Beyond the Point(12)
“Oh Lord, not that story again.”
Nearly as tall as her husband, Barbara Speer was a formidable woman. Hannah had always thought she looked a bit like Geena Davis in A League of Their Own: glamorous with gusto. Had she been born in a later generation, Barbara might have become the CEO of a major international company, but instead, she’d raised five children and successfully negotiated life as a general’s wife. Entertaining heads of state had become second nature: she could hold her own with First Ladies, UN ambassadors, and senators. She read three newspapers every morning and could speak as many languages. To Hannah, her grandmother was like royalty, but to the rest of the world, she was simply a retired general’s wife.
It was Barbara who had convinced her husband to transform their hundred acres into an organic cattle ranch. Now that he was retired from the Army, her grandfather had finally agreed, and the business was growing faster than anyone had predicted—anyone except Barbara.
“This pie is going to get cold if he starts telling stories,” Barbara said.
“I’ll do it,” said Emily. Then, channeling her inner Jimmy Stewart, Hannah’s sister began telling the tale, speaking as if she were holding a cigar in her mouth. “Now, you see, those Navy midshipmen had us beat down. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. Emotionally! We were done for. Kaput! If West Point had a fighting chance, we had to do something. Something big.”
They were laughing too hard for Emily to continue, but of course she didn’t have to. They all knew the story by heart. In 1954, Gates Speer was a Firstie at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point—a senior. It was his last year at the academy, and he couldn’t bear to watch the football team lose to Navy one more time. So in a moment of desperation, he and a group of friends decided it was up to them to turn the tide: they were going to steal Navy’s mascot, a hundred-and-fifty-pound goat with massive curved horns that spanned more than five feet across. To successfully kidnap the mascot and transport him back to West Point, her grandfather hatched a plan that included a rag, a can of chloroform, and his roommate’s convertible drop-top. They’d snatched the goat, heaved his passed-out body into the backseat of the convertible, and then put the roof up, speeding away from Annapolis in the dead of night.
“Damn if that goat didn’t wake up,” her grandfather said, picking up the story. “We stop at a gas station to fill up. And suddenly, Bill the Goat is ripping through the convertible top with his horns, trying to break loose. I jump on top of him and have to wrestle him all the way back to West Point. Scariest day of my life.”
Of course, they all knew that it wasn’t the scariest day of the general’s life. Her grandfather had fought in the Korean War as a second lieutenant. He’d spent four years in Vietnam, too. A lieutenant colonel then, he’d been in charge of a large regiment of officers and soldiers and had probably seen a lot of terrible things happen, Hannah assumed—things she couldn’t even imagine. But then again, she wasn’t certain. He never told those stories.
“Of course, West Point isn’t all just stealing goats,” he said, clearing his throat. Suddenly, she felt her grandfather’s arm stiffen. His teeth clenched behind his cheeks and he shook his head, like he was trying to shake a memory.
“Let’s not get into all that,” her grandmother said gently. “We’ve got pie!”
Barbara Speer placed the pie dish on the table and opened her hands over it as if to say, Ta-da! The sweet aroma of fruit and butter mingled with the tension in the air.
“Strawberry rhubarb,” she announced. “Who wants more tea? Hannah, have I told you how much I love this pitcher? I get compliments on it all the time.”
Hannah smiled humbly. The pitcher was a product of the one elective class she’d taken during her last semester of high school. The body of the pitcher was tall and slender, with a perfect triangle spout and a curved handle. As much as her grandmother entertained, Hannah had known it would get good use.
“It looks great, Barb,” said Lynn. Hannah watched her mother stand up from the swing, raise her eyebrows, and make strong eye contact with the rest of the family.
“I’ll grab the plates,” her dad said, straightening his ball cap. “Emily, why don’t you get the ice cream?”
Suddenly, the porch cleared, leaving Hannah and her grandfather alone on the swing. The exit had clearly been planned, because at the last minute, Emily turned back to Hannah and mouthed, “Sorry.”
So that’s what this is, Hannah realized. An ambush. She felt the muscles in her throat tighten. She didn’t like to be taken by surprise.
“Two days, huh?” her grandfather said solemnly.
“Yes, sir,” she started. “But you don’t need to worry. I broke my boots in just like you told me.”
It was impossible to reassure a man who needed no reassurance. Arms crossed over his chest, he turned to her with his blue eyes, looking down at her the way she expected he’d looked down on so many of his subordinates over the years.
“It’s not too late you know,” he said. “Your dad knows the coach at UT. There are opportunities all over the place. Not just there.”
Hannah bit the insides of her cheeks hard. Her grandfather had never encouraged his grandchildren to join the service. On the contrary, he’d almost downplayed the significance of his contributions to America. Hannah had to beg her father to tell her the truth: How, when he was a lieutenant, her grandfather had single-handedly saved his platoon from capture in North Korea. How he served as an Army liaison for the space program. How without him, Neil Armstrong might not have walked on the moon. He had medals that he wouldn’t pin to his uniform, even though he’d earned them. To Gates Speer, wearing all the pins you’d earned was the antithesis of humility, and if he was anything, he was humble. That was the Speer way. Stay modest. Never claim credit. Avoid talk about politics and religion. Always smile demurely, even when inside, you’re beaming with pride. Stay married for the long haul. Make pies. But couldn’t her grandfather see?