Chapter 2: Wintry Encounters

December, 1984

At the end of 1984 daddy came home one snowy afternoon with a strange look on his face. He got out of his fatigues and into some sweats and started helping me make dinner. Somewhere between peeling carrots for the salad and taking the roast beef out of the oven, a tension ran out of him and he sighed.

"I have something tell you, pumpkin. Go ahead and sit down," he said, hefting the roast. I liked having roast beef because it meant sandwiches for the next few days, but I had a feeling whatever he was about to tell me would not please me. I sat expectantly, automatically piling food on my plate and eating it like a robot, my eyes glued to my father's face. He was doing the same, except his head was down, focusing single-mindedly on the plate.

"Uh, daddy?"

His eyes shot up to mine, a little worried. "Yeah, pumpkin?"

"You said you had something to tell me," I reminded him gently, the cutest smile I could manage on my face. I nearly batted my eyelashes; I was trying to be so cute and harmless.

He smiled back. "Oh, yeah. Well, I got some news at work today," he replied vaguely and started eating again.

I waited nearly a minute before realizing he was not going to continue. "Good news or bad news, daddy?" I asked, my smile slipping a notch. I fought to keep worry lines from showing between my eyebrows while I waited for his response.

His smile wilted into a sadder version of itself. "A bit of both, dear," he said with a sigh. "I got a promotion and orders."

I was about to cheer when the second half of what he said hit my brain. "Orders?" I echoed warily. "Orders where?"

"We are going to Quantico, in Virginia."

I frowned, trying to remember our visit to our nation's capital almost four years ago on our way to Misery. "Isn't that near Washington?" He nodded and I groaned, glaring at him. "I liked seeing the buildings and museums and everything, but that city is a slum. I don't want to live there!"

Another sigh. "We won't be living in D. C. We will be quartered at Ft. Belvoir. I am going to be going to school for a couple of years while we are there," he told me, eliciting a giggle from me.

"But you are too old to go to school, daddy!" I said, highly amused.

He smiled also but the humor never reached his sad eyes. I think he knew I was going to pitch a fit even before I did. "Part of my promotion is going back to school to learn new stuff so I can do my job better," he explained vaguely, which is how he always talked about his job: vaguely.

"Does that mean you won't be going away any more?" I asked. Despite the fact that I loved it when my dad went away for his work when mommy was alive, since she died his trips were horrible for me. I was always left with a neighbor and I spent the entire time miserable because my nightmares would come back with a vengeance. Every time daddy came home from one of his TDY assignments I would run up to him, leap into his arms, and strangle him with a big hug while I tried not to cry. Big girls don't cry! Right?

"Probably not, pumpkin," he replied with a smile that warmed me to my toes and made be beam back at him. "We are going to go visit your grandparents in New York for Christmas. You are going to stay with them for about a week while I come back here, pack our stuff up, and then I will come back and get you. How does that sound?"

He almost winced visibly even as the last syllable fell from his mouth from behind a smile more false than Grandpa Lars' teeth. My smile fell away and my eyes watered up. "I don't want you to leave me at Grandpa and Grandma's. I don't even want to move. I don't like it here, but I do not not not want to live by Washington, D. C. It is nasty and scary there. Dirty people live on the street and police sirens are always going. Can't we go back to Germany? Please, daddy! I promise I'll be good if we go back!" I said, the tears flowing freely at the immediate thought of him leaving me for a week, and the distant thought of living in the frightening place that was Washington, D. C. back then.

Dinner forgotten, daddy came around to my chair and enfolded me in his arms, stroking my hair. "I'm sorry, Alexandra. We don't have much of a choice. Home is where the Army sends us, not where we would like to go. For the next couple of years, Ft. Belvoir will be home. It will be all right. I promise! I will be back to get you from Grandpa Schloss' as soon as possible," he murmured comfortingly, though I barely heard a word. "They don't get to see you very often and they were delighted when I told them we would be coming. Lars and Bettina told me that several of your aunts, your Uncle Friederich, and most of their kids will be stopping by to see you while you are there. You will be so busy with your cousins you won't even know I am gone."

"I-I don't wanna," I sobbed, my nose running and tears streaming down my face to soak into daddy's shirt.

He reached onto the table and grabbed a couple of napkins, handing me one and drying my tears with the other. A look, half "Ah ha! An idea!" kind of look and half "I really don't want to do this!" kind of look, flickered across his face.

"If you are real good while you are at your grandparents' house," he said, pausing with a wince and then waiting for me to blow my nose, "then I will see about signing you up for karate when we get to Virginia. How does that sound?"

I stopped in the middle of blowing my nose to look up at him incredulously. "You mean it? You really will?" I whispered, my eyes wide. I had been having a rough time of it lately because the urge to just go up to someone and start wailing on them was tremendous. The thought of being able to do that on a regular basis was ... well, I didn't know the word orgasmic back then, but that was pretty close to how I felt. I leaped out of my chair and hugged daddy so tight he had to grab my arms to breathe. "I promise I will be extra good, daddy. Are we going to Springfield to go Christmas shopping before we leave?"

Daddy actually wound up taking me into St. Louis to shop for my grandparents and all of my other relatives on my mother's side of the family. It was the best time I had had in the four years we were in Misery.

A week before Christmas found daddy and me at the airport in St. Louis early in the morning. We had sent the presents on by mail and most of our luggage was all of my clothes and a few toys for me to occupy myself for the week after Christmas. I loved flying, but the hours of waiting in an airport I have never gotten to like. The food was expensive, but not overly good, the waiting areas were crowded, and most people had long ago lost any semblance of good will towards their fellow man, or woman. Especially at Christmas.

I have spent a fair amount of time in airports over the years and the thing I always wind up wondering is: If everybody, including the mental defectives who design them, knows that people will spend a lot of time sitting in those medieval torture devices that they call airport seating, why are they so damned uncomfortable?

I sat on the ledge by the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the tarmac for most of our wait. I loved watching the huge planes taxiing in and taking off. Daddy spent most of the time reading, glancing up to see what I was doing about every other paragraph. Most of his carry-on bag was filled with books. I think they were school books.

The flight to New York was about two and a half hours. I fell asleep almost as soon as the seat belt light was off. I missed the snack and only woke up because my ears were hurting from the pressure change. Daddy flashed me a smile as he put his book back in his bag and clicked his seat belt.

Maybe I am just a grumpy person who dislikes false affability in those who deal with the public, but I have always hated the little speeches the captain of an airplane gives throughout the flight. Anyway, it was about eleven in the morning on a cloudy, snow-covered New York day and fifteen degrees in Syracuse when we touched down. Syracuse is a small city and so is its airport. Daddy had said he didn't really know who was picking us up, just that Grandma Bettina assured him someone would be there. I was slowly getting into the mood as we got our bags together and got off the plane. The last time I saw any of the people I would see in the next couple of weeks was at mommy's ... when we came back to the States in 1980. I barely remembered any of them and I did not have a good time when we were here last, for obvious reasons.

"Good Lord!" daddy whispered as we came out of the tunnel from the plane. "They sent the entire clan."

I looked up sharply, wondering why the Ku Klux Klan was waiting for us and why Grandma had sent them to pick us up. Back in Missouri, the local Klan headquarters was just down the road from my school. He was looking straight out into the crowd

"Why is the Klan here daddy? I thought New York was different than Missouri," I asked, not ready for the hearty laughter that bubbled out of my dad as he led me towards a huge group of people standing behind a sign with "Sean and Alexandra McKiernan" written on it in glittering letters and stars, moons, and smiley faces done in fluorescent marker.

The oldest of the women stepped forward and hugged daddy with a sad smile. "Mom and Dad would have come but Dad broke his leg skiing a couple of weeks ago and is acting like an invalid. Welcome home, Sean," said the woman, whom I recognized as one of my mother's sisters, in a rich voice. She then knelt down, her black wool dress belling out around her. I noticed she had on a pretty angel pin and angel earrings that mommy picked out the last Christmas in Germany. She bought all of her sisters angel jewelry in a German shop we went to in Stuttgart. Her dark brown hair was caught in a cool braid that mommy used to wear. I began to feel a bit sad with so many reminders. The lady must have seen it in my eyes before I lowered my face. A smooth, pale hand reached out and cupped my chin. "Hello, Alexandra. You look so much like your mother. Welcome to New York. Do you think you have a hug for your Aunt Sabrine?"

Aunt Sabrine? My mother's twin sister? They didn't even look alike! I nodded and put my arms limply around the woman who enfolded me in her arms. She felt safe, like mommy used to when the monsters scared me at night and daddy wasn't there to make sure they wouldn't get me. I only had hazy memories of my mother now. Every year they got fuzzier and fuzzier. I kept pictures of her in my room so that I would never forget her face, but specific events with her were harder to remember. Aunt Sabrine's hug brought some of them crashing back, especially of that last happy/terrible day. My eyes started leaking. I was a tough girl and didn't cry unless I was trying to get my way with daddy, but my eyes were leaking.

Before I could get myself under control, the entire crowd came forward and was hugging daddy and me, one at a time. It was fifteen minutes or so before the greetings were done and there wasn't a dry eye among the adults. The kids had no idea what was going on or why their parents were all weepy-eyed at the arrival of someone whom they hardly knew. My eyes were obeying orders again by the time the adults sorted themselves out and led us to the baggage claim area. A small herd of vans and pick-up trucks were waiting in the parking lot. Daddy and I went with Aunt Sabrine and her two kids. Both were older than me by several years and bundled up in thick ski jackets, hats, gloves, boots, and jeans. They looked comfortable and I was freezing in my winter coat. Missouri didn't get this cold.

Aunt Sabrine had lost her husband the same year mommy died. I think that was what the sad smiles between daddy and her were about. Her kids' names were Jacob ("just call me Jake") and Anika. Jacob, eleven, had blue eyes and light brown hair. He seemed very serious but I didn't realize then that he was entering that stage for boys when younger female relations were invisible. Only those who are potential mates were relevant. After spending a couple of weeks around him, I came to realize that one of our other female cousins was either a very close friend or was not irrelevant.

Anika seemed to treat me like a long lost younger sister for my entire stay at grandma's house. They were staying there too because Aunt Sabrine had to go on a trip almost right after Christmas. Anika was pretty in almost every way. She had long, dirty blonde hair, a lithe body that moved with unconscious grace, and was entering the stage in a female's life where things begin to round in interesting ways to the male eye. I would never have to worry about that, fortunately or unfortunately, because I seemed to inherit my figure from daddy's end of the gene pool. All of his female relatives were lanky and almost boyish in their figures. Anika's startlingly green eyes looked almost cat-like in their color and they always seemed to be smiling, even when she was not. She always smelled of apple blossoms. And despite her young age of thirteen, I always felt a sense of calm around her. It was almost as if she wore serenity like a cloak that billowed around her, calming everyone it touched. In the years to come, she would become my new anchor, taking over where my mother left off. I doubt it was intentional on anyone's part, but that family get together healed a part of me that had been trailing psychological blood all over Missouri.