered at him in amazement and asked, “Just exactly where is this supposed to have happened?”

  Ted eyed him diffidently and responded, “She’s working at a strip club called The Stafford Club in Little Italy. It’s in Baltimore.”

  “Baltimore?”

  “Yes, Trevor, that’s what I’m saying. Bob says she’s doing the same show she did at the Halloween party, even down to the same musical number – Rawhide. He swears it’s her, Trevor.”

  At this revelation, Trevor was so overwhelmed that he nearly toppled his chair. Contemplating this unexpected development, he exclaimed, “I say, if this is true, then Rebecca is indeed alive!”

  “Yep,” his friend responded.

  “Right. I can’t even think straight. I say, I must think on this, Ted. Whatever shall I do?”

  “You’ll think of something, buddy, you’ll think of something.”

  Charlottesville – Five Days Later

  Trevor had by now moped around for several days, attempting in vain to come to grips with this new possibility. Could Rebecca really be alive? And if so, what on earth was she doing performing in a gentlemen’s club in Baltimore? He eventually came to the realization that while he desperately hoped that she was indeed alive, he feared seeing her again more than anything he could imagine, Sergeant Struthers included. Ultimately, there was no escaping it – he had no choice but to find out if Bill’s friend Bob had been correct.

  Accordingly, the following Saturday Trevor climbed into his Porsche at midday and drove the three and a half hours to Baltimore. Since he had never been to Baltimore, he decided to make a day of it, perhaps providing himself a distraction from this all-consuming development. Arriving at the inner harbor late in the afternoon, he sauntered around a bit, idly taking in the harbor. Eventually he stopped in a bar, downed a much-needed drink, and subsequently dined at an Italian restaurant in Little Italy.

  Armed with directions given to him by the restaurant cashier, he found the club quite easily. Standing in front of the door, he nonetheless hesitated, terrified to face what the next few minutes might produce. Gathering his resolve, he entered the club, discovering with considerable relief that it was at least a classy place. If Rebecca was indeed working here, it could have indeed been quite a bit worse. Thus reassured, he sauntered to the bar and, plopping down nonchalantly, he ordered a scotch and water. He watched several of the acts somewhat distractedly, eventually realizing that at this rate he could be there all night awaiting her performance, assuming that she did indeed work there at all.

  Considering his options, he decided as a means of maintaining anonymity to avoid asking the bartender any questions at all. Instead, he concentrated on the clientele in the hope that someone might know something of the Wicked Witch. Over the course of the next couple of hours he kept at it, eventually conversing with a guy who confided that he had seen the Wicked Witch Act. Unfortunately, the description that he provided didn’t sound like Rebecca at all to Trevor. This woman was a blonde, whereas Rebecca’s hair was red. Still, since it was possible that Rebecca had changed her hair style in order to maintain anonymity, he decided he might as well hang around a bit longer.

  Eventually one of the bouncers came up to him, volunteering, “Hi, I’m Greg.”

  Not knowing exactly how to react to this intrusion, Trevor responded, “Hi.”

  “I work here,” he said.

  “Right, I can see that,” Trevor volunteered noncommittally.

  At this Greg eyed him suspiciously and said, “Hey, Joe over there says you were asking about the Wicked Witch.”

  Attempting to conceal his real reason for being there, he replied nonchalantly, “Oh, right-o, I suppose I was indeed.”

  “Why? Are you looking for her?”

  “What? No, on the contrary, I’m not looking for anyone in particular. I simply heard from a friend that the Wicked Witch Act is quite worth the price of admission to The Stafford Club.”

  “Ah,” he replied, “Yeah, lots of guys come here to see her. She’s quite a dancer, if you ask me. What’s your name?”

  “Trevor, Trevor Sutherland,” he blurted.

  “Well, she comes in on Mondays through Friday nights. I’ll tell her you were looking for her.”

  “Oh, there’s no need at all for that,” he responded, “She doesn’t know me.”

  “Okay. Anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, but thanks for your help,” Trevor responded pleasantly, and shortly thereafter he departed for the long drive back to Charlottesville.

  Baltimore - Two Days Later

  Rebecca moseyed into the dressing room at the Stafford Club and, plunking herself down, she appeared quite exhausted.

  “Hey,” Mimi volunteered, “How you doing, Wendy?”

  “Okay,” Rebecca responded wearily, “Just a bit tired, I suppose.”

  “You need to move out of that YWCA and move in with me,” Mimi responded.

  “I will, Mimi. I promise. But not yet, okay?”

  “Sure,” Mimi responded, “But soon, okay?”

  “Alright.”

  “Hey, I almost forgot, Greg told me there was a guy in here on Saturday looking to see the Wicked Witch Act. He said the guy was quite a hunk.”

  Her guard suddenly coming up, Rebecca queried, “A guy?” What guy?”

  “Oh, just some guy. He said he didn’t actually know the Wicked Witch, but since he’d heard about the act, he came in to see it. I assume that you’re aware that isn’t the first time I’ve heard that line. The Wicked Witch Act is in big demand here, you know. Anyway, I was interested, so I asked Greg if the guy told him anything about himself.”

  Contemplating for a moment, Rebecca inquired, “So what did Greg say to that?”

  “He said the guy’s name was Trevor Sutherland. I remember it distinctly, because there was an article in the newspaper a few months ago about a guy with the same name, a Vietnam War hero.”

  “Trevor Sutherland! Did he have an English accent?”

  “Yeah, Greg said he did. Say, how’d you know that?”

  “Damn!” Rebecca exclaimed in evident misery.

  “What? What’s the matter, girl?”

  “I know that jerk!” Rebecca grumbled.

  “Jerk! He’s a jerk?” and, halting momentarily to gather her thoughts, Mimi suddenly put in, “Wait a minute! That wasn’t just a guy with the same name. I think that was the same guy!”

  “What same guy?” Rebecca asked in confusion.

  “The same guy as the one in the newspaper article. I’m positive! There was a picture with the article. He was at the White House with President Nixon. The article said that he was like the most honored soldier in the whole universe. I mean, he’s some sort of national hero or something, and it said that he was the first Englishman to win the Medal of Honor since World War II.”

  “Damn!” Rebecca snarled. There was a brief silence, Rebecca subsequently blurting out furtively, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom, Mimi. I’ll be right back.”

  Now aware that the time had come for decisive action, Rebecca immediately left the club, her stomach churning uncontrollably.

  The Following Morning

  Rebecca walked down to the public library and, paging through the back issues, she searched for an article from the period described by Mimi. Just as Mimi had described to her, there he was on page one of the Baltimore Sun Times, shaking hands with the President of the United States. She was absolutely furious. In less than two years the jerk had turned his entire life around, and she was living at the YWCA, working by necessity in a strip club. Dropping her face into her hands, she sobbed miserably to herself. Such a revelation was simply beyond unjust.

  Washington – The Following Day

  Inspector Rush answered the phone, saying, “Rush, here.”

  “Ha!” Rebecca replied, “That’s exactly what I had in mind, Inspector Rush.”

  “Rebecca! It’
s great to hear your voice. What did you say?”

  “I was saying that I want to ‘rush there’. I want to come in, Inspector.”

  “Oh, my, so you’ve finally decided to do it. Good for you, Rebecca. When?”

  “How about today, Inspector?”

  “Perfect! Works for me! When and where?”

  “Meet me at Union Station at three P.M. Okay?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for all the money in the world, Rebecca. I’ve been waiting for this day for two years! Which train?”

  “I’ll be arriving from Baltimore.”

  “Alright, see you then! Bye!”

  Rebecca arrived right on time at Union Station, Inspector Rush easily picking her out of the arriving throng despite her altered hair style. Walking directly to her, he posited, “Rebecca! I’m Inspector Rush. I’d have known you anywhere.”

  A pleasant smile washing over her, she responded, “It’s a pleasure, Inspector.”

  “It’s so good to finally meet you,” he replied. “So, you were in Baltimore all this time. What were you doing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I was working in a strip club,” she answered candidly.

  “No kidding!” he exclaimed in utter amazement. “I’d never have even guessed. “Why?”

  “There was no other legal way that I could think of to make a living without the possibility of being discovered.”

  “Ah, good point,” he responded thoughtfully.

  “I turned out to be wrong anyway.”

  At this, he arched one eyebrow in surprise, inquiring, “Oh, how so?”

  “That creep Trevor Sutherland caught up with me, at least he nearly did.”

  “He did! Hmmm, I wonder how he did that.”

  “I don’t know. Fortunately, I wasn’t there when he came into the club. Like an idiot, he told the bouncer his real name, and the bouncer subsequently passed it on to me. That was Saturday night.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you called me in such a panic.”

  “Yes, I realized that I had to get out of there quick,” she replied and, changing the subject, she inquired, “So, where to now, inspector?”

  “Right, we have a secure facility here in DC. We’re going there first for processing. Then we’ll give you a short training course on the witness protection program. After that, we’ll look at options as to where you can be relocated.”

  “Will you be my case handler, Inspector?”

  “Yes, if you want me to. I would consider it an honor, Rebecca.”

  “Yes, I do, please.”

  “Consider it done. So, we’d better get going, Union Station is much too public for my taste.”

  They turned and, heading for his car in the parking garage, he asked, “I suppose you’ve heard about Trevor Sutherland’s notoriety?”

  “Yes, but only yesterday. My friend Mimi told me that she’d seen his picture in the newspaper a few months back. So I went to the public library yesterday morning and found the article. She said he’d driven from Charlottesville. I gather that he’s been readmitted to UVa.”

  “Correct. After all the positive press, they practically begged him to return to school there. He’s a national hero, you know.”

  “So I hear.”

  “How does that make you feel, Rebecca?”

  “Mad as hell, to tell you the truth.”

  “Good, you should feel that way. He’s back on top, and you’re still trying to dig your way out of this mess, one that he bears a great deal of responsibility for creating.”

  “Yep,” was her only response.

  “Well, from here on, I think that things will steadily improve for you, perhaps slowly at first, but I am confident you will be glad you came in.”

  “I hope so, Inspector. I certainly hope so.”

  Baltimore - Three Days Later

  Trevor parked his car on the street and made his way directly to the club. Feeling a mixture of giddiness and extreme trepidation, he entered and found a seat at the bar. As he had no idea how long it would be before her arrival onstage, he settled in with a much needed sedative of scotch and patiently awaited her performance. Eventually, the Wicked Witch waltzed onstage, at which point Trevor realized immediately that it wasn’t Rebecca.

  Baffled and confused that someone other than Rebecca would be performing Rebecca’s act, he decided that it simply couldn’t be coincidence. He therefore moved down to a seat directly in front of the stage, and when her performance was at an end, he tipped her generously. Ten minutes later she came out and sat down next to him.

  “Hey, big boy,” she offered.

  “Hello, Miss Witch,” he volunteered, “How’s tricks?”

  “Oh, you tell me, mister war hero.”

  “I say! How did you know about that?”

  “We’re not idiots around here, you know. Greg told me you were in last week looking for the Wicked Witch, and I recognized your name from the clip in the newspaper.”

  “I see.”

  “You lied to the bouncer,” she accused.

  “I did?”

  “Yes, you said the Wicked Witch didn’t know you. Of course, I actually don’t know you, but when I told her about you, I suddenly realized it was her you knew.”

  “Right. I apologize, but I didn’t want to upset her. That’s all.”

  “Well, you didn’t upset me, but you sure as hell upset her when I told her you’d been here looking for her.”

  “What! You mean she actually does work here?”

  “Of course she does,” Mimi responded, “How else would I know the Wicked Witch Act?”

  “Well, I’ll be,” he mumbled.

  “So, where is she tonight, Miss, er…”

  “I’m Mimi, and you’re Trevor,” and holding out her hand to him, she added, “Please to meet you, Trevor.”

  Taking her hand, he responded, “Likewise, Mimi. I take it you’re a friend of hers.”

  “That’s right,” she replied, “She’s my very best friend. And just who exactly are you?”

  “Oh, I’m just an acquaintance,” he prevaricated.

  “I doubt that very seriously,” she accused.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The fact that she has disappeared.”

  “I say, that is quite unfortunate!”

  “I’ll say! Actually, that’s probably an understatement. The minute I said your name, she said she had to go to the bathroom, and nobody’s seen her since.”

  “What? How long ago was that?”

  “That was Monday night.”

  “Oh…I say! So she’s not here tonight?”

  “Nope. She’s disappeared off the face of the Earth, I’m afraid.”

  “Right,” he remarked miserably. “I need a stiffer drink. Bartender, might I have another scotch? Make it a double.”

  Mimi now eyed him dubiously, querying, “So, are you now going to tell your newfound buddy Mimi what the hell is going on between the two of you?”

  At this Trevor glanced forlornly at her and replied diffidently, “Long story, Mimi.”

  “I have all night, big boy. And you look like you NEED to talk to somebody. Trust me, I’m your best buddy where she’s concerned.”

  “Are you indeed friends?”

  “The best - I absolutely adore Wendy.”

  “Right,” he murmured but, catching himself, he blurted, “Wait a minute, what did you call her?”

  “Wendy, Wendy Gardner?”

  “That isn’t her name!”

  “I never thought it was. What is her real name, Trevor?”

  “Right, stands to reason, since she’s on the run,” he murmured to himself and, turning back towards Mimi, he announced, “Her name is Rebecca, Rebecca Carey.”

  “On the run? Why is she on the run?”

  “As I indicated - long story.”

  “Well, let’s get a booth and you can tell me all about it, okay?”

  “I say, I believe
that I should quite appreciate that. Actually, I think I should benefit greatly from talking with you about it.”

  The pair ended up commiserating together for two hours and, though Mimi was horrified at Trevor’s disclosure, she now understood the situation.

  As they ended their talk, he said, “Thanks for listening, Mimi. I’ve had this whole sad affair inside me for going on two years, and frankly, it’s killing me.”

  “You messed up, big time,” she offered succinctly.

  “Understatement…big understatement, but you know, as bad as it was and still is, when she went over the side of that yacht, she started my sorry life on the road to redemption.”

  “And it looks like you’ve accomplished it,” she responded empathetically.

  “No,” he responded, capturing her gaze with his, “Not a chance, not by a long shot. As long as she is out there, as long as she has not been accorded absolute retribution, there can be no absolution for me, nor should there be.”

  “So, is that why you came looking for her, Trevor?”

  “Yes, I mean, no. Actually, I was just hoping to verify that she’s alive and, having accomplished that much, I feel that it hasn’t been for naught. And in a certain way, I am relieved that she made off without my having the opportunity to see her again.”

  “Why?”

  “I say, you cannot imagine what it’s like - her utter disdain for me, her sheer hatred of the person that I am. It is quite difficult to bear.”

  “You mean ‘were’, the person that you were, Trevor.”

  “Right, I appreciate you saying that Mimi, but I don’t feel that I have earned that distinction. The fact that I am a war hero doesn’t really prove anything at all. So in a way, it’s good that she has moved on. Now I can continue my pursuit of my own redemption, and perhaps someday I shall actually achieve it. If she were dead, I don’t think that would even be a possibility.”

  “For your sake, I hope so. In the meantime, would you care to sample my muffins?”

  “In the light of our discussion, you must surely know that I cannot, Mimi.”

  “Yes, I do know, but I just wanted to hear your answer. You, mister war hero, are in love with her.”

  At this unexpected accusation, Trevor glanced miserably at her and mumbled, “I do not deserve to even consider such a possibility, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, best of luck in your pursuit. And if there is anything that I can do, including letting you sample my muffins, you know where you can find me.”

  “Thanks, Mimi. Thanks for everything. Goodbye.”

  Washington – The Following Day

  Inspector Rush inquired, “So, where do you think that you’d like to be placed, Rebecca?”

  “I’ve thought about that,” she responded. “I think that I’d like to move to England.”

  “That is normally out of our jurisdiction, as I’m sure you well know, but under the present circumstances it just might be possible. I will see what I can do. Give me a couple of hours. Now, what do you think that you would like to do, I mean professionally, if we assign you to somewhere in England?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve been watching the bartender mix drinks at the club I worked at. I think I’d like to be a bartender in a pub.”

  “Excellent. That just might fly. I’ll let you know shortly. In the meantime, keep studying those training manuals I gave you.”

  Washington International Airport - A Week Later

  Rebecca somehow felt disinclined to get up from her seat in the waiting area, despite the fact that the passengers had begun lining up to board the aircraft. “Now that the moment has arrived, I’m not sure that I can do it, Inspector,” she mumbled woefully.

  He smiled at her, cajoling, “Now, my dear, there’s no turning back. Look at it this way – you’re going forward to a new life.”

  “I know, but I feel like I’m losing a newfound friend. You’ve been so good to me. Thank you so much. I shall miss you terribly.”

  He smiled at her once again, but this time his smile tinged with sadness, he offered, “There now, Rebecca, I’m feeling it, too. You must know that, but look at the bright side, we are now friends - real friends - forever. We’ll keep in touch, and if you need anything, I’ll be here for you. Agent Farnsworth will take good care of you in London, and you’ll be far safer there than you could possibly be on this side of the Atlantic. Now, stand up and give me a farewell hug.”

  The pair embracing, she pulled back and brushed away a wayward tear, saying, “Goodbye,” and at this, she turned and strode to the gate. She looked back and, waiving to him one last time, she disappeared down the gangway.