i had the house cleaned by professionals monday morning, not that i hadn't done pretty well myself, but i wanted thing to look perfect for him. they dusted the leaves on the plants, and even my collection of glass animals that i had started as a kid. there were over thirty pieces. it was almost embarrasing, the amount of dust they got off of them. dad had bought ionizers years ago to deal with the problem of dust in a coal mining community, but the constant "zaps" became disturbing to us, as well as the cat--he almost went paranoid.

"why's russell acting so weird carlee?"

"i think the ionizers are freaking him out dad."

"mmmmmmmm." so much for the ionizers.

i put my hair up in a pony tail and wore a black dress that mrs. darsie had bought for me last christmas. i put on a string of dazzling pearls that had belonged to my mom, i looked at myself in the mirror. not bad, not bad at all, even with a b and a half bra (which i am destined to wear for the rest of my life--or until i get fat, maybe) i didn't look bad..

i got my four year old red buick and myself in evansville an hour early. of course i found there was a 45 minute delay in his flight. there had been longer waits though, but, i needed to see him, and to hold him, needed him to help me with back to school shopping again, even though i'm not in school anymore, even though i'll be 25 years old next month, even though i married a guy when i was 20 who took his prepharmacy schooling too seriously and began to feel as de' quincy-opiates were pharmacon nepenthe.

i thought about kevin while i waited in a crowd of lap top users killing time, and people eating stuff. there were sleek young girls, with swollen stomachs holding hands with superb looking guys with broad gold wedding bands on, and old couples, nervously looking at their watches. kevin was in rehab, i hoped he would get better, i really hoped so, but i didn't want to think of him anymore. a rather charming old man was sitting to my left. he was reading "the midnight club", which i had finished last week. he seemed really into his book, he was alone, he was probably 60.

"say, i know the ending to that, would you like for me to tell you?"

"sure, you tell me the ending, and you can have the book." he wasn't taking well to my question. i had to do something.

"did you read 'kiss the girls?'"

"yeah, are you telling me it ended the same way?"

"i won't tell you."

"hummmmmm!" (he was upset)-o'l coot-i thought..

as we sat there, he finished his book. "did you like the book?" i asked.

"hell no,it sucked." he replied. "i should have let you told me the ending." he smiled, very warmly, very nicely.

the more i thought about calling this man an "o'l coot" in my head, the worse i felt.

"i've made you mad, haven't i?" he said nothing. hmm, this won't do. actually he was a rather pleasent looking man, clean shaven and was wearing a tweed sport coat and an ungodly tie that was entirely too narrow, and had some kind of animals on it. his trousers were dark brown and complemented his sport coat, his shoes were cordavan, and shined with a shine like i had put on dads so many times. "can i kiss you?"

"what!"

"may i kiss you?"

"young lady, how about just staying out of my business and leaving me alone." he gruffly said.

"oh, please." i begged.

"are you a prostitute?" he asked.

"no. how insulting, no, i'm not a prostitute." i kissed him on the cheek, very quickly. he looked quite strange, kind of mystified. "got ya!" i playfully stated, i couldn't help but smile. he was still sullen, gosh, what would it take to make him smile.

"are you quite through making a spectacle out of both yourself and me?" he lightly snapped? i looked toward the ground, silently.

"yep." i could feel my face turning red. it must have stirred him.

"come with me to the bar, whatever your name is, and stop crying." he whispered.

"i'm not crying, and my name is carlee, and i don't drink much."

"now did i offer to buy you the bar carlee?" i looked up at him, he was smiling. i followed him to the bar. we sat at the bar-on bar stools- i'd never done that before. "double scotch and water for me." he told the bartender.

"i'll have the same." i said.

"you a scotch drinker huh?"

"only tonight." something came over the p.a., i couldn't hear it, i stretched my neck to the right.

"they said that delta flight 23 would be delayed another half an hour."

"damn." i said.

"i'm waiting for that flight myself carlee. we'll listen together." our drinks arrived. mine was strong to say the least, i had never tasted of scotch before, it had a 'burnt' taste to it, i believe it would have been better if i had ordered a single.

"good?"

"yes, it is mr.---mr?"

"caldwell." he said.

"mr. caldwell." i answered. we continued to drink.

"that's a very nice dress you have on carlee, and the pearls go so good with it."

"why, thank you sir, the pearls belonged to my mother."

"i'm sure they looked well on her also." he smiled, so did i. mr. caldwell must be somewhat intelligent, he read campy books, and was quick to understand that was mom was no longer with us. i leaned toward him, to the left, and almost slipped off the barstool. i landed on his right side -where i felt it, a shoulder holster, a service revolver or worse....

"are you alright" he said as he held me. he looked really concerned.

"i'm so sorry" i said "i just got off balance."

"touching scene mikey." a rather tall dark man said. he was in uniform, airforce i think. he was impressive looking. he nodded at me. "thought you gave up women mikey."

"no, john, we just met here, er, out there." he pointed to the lobby.

"well, you could introduce us."

"carlee, this is captain john flanders, usaf." the impressive man gently shook my hand. it was a warm handshake..he looked deep into my eyes, it almost made me blush.

"very nice mikey, you still have excellent taste." he said, never taking his eyes off of me.

"ah, you still doing private investigating for the ss?"

"for congress tonight."

"drinking on the job mikey?" they paged dads flight.

"arriving at gate seven."

mr. caldwell sat down his drink i grabbed my hand.

"let's go carlee."

"good to see you mikey, hey--i like your friend." we got lost in the crowd. i felt better.

"how long have you known captain flanders?"

"i was his commander in nahm in the 70's. god, that's been a long time ago."

"you were with the military?"

"yes, i retired in the late 80's and was offered a job with secret service officially i'm still with them, but lately i've limited myself to private investigation, like tonight." i was puzzled, but my mind left this when i saw the passengers walking off the plane. mr caldwell was still holding my hand.

dad had never liked the far east--"all of the chinese and japanese i know are wonderful people, but tales that my uncle told me way back when, about his tour of duty in the pacific, made a mark on me--a mark that i will never shake, i will never spend a comfortable day in either japan or germany." i could hear this in my mind. almost three months without him, i suppose he was as uncomfortable as i was.

he got off the plane. god, he did stand out in a crowd, at least to me he did. he looked utterly handsome even from the distance. his uniform impeckable, and his gray hair shown from beneath his cap like diamonds, or star dust. the closer he got, the better he looked. i could hardly speak. he saw me---i was standing there, holding mr. caldwell's hand, i thought i was going to cry the closer he got. he smiled at me.

"are you courting my daughter mikey?" i ran to him, and hugged him, and kissed his neck.

"did you have a good flight bill?" mr. caldwell asked.

"very long, but nice mikey; now if you could unwrapped this girl from me."

"oh, she's alright general, she's helped me wile away the hours here." general mccord, i looked up the his shoulders........two silver stars, and on the collar of his shirt too. i was impressed, it made me love him twice as much.

"general mccord, the congress of these united states has assigned me to welcome you home, and to take care of you this night. shall we go to the bar?"

"we shall, we three. god, you look wonderful carlee maree. you look ok to mikey." he smiled that irresistable smile that i saw so seldom. it was great to have him home.

at the bar, i ordered a single scotch and water, mr. caldwell his double and dad, his regular gin and grapefruit.

"i've missed you carlee, thanks for emailing me, and keeping in touch." for some reason, i was just speechless, all i could do was stare at him. our drinks came, and we drank them, then ordered another round. mine was much better this time.

"how did you rate this promotion bill?" mr. caldwell asked.

"old age i guess, mikey, you know the army; actually this was my last shot, if congress hadn't have approved it, i would have been passed over for the second time, and would have been it. my work with dna in sid has won me some noteriety lately, so i suspect they wanted to keep me on for a few more years. how's sally?" dad could never stand to be the center of attention for very long.

"left me for a younger man." i really expected dad to say "smart woman" he was very dry that away, but he told mr. caldwell how sorry he was instead.

"and this is your seed, mccord?" he was looking at me..."yep, and i damned proud, if her hair was darker, i couldn't stand it." he smiled.

"she reminded me of julie when i first saw her, she picked me up in the lobby, then forced me to the bar." he grinned.

"yes, mikey, like julie" he reached out and hugged me as tight as he ever had before. "god, do i love you carlee........."

when we finally got home, dad put his suit cases in his room and went to the bar and made us a drink.

"only half for you young lady." he said and sat down in the recliner. "carlee, sweet carlee, how i missed you." he looked very tired.

"i missed you too daddy." i hadn't called him "daddy" in years, but i felt like doing it tonight. he smiled at me.

"carlee, i've thought about this for several days now; let's make thanksgiving dinner ourselves this year, just invite the two of us." he was serious.

"gosh, dad, i wouldn't know where to start, we've never done that before."

"oh, we can do it babe, i know we can." i wondered, it sounded kind of interesting, but it was so different. i pondered.........

"it's going to be hard to call you general mccord." i said.

"what's that got to do with thanksgiving?" he playfully asked.

"oh, i was just thinking."

"well, you never called me colonel."

"i referred to you as that." i said.

"well, refer to me as dad." he said.

sleep was nice, a peacefulness that i hadn't experienced in months. dad had gone to bed before i took my bath, he apparently went to sleep in seconds. i thought about mr. caldwell, mikey was a silly name for him to have; dad told me that he was an old infantryman, as good as they come, and then i got the impression that he didn't want to expound.

the next day, over coffee, we discussed what we would have thanksgiving. a big turkey was for sure (according to both of us) potatoes and oysters, and blackeyed peas (according to him)--

"blackeyed peas are new years dad, not thanksgiving."

"humm."

"how about sweet potatoes carlee?"

"sweet potatoes suck dad." we thought and thought and discussed, finally dad decided to utilize the new computer that i had bought for HIM (blush) and ask jeeves about thanksgiving dinner.

we left for the grocery store a 0900. the turkey selection was beautiful, they were hugh. dad liked one in particular, he weighed 28 pounds; i really didn't want to have to eat 14 pounds of turkey, but i told him that he was nice, and he went into the cart. they had fresh oysters, and i put in two--god, $5.00 a piece--it's a good thing the colonel did get a promotion.....we had spent over a hundred dollars when we left, but we had some good stuff.

i certainly hoped that "jeeves" was right about cooking the turkey and dressing. we put up our groceries and sat down on the couch. dad looked far away.

"are you alright?' i asked.

"yeah, just thinking." he mused.

"whatcha thinking about.?"

"oh, about what my 60th thanksgiving will be like."

"oh, daddy, you're too hung up on your age."

"yep, probably so, but old age has its advantages though; i know a good turkey when i see it, and i know a good daughter too." he smiled.

"which is the better?" i asked.

"let me think about that one for a while." he laughed.

"good morning colonel mccord." a lady said as we were leaving the store. dad smiled and nodded.

"tell you're a general dad." i said-he squeezed my hand.

"good morning to you mrs. mccreed."

"carlee, i known mrs. mccreed for twenty years, she called me colonel when i was a major, and it's good enough for me now."

"well, if i were a general, i'de want everyone to know."

"yes, and would be old too." gulp. dad was like that, he never boasted about anything (except me) and i began to think he was maybe shy a little. oh, sometimes he was right though.

we had a rather peaceful rest of the day, dad messed with his new computer, and was quite satisfied with it.

"carlee, you did good with this machine, even if i had to get a promotion to pay for it." he smiled. that made me feel much better. he was wearing jeans and an old gray sweat shirt, he smoked a pipe with a lovely vanilla flavour. he looked comfortable. it was good to have him home.

he announced at six pm, that he was going to take a shower and go to bed. it was always funny to me, he could stay up past midnight, or turn in a five or six pm. i suppose that the unpredictability of the military had paved that way. he said that tomorrow would come early, and we had our first thanksgiving dinner to prepare.

we had cooked for two days come nover 25, and the hugh turkey was last, i consulted "askjeeves.com" and was told to read the baking instructions. that sounded reasonable, so i set the oven to 350 degrees, and waited for the thermometer to pop out. dad made the scollaped oysters, a layer at a time, with cracker crumbs crunched in a very load machine. they looked yuckey, but he liked them, so it was alright. shrimp cocktail smelled terrible, but i didn't complain.

"carlee, we have enough here for coxe's army, do you think we ought to invite some others to dine with us?"

"oh, dad, it's been so long since we've been together alone, can't we just enjoy it?"

"sure baby, we can, i was thinking of mikey though." touch my heart general mccord...mr caldwell was ok, but i didn't want to invite him to thanksgiving dinner. i suppose that he could tell by a look in my eyes that i didn't want company. he just smiled at me.

the 25th of november arrived, it was almost 60 degrees, not much like thanksgiving. we were drinking coffee at 0600, and engaging in light conversation.

"carlee, are you alright now, after kevin and all?" dad never mentioned kevin much, and i was glad.

"i'm ok dad." i responded.

"i hope so dear."---

the morning went quickly, at 11 pm. i put my turkey back in the oven for his last roundup. he was so big i could hardly lift him and his thermometer inside. by noon, we were ready. mrs. darcey had given us a home made pumpkin pie, and we started off the dinner with a glass of wine, a very mild white, and very delicious. we never gave thanks at dinner (although i could have today) and dad ate a shrimp cocktail while i watched(and turned up my nose all the time) he enjoyed it. our plates were stacked high, the dressing smelt devine, dad cut the turkey (whose thermometer had orbited into space---didn't want us to get the salmenello. he pulled out a long brown thing from the turkey's butt (we called the bird leonard)--

"what the hell is this?" he asked. i wasn't sure, but it was gross. then some other gross things were pulled out. i blushed.

"damn, carlee, you were suppose to get rid of leonards innards."

i was embassased.

"jeeves didn't tell me too." i cried.

"oh, well, we can feed them to our dog."

"russell is a cat dad."

"right, to our cat."

other than that, thanksgiving was great. it was my first grownup story, and i enjoyed writing it, if any of you want others, please let me know :) with love...........

carlee