at the end of his last tour, but all the blood and bullets had taken their toll on him in Germany, and he did not want to continue on in the service.
So, taking his life savings, Grandpa Paul came home, married his high school sweetheart from Brookfield High School in Chicago, Illinois, and brought her to Little Valley to live the American dream. The American dream — ideals set by people with high hopes. Allen wished he and his small family of four could find their new life far from the busy streets of Richmond, Indiana, the city where Allen’s mother had moved to be closer to her parents after his dad’s death.
“Gina will love this place,” Allen said to the rushing wind, as he drove the winding road towards their new home.
He was sure his kids would love it too. Kaylee, age six, and Paulie, age five, were similar in so many ways, though Paulie was an unexpected bundle of joy. Born exactly one year and fifteen days after Kaylee, he was, nonetheless, a whirlwind who would make his name-sake proud.
Looking at his watch, Allen saw that it was quarter to ten. He was supposed to meet Gina and the kids at the house a half hour ago, but a fender bender on Interstate 43 had backed up the traffic for miles.
Allen turned right off of Fair Brook Road onto a gravel drive that meandered a hundred yards up a slight incline through a mass of tall evergreens. Looking again into the rearview mirror, he saw Stinker’s tail start to wag vigorously, beating the rear window. Stinker started barking towards the two story white house as it came into view.
Allen pulled to a stop behind a gold Geo Prism with its trunk popped open, filled with small boxes and three suitcases; its lid pulled down tight by three black and green striped bungee cords. Glad to be finally home, Allen put the truck into park and cut the engine. Before the billowing dust of the gravel driveway settled, Stinker leapt from the truck’s bed. In a heartbeat, he disappeared around the corner of the house’s large screened-in porch.
“Stinker,” Allen called through the open window.
He left the keys in the ignition and stepped out. Shutting the door, he was met with the happy cries of his children as they raced around the corner of the house with Stinker close on their heels.
“Daddy!” Kaylee yelled jumping into Allen’s arms.
He twirled her around and then reached out a hand to ruffle Paulie’s mass of sandy blonde hair.
“Hey, Bud,” Allen said, as Paulie pulled away from his hand and slapped him five before running off into the wide yard with Stinker nipping at his heels.
“You’re late.” Gina stepped out of the screened in porch. The door slapped closed behind her with a rattle.
“Fender bender on the highway,” Allen replied, setting his daughter down.
As Kaylee ran off to catch her brother, Allen met his wife halfway in the yard. Embracing, he gave her a quick kiss on the neck, breathing in the fresh strawberry scent of her hair.
“Not you, I hope,” Gina said, giving Allen a squeeze before letting go.
“Nope, some moron who thought he was on the autobahn,” Allen replied, hooking a thumb into a belt loop on the back of Gina’s black jeans.
With his arm securely around her, they walked towards the house. Allen looked up at the coal colored shingles and noticed the gutters needed cleaning. Making a mental note, he reached for the white painted screen door and pulled it open. Letting Gina go in first, Allen looked back towards the tree line of the property.
“Stay in the yard,” Allen said loudly to the kids.
Kaylee and Paulie waved their acknowledgement, though in their state of play they did not hear a word he said. Allen closed the door firmly, but a warp in the wood caused it to pop back open.
“Like the house?” Allen asked, as he followed Gina into the living room.
Not answering, Gina stepped into the center of the empty room.
“No?” Allen asked.
“Well…” Gina replied, not looking back as her voice trailed
So, taking his life savings, Grandpa Paul came home, married his high school sweetheart from Brookfield High School in Chicago, Illinois, and brought her to Little Valley to live the American dream. The American dream — ideals set by people with high hopes. Allen wished he and his small family of four could find their new life far from the busy streets of Richmond, Indiana, the city where Allen’s mother had moved to be closer to her parents after his dad’s death.
“Gina will love this place,” Allen said to the rushing wind, as he drove the winding road towards their new home.
He was sure his kids would love it too. Kaylee, age six, and Paulie, age five, were similar in so many ways, though Paulie was an unexpected bundle of joy. Born exactly one year and fifteen days after Kaylee, he was, nonetheless, a whirlwind who would make his name-sake proud.
Looking at his watch, Allen saw that it was quarter to ten. He was supposed to meet Gina and the kids at the house a half hour ago, but a fender bender on Interstate 43 had backed up the traffic for miles.
Allen turned right off of Fair Brook Road onto a gravel drive that meandered a hundred yards up a slight incline through a mass of tall evergreens. Looking again into the rearview mirror, he saw Stinker’s tail start to wag vigorously, beating the rear window. Stinker started barking towards the two story white house as it came into view.
Allen pulled to a stop behind a gold Geo Prism with its trunk popped open, filled with small boxes and three suitcases; its lid pulled down tight by three black and green striped bungee cords. Glad to be finally home, Allen put the truck into park and cut the engine. Before the billowing dust of the gravel driveway settled, Stinker leapt from the truck’s bed. In a heartbeat, he disappeared around the corner of the house’s large screened-in porch.
“Stinker,” Allen called through the open window.
He left the keys in the ignition and stepped out. Shutting the door, he was met with the happy cries of his children as they raced around the corner of the house with Stinker close on their heels.
“Daddy!” Kaylee yelled jumping into Allen’s arms.
He twirled her around and then reached out a hand to ruffle Paulie’s mass of sandy blonde hair.
“Hey, Bud,” Allen said, as Paulie pulled away from his hand and slapped him five before running off into the wide yard with Stinker nipping at his heels.
“You’re late.” Gina stepped out of the screened in porch. The door slapped closed behind her with a rattle.
“Fender bender on the highway,” Allen replied, setting his daughter down.
As Kaylee ran off to catch her brother, Allen met his wife halfway in the yard. Embracing, he gave her a quick kiss on the neck, breathing in the fresh strawberry scent of her hair.
“Not you, I hope,” Gina said, giving Allen a squeeze before letting go.
“Nope, some moron who thought he was on the autobahn,” Allen replied, hooking a thumb into a belt loop on the back of Gina’s black jeans.
With his arm securely around her, they walked towards the house. Allen looked up at the coal colored shingles and noticed the gutters needed cleaning. Making a mental note, he reached for the white painted screen door and pulled it open. Letting Gina go in first, Allen looked back towards the tree line of the property.
“Stay in the yard,” Allen said loudly to the kids.
Kaylee and Paulie waved their acknowledgement, though in their state of play they did not hear a word he said. Allen closed the door firmly, but a warp in the wood caused it to pop back open.
“Like the house?” Allen asked, as he followed Gina into the living room.
Not answering, Gina stepped into the center of the empty room.
“No?” Allen asked.
“Well…” Gina replied, not looking back as her voice trailed
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