Timing in Everything: Chapter 11

A/N: Completely off the topic, but we now live in a world with no Osama bin Laden. Pretty wild.


Considering the number of hours it took to drive from Okanogan County to Tahoma National Cemetery in Kent, Kim Tomblin was surprised at the number of people who had shown up for her grandfather's graveside service. At the same time, she wasn't that surprised at all. Jack Tomblin had been that kind of man.

It was a clear November day—a rarity for that side of the mountains, which she knew first-hand from her year living there an NCIS probie—but still cold, especially for someone as accustomed to warm weather as she was. She shivered under her long black wool coat and mentally kicked herself, not for the first time, for wearing a black dress and heels instead of a pant suit and more sensible shoes.

Sitting next to her, her mother reached for her hand, and for the rest of the service, the two stayed that way, two leather-clad hands holding onto each other tightly. This funeral was difficult for Kim, having just lost her grandfather; she couldn't imagine what her mother was going through. Jack had been much more than Sally's father-in-law—he was her godfather, a second father, a sounding board when her brother and Jack's son were away with the Corps, a rock to lean on when it seemed her own parents couldn't go on after her brother's death, a confidant when she didn't know what she was doing as a nineteen-year-old mother-to-be with a husband in Vietnam, a free baby-sitter for any or all of her four children whenever needed, and much better at giving advice on any topic than anybody who practiced psychology.

The chaplain recited the prayers and passages before giving the obituary the second reading of the day, the first having been that morning at the funeral. Kim, having helped her mother write it, knew the words by heart.

United States Marine Corps Corporal Jackson William Tomblin, retired, died on November 3, 2011, in his home outside Pateros, Washington. He was 87 years old.

Jack was born on April 7, 1924 to former Marine Lance Corporal William Tomblin, a veteran of the First World War, and his wife, Mary (Ellis) Tomblin. He was raised on the Tomblin Family Orchard in Okanogan County, a place he would always call home.

Seventeen years old on the day Pearl Harbor was attacked, Jack decided that he would join the Marine Corps and fight the Japanese in the Pacific Theater. At the request of his father, he remained at Pateros High School until he graduated and enlisted in the Marine Corps at the age of 18. During basic training, he met Daniel Tojo, a man who would become a life-long friend.

Jack saw his first action as part of the 1st Tank Battalion, 1st Marine Division, at Cape Gloucester, New Britain. He remained in the battalion in battles in New Guinea and Peleliu before he was transferred to the 3rd Assault Amphibian Battalion, with which he fought in Guam and Iwo Jima. Fifteen days into the campaign on Iwo Jima, he received the Purple Heart when he lost his left hand and was taken to the U.S.S. Relief, a hospital ship, to return stateside for medical treatment.

On the Relief, he met Ensign Elizabeth Shuette, a Navy nurse. They were married four days after Jack was medically retired from the Marine Corps, on July 18, 1945. Betty served the remainder of the war at Naval Hospital Bremerton, where Jack was recovering from his wounds. The couple moved to the family orchard in December 1945.

Jack and Betty raised their family at Tomblin-Tojo Orchards in Okanogan County, where Jack was active both in agriculture and veterans organizations. He was involved with the Veterans of Foreign Wars, including two terms as president of the Chelan chapter; the Military Order of the Purple Heart; the Wounded Warrior Project; and the Washington Apple Commission. He also volunteered his time with the Department of Veterans Affairs and the USO, and was known throughout the county for the barbeques he would host when servicemembers returned from war.

Jack's top priority through his life was his family, and nothing pleased him more than time spent with his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. He is survived by his three children: Pamela (Edwin) Frueh, Patricia (Harold) Nichols, and Christopher (Sally) Tomblin; nine grandchildren: Kanten Tomblin, Karsten (Tama) Tomblin, Kevan (Meghan) Tomblin, and Kim Tomblin; David (Melissa) Nichols, Sarah (James) Szkwarko; James (Lindsey) Frueh, Justin (Jennifer) Frueh, and Elizabeth (Brad) Evans; fourteen great-grandchildren; and Daniel Tojo. He is preceded in death by his twin brother Joseph, his sisters Margaret and Pauline, his godson Robert Tojo, his beloved wife Betty, and all his brothers-in-arms who served in the United States military.

The rifles cracked in the cold air, making Kim flinch with each round, and then the flag was folded; fortunately, it was folded by the cemetery's honor guards, who actually knew what they were doing, instead of the ragtag group of current and former military who made up Papa's family. Kim couldn't lift her eyes from the white gloves that held the folded flag as the sergeant stiffly carried it toward her father.

"On behalf of the President of the United States, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's service to Country and Corps."

Out of the corner of Kim's eye, she saw her mother's eyes well up, and realized that that wasn't the first time Sally had heard those exact same words—the first time was when she was barely seventeen years old and burying a brother. As a Marine wife and mother, she undoubtedly had nightmares in which she heard them again, in which she was handed a flag, in which she watched another casket containing another loved one killed in battle lowered into the ground.

Kim had those same nightmares, and she hadn't even gotten to the 'wife and mother' stage yet. Sometimes, there was just too much Corps in her family.

She straightened to attention as the lone bugler began playing taps, and then it was over and they headed back to the limos. They had been driving for probably half an hour when it really sunk in: they had left Papa behind, forever.

For the first time since Kevan called her to let her know that Papa had died, she began crying.


Of the entire extended Tomblin family—and Jeff—the only person who was old enough to grasp that Kim was leaving because of work and had a problem with that fact would be celebrating her twelfth birthday in a week.

Reiko, Kanten's daughter, immediately responded to Kim's news by beginning a characteristically adolescent tirade directed toward her aunt. The last thing Kim understood was, "You're just like everyone else in this stupid family! You say you care about us, but it's really all about what you want!"

Then she erupted into angry-sounding Japanese that, judging by Kanten's, "Reiko Samantha Tomblin!" was as profane as Kim suspected. The girl was, after all, a Tomblin.

Reiko stormed off somewhere, leaving the adults in stunned silence. Kim doubted any of them had seen such a display since she was that age. "Well, I can't say the timing's ideal," Kim's father finally said, "but it's not as if the terrorists know your grandfather just died."

"If there are terrorists," Kim replied bitterly. She still wasn't happy about getting called to literally fly across the world on the suspicion that the case was related to her area of expertise. "It's a fucking knee-jerk reaction. Badness in the Middle East? Blame the terrorists."

"Because it usually is the terrorists," Kevan replied. "Or Somali pirates. Or Gaddafi. Unless we consider them to be terrorists?"

Everyone ignored Kevan's question. Kim sighed and rose from her chair, draining the last of her beer. "I need to go make sure I have everything I'm going to need."

Twenty minutes later, she was still ranting about getting called in—and still trying to figure out who gave Gibbs her private number—while Jeff was reclining on the bed in the guestroom of her parent's house—the only guestroom of the three houses on the orchard that was on a ground floor, a consideration made for Jeff's injuries—nursing his beer and just letting her vent, when Kanten came into the room. He stood just inside the door for a minute, looking more unsure than Kim had ever seen him look. "Got everything?" he finally asked, nodding toward the MARPAT rucksack on the bed, Kim's go-bag since it had been issued to her while she was in the Corps.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice still bitter. "Investigations don't require much more than khakis and an NCIS tee-shirt."

"Which she always has with her," Jeff chimed in. "As well as her official passport." He turned to Kim. "I'll never question your need to pack that again."

"Thanks, dear," she said sarcastically. She sighed and pushed back her hair before turning to her brother. "What do you need?"

"I just wanted to apologize for Reiko's behavior." It was his turn to sigh. "I don't know what's gotten into her."

"She's eleven," Jeff replied from the bed. "Eleven-year-old girls act like that. For that matter, so do eleven-year-old boys. Believe me." He rolled his eyes. "Adolescence. Get used to it now, because it's here to stay."

"Well, it's gotten a lot worse in the last few months, and I tried talking to her—"

"It's not rocket science, moron," Kim interrupted. "What do you think is going on? Her parents are splitting up because her dad is too much of a fucking dick to keep his fucking dick in his pants—"

"Yeah, thanks, Kim," Kanten interrupted, now getting angry. "Forget it." He turned toward the door, but Kim's voice stopped him.

"Kanten," she said. She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just…"

"Yeah," he agreed. He stared at the window for a minute before returning his gaze to his sister. "You're on the evening flight to Seattle tomorrow?"

"Yeah. We're leaving for the airport around two."

"You want to go for a run tomorrow morning? Just us?" He looked over at Cunningham and shrugged. "No offense."

"Not quite in running shape yet," Jeff replied, nodding down to his broken leg, elevated on a pillow. "Besides, I'm not nearly stupid enough to come between two Tomblins and their run. Have fun."

"Yeah," Kanten said with a nod. His eyes fell on Kim's rucksack again, then back up at his sister. "I hope you catch the bastards who did this."

"She always does," Jeff answered for her. "All work and no play makes Kim damn good at her job."