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IN THE BEGINNING
BY: DIANA M.

Chapter Two

 Conrad was awakened suddenly the next morning by the force of a black- haired, freckled devil landing on his stomach.

  “Morning, Con! It’s Saturday!” the devil started jumping up and down on his bed. Her pajamas glowed brightly pink in the still dark room.

  Conrad rolled over and looked at his clock. It was just gone five, “Well, technically, yes.” He sat up and stretched luxuriously. The sun wasn’t even up yet. “Tell me, Drew, have you ever though about knocking first?”

  “If I knock, you never get up,” she continued to jump up and down.

  “Well, yes, that was sort of what had in mind.”

  “Pop says you’re always up by 4:30, every day.” Bounce, bounce, bounce.

  “Not when I’m on leave,” he grabbed her heart-bedecked pajama top and yanked, “Quit that for a bit, will you?” She flopped down and snuggled up next to him. “What are you up so bright and early for, Rabbit?”

  “All the good shows are on early.”

  “You always get up this early just to watch TV?”

  “Only on Saturday. Get up, or we’ll miss Blackstar! And Thundarr’s on, too!”

  “Oh, I see. Today I am to be part of this animated extravaganza,” he smiled down at her. Oh, to be nine again, when the only thing you had to get up early for was a pack of cartoons and a bowl sugar-coated cereal. Beat a troop of bitter trainees any day, “Might I partake in some coffee as well?”

  Drew looked thoughtful, “I don’t know. Have you been good?”

  “Exceedingly.”

  “Why do you always talk weird around me, and not Vince?” She slid off the bed and regarded him critically.

  Conrad thought back to last night. He doubted he’d could ever bring himself to share the same kind of conversation with his kid sister. It was an embarrassing thought. He wanted to be far away when Drew hit puberty, “It’s a brother thing, I guess.”

  Drew turned and padded to the door, “Well, come get your coffee, then.” She walked through the rec. room and up the stairs to the kitchen. Conrad waited until she was all the way before he got up and swapped the sweats he had slept in for a pair of jeans and a t shirt. He would put off his morning run; probably wait for the evening, as the August Missouri sun was too powerful for an afternoon jog. He made his bed neatly and went to find Drew, stepping carefully through the dark rec. room to avoid any weights Vincent might have forgotten to replace after his last work out. Conrad’s room had been moved to the basement level after Drew was born, and Vincent had grown too old to share a room with Jennifer. The girls now shared, and Vincent had a room to his own; a wise idea, considering his recent emergence into the world of hormones.

  Conrad hadn’t minded. He was living away from home most of the time, rotating between special forces school and those “special” missions he had to keep to himself. Too bad; those were worth talking about.

  Suddenly, Conrad knew who had called last night. It hadn’t been from Benning at all. He reached the kitchen and pulled the coffee out of the cupboard. Unground beans, what a luxury. Pouring them into the electric grinder, he stared at the phone and ruminated on this new dilemma. Was this rare domestic peace to be shattered already?

  “Hey!” Drew shouted to be heard over the grinder. Conrad had ground the beans to a fine powder, lost in thought. He poured them into the coffee maker, using his finger to scrape off the hard packed powder around the blades.

  “What?”

  “Could ‘ja give me a hand?” Drew pointed to the cabinet over the refrigerator, “Mom always puts the good stuff out of reach.” Conrad was not surprised to find the cabinet full of forbidden foods of all types; chocolate, sinful looking cookies, a box of Three Musketeers, potato chips, cheese puffs, and two brightly colored boxes- no doubt containing levels of sugar just safe enough to be labeled kid cereal.

  “My God, why does she bother buying all of this? There’s enough sugar here to put you into orbit!”

  “Vince says she does it to torture us. Buys it, and then uses it as a, what’s he call it?”

  “Encouragement? Motivator? Reward?”

  “Bribe!” Drew smiled, “he says she bribes us with it.”

  Conrad rolled his eyes, “Figures. For terrors like you guys.”

  “Ha, ha, ha, very funny. Get me the Froot Loops.” Drew plunked the milk down on the counter matter-of-factly and went to get a spoon.

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  Two hours and four shows later, Drew was firmly established in one of the biggest sugar highs Conrad had ever seen. She was hovering over the couch rather that sitting on it; vibrating with sucrose energy. With each commercial break, she jumped up and zoomed around the room a few times, luckily avoiding anything breakable. She collided into a few pieces of furniture; the couch, an armchair, and once went through the swinging kitchen door by flinging herself headlong at it. It was those visits to the kitchen that had done it. Conrad had been so intrigued by Thundarr, he hadn’t realized that he’d left the box of cereal on the counter, within easy reach. She must have emptied the bowl five times before he noticed and intervened, returning the box to its safe, unreachable cabinet.

  The television announced another commercial break, and Conrad watched as Drew began her circuit around the room anew. Thank God he had been able to stop the shrieking. Vincent was the only one she had woken up. He grinned at his older brother as he went out to feed the horses, and laughed when he came back.

  “Now you’ve done it, big brother.”

  “Yeah, she’s flying now. I imagine it’ll wear off in a little while.” Drew bounced happily on the couch.

  Vincent laughed sarcastically in response and climbed upstairs and back to bed. Conrad sighed and got up to get another mug of coffee. Drew dive bombed the couch and once again fixated on the screen. She should be seeing double, Conrad thought to himself. He would have mentioned it to her, but he had discovered already that giving her an opportunity to talk was a bad idea. Shakespeare hadn’t written such long monologues.

  The phone by the couch rang loudly before he managed to make it past the his insane little sister. Conrad set his mug down and quickly lifted the handset from its cradle, hoping the peal of the bell hadn’t woken anyone.

  “Good morning?”

  “Ah, sergeant, I thought I’d try to catch you early.”

  Conrad’s heart sank, “You’re lucky, sir, usually I’m out running in the morning.” Behind him, someone came down the stairs. He looked over his shoulder and caught sight of Jennifer as she pushed through the kitchen door. Jane Falcone was shaking her head as she cleared up Drew’s cereal bowl from the coffee table.

  “Tricked you, didn’t she dear?”

  He nodded distractedly at his mother. She smiled and took the bowl and his empty mug into the kitchen. Conrad picked up Drew, tossed her to the other end of the couch, and sat down. She landed with a squeal and a giggle, and was soon reglued to the screen, entranced by happy little blue elves, no more than three apples high.

  “Sergeant, I’m not going to pussy foot around. One of our recent situations has grown into quite a quandary. I need you to come in a soon as possible...” Conrad felt his stomach roll over a he listened to the gravelly voice. It must have been important for the Colonel to call him at home; that was quite a security risk in normal circumstances. It must have taken quite a lot of manpower to establish a secure line for this one call. Then again, what sounded vague to outsiders made perfect sense to Conrad Hauser. The Colonel wouldn’t have to say much to get his point across. The voice on the phone softened, “I know you’re on leave, son, but I’m afraid this is an A-1 priority. Some reorganization is in the works, and I need you here”

  “ I understand, sir,” Conrad looked over at Drew. She wiggled excitedly and cheered on a Smurf as he once again, scraped free of Gargamel’s clutches. He sighed. Must he leave so soon? “I’ll be on the next plane out...” He paused as he heard a soft clicking interrupt the line. The Colonel heard it, too.

  “Sounds like we’re not alone. This should be a safe line, dammit!”

  “Don’t worry, sir.” Conrad stood up and softly crept to the kitchen. His mother was mixing pancake batter, unaware that Jennifer had picked up the kitchen extension. Conrad snuck up behind his preteen sister and deftly snatched the handset away. He angrily slammed it down into its cradle. His mother jumped, and turned around. The bowl of batter smashed on the floor.

  “Conrad! You gave me a scare. Look, now there’s batter everywhere,” she laughed as she waved at the mess, “You’ll just have to wait longer for my famous lemon hotcakes- Jennifer, whatever is the matter?” Jennifer’s ice blue eyes blazed into her oldest brother.

  “Conrad’s leaving. He’s going back to base.”

  “Well, dear, you know he has an important job to do. We need well trained men.” She bent and began mopping up spilt batter with a wet rag, “Three weeks is really a long time for him. How about we have a little party for him next week before he goes?” Jane Falcone smiled up at her two children.

  Jennifer crossed her arms and snorted, “Better plan it quick, Mom. He’s leaving today.”

  Conrad felt his heart sink deeper as his mother regarded him with concerned, sad eyes. Her voice was just a whisper. “What?”

  He couldn’t stand it. He turned and stormed out of the kitchen, only to find Drew deep in conversation with the Colonel on the den extension.

  “So I TOLD him not to get Brainy, Brainy’s the stupidest one around. I like Handy. But did he get me Handy? Oh, nooooooo, he has to go and get me Brainy, just like I told him not to. Now I have two Brainy’s, who I don’t even like, and no Handy.”

  “Gimme that!” Conrad swiped the phone and slid down again onto the couch. Drew blew him a raspberry and bounced off to the kitchen to see what their mother was getting ready for breakfast. Conrad wondered how much she could put away in a day.

  “Quite the talker, isn’t she?” Conrad was relieved to hear amusement in the Colonel’s voice. “Is the situation clear, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, sir. My other sister was eavesdropping, she assumes I’m heading back to base.” Conrad switched off the set and tossed the remote on the table.

  “Good, soldier. Your siblings are very young,” it was more comment than question.

  “Yes, sir. My mother remarried after my father was killed. She had me very early on.”

  “Yes, I recall reading it in your file. Not yet twenty when you were born...” Conrad couldn’t help feeling like an open book. “None of them share your name?”

  “No sir, my mother changed her name when she remarried.”

  “That makes it easier.”

  This last remark confused Conrad somewhat. “Sir?”

  “Your life is about to take a drastic change of direction, Sergeant. I’ll explain when you arrive. Best say your goodbyes now. It may be a while before you have free time to see them again. Your ticket will be waiting for you at the airport.” Be there in three hours,” The Colonel’s voice had an air of finality.

  Conrad felt a twinge in his stomach, “Yes, sir, Colonel Abernanthy.” He slowly hung up and dropped his head in his hands. A week and a half, that was all the leave he got. Hardly enough time to reacquaint himself with his own family. They were changing so fast! Growing up, discovering new things about life--would he have to miss it all?

  “Problems, son?” Jack Falcone rested a hand on his stepson’s shoulder.

  Conrad slid his fingers across his scalp and looked up at his stepfather, “I’m being called back to base. I have to leave today, almost right away,” He rubbed his chin, “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Mother, well, I doubt she’ll understand.”

  Jack frowned to himself, “Does she know?”

  “Thanks to Jennifer listening in.” Conrad jerked his thumb at the kitchen door, “I promised her I’d be here for three weeks! I really thought I would. But I can’t control when they need me. My life’s not my own.”

  Jack strode over to the wall and stroked the frame of display box holding his medals, a mix of service and campaign awards, “ No, son, she wouldn’t understand. The life of a soldier is one of loyalty and unquestioning service.” Jack Falcone’s medals glinted brightly on the black velvet background, “A soldier makes the ultimate sacrifice to save lives.” Jack looked to the left, to where his stepson’s medals hung in a similar frame. His heart swelled with pride as he took in the medal of honor and the two bronze stars, “Son, I’m not one to brag, but I have served quite some time, trained quite a few men in my own career. I have no compunction against telling you that you are one of the finest soldiers I’ve come across.”

  Conrad felt himself turn red, “Jack-”

  “No, Conrad, let me finish. I know the training others isn’t the same as life on the battlefield, but you and I both know that its just as important-”

  Conrad longed to tell his stepfather the truth, about his secret missions between classes. It burned at him that a large part of his service went unknown. That his death in one of these missions would most likely be recorded as an accident. Of all the commendations he could never share because of their classified nature.

  Jack continued to stare at the medals as he spoke, “You came back from Vietnam a hero, son. I always knew you were special. The way you always stood up for the little guy...I’m proud of you, Conrad. You’re not my own son,” Jack turned. There were tears in his eyes, “but I wish to Hell you were. I damn well love you like you are.”

  Conrad was touched, awkwardly so. Jack was not one to speak in about emotions. He looked into his stepfather’s eyes, “Jack, I...You helped me more, more then I can ever repay. We were all alone until you came,” he could barely remember those years between his father’s murder and Jack’s arrival in their lives. He’d pushed them as far out of his mind as they could go. “You were always there for me when I needed you.”

  Jack beamed, “You go get ready what you need to, son. I’ll talk to your mother,” he slapped Conrad on the shoulder on the way to the kitchen.

  As Conrad got up to go pack, he noticed Vincent staring at him from the landing. He must have been standing there for several minutes, listening in. He stared at Conrad for a minute or two longer, in an odd, focused way, then continued down the stairs and towards the kitchen door, “You’re lucky, big brother,” he said evenly as he passed, “He never talks to me that way.”

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Continued in Chapter Three!
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