Read Online The Night Singers by Valerie Miner - Free Book Online Page B

forehead. Somehow she hadn’t expected such heat in Germany. A mild climate, she always taught in her geography segment.
    â€œWell, James Dean.”
    â€œOh, yes,” she exclaimed. “He was a real fan.”
    â€œIn as much as fan is related to fanatic,” Mackie was shaking his head. Sweat rings had appeared under the starched sleeves of his uniform.
    â€œHow do you mean?” Her voice was strained. Because of the heat. She thought about their retriever Woody back home and how he panted even on the coolest mornings in South Mountain Park. Jennifer wished she’d brought water. Then again, carrying a sports bottle probably wasn’t military code.
    â€œWhy don’t you rest here on this shady bench?”
    They sat together a moment before she asked again, “How do you mean, ‘fanatic?’”
    â€œOh, that’s too harsh. He kept a few photos of Jimmy Dean in his locker,” he recalled. “And several of you, of course.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œWell, it wasn’t really his fault. Another soldier made an insinuation.”
    â€œAn insinuation?” She glanced at the flat countryside beyond the base. Brandon used to write that he missed the colours and contours of Arizona, the colours and contours of Jennifer, herself. Even in letters, he could turn her on. She thought he might have been a writer in a different life, a longer life.
    â€œYou know we have a ‘don’t ask; don’t tell’ policy.”
    â€œSergeant Mackie,” she pushed back her brim and regarded him closely. “I can assure you that Brandon wasn’t gay.”
    He laughed. “No, Ma’am, I’m certain of that. But one of the young soldiers teased him about the Jimmy Dean pictures. Then another guy picked up the ball and before you knew it, there was a fist fight.”
    â€œThat doesn’t sound like Brandon.”
    â€œWell, he hardly got into it on his own.”
    â€œWas anyone hurt?”
    â€œNot on the first occasion.”
    â€œThe first occasion! How long did it go on?” This wasn’t the Brandon she knew. Well, she remembered something he’d said about fights at the orphanage, but he was a teenager then.
    â€œWe had to break things up a couple of times. In the last scuffle a soldier suffered a broken nose. I tried to suggest that Brandon diffuse the situation by taking down the photos, you know, even for a while.”
    She shook her head wryly. “I guess you didn’t get very far.”
    Jennifer had been surprised to return from her first day of teaching to find he had hung a photo of James Dean in the living room. In another corner, he had framed a sonnet by John Donne which they recited together at their wedding. She didn’t object to either thing. She did wish he had consulted her.
    Jennifer was an enthralled young bride, to the surprise of close friends who knew her as independent and opinionated. But she loved Brandon, was grateful every day for his presence in her life. This hot, hot, hot afternoon, she was upset about the hangings because she’d imagined long conversations about decorating the bare, tranquil walls of their first home. The Petrie-Tobin nest, she would smile to herself. They’d agreed on the modestly priced, neutral toned Sears furniture. A starter set, she considered it, until their life, their family grew larger, their ambitions more specific. They wouldn’t live in Phoenix forever, that’s for sure. Meanwhile, these chairs and couch were comfortable and would be easy to re-sell. The cool, tiled floors were scattered with imitation Indian rugs which they had chosen together for their colour and design. All very pleasant and homey.
    â€œWell, they’ll be great dinner party company,” she joked. “Imagine the conversation between Jimmy Dean and John Donne.”
    Brandon cocked his head as he often did when he didn’t know if she was making fun of him.