By the time I was scheduled for lunch, my head was swimming from everything that was going on around me. Since I wasn’t one of those people who easily socialized, I felt alone despite so many other students around me. When I reached the cafeteria, I got my food and found an empty table in the corner where I could sit and eat. I felt a little relief at having some space around me until I noticed one of the students heading toward my table with her lunch tray.
I couldn’t help but watch her as she approached. I had seen her in the hall a couple of times when changing classes but hadn’t had the chance to see more than a glance on passing. Now that I could take the time to really look, I noticed that she had flame-red hair pulled back in two pigtails and the prettiest emerald green eyes that I couldn’t help but stare into. She was so freckled that the freckles on her cheeks looked like sprinkles on vanilla ice cream. She must have noticed that I was staring at her because a smile broke over her face, nearly blinding me with its brightness.
Before I could object, she placed her tray on the table and sat beside me. She said, “Hello there, stranger. I’m Stephanie Dunbar, but everyone calls me ‘Steph.’ What’s your name?”
I was stunned by her directness and sat there for a moment, my mouth moving but not managing to say anything. Finally, I said, “I … I’m Rachel Fryman.”
“Well, Ray, it’s nice to meet you,” Steph said with a grin and stuck out her hand, giving me a new name in the process. I managed to tear my eyes away from hers. I looked at her hand in near incomprehension before I realized what she was offering. I reached out and took her hand in mine, and I felt a shock go through my body. At that moment, I somehow knew I would never be lonely again …
… I awoke with the morning sun playing around the edges of the drapes. I found the other side of the bed empty, and the faint clattering coming from the kitchen confirmed that Jo had already gotten up and was preparing breakfast. I spent a moment stretching, working out the kinks from last night’s exertions. I smiled at the thought of being able to wake up every morning to have Jo fix breakfast for us, but I knew it would never happen.
Before my thoughts could turn maudlin, I got out of bed and entered the en suite bathroom to perform my toilet. After donning a robe, I padded out to the kitchen to find Jo, similarly attired, just about finished preparing breakfast. I set the table and poured the orange juice while Jo plated the food. We sat down together and enjoyed a quiet breakfast, discussing our plans for the day.
After breakfast, we shared a shower before getting dressed and parting ways. Jo had two engagements scheduled for today, so I sent her off. I decided to take the day off and spend some time on the beach after taking my bike out for a spin. After loading my sandals and towel in the saddle bags, I donned my helmet, boots, and riding jacket and started up the bike, loving the smooth purr from the engine. Despite her disdain for it, I silently thanked Rowan for taking good care of it.
I headed south and took a drive along the coast down around the Palos Verdes peninsula toward the Point Vicente Lighthouse. I loved how my bike powered around the curves, and I was glad it seemed to want to run without any issues for once. I pulled into the parking lot of the Point Vicente Lighthouse and found a spot to park. Although the grounds were open daily, the lighthouse was only open to the public one day a month. The lighthouse was open today, so it was crowded with people enjoying the beautiful weather. The lighthouse had a nice ocean view, and if it was a good day, you could see Santa Catalina Island off to the south.
Despite the crowds of people milling around, I enjoyed the experience. After some time spent walking around the facility and admiring the views, I got back on my bike and headed back to Manhattan Beach. A beach volleyball tournament was going on today, and I loved watching the women play. I found a spot to park a couple of blocks up from the beach and removed my riding jacket before swapping my riding boots for sandals. I also pulled a beach towel out of the saddle bag and, after locking everything up, headed down to the beach.
When I got to Manhattan Beach Boulevard and turned west, I saw the pier stretching out into the ocean from the end of the street. A unique octagonal building on the end of the pier was surrounded by strolling people. When I reached the Strand, I turned south and made my way down onto the beach in search of a good place to claim a spot to sit. The tournament hadn’t started yet, so I stretched out on my towel and soaked up some sun while waiting for the action to begin.
I really enjoyed the weather in southern California. It seldom rained except during the winter and was still mild even when it was cloudy. Living near the beach allowed me to avoid the smog that was prevalent inland due to the breeze blowing in off the ocean most of the year. As I lay there drowsing in the warm sun, I reflected back on the event that led to me coming out to the LA area …
… I nervously fidgeted while waiting in the anteroom for a verdict to be reached. Going through a court-martial wasn’t the same as all of the trials I had seen on the Perry Mason shows I watched on TV as a kid. It was very formal, and my lawyer was constrained by the rules outlined in the Manual for Courts-Martial (MCM). While I had been a witness in several courts-martial, this was the first time I was the defendant. I didn’t have a jury of my peers like in a civilian court, but rather, officers assigned to be jurors by the Court.
This whole thing stemmed from my investigation of missing weapons. With the end of the Vietnam War and the ignominious fall of Saigon this past April, many weapons had gone unaccounted for. My investigation led me to a Major General who I had determined was receiving kickbacks from an organized group selling military gear to civilians. I had worked my way up the chain from the Sergeants to the Lieutenants and, finally, a Major who was faking paperwork to show that the weapons had been lost or destroyed during those final moments of the war. When I finally realized that the General was involved and took my suspicions to the Lieutenant, he warned me to back off, not because he wanted to protect the General, but to protect me from the General.
I didn’t heed his warnings and continued with my investigation, getting the incriminating documents and statements by means that were not entirely by the book. When I presented the evidence to the Lieutenant, even though I had the General dead to rights, he told me to drop it because this would splash back on me and could kill my career. I insisted he pass it up the chain, and he did so reluctantly, telling me in so many words that he wasn’t going to go down with me when the shit hit the fan.
Sure enough, the shit hit the fan. Despite all the evidence I had gathered, the General denied involvement in the thefts. However, despite his denials, he was asked to retire because of the perception of impropriety that had been raised. He did so, but not before coming back at me, charging me with several violations of the UCMJ. Eventually, all charges against me were dropped except for the Article 134 violation, a catch-all article used for non-capital offenses. I had ‘disrespected’ the General by my investigation and didn’t deserve to remain in the Army.