The You I've Never Known(94)

Thank God you were asleep, and totally unaware of the ugly scene going down just beyond your bedroom door. I suppose I should be grateful he used an open hand instead of his fist, but I’ll wear his bruises on my face for many days.

Oh, he apologized, swore it would never happen again, but something in his eyes says it will. And now I’m scared he might do the same thing to you. I can’t take that chance, Casey. But I don’t know what to do. I don’t dare call the cops. From what I’ve heard other army wives say, military policemen hate domestic abuse situations, which could ruin the career of one of their comrades in arms.

No, I’ll have to find another answer, and quickly. I won’t ever let Sgt. Jason Baxter lay a hand on you.





December 2001


Oh, Casey, I’m so excited. Auntie Tati is coming for a visit! Your daddy hates that you call her Auntie, but I couldn’t care less. Daddy doesn’t like a lot of things.

He finally got his way and I went to work part-time at the commissary. It’s boring and doesn’t pay very well, but I only have to put you in daycare two days a week. You like Miss Paula, which makes me feel a little better about leaving you there with her. And you really like playing with the other kids, which makes me feel worse. I kind of wish you only wanted to play with me.

I guess that’s pretty selfish, and lately I’m feeling more and more like life as a military wife is not enough. I see the wives of lifers caught up in their snobbish cliques. They stick up their noses at girls like me, knowing some of us married soldiers under the misguided assumption that we’d be well cared for, living on the government dole. As if. But even those women still glued to their soldiers who are close to retirement don’t look all that satisfied to me.

I’m not going to labor my life away for minimum wage and decent benefits care of Uncle Sam. What I want is college and a chance at a decent career. Tati always said I should be a lawyer because I’m so good at arguing, but I don’t think I’d like that very much. What I really want to be is a sports announcer. Not too many women do that job, but I think it would be a blast.

Your grandpa, my daddy, introduced me to sports, not that your grandma put up with it. My mother (who you’ll never, ever meet) got all sucked into this cultish church called Scientology. She said it was a religion, but I know better than that. God doesn’t play a role in the theater of L. Ron Hubbard, and neither do football, baseball, or basketball.

Mom was a strict disciple, and her staunch adherence to weirdness is what drove my father out of the house. He was already into the bottle, something she wouldn’t put up with. But after he left, his daily alcohol consumption increased steadily until it reached overdose levels. So you’ll never know your grandfather, either. I’m sorry about that.

I wish I’d known him better, but he left when I was ten, and I only got to see him a few times afterward. I had to sneak out to do it, in fact. Mom said he was an enemy of the church. He told me that’s because he knew about some of their creepier rituals, and they don’t like that information getting around. Personally, I never believed any of that garbage, mostly because the friends I kept called me on it. It won’t touch you.

I ran just as hard as I could as soon as I could. And I did everything I could to make the church—and Mom—not want anything to do with me. I turned myself into a regular party girl.

I met your daddy in a bar in downtown Austin. Me and my fake ID. I guess you could say I trapped him into marrying me, though when I told him I was pregnant with you, he didn’t complain or haul buns in the opposite direction. He did what most decent Texas boys would do and asked me to be Mrs. Jason Baxter.

My mother? Oh, she threw a fit. (Like I cared.) Threatened to disown me. (That was the point.) The only glitch was convincing her to sign off on the marriage license. I pointed out that she no longer had to worry about me. (I’m sure that was a relief.) Oh, and if she didn’t go along with my game plan, I, too, was privy to information she might not want me to share publicly. (She didn’t.)

I totally got my way. Too bad your daddy turned out to be an even bigger player than I was.





December 2001


Casey, Casey, Casey, what fun we’ve had with Auntie Tati! Christmas is coming, and even though it’s a little subdued this year because of the Towers and all, you and me and Tatiana are celebrating our time together. Oh, and Tati brought us a very special gift—a sweet little golden retriever puppy. You named her Boo, and when you called her the very first time, she came running to you.

Your daddy got all pissed off, of course. He hates dirt and disorder, and he’s sure the pup will chew the furniture and leave hair all over and soak the carpet with pee. But I’m going to keep her. Some things are worth fighting to hold on to. We’ll give her bones to gnaw and vacuum the hair and take her outside to do her business. After only two days, she’s almost housebroken already, like she wants to make us happy.

Between Boo, Tati, and you, this is the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time. I wish it could be the four of us together, somewhere—anywhere—besides North Carolina. It’s not the state I hate. It’s the call to war, and it’s coming soon, though it’s supposed to be all hush-hush. Ha. Like you can be immersed in army life and not understand the focus on deployment.

You don’t know this, but your daddy’s a whole lot older than I am. I didn’t want to marry a total grunt. I set my sights on a soldier who’d been in ten years or more, and Daddy joined up at twenty. He’d already been to the Middle East for Operations Desert Storm and Desert Shield, so when I met him, his rank was E-5. I know that means nothing to you, but to me it meant a decent monthly paycheck, at least if you figured in benefits and base housing. I never thought about another war, and it’s almost here.