Special Weapons and Tactics Ch. 02

All of a sudden Janice was having to watch her own spending and even constrain it. She'd get some OK alimony for a while. But her own inheritance was even less than Charlie's, since Dad was so proud of her and sure that she had married well and securely. I got about 2.5 million for me and my kids. Dad wanted to try and help me as much as he could. Maybe he even hoped it would entice John back into our marriage. At the end Stanford understood the terrible mistakes that he and Edith and Janice had made in dissing John, and how I really had gone crazy and never really stopped loving John and now wanted to just get back to what I had. But Stanford also never comprehended how little money actually meant to John. John was only ever concerned that I had enough to be happy and satisfied with. And now my new wealth might only serve to just keep him permanently away. I instructed my lawyer to draw up the papers ending his alimony payments to me, though. At least I could do that much for him.

Charlie also told me about his last meeting with John and how John no longer hated me but was actually too scared to love me, anymore. Well, that might be good. Maybe that was a tiny opening I could work with once Rachel finally released me to try. Maybe.

I was coming back off the valium when I heard the final bit of devastating news. John was moving about 650 miles away. To Mobile, Alabama - all the way down to the Gulf Coast. Would I ever see him in person again? Actually get to tell him what had happened and why? His kids needed him, and I was pretty sure he needed his kids...did he need me even a little bit?

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John:

I arrived in Mobile on March 15 - the Ides of March (sometimes). A sunny day with temps in the upper 70's. The dogwoods were blooming and I had already passed a lot of 'Live Oak' trees filled with Spanish moss. This definitely wasn't Missouri anymore. It was a long day in the saddle - driving the whole way in one day. Basically, me and my clothes in one car. That's all I brought with me. I would stay in a motel tonight and start looking for my furnished apartment tomorrow.

Just a total clean start. I was looking forward to my new job, my new responsibilities, and a reunion with one old friend, Benjamin "Frenchie" Francois - a Cajun from Mobile - who was my best bud in Iraq and now a Mobile TOU officer. There had been a fairly large Cajun population around Mobile for a long time, working the forests and swamps and farming, or in the paper pulp mills and plants like the Southern Co. ones, or just shrimping and crabbing in the Gulf. There was a LOT of water and swamps around Mobile. Mobile Bay was roughly 20 miles long and 5 miles wide - and only on average about 6-8 feet deep at low tide, with several dredged shipping channels for the large commercial ships. It was a pretty muddy body of water - not nearly as clear as Pensacola or Destin Bays and other Florida bays further east. Mobile Bay was kind of a dividing line - to the east and still in Alabama was the resort beaches and area of Gulf Shores, then Pensacola FL, Ft. Walton Beach, Destin and on - all with white beaches and crystal clear Gulf waters. Mobile Bay and west - Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas down to Brownsville - the Gulf waters and bays were much more apt to be "muddy" looking and not so clear. The Mississippi River itself contributed a lot to that, dumping immense amounts of river silt from basically the whole US between the Rockies and the Appalachians into the Gulf. Mobile Bay had several major and minor rivers dumping their own silt loads - Dog River, Fish River, the Tensaw River, and Mobile River - basically part of the Tennessee/Tombigbee waterway that gave a cost efficient alternative to Tennessee and Indiana and Ohio and other Eastern states west of the Appalachians, their bulk produce reaching the Gulf through Mobile, rather than through New Orleans via the Ohio and Mississippi rivers.

All that water meant my new SWAT team needed to be highly trained in potential waterborne situations, everything from recreational and houseboat domestic blowups, to commercial fishing boats and ships of all sizes, even potential large container freighters subject to hijacking attempts for money or terror, and not just more normal land only situations calling for a military unit type response. I could see just driving down I-65 and into the city the potential challenges of this new opportunity. I was really eager to meet Frenchie and get caught up personally but also get clued in on the whole current SWAT set-up. At the same time I always had to guard against any (or at least too much) perceived professional favoritism. Previous job evaluations and promotion status lists had to be maintained in continuity for everyone in the squad. But unless Frenchie also was possessed now by some evil spirit like had gotten into Jack - I couldn't imagine that kind of problem with him - fostering cliquism and breaking team cohesion.

He was a big likable friendly extrovert that personified "Laissez les bons temps rouler!" Right up until some perp pissed him off. Then he "rouler'd" on them and they rolled - over. Fast. He was one of those scary strong guys. I was a high school fullback offered only a partial Div II football college scholarship to Northwest Mo. State which I passed on, he was a starting linebacker for Alabama for two years before his partying done him in - and then he joined the Army.

I had 3 days before my official introduction and start date. Enough time to find my already online rented furnished apartment, and settle in just a bit. I finally hooked up with Frenchie at a little dive called The Blue Crab, bar and restaurant. Their breaded fried crab claws were really good. Frenchie raved about their crawdad gumbo - but I wasn't so sure. Maybe that was an acquired taste. Frenchie had finally settled down and just gotten married himself, to a nice Cajun woman named Gigi. She was absolutely gorgeous in the photos Frenchie showed me. Just slightly darker complected than his own swarthy skin, with jet black hair and very dark brown eyes. Of French, African, and American Indian genetic heritage and speaking that strange Acadian French Creole patois.

"It was her voice that got me, Johnny-boy. She sings like an angel but just talking as well - I was like in a trance and married before I knew it! When is your wife and the kids coming down?"

He hadn't heard.

"Not happening. She divorced me." And I showed him my ring finger.

"Oh, what did you do, Johnny? You got 4 little ones, right?"

"I...don't really know. Just me being me, I guess. All of a sudden she wasn't touching me and WAS screwing somebody else. And she and my kids all now pretty much hate me. You know her folks were kind of rich stuckups and never did cotton to me. Guess she finally figured they were right all along. Of course, I've now heard she had a kind of rough stretch with mental issues - but who knows? I can't communicate with any of those people, except her brother Charlie - and he's basically out of the day-to-day picture with his own life in Chicago. I hate being so far away from my kids, but maybe some time and space apart is what we all need now. I am just hoping we can really reconnect in a better way when I get them for a month or 6 weeks after school ends this summer."

"Well, you just need a Cajun woman - or maybe not for you right now. That's always playing with fire - all that hot bloodedness. But you definitely need to meet my sister, Jeannene. She just divorced her own worthless husband. Good thing before I killed him myself. But she would be fun for you just to be friends with, for a bit, I'm thinking. OK?"

"Sure..." I replied more heartily than I felt. I just couldn't quite imagine a female version of Frenchy. A female Alabama linebacker type?

"So, Monday's the big day for you, eh mon cherie? Well, I think it's time for some serious drinking the rest of tonight then..." And that's pretty much what we did.

It wasn't exactly a fight, but at some point some loud words were spoken and eventually a couple of Mobile PD uniforms that knew Frenchie quite well escorted us both out of that bar and took us back to my motel room in the back of their patrol car, and we both crashed there. So, Monday morning I already had a kind of reputation going in the squad room - like "Frenchie's friend and can't hold his liquor". Not exactly what I wanted for a perfect start. But it turned out OK, after all.

The first week of April I received a letter from Susan. Just a short note saying basically this is my new cellphone number and call me anytime to discuss the kids visiting you this summer - logistics and timing. Please.

So I called her.

"Hello, John." She sounded different, somehow. Maybe just better and NOT so crazy?

"Hi, Susan - I got your letter and let's work this out as nicely as possible. OK?"

"Of course. I want to be as cooperative as possible, but I've made some plans..."

Shit, is what I was thinking.

"But hopefully it will be to your advantage as well. I've already rented a 3 bedroom condo in Gulf Shores for two weeks starting June 10th. Uh, you might have heard I did get some money when Dad died, and I've bought a new BMW SUV and will drive us all down there. So, you won't have far to go to pick up the kids for your month, or really however long you want to keep them this summer. In fact, I was thinking if you could and wanted to, join us for a week on the beach - you could bunk in with JJ and it might be a good re-acquaintance period for all of us. Please just think about it. You can let me know anytime what you decide."

She almost sounded sane again. Hard to argue with her like this.

"Well, thanks for the offer. I will think about it. Are the kids there? Can I talk to them a minute?"

"Kimberley's at a friends studying right now but everyone else is here. Hold on"

And I heard her yelling for JJ and Parker and to get Abbie...

We had a pretty good conversation. They all seemed much more normal acting in talking with me now and JJ especially was excited at visiting the ocean again. He had been twice before with Stanford and Edith, and once Susan and everyone had even gone on a family vacation to San Destin while I had stayed home and worked. I didn't begrudge anyone that, at the time. I needed to work and didn't want Susan's parents paying my way. But I didn't want the rest of my family to miss an opportunity for a nice week's getaway and to be with their grandparents who were paying for pretty much everything. And now I was just happy a little bit of sanity seemed to be returning into my family life. Fingers crossed.

I tried talking to my kids at least twice a week now, and generally succeeded, with everyone but Kimberley. She just wasn't available a lot. And when we did connect, we still really didn't. She still remained very cool and remote with me. Well, she was 13 now and entering the teens, but the divorce happened at exactly the worst possible time for my little girl, any girl. All of a sudden her father figure disappeared out of her life. I did not have a good feeling how this might affect her relationship with boys and men as she inevitably got older. I only prayed Susan's mental problems weren't genetic and possibly passed down to Kimberley as well on top of the divorce.

And as much as I wanted to live with them all again, at least for a month or 6 weeks this and every other summer, just making that happen this first time was going to be tough. My little two bedroom apartment was going to be very crowded, but at least it had two baths. And I would also have to arrange babysitting as I could not just take a month off from work. And what if I got called out some night for a critical situation? I wasn't going to leave them alone with just a 13 year old girl. My work wasn't just a job, it was a service and a public service. Always important but sometimes critically important to other innocent people caught up in unexpected threats of violence and death. I loved my children but I wasn't really able to ever be the greatest dad for them, even when married. Susan necessarily carried that greater parenting load. And I appreciated her and loved her for how well she had done that.

And as far as I could tell even in her deteriorated mental state other than verbally trying to turn my children against me (which logically even made some sense given my career calling) she had remained a good mother to the kids. And I couldn't be any kind of better father as a single dad either. I couldn't be there for them 24/7 like Susan always could - as a stay at home married mom and even now as a single mom basically independently well enough off financially. And there might always be times when others' critical needs for me and my team to risk our own lives would necessarily supercede my own children's needs for my attention and demonstrated love for them. Life wasn't fair and no one had it "all" - at least not for very long, apparently. I might have to make some hard choices myself soon. Like maybe swallow my pride and my own fear of more pain Susan might inflict on me for the sake of my kids...

I couldn't help but mention these concerns to Frenchie when drinking a little and relaxing after work one night.

"We do what we have to and make it work. Eh? But you definitely need to come to my family's little cook-out this Saturday. It's at my sister's country house this time. Anytime after noon - but the sooner the better. You'll see."

And he gave me her address and directions, since even google maps might not be accurate for her country county farm road location.

I guess Frenchie had a pretty large family. I got there a little after one and already more than 100 people were there. Sausages, hamburgers, hot dogs, and shrimp were being grilled. Large pots of gumbo and crawdads and shrimp were also boiling. All kinds of side dishes were being set out as well. Washtubs full of sodas and beer were filled and iced. Also 5 gallon containers of lemonade and sweet tea, that Southern staple. Long tables were already set up and kids were running around everywhere just being happy kids. The zydeco band was also setting up with an actual pro quality sound system, looked like. Mic's for some singers maybe and all the acoustic instruments, fiddles and accordions, guitars and bass and homemade percussion . And a portable dance floor was being laid down. I had a feeling some good times rolling was about to happen. I wasn't the only non-family just friends that was there. I recognized several MPD folks and 3 other members of my SWAT team - including Karen Rigby, the only female member currently in tactical operations training.

Frenchie spotted me and took me over to meet Jeanenne, his sister. She seemed to be directing a lot of the activity. Evidently as hostess she was also nominally in charge of the food preparations.

"Jenny, this is my old Army buddy and new boss man now, John Thornton."

She smiled at me and said, "Hello John. Hope you can handle the madness here today. Bennie's told me quite a bit about you."

She kind of had a twinkle in her eye that matched her dimples. She was easily a head shorter than her brother, maybe only 5'3" tall and very petite. Nope - never would have made it as an Alabama linebacker. They both had the same raven hair coloring and naturally darker always tanned looking skin, and both had very dark brown eye colorings, but Jennie was a hell of a lot prettier than Bennie. Evidently Frenchie wasn't his nickname here.

I was kind of nervous all of a sudden and merely mumbled something like, "thanks for having me over today." And she merely laughed.

"Just make sure you get enough to eat and maybe we can talk a bit more a little later. Have a real good time is the most important thing."

And she was back bossing people around in a real nice way with her wonderful soft voice and accent.

"So, what do you think of my sis, Johnnie-boy?"

"She seems very nice, 'Bennie'."

"Frenchie's OK here, too - but about 50 other males might respond using THAT nickname" and he started laughing.

Then a stunningly beautiful and graceful woman walked up and hugged him from behind. I mean NYC or LA model beautiful - very exotic and mysterious looking. I had seen her picture before but in person she literally took my breath away.

"Ah, mon cherie" And Frenchie kissed her. "This is my wife Gigi. And this is my new boss man John Thornton."

"Hello, John. I trust you to keep my Bennie, safe. Yes?"

"We keep each other safe, always." Is all I could say in response. I could not lie or make promises I might not be able to keep and that was hard to do in response to her voice. I surely did understand why Frenchie married her.

She gave me a little smile and then said, "please dance with me when the music starts. OK?"

And Frenchie just said, "all Cajun women just love to dance and you better know how, Johnnie, if you are going to hang around here much at all."

Actually, I thought I would be OK. Susan and I had taken some ballroom classes for about a year before Kimberley was born. I had always liked music and even dancing in high school and then afterwards. Happy enthusiasm and unselfconsciousness is most important in a man on the dancefloor, for most women in all social dance situations. Women just want to be seen and show off themselves, basically, when dancing. It was a little more complicated than that in partner dances - but hearing the beat and a solid lead also just counted for a lot. I'd see what they were doing on the dance floor and see if I could just fake the basic steps. Maybe. If I drank a few beers first.

It was a hell of a good party. The music and dancing really started about 3 after everybody had eaten quite a bit and drank a few. The music was really good, and Gigi and her sister Francie sang quite a bit with one or more of guy band members joining in. Their harmonies were incredible and had my hairs standing on end occasionally. The dancing was nonstop late into the night - well, the band had to take a few breaks, but musicians just kept rotating in and out.

I did dance with Gigi and Francie and Jenny and a few other women who weren't the least bit shy of just grabbing me when they saw I could fake it good enough. It was just basically a cowboy two step kind of dance, but more a sideways in place than moving around the dance floor. Frenchie danced quite a bit as well. Hell, almost everyone did.

The funny thing to me was, for all the drinking and dancing going on - basically no one got out of line or even started acting out. No jealous flare-ups or too much flirting of ANY kind. Much less pushing any limits. Shoot, that many people there HAD to be a few triangles going on, innocent singles only - or maybe not. Kind of made me think it might have been like a Mafia big family get together - were sudden and violent death might soon meet anyone breaking some Godfather's idea of pleasant social utopia for one afternoon. Somehow politeness seemed to just be the rule here. Interesting. Maybe all those alligators in the surrounding swamplands had something to do with it...

Later on with everybody pretty mellow I did get to talk with Jenny quite a bit. She was just really nice. I also met her 9 year old son Joey and a nephew and niece. There were almost uncountable cousins, uncles, and aunts.

"So, you have four children?" she eventually asked.

"Yes, they live back in St .Louis."

"That must be difficult for you."

"Yes, and no. The whole divorce thing was just so very sudden and out of the blue for me. It seemed to me as if my wife just suddenly hated me, and basically spent 6 months really bad-mouthing me to my kids."

"So, you still loved your wife?"

"Yes, I did. I've been told by her mother and her brother that she had a kind of mental breakdown that caused her to do all these things. But, "what is truth"? At least we can now actually talk to one another somewhat civilly and sanely, and my kids actually seem more normal with me as well. They are all coming down here in June and I have them fulltime for at least a month."