7

Title: "Rich Man's Son" (3/3)

Author: Darkover

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Please see Chapter One.

Summary: The story of why Lewis Nixon joined the paratroops.

"I don't have anything to say to her," Nixon said sullenly. "Just to my dog, and he can't read. So what's the point of writing?"

"Nix." For a man who didn't talk much, Dick Winters could put more expression into a single word than any man Lewis Nixon ever knew. Besides, there was no escaping that blue-eyed stare of Dick's. "She's still your wife."

"Not for much longer. That's the whole point, isn't it?"

"And she's the mother of your child," Winters continued. "Write to her. Tell her something, even if it's to go jump in a lake. Give her a divorce, if that's what she wants. After all, you don't really want to go on like this, do you?"

After a moment, Nixon grudgingly nodded. "Okay. You have a point. I'll start the letter to her sometime today."

"Good." Winters rose, draping a towel across his broad shoulders. "Now, speaking of jumping in lakes, I'm off for a morning swim." He clapped a hand on Lewis' shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. Nixon looked up, gratified and a bit surprised. Dick was the kindest man Nixon ever knew, but he wasn't exactly the touchy-feely type. Winters gave his friend one of those brief, sweet smiles as he added gently; "It'll be okay, Lew. You'll see. Everything happens for a reason." Then he departed.

Nixon watched him go, then got up and went rummaging through Winters' footlocker for more Vat 69. Unlike the other officers, since VE Day Nixon was drinking more than ever. As he refilled his flask and took a long swallow, he began thinking about the passage of time. Recently, he and Welsh had almost come to blows when he, Nixon, told Harry to shut up about Kitty; she wasn't going to wait for him, the "Dear John" letter was probably already in the mail. Luckily, Dick had been around to defuse the situation, although in a way, that made Lewis feel even worse. Dick should not have been put in the middle like that. Lewis had not really wanted to insult Harry. He had just been more hung over than usual, and although he would never have admitted it, he was jealous of the fact that Harry had a woman who would wait for him.

Harry wanted to go home, marry Kitty Grogan, and make babies, which sounded like a good plan. Dick Winters wanted to go back to his family, get a job, find a nice girl to marry, and settle down on a little piece of land somewhere. This was also a good plan; both were versions of the plans most of the men of Easy Company were making, officers and enlisted alike—now that they were in Austria, Hitler was dead, and it appeared as if they might actually survive this war. The only man without such plans was Lewis Nixon, unless getting drunk regularly qualified as such. He was undoubtedly the only man in the entire U.S. Army who did not want the war to end.

It was not that Nixon enjoyed warfare—God, no! He'd had enough of the mud, the blood, the misery, the death, the killing, and the horrific waste of it all to last him the rest of his life. He'd had enough of the Army, too, for although it had served its purpose in allowing him to prove that he was capable of some accomplishment—he had survived airborne training under Herbert Sobel, and also endured Bastogne, if nothing else—he did not have the kind of dedication and sterling sense of duty that was required of a career army officer. Richard Winters did, though, and that was what Nixon found disturbing. Although he did not know officially, Nixon was enough of an intelligence officer—even as a demoted one—to have knowledge of rumors. He was aware that his best friend had been approached by Colonel Sink, who wanted Richard Winters to make a career of the military. Nixon knew his best friend well enough to believe that Dick was not seriously considering the idea. Nevertheless, whether Dick stayed in the Army, or whether he continued on back to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, the odds were such that Lewis Nixon would never see him again, unless it was at a reunion every twenty-five years or so. That was what Nixon could not bear. He was losing the only real friend he ever had, and there seemed to be no way to stop it.

Nixon reviewed his own options. He had no real desire to go back to New Jersey. What was the point? To resume his former, stultifying life where it had left off? Oh, not quite: he wouldn't be a married man any more, mustn't forget that. Cathy was pressing him to sign the divorce papers. His parents had also divorced as well, and his father had married The Blonde, as Lewis Nixon thought of her. His father was right about at least one thing; when it came to being a business manager, or any kind of a leader, he, Lewis, was not really cut out for the job. Lewis did not enjoy telling other people what to do with their lives. He barely knew what to do with his own.

But there was one man who would do well in that position, wasn't there? Winters.

He would do well in a position of authority; indeed, after his experience as leader of Easy Company, Lewis doubted if Dick could just go back and resume his former life, any more than he himself could….

"Package for Lieutenant Winters!"

Nixon looked around, blinking. A young private—some replacement whose name Nixon did not recall—was standing in the doorway, holding a package. "Is Lt. Winters here, sir? I was instructed to deliver this."

"Leave it here, Private. I'll see to it that he gets it."

The younger man hesitated. "Are you Captain Nixon, sir?"

"Yes, Private, I am."

The private grinned hugely. "That's okay, then! Oh, sorry, sir," the youngster hastened to add, seeing Nixon's bemused look and mistakenly believing the officer thought him guilty of disrespect. "It's just that I was told to make sure Lt. Winters got this, only nobody seems to know where he is. But everyone said Captain Nixon would know, 'cause the two of them are always together."

Nixon stared at the young trooper as if the latter had spoken a prophecy. "He's down by the lake, Private, having a morning swim." Nixon held out a hand. "I was just headed that way. I'll take the package to him."

"Thank you, sir!" The trooper handed over the package and gave Nixon a salute, even though such niceties were not required indoors, and left.

Nixon gazed down at the thick package, then impulsively rose, tucking it under his arm. His best friend had just told him that everything happens for a reason. As usual, his friend was right.

Smiling happily, his hangover almost forgotten, Nixon started down the trail to the lake. Dick Winters would have a good job to come home to after the war; Dad would be happy to have a reliable manager at last; and not least of all, he, Lewis Nixon, would be happy, because he would not be separated from his best friend. He would talk to Dick, make him the offer. Not a bad proposal, all things considered; it would make three people happy. His friend still had to agree to the proposal, but it was such a perfect solution that surely Dick would say yes. Maybe he, Lewis Nixon, was good at doing things right when it counted.

In fact, he realized as he caught a glimpse of red hair shining in the morning sun, he had achieved something, after all. It wasn't that he had become a paratrooper; nor was it surviving D-Day, or even Bastogne. It was the fact that he had formed a friendship with the finest man that he or anyone else was ever likely to meet: Richard Winters. Whether

he had proven anything to his father, to Cathy, or to anyone else no longer mattered, and he wondered why it had ever seemed important. He was more than just a rich man's son. As long as he and his best friend were together, he could face anything, and even make a new life for himself, as well.