Jerome's Story

There was one exception to his chosen monk-like existence. There was a nice widow who lived with her son and his wife just down a half mile below the far end of the little lake. Judith Howell was a few years older than Jerome, but they hit it off almost instantly when he met her accidentally one day as he was walking around the lake, and they began to occasionally have diner together in Culpeper. The dinners slowly became a regular thing and while neither of them was interested in another marriage, Judith began to spend one or two nights a week at the cottage. In another generation it would be referred to as "friends with benefits" but to Jerome's generation it was still looked upon somewhat dubiously. Jerome, having done his due diligence and checking to make sure Judith was not on any security watch lists, enjoyed the companionship and the relaxed sex with no false expectations of any commitment. Her son, Bill, seemed to be fairly enlightened, and seemed pleased that his mother had someone to help alleviate her loneliness and give him and his young wife a regular night of privacy.

Philip too, was happy for his dad. His own marriage and growing business were keeping his more than busy, so knowing Jerome had some female companionship eased his guilt about being absent. He well knew his sister's feelings, the hurt his mother had inflicted on Jerome with her unfaithfulness, and he felt a moral obligation to compensate, but it wasn't an easy relationship for either of them in spite of how they tried. Philip loved his father, and appreciated the help he had received, but they were too different, and the generation that separated them was a big one. Jerome was a child of the depression who had reached adulthood in the Ardennes Forest and Philip was a child of the sixties, having his politics forged in the shadow of the Watergate scandal.

Yet, when their second child, Bradley, was born it was Jerome who shockingly turned up at the hospital with a bottle of champagne. He, Philip, and Andrew Foster were laughing and enjoying a visit in the waiting room when Carla and Felix walked in. Carla stopped in mid stride, looking first surprised then embarrassed. Felix glowered at Jerome and then turned on his heel and left the room. Looking across at his ex-wife Jerome made his excuses and walked out past Carla without acknowledging her presence, which resulted in a bitter accusatory letter arriving in his mailbox a few days later. It seemed Carla and Felix felt slighted and disrespected and his ex-wife felt he should adjust his attitude and behave in a more civilized and accepting manor. After-all, she noted, they were bound to run into one another, sharing children, and could behave cordially without hard feelings.

Jerome debated whether to answer the letter for several days. Just when he was on the verge of letting it go he was asked by the director to make an emergency trip to Paris where a difficult situation was developing on the heals of the conclusion of the Paris Peace Accords. The thought of leaving the country sparked a wave of memories culminating in an outpouring of revulsion for Carla and her desire for acceptance.

The letter was brief and succinct. No, he did not expect cordial normalized relations between the ex-spouses. He reminded Carla that she had never even offered him an apology for her betrayal, had never had the basic honesty to admit her adultery while he was on station, or the common decency to ask for a separation before inviting her lover to take his place in his own bed. Furthermore, she had thrown her affair in his face in front of friends and family at Caroline's wedding, to which his own parents had not even been invited. He would, he wrote, try to make certain that their paths did not cross if it could possibly be avoided. As for Carla and Felix, he sincerely wished they'd just both drop dead and go to hell.

The trip to Paris proved to be an excellent diversion from his interaction with Carla. It was on his second day in the City of Lights when he was attending an Ambassadorial luncheon that he was approached by a well dressed very attractive middle aged woman of vaguely oriental appearance. It was clear from the onset that she seemed to know who he was and that she was determined to make his acquaintance. The alarm bells were ringing in Jerome's mind as they chatted inconsequentially. As the lady disengaged after a few minutes she reached out to shake Jerome's hand, depositing a small folded paper in his palm as she did so.

Jerome excused himself as soon as it was convenient and found his way to the attache's office, where he unfolded the tiny paper, finding only a Paris phone number. A quick trip to the security office had him scanning photos of all the attendees at the luncheon. The woman was identified and a fax of her picture and credentials were on their way to the DIA headquarters.

The decision to follow up was approved and after several phone calls over the next two days he met the woman in a small patisserie off the Rue de Faubourg, just around the corner from his hotel situated next door to the Embassy. Security was in place well before he arrived and when the woman, who he now knew was Chantana Mermoz, daughter of a Thai mother and French father, and an employee of the Thai diplomatic corps, arrived, she was quietly escorted to his table, screened by potted plants. It was the most clandestine event Jerome had engaged in for years and he had to concentrate on the reality of the meeting not to be amused or sidetracked by the cloak and dagger accoutrements.

Over strong French coffee he learned that Chantana urgently wanted to immigrate to the US, complete with a new identity.

"So, why me, why our department? Why not the CIA or State?" He asked calmly.

"You know what I do, yes?"

"Yes, at least what we have been able to identify so far. You work for LLIGE, you have been stationed in China, Laos, and Korea in the last five years."

"Yes, but there are some problems there now. There are people inside LLIGE who are working for the Chinese, and some are about to be rounded up. I could get caught in the umbrella because of my recent time in China. I know some of the primary individuals. In fact, my immediate superior is a Chinese spy. I have been recalled, but I do not wish to return to Thailand. I fear for my freedom and perhaps even my life. The King and the Prime Minister do not like bad publicity. This will be dealt with quietly and I doubt I will be given much opportunity to present my side of things. If you can help me, Colonel, I can also help you. I have information about two DIA agents who are compromised in South East Asia."

"How much time do you have, Chantana?" I asked, running scenarios through my mind.

"I get on a plane for Bangkok the day after tomorrow, but I am concerned that I may be waylaid before that," she replied. "I think I am being followed."

This was really more cloak and dagger than Jerome was used to since his days in Viet Nam, but he had a hunch about this lady. Hunches become the backbone of a lot of human intel because it can take too long to verify stories, and people do disappear more frequently than one might assume. Time to make a quick decision. There was a beautiful woman sitting across from him but that could not affect his judgment. In any way, in fact it coloured it negatively because she was just the right mix of exotic and desirable to be a perfect lure. How much risk, how much reward? Risk was minimal, she obviously knew who he was and what he did, so there was no exposure there, and getting her away and to a safe house could get him information that would be more than helpful.

A quick glance across the room set everything in motion.

"Are you ready?" He asked quietly.

"Now?"

"Now, and right now, yes. Now or not at all. You'll come with me, out that door, and everything begins."

It all went off without a hitch and Ms Mermoz was ensconced in the embassy and handed off to the resident DIA attaché ten minutes later.

Jeremy never saw her again, but was informed that her information packet was golden, giving insights into the Thai intelligence service and uncovering an American intelligence officer who was double dealing.

Getting back home after dealing with the much more mundane issues he had originally been sent to Paris to correct, Jerome was glad to see his cabin again. Judith also seemed pleased to see him back and offered to come over and bring cheesecake. It was an offer he was delighted to accept and the two friends decided some vigorous exercise between helpings was called for to offset the caloric uptake. Lounging nude together on the couch, partially wrapped in a blanket with mango cheesecake spread across Judith's soft warm breasts was as good a homecoming as Jeremy could have wished for, and Judith seemed to enjoy his lavish attention in getting her cleaned up with his tongue.

It was after nine AM the following morning before Judith reluctantly left after Jeremy kissed the strawberry sauce off her lips from the crepes he had made her for breakfast. Half an hour later, sitting on the front porch with his coffee he vaguely heard sirens in the distance getting louder as they neared and then stopping abruptly. Minutes later his phone rang. It was Bill, Judith's son. She had been T-boned by a large truck just as she was turning into their driveway. Killed instantly, Bill assured him sombrely.

Philip and Pamela came down for the funeral, which Jerome appreciated, but it seemed to once again reinforce in his mind that he was better off keeping relationships at arms length. Despite the understanding that they would not get too emotionally involved he found the loss of Judith another wrench to his heart, and it drove him back into the safety of solitude. The day after the funeral Jerome found himself on his front porch, scotch in hand, and once again listening to the gravelly voice of Leonard Cohen's "The Old Revolution." Even damnation is poisoned with rainbows. Judith had briefly become a rainbow in the aftermath of the dark clouds. Now that too was gone and Jerome felt the oppressive churning clouds of depression overtaking him once again.

It was in the spring of 1982 that Jerome pulled the plug on his job with the DIA. He was going to be turning sixty and he was tired of the stress. Judith had been gone nearly two years and he had not made any attachments to replace the banter and the sexual release they had enjoyed. Philip still dropped in occasionally but Pamela, though a nice young woman, was strictly a city girl and had little use for the remote lake-side home that was her father-in-law's hermitage. Philip often brought the little boys along for an afternoon and Jerome tried to interest them in the forest and the lake that he found so peaceful. Karl, the older boy, now ten going on twenty, seemed bored most of the time, but young eight year old Bradley was a keen little follower.

After a while it was just Phil and Brad who would show up periodically, and soon Bradley started staying for overnight visits. Jerome found a new and unlikely outlet for his lonely existence in his precocious grandson. They fished in the lake, wandered around in the woods, built a tree house that they slept in, and made s'mores over the fire pit in the back yard.

The "Back Yard" became young Bradley's description for the whole one hundred acres of forest surrounding the cottage, which Jerome found touchingly accurate, as he had over time become more and more tied to his property and the isolation it gave him. His back yard, where he could keep the world at bay, keep his constant struggle with failure as a husband and father at some distance, and quietly endure the loneliness of his self-imposed exile. While the deep and sharp hurt of his wife's betrayal had dimmed over the years the feelings of loss, now almost wistful at times, still haunted him. Knowing that his daughter hated him, for no specific reason that he could fathom, apart from their political differences, left him feeling hollowed out when he allowed himself to face that loss head on.

Jerome increasingly began to eagerly anticipate the visits from his grandson. In this loving and trusting relationship he found the beginnings of the bond he had missed with his own children, and he gave himself over to taking the young Bradley under his wing and nurturing his love of the forest, the lake, and the creatures they met there. As Bradley grew with the years the bond between them became ever stronger and Jerome found himself emotionally linked to his grandson in ways he had never really experienced with his own kids, especially his daughter.

Phil and his elder grandson, Karl, were all about the business but Brad always found time to drop in on Pops, as he often referred to Jeremy, even when he was off to college and enjoying the experiences of finding all about the fairer sex. Even here, it was to his grandfather that Brad came for advice, rather than to his own dad. When the young man brought "The Girl" for a visit one summer, Jerome had reservations but kept them to himself. After Brad married Jessica Jerome saw little of him for several months, which was expected! What wasn't was how often Brad began showing up after that first year of his marriage, telegraphing that something was not all roses and chocolate in the Bradley Willis household. When, only a year later the marriage imploded, followed shortly after by Brad's resignation from the family firm, Jerome found his grandson, bitter and depressed, sitting on his doorstep.

The two now had even more in common, having both failed at the experience of wedded bliss, albeit with Brad having at least being saved the heartache of a long winding road to regret. The two became companions in shutting out the world and with Jerome's endless encouragement and sometimes not so gentle prodding, Brad began to find peace at the lake and turn his mind to the writing he had always enjoyed. The two bachelors began working on plans to upgrade the cottage and with Brad's vision, also began to slowly buy up some surrounding acreage, much of it from Bill, Judith's son. In order to simplify things estate wise Jerome insisted that they put all the acquisitions in Brad's name and wrote a new will, leaving Brad everything he owned save for a small insurance policy that he left to Karl, just to keep some sort of peace. In return Bradley vowed to look after Jerome for the remainder of his life, which he did with a glad and grateful heart.

The two men, now more like great friends than grandfather and grandson, shared a love for the isolation of the life they shared and of the rolling hills and the little lake. Over the next several years the bond between Jerome and Bradley grew and Jerome found himself strangely at peace with himself and his world. More and more frequently laughter and even song rang out around the hilltop home and Jerome found himself once again looking forward to tomorrow.

It was in their second year living together, as the plans to overhaul the cottage and create a suitable real house were nearing completion that Jerome suffered a mild heart attack while dragging the row boat out of the lake. A few days in emergency revealed the onset of diabetes as well, but the full medical tune up that Bradley insisted showed more urgent issues. Jerome was beginning to forget too many things and Brad began to plan for the inevitable transition to where he would become the care giver to a man who had nurtured him all his life.

As Brad's career as a novelist began to take off the two travelled together to book signings and interviews, often hitting the road for a week or more at a time, enjoying new scenery and great food, but both longing for the return to the peaceful existence behind the big wrought iron gate. Behind that gate the grandson became the father and Jerome, now eighty and suffering the last indignities of failing health, found finally the peace and serenity he had so long felt would forever elude him.

Knowing his memory was failing, Jerome made sure that Brad knew it was ok. Sentences would often begin, "Brad, before I forget..." and the two friends would smile or even laugh at the deeper meaning of Jerome's words.

In that final spring, as he had to be moved into a palliative care facility, with his heart and mind failing, Jerome, struggling to organize his thoughts, began that sentence for the last time. "Brad, before I forget, I want you to know these last three years have been a gift. Thank you for giving an old man a good end. Now, you need to look ahead and stay our of the furnace! Make your time count for you!"