Chapter 12 by C. Selene McBain and Kat Freymuth
Despite what Sam had intended, he did not return home after the leap out of David Sheldon. Once he leaped out, much to the dismay of the project, he didn't leap back in to anywhere anytime soon. Without any knowledge of the whereabouts of Dr. Beckett in the space time continuum, everyone was left to wait.
Carlie and Al celebrated their birthdays together, his nieces' birthday being five days earlier than the admiral's. The cast came off the teen's leg, and she rejoiced even though her step was hindered by a constant tenderness in the muscle. Life went on.
Late in June, the day was very hot. All the windows were thrown open in the Calavicci home. Al was wearing a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt with a hand fan in his lap at all times. Carlie was sprawled out on the couch, dressed as scantily as decency would allow.
The phone rang.
Al sighed at the sound of the phone ringing. It was just too darned hot to have to deal with the complex, in his opinion. Still, with Sam somewhere out there, he couldn't just ignore the phone either. Looking over at Carlie, he sighed.
"You're no help," he groused, only to get a flick of water on him for his teasing. He smiled as made his way to the phone and lifted the receiver.' "Calavicci," he answered.
At first, there was no answer on the other end. But then, a timid voice spoke up, clearing their throat. It was a woman's voice, and she said quietly, "Al?"
Al nearly dropped the phone at the sound of the woman's voice. This was some kind of a sick prank. Had to be. "Who is this?" he demanded, gaining Carlie's attention by the tone of his voice.
Carlie turned on her stomach to look over at her uncle. She'd never seen him so spooked before, except of course when he and Sam found her in the ravine. She shrugged her shoulders and mouthed a question, but gained no reaction from Al.
The woman on the phone sounded distraught when she was asked who she was, and there was a sound of choked sobbing on the other end for a moment. She took a breath and stated as steadily as she could, "It's Beth."
That did cause him to drop the receiver, his face going white. He swallowed for a moment and looked in his lap to see that the receiver hadn't fallen too far. Carefully, he picked it up again and put it to his ear. "I..." he started and then swallowed. What did you say to the woman who ripped out your heart and remarried because she thought you were dead? He cleared his throat.
"I thought it was you," he murmured, knowing what he was saying didn't exactly sound quite right. "How... how did you get my number?" And why are you calling me thirty years after you left me for dead?
Time changes people. Beth was once a confident nurse with a quirkiness about her that rubbed off from Al. But thirty years is a lifetime to some, and too much can happen within that time. She struggled for words, her breathing growing erratic every second.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, "If this was a mistake, tell me now. This was - impulsive of me, and I'm not sure what to say. I don't mean to make you feel awkward. What am I saying? I don't know what I'm saying. Just . . . Al, I'm sorry if I've interrupted anything. I didn't mean . . . "
"Beth..." Al interrupted, hearing the tone in her voice. He didn't like that tone. It sounded frightened to him. "Beth, calm down. It's okay," he told her. Like hell it is! his mind yelled. He ignored it. "Tell me what's wrong."
"What's wrong?" she asked, as if the question was incredulous to begin with, "It's been too long, that's what's wrong. Please, I - can't talk about it on the phone. I called to tell you that . . . I'm in New Mexico."
"Are you in trouble?" he asked, fear seeping into him. "Honey, if you're in trouble, tell me and I'll be there..."
"No, I'm not in trouble," she reassured him, "It's nothing like that. It's - my . . . Dirk. He's dead."
Al didn't say anything at her words. He didn't know what to say. If it weren't for Project Quantum Leap, he never would have learned the name of the man his first wife had married after declaring him dead. And now, Beth calls to tell him the man who stole his wife from him is dead? How he supposed to feel? Upset? "I see," was the only thing that came from his lips.
The words felt like a cold sting, but she knew they were coming, no matter how he might have phrased it. There was no excuse left. It was either in or out now, and she had to take one or the other eventually. "I'd to see you," she said finally, "But if you don't want to see me, I'll understand."
More than anything, I want to see you. But I want to see my wife, not a woman who abandoned me and married some shyster lawyer, he thought, with a swallow. He took a deep breath through his nose and looked at Carlie, who had a hard frown on her face. "I don't..." he started and then exhaled. "Okay," he finally said, deciding to take a step. Hell, if it turned out bad, he still had someone to care for to get over the hurt. "Where and when?"
An arrangement was made to meet in a public place in Alamogordo. The beginning of summer meant that plenty of activity would be in the Main Street Plaza with lots of outdoor dining and shopping. Plenty of people. Carlie was still staring at her uncle, probably more spooked than he himself was. She didn't like the look on his face.
"Well," she demanded, "Who the hell was it? You're starting to give me the creeps."
He didn't answer right away, licking his lips slightly. "A ghost of my past," he answered.
"I could have told you that," she rolled her eyes, standing and approaching him, "Are you okay? You really look like you're about to puke or something."
"No, I'm not okay," Al told her bluntly, still not moving from his spot. "A woman I married thirty years ago calls me up, tells me her husband is dead and that she wants to see me and you're asking me if I'm okay?" he asked sarcastically. Seeing the hurt look on Carlie's face, his eyes softened immediately. "I'm sorry, Carlie. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
"Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know?" Carlie retaliated, not listening to the apology. She put distance between them, her body rigid, "There's a lot that I still don't know about you, you know? But from what I do know of you, it doesn't surprise me that you agreed to meet her. I know how you've been through more women than a pimp in Brooklyn. So what, do I get dumped next for this skirt? You seem to have a problem with commitment. Even platonic ones."
"Hey!" Al exclaimed in shock of her words. "Now that isn't fair, Carlie. You're my niece, not some skirt. And if you think I'm going to dump you for any reason whatsoever then you don't know me at all, even after all we've been through. If you don't want me to see her, fine. I'll call her now and break it off." He turned and rolled towards the hallway, his heart aching.
"What is she to you, anyway?" She asked with his back turned, "If she left you, what do you care about her?"
He stopped and turned around, looking into Carlie's eyes. "She's my first wife. And I still love her." He took a breath and laughed slightly. "And I probably don't even know her anymore with how much time has passed between us."
Carlie's expression still showed hurt and anger, now with a mask of sarcasm. She raised an eyebrow at Al, in a very familiar Calavicci way, "And she probably doesn't know you either. Do you think she knows that you can't walk?"
He shook his head slowly. "No," he whispered. "I doubt it." He took a deep breath. "You're right. It was a stupid thing to do but... Beth... Beth kept me alive through Vietnam. The thought of coming home to her..." He closed his eyes to hide the tears that were building in them.
"Kept you alive?" Carlie asked, confused, "What do you mean she kept you alive? She went to war too? I thought women weren't allowed in combat back then."
Al swallowed, shaking his head. "I was MIA. The memory of her... the idea that she was waiting for me at home... Well, it was the only thing that kept me from letting those bastards kill me."
Despite not knowing what 'MIA' stood for, there was a deeper meaning that Carlie was starting to understand. She wouldn't say it, but she suddenly remembered seeing scars on her uncle's back. Very ugly scars that she never had the courage to ask about, and seeing him in a state of near tears in front her didn't make her want to ask at all. But she began to understand.
"Then you should go see her," she said quietly.
Al gave her a little smile of thanks and nodded slightly. "Come with me," he requested, getting a look of surprise from her. "If Beth wants to see me then I want her to see me. And you're a part of me."
She relaxed with his words, letting a grin creep over her lips. Sauntering to him, she groaned playfully, "You're doing the mushy thing again."
"It happens when you get to be an old man like me," he told her with a smile before pulling her into his lap, getting a startled scream from her.
It didn't take much convincing to get Carlie to join him at the Main Street Plaza. The sun was torturing the massive crowd of people with its heat. Carlie kept taking ice from her half-melted ice water and putting the cubes on her head while they waited for Beth to show up.
"This is cruel and unusual punishment," confided Carlie to her uncle, who was seated next to her at the table, "Making us wait in 110 degree heat. Five more minutes and I say we get food."
Al smiled at her widely. "You know, I'm almost with you on that," he told her. The moment he spoke those words, he froze, his eyes focused on the woman who had just walked into the portico of the cafe. Her hair was longer and had highlights of gray but... he'd recognize her anywhere. He swallowed, his heart pounding as his hands moved to his wheels as if he were about to bolt out of the plaza to safety.
Carlie touched Al's arm, seeing the look of alarm that entered his face. "What's wrong?" Then it dawned on her. "You saw her, didn't you?"
Al barely nodded as the hostess brought Beth to his table. He found it hard to say anything as he just stared up at her. God, she's still so beautiful! Finally, her words filtered through to his brain. "Hello... Beth," he said softly, still staring at her.
Beth stared back, the feeling of such deep emotion about ready to explode from her chest. Her hands shook, and she gripped them to control the trembling. There were tears welling in her eyes that threatened to spill with a single movement of her head. Her jaw was set to keep her teeth from chattering. She was nervous. She was scared.
She was still so in love with him.
"Al," she finally said, ignoring Carlie and walking around the table to grasp the man in a hug. Impulsiveness, of course, drove the woman. She didn't notice the chair he was in at first, and just clutched him tightly.
The ice that Al had kept around his heart to protect him melted at the feel of Beth's tight hug. He closed his eyes and just let himself feel her for a long moment. It was almost as if the last thirty years hadn't happened. But Al wasn't a fool. He knew things were different. He just wondered if what was different would get in the way.
"Beth," he murmured, gently pushing her away. "Beth, this is my niece Carlie," he introduced the teenage girl with a proud smile.
Carlie offered a small wave to the black haired woman, along with a trademark Calavicci grin. Beth nodded to her, "Hi, Carlie." She looked at Al, wiping away the tear trails from her cheeks, "You have a niece? And . . . oh, my god." She saw the chair then, looking back and forth from it to his face. She gripped his hand. "Oh, Al, honey - what happened?"
"Long story," he told her gently. "Please, sit down. We have a lot to talk about." Isn't that the truth!
Beth tugged a chair close to her ex-husband, still gripping his hand. Carlie leaned into him and whispered, "You still want me here?"
"What do you think?" Al whispered back with a hint of a frown. "This isn't a date or anything." Turning his attention to Beth, he gave her a hint of a smile. "So," he said.
Carlie made a face and let the adults have their conversation. Beth was too focused on Al to notice the girl's behavior. She scooted as close to Al as she could, given their limitations. She couldn't stop looking him up and down, the white pants that covered his legs and the Hawaiian shirt that went so well with his bright personality. . . and the wheelchair.
"Honey, tell me what happened? Was it 'Nam?" Beth asked.
Al hesitated for a moment, a little uncomfortable with the situation. "No, it wasn't 'Nam," he told her before turning his head towards Carlie and seeing the bored look on her face. "You know what? Let's order lunch and we can talk afterwards. I'm sure Carlie's starving. She's been threatening to eat the table."
Carlie was a hard teenager to deal with sometimes, but other times it made her a more considerate person. She knew these two people needed to talk, being just as intuitive as her uncle, though she might not have known it quite yet. She stood quickly and stuck out her hand to him, "Gimme money and I will produce food."
Al laughed slightly at her choice of words. Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out two twenty dollar bills and handed them to her. "And two beers," he told her, getting a wide-eyed look from her. "Hey, if Carlos gives you any problems, you point me out and he'll deliver it in person to keep you out of trouble with the law." Once Carlie was away from the table, Al leaned back with a wide smile. "She's a good kid."
Beth blinked back tears, "She's just like you." Pulling herself a little closer, sitting on the edge of her seat to do it, Beth touched the Admiral's face. She swallowed a lump in her throat and tried desperately to keep her emotions in check. "I've missed you - so much."
"Then why did you leave me?" Al asked and then immediately wished he hadn't. "God, that was wrong for me to ask. I'm sorry, Beth. I'm sorry."
The question was inevitable, and it broke the camel's back. The floodgate of tears finally opened and Beth sobbed. She leaned in close to Al and pressed her face into his chest. "Don't be sorry," she cried, "I should be sorry. I still loved you. I thought you died. I thought no one could survive that long, so you had to have been dead. Dirk never replaced you, he couldn't. I married him and I divorced him."
Slowly, Al brought his hand over her head and gently brushed her hair, leaning his head down to kiss the top of her head. "I should have never gone on that second tour," he murmured to her. "We both made mistakes, baby. Please... don't cry." He never could stand seeing her cry.
A moment passed and the heaving sobs dissipated enough to where Beth could sit up straight again. In vain, she wiped away tears that still flowed. "I should have never married him. Al. I divorced him when I found out you got repatriated. But - I didn't have the courage to face you after what I'd done. The Beth you knew as strong and confident was crumbled into an idealistic waste basket. I was a coward."
"You weren't the only one," he assured her. "I should have gone after you. Instead... well, let's just say that I tried too hard to replace you and found it couldn't be done." He laughed sickly. "So, here we are, two cowards sitting in 110 degree weather, waiting for cold beers and quesadillas."
Beth tried to give him a smile, but there was still another issue that needed to be brought out into the open. She licked her lips and gazed deeply into eyes. "Al, honey. Why are you in a wheelchair?"
Al took a deep breath and exhaled. It seemed to him that that had become the question of the year from everyone. "Almost four years ago, I was shot by a disgruntled government employee. The bullet severed my spinal cord," he repeated the well-rehearsed official answer to the question. He couldn't rightly tell her that the government employee in question was actually an evil time-traveler bent on killing Dr. Sam Beckett of Nobel Prize fame.
Beth nodded, understanding that the simplest explanation is probably the best. She took a breath, "You look good, honey." She tried to smile, her eyes sad and her heart breaking.
Al gave her a smile, trying to lighten the burden he saw in her eyes. ""Yeah, well, it's the best part about being Italian."
She smiled, nodding absently again, trying to keep the questions as light as she could despite their content. "And the sever - is it complete? No . . . no chance for . . ." She took a breath but couldn't finish.
Al shook his head, hating the pity that was starting to show in her eyes. "No. No chance I'll walk again. I'm paralyzed from the lower part of my back down." He exhaled loudly, seeing Beth lower her head. "No pity, Beth. You know I can't stand it."
"I'm sorry," she said immediately, "I don't mean to . . . I'm just - it's hard to see you like this after so long. Thirty years . . . and paralyzed. It's certainly not easy. Just give me a little bit of time to adjust to it. You were always so full of spirit and I have to realize and understand that this chair doesn't stop it."
Al smiled widely at her, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face. "I love you." He hadn't even realized he'd said the words.
She leaned into his hand. "I love you too, Al."
Suddenly, a plate of quesadillas landed on the table like a stray flying saucer, along with two bottles of beer. "You two having a nice chat," quipped the teenager rudely.
Both Al and Beth jumped at the sound of Corningware hitting glass and the sound of Carlie's almost teasing voice. "Yes... thank you, Carlie," Al replied to the quip, ignoring the tone. He held out his hand expectantly, gaining a questioning look from Carlie. "Change?"
"Here," she handed him 15 dollars, "I get to keep five for the arcade though, right?" She grinned at Al winningly.
Al rolled his eyes. "You're incorrigible!" he told her teasingly. He began to hand her the five dollars but pulled it away. "You're going to stay in the arcade?" Getting an exasperated "yes", he continued. "You're going to leave your cell on?" Another "yes". "And you're going to return when I call you?" A third "yes", this one with a glare. He smiled and handed her the money.
Carlie snatched the bill from his hand, grabbed a quesadilla and ran off across the Plaza to the arcade. Beth smiled after her before turning the smile to Al. Her eyes were sad. "You always were so good with kids," she said.
"Are you kidding? She's a handful," Al replied with a shake of his head. "I'm surprised I have any hair left." Reaching over, he grabbed the beers and opened each with the bottle opener on the table. Handing her one, he gently clinked them together.
"Cheers," she said, grinning and taking a sip. She thought for a moment, looking at her hands. "I can't believe I'm here. With you. It's - very surreal." Beth studied his face, examining every wrinkle that hadn't been there when they were young. His eyes were bright as they ever were. He never let life get him down, and she wished she had been there to share it with him. "If wishes were broken hearts . . ." She whispered.
Al frowned slightly at her whisper, not quite hearing her word. "What was that?" he queried gently. When she didn't say anything, he exhaled. "Well... this is a lively conversation." He reached over and took a quesadilla.
"I'm sorry," she said immediately, "It's just hard. But I'm glad I'm here. Even if it's been a long time, maybe . . . maybe there's a chance. Don't you think?"
Al thought about her words for a long moment. "I don't know, Beth." Seeing the look on her face, he backtracked quickly. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I do love you. I always have. I just... we're different now. We might not be as... compatible as we are hoping." He gave her a little smile. "We have a lot to learn about each other before we take that step."
Beth swallowed. "We were friends before we were married. I was hoping we could be friends again." She laughed without humor, "God, I'm selfish. Too afraid to see you until I don't have anyone left. Then I'm too afraid to be alone. How silly of me to think that I could just come back and pick up all the pieces."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back up, there!" he told her, touching her arm. "You're jumping the gun again, darling. I mean... Beth, neither of us have seen each other in thirty years and you're letting your overromantic nature have us practically getting married before we have even come friends again. We don't even know each other anymore, do we?" He exhaled, gently cupping her face. "Let's get to know each other again first. Then we can go into the definitions of our relationship."
Beth smiled, almost laughing in her hysteria. "I always was too much of a romantic." But then she cried again, quietly and discreetly as she leaned into Al's hand, "I just hope you can forgive me. I know there is a lot we have to talk about, but the question is - where do we go from here?"
"Well... we could just... start over," Al suggested with a smile. He extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Al Calavicci. I'm a retired Rear Admiral, upper half, United States Navy. I like watching sports, driving fast cars, and pestering my sixteen year old niece. And you are?"
Beth laughed, wrinkling up her nose and shaking Al's hand. "Hi, Al," she said, "I'm Beth." She stopped, still holding Al's hand, smiling in amusement. Her eyebrows raised and she shrugged when she said, "Beth Calavicci. I never changed my name when I remarried."
"Ah..." Al said gently, pulling his hand away and leaning towards her. "And what do you do for a living, Mrs. Calavicci?"
She smiled again. "I'm a doctor. And a captain in the Navy, Admiral, sir."
"You got your doctorate!" Al exclaimed, clearly pleased. "That's great! Haven't retired yet, eh?"
"No. I'm too stubborn to retire. I keep thinking the force still has use for an old bag like me," She grinned, "But I didn't think you'd retire either. Stubborn is something we had in common."
"Yeah, well, given the options, I thought retirement was a better option. It was either work for the government on a project or sit behind a desk. You know me. I'd rather be flying a jet than a desk." He looked at her lovingly. "And if you're an old bag, I'm the Sultan of Swing."
Beth raised an eyebrow, unable to hide her grin, "You flatter me, Admiral." She looked out around the plaza. The crowd was thinning a bit. "Would you like to go for a walk?"
"Sure," he told her. He then raised the quesadilla that he had put down. "After lunch." Getting a look from her, he grinned winningly. "Hey, I'm hungry!"
"You always did think with your stomach," she accused.