Chapter 23

Monday, November 24, 1997 – Hazzard

The kitchen of the Duke farm was warm and filled with the comforting smells of pumpkin and spice. Doctor Daisy Duke's thoughts turned once again to Enos as she busied herself, making the pies sold during the weekend bake sale to benefit the Hazzard County Children's Home.

Uncle Jesse walked over to the stove and sniffed. "Daisy, you think you better check the oven? I think them pies might be done."

"Oh, Lordy. I was daydreaming," she said, grabbing the potholders and quickly flipping open the oven door. "Whew. Saved um. Thanks, Uncle Jesse."

She put the pies on the cooling rack and wiped her forehead with the back of her arm.

"You been doin' a lotta woolgatherin' ever since you got back from Los Angeles. And you still haven't said what went on out there between you and Enos. Or why I shouldn't say nothin' about you bein' there to anybody else."

She stirred a dash of allspice into the bowl filled with orange batter. "Just not ready to talk about it yet."

Jesse wanted to say something about Rosco's car being camped out at the end of the road every night for a week after she got home, but he held his tongue.

"You're a grown woman, and you have a right to your privacy. But you been doin' more'n daydreamin.' Seems more like worryin' to me."

"Of course, I worry about him. He has a dangerous...," she said, concerned that Uncle Jesse's mind was working out what she didn't finish.

She put a spoon in the batter and tasted it. "Uncle Jesse, could you hand me the cinnamon? I think it needs a tad more."

Jesse handed her the spice and said, "Okay, Daisy. If that's the way you want it, I won't ask." Then he opened the pantry and took out a loaf of bread. "Think I'll make some sandwiches for lunch. Bo and Luke oughta' be back soon with the part an' if we don't feed them boys somethin' you're gonna' come up missin' pies."

Daisy had been avoiding a lot of Uncle Jesse's direct questions lately. She'd gotten better at it with practice and reminded herself to be more diligent about over-sharing in the future.

"Oh, and Uncle Jesse, I hope you don't mind. I asked Annie Poe for Thanksgiving."

"Course I don't mind, Daisy. You know, I think Bo's kinda sweet on her. About time his taste in women started changin' for the better."

Bo and Luke were driving back to the farm from town with a part for Uncle Jesse's aging tractor. Bo was still trying to decide if he wanted to follow the pro-circuit for the upcoming racing season. And Luke had told Uncle Jesse he was taking another breather from smoke jumping for the US Forest Service when in fact, he had some decisions he needed to make about his future – life-altering kinds of decisions.

"You know," Bo said, as he took the next hill with a bounce, nearly sending Luke into the headliner, "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"I know, and I don't intend to either."

"You know you'll feel better if you get it off your chest."

"Bo, I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay, okay. Just tryin' to lend my experienced opinion."

"You ain't got experience in this, so butt out."

Luke had taken Daisy's advice and told Sophie how he felt and how scared he was. He still hadn't been able to bring the hammer down on a commitment or the responsibility that came with it. Before he came back to Hazzard for the holidays, Sophie had given him an ultimatum. She had her children to think of, and if he couldn't stand up and make a decision about them, then he shouldn't come around anymore. So, he had come home to think about it. To decide if the fear he was her second choice, or that she couldn't love him as much as she had loved her husband, or if he could not be the father her kids needed…

"Aren't we touchy today?" Bo declared.

Without warning, Luke shouted, "Truck!" and Bo swerved to miss the slow-moving pickup Alvin Dobbins used for his UPS deliveries.

Alvin waved as they passed and yelled after them, "Welcome home, boys, see ya'll in a little while."

"What'd he say?" Bo asked Luke.

"I dunno. Couldn't hear it over the engine."

"Ye-haaa!" Bo yelled and took the next turn at ninety.

After leaving Alvin in their dust, Bo had the car so revved up they missed Sheriff Rosco's cruiser parked behind some thicket. By the time they registered the fact they had seen him, they were an orange blur.

"Uh oh," Luke said. "Home one day, and Rosco's already after our hides."

Bo floored the accelerator. After a few seconds, Luke noticed Rosco's car had not come out of where it had been parked.

"That's weird," said Luke. "You reckon he's okay? Maybe we ought to go back and check."

"Are you crazy?"

"No, I'm not crazy. Rosco's not a spring chicken anymore. Maybe he had a heart attack or somethin'."

By the time they turned the car around and reached the hidey-hole where Rosco had secreted himself, Rosco's car was gone.

"Looks like he's alive and kickin'" said Bo. "Let's go. Uncle Jesse and Daisy probably have lunch ate and are puttin' away the leftovers by now. I'm starved."

"You just want to sample some of them pumpkin pies Daisy's bakin'."

"Yeah, maybe," Bo said, smiling from ear to ear. "Hey, Daisy seem a little off to you since we been home?"

"We've only been home one day, Bo. But now you mention it, yeah, a little," Luke said, then braced for the jerk he knew would be coming when Bo put the car into hyper-drive.

Rosco P. Coltrane, having left Flash III in the car comfortably snoozing on the Los Angeles Times, shook off the late November chill as he stood on the porch of the Duke house, horrendously distraught about knocking on the door. He procrastinated by dusting off the gaudy, tasseled epaulets on his shoulders and straightening his gun holster for the third time. Rosco would rather cut off his right arm than to ask the Dukes for anything. He knew Daisy was home, and if anyone knew about Enos, it would be her. She'd probably kill him for it, but he was beside himself. He had set in his car in the speed trap, discussing the pros and cons with Flash for nearly twenty minutes.

At last, he decided he had to do something and knocked.

"Oh, it's you," Jesse said through the screened door, eyeing the Sheriff suspiciously. "What do you want, Rosco?"

"That'll be Sheriff or Boss Rosco to you." He said it purely out of habit.

"What d'ya want Sheriff Rosco?"

"Now, Uncle Jesse, I'm not here to make trouble. Can I come in?"

"I ain't your Uncle. But I guess you can come in."

Knowing nothing good could come of it, Jesse opened the door wider. He didn't know exactly what Rosco and Daisy had had their heads together about over the last six months. Rosco coming to call wasn't a portent of something good in any case.

When he was inside, they heard the General skid to a dusty stop in front of the house. Luke and Bo burst through the door, both talking at once, and demanded to know what the Sam hill he wanted. Uncle Jesse raised his hand to stay the onslaught.

"Well, say what you got to say. We got lunch ready," Jesse said.

"Now, Jesse, like I said, I'm not here to make any trouble. In fact…I…I'm here cause…well…I'm here cause I think a mutual friend of ours is in trouble. At least I'm afraid he is."

"You got no friends, Rosco, mutual or otherwise, sides Boss Hogg and he's been gone three years."

"Well, I do too. He calls me once a month to say hey and catch up on all the Hazzard gossip…septin' that first month…" Rosco's voice trailed off and then picked back up again, "…and he sends me a Christmas present every year… last year he sent Flash one o' them boo-teek gourmet bones and he sent me a cap personally autographed by Bruce Willis, cause he was a technical advisor on that movie and all…an…an he…"

"You talkin' about Enos Strate?" Luke interjected.

"Course I was talkin' about Enos. Who else you think I know in Los Angeles?"

"You didn't say the friend you was talkin' about was from…Wait, Enos calls you every month?" Bo said incredulously, looking at Luke.

"Yes, he does, he calls me every month without fail, 'cause he's a true and loyal friend, not like the rest of you Dukes."

Rosco smelled the fragrance of baking pumpkin and reckoned Daisy was in the kitchen listening. With Daisy in the house, he didn't dare divulge all the reasons he was talking to Enos every month or the instructions he'd received from his former Deputy three weeks ago.

"Rosco, you know Enos ain't really a Duke, right?" asked Luke, tempted to snap his fingers in front of Rosco to wake him from his trance.

"Well, he might as well be. All the times he circumvented me when he was a Deputy to keep your onery law breakin' hides outta' jail."

"Circumvented…That's a pretty big word Rosco, you think you might need to take a rest after strainin' your brain so much?" Bo said, turning to Luke. "But, he's right, Luke, Enos did save our collective bacon more'n a few times."

"Now ya'll are funnin' an' I'm bein' dead serious."

"You aren't funnin' are you?" asked Luke. The look on Rosco's face confirmed it.

"You heard from him?" Rosco asked the group.

"I haven't heard from him," Bo said, "You Luke?"

"No, haven't talked to Enos in more than six months."

Although he knew Daisy had spoken to Enos, Uncle Jesse shook his head.

Daisy left the kitchen and appeared in the parlor. "Why do you think Enos is in trouble, Rosco?" There was undisguised concern in her voice. Images of the last time she had seen Enos flashed through her mind.

"Oh, hey, Daisy. I saw your motorcycle out there, figured you were here. Pies smell good." Rosco looked as if he was struggling to get it out. "You haven't by any chance heard from Enos have you?"

"Rosco! Are we gonna have to snatch you bald-headed to get it out of you?" Uncle Jesse said, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Well," Rosco said, shuffling his feet, "he didn't call me on my birthday, and he's called me every year for the last eleven years."

It sounded feeble even to Rosco, not exactly the truth…but not a lie either. He couldn't think of anything else he could use as an excuse for being worried without revealing what little he knew about what was going on or how worried Enos was it would spill over into Hazzard. Enos had called him nearly every day in the last three weeks. Then it was radio silence since Wednesday. Rosco was worried even though the dipstick had told him he'd be out of pocket for a few days.

"Your birthday was only two days ago. He probably just got busy. Why are you all of a sudden gettin' worried?" asked Luke.

"Cause…Cause when he didn't call, I tried to call him after I knew he'd be off-duty, and there's no answer at that itty-bitty place he calls an apartment – just keeps goin' to the answer machine. And he hasn't returned any of the messages I left."

"Well, that doesn't mean anything," Luke said. "Weren't you the one who told us last Christmas he does a lot of volunteer work, especially around the holidays?"

"I called the community center and talked to some volunteer. He said Enos got a substitute to fill in for him for the next couple of months. That was a week ago an' they haven't seen hide nor hair of him since."

"Well, call that Metro station he works out of and find out what's goin' on."

"You don't think I already tried that?" Rosco said, grinding his teeth and grumbling the way only Rosco P. Coltrane could. "Didn't do no good. I got routed hither and yon and ended up talkin' to some paper pusher tellin' me they don't give out information about police department personnel."

Luke asked, "Hey, Daisy, you still got Turk's number?"

Daisy didn't get a chance to answer. Rosco turned his attention to Bo, Luke, and Jesse. "I don't think that's gonna do no good. Turk's headin' up a narcotics task force. No tellin' where he's at…an' Enos…well, he ain't exactly at Metro anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Luke.

"He still works with Metro. It's just, well…Detectives have their own division."

"Enos made Detective? When did this happen?" Luke was confused.

"Passed his exam more'n a year ago."

"A year. You mean he had his Detective badge when he came back to the reunion? Why didn't he say anything?" asked Bo.

"Well, now that part's a little hard to explain. Since he was treading in dangerous territory, Rosco avoided eye contact with Daisy. Rosco hem-hawed by playing with the brim of his hat. "I only found out…well, it don't matter how I found out…he made me promise not to say anything, not even to his folks."

Silence. Especially in Daisy, who was still replaying images of fiery crashes, trauma units, and bloody clothes in her head.

"That boy's been hidin' his light under a bushel basket since he was knee-high to a grasshopper," said Uncle Jesse.

Rosco thought, 'Ya'll don't know the half of it.'

"See, that's what I'm talkin' about. You know what I think, I think they got him undercover." Rosco said. "That's what I think. An' the boy's not made for undercover work, no sir – he's too honest for one thing. He might be able to keep secrets, but he can't tell a bare-faced lie to save his pea pickin' soul. And that's a fact."

"Undercover. Rosco, you don't know what you're talkin' about," said Luke.

"There's not any other explanation for it," Rosco said, then looked at Daisy.

"Be that as it may," said Uncle Jesse, "we can't go interferin' in LAPD business. And, Sheriff or no Sheriff, neither can you."

"What if something terrible happened to him, and they can't tell anyone until they tell his folks." Daisy said, dropping onto the chair next to the phone with a sudden intake of air. She couldn't seem to exhale. "You said it yourself, Luke. Enos isn't really a Duke."

Her voice became faint and distant. "We're not – family."

She knew now that Enos had listed Turk as first contact for notification, and that might have changed since she was there...She could only hope Kay would notify them and since neither she nor Inez had called, there was still hope.

Then, Rosco did something contrary to everything anyone in the room expected. He moved to stand by Daisy's side. When he put his hand on her shoulder and patted it gently, she took hold of it and squeezed. Being their secret keeper had been exhausting for poor old Rosco.

Daisy and Rosco both nearly jumped out of their skins when the phone rang next to her.

Luke picked up the receiver. "Cooter Davenport, how are ya? Haven't talked to you in a coon's age." After a few seconds Luke's smile flattened, and he held out the phone. "Daisy, he wants to talk to you."

"Ya see," Rosco said quietly, "I called Cooter when I couldn't get anything outta the LAPD. I figured they couldn't give a Congressman the runaround."

Jesse looked at Rosco like he had two heads, then said to Daisy, "Put it on speaker, honey, so we can all hear."

After getting the okay from Daisy, Luke pressed the speaker button.

"Hey, Cooter." She was barely able to get those two words out.

"Hey, Daisy. How you been, darlin'?"

Rosco, Bo, Luke, and Jesse all started to talk at once. Uncle Jesse played the patriarch card and won the toss. "Daisy's fine, Cooter. You callin' to say hey to everybody for Thanksgivin' or is there somethin' else on your mind?"

"Cooter, has something happened to Enos?" Daisy asked. Her heart was pounding. She was as scared as she had been walking out of the elevator into Cedars' trauma unit.

"Dang you, Rosco. Now Daisy, don't get all worked up. He's alright."

"Cooter, you wouldn't be shinin' us on to spare us or…"

"Yeah, Daisy, I'm sure."

"Rosco, you scared the livin' daylights out of me!"

Daisy sighed with relief and punched Rosco twice in the arm as hard as she could; hard enough that he winced and started rubbing it. He was so grateful the dipstick was okay, considering what he knew, he didn't protest.

Luke leaned in and asked, "So Cooter, why won't the LAPD tell Sheriff Rosco anything?"

"Cause it's a hard and fast policy they take real serious. Somethin' the Sheriff ought to know." Cooter said. "Ya'll got no idea how many crank calls and downright threats they get every day. A healthy dose of paranoia is what keeps those people alive…Besides, I know he's alright because I talked to him myself yesterday afternoon."

"Yesterday?" Rosco blurted out. "Yesterday! Why didn't you tell me that when I talked to you not more'n two hours ago?"

Cooter ignored Rosco's question and instead asked, "Daisy, I take it you haven't got a letter yet? It shoulda' been delivered by now."

There was a knock on the door. Bo went to answer it and found Alvin Dobbins standing on the porch with a cake box sized package in his hand.

"Sorry, ya'll. This was supposed to be delivered early this morning, but it got routed to the wrong truck in Capital City, so I didn't get it till this morning an' then after ya'll passed me, I had a flat an' it took me an extra half hour to get back on the road."

Bo reached out for the package.

"It's addressed to Daisy, Bo. I can't give it to just anybody," Alvin said.

"Since when was I just anybody, Alvin? And Daisy's sittin' right there where you can see her."

Alvin saw Daisy and tipped his hat before he handed the box over. It was a little heavier than Bo had expected.

When Bo saw the sender's name, he handed it to Daisy to take and said to the phone, "Cooter, Daisy got a box. Don't look like a letter. Says it's from Enos, though. Can we call you back?"

"Sure, Bo."

"Wait. Cooter," Luke asked before Cooter could hang up, "Why all the cloak and dagger?"

"There's no cloak and dagger, Luke. Enos asked me to expedite some things for him, and I was happy to oblige."

"What things?" Bo and Luke asked in unison.

"Ya'll, he didn't give me leave to say any more. I'm guessin' it's all in the letter. It wasn't supposed to be any big mystery, either. It just never occurred to anybody that Rosco'd go calling everybody on God's green Earth and stirrin' up a ruckus. I had a devil of a time convincin' the folks in L. wasn't some kind of homegrown terrorist."

Meanwhile, Daisy had opened the box and found, on top, a letter addressed simply 'To Daisy.'

Rosco looked sheepish. "Well, why didn't you tell me that this mornin'?"

"Maybe 'cause they didn't think it was any of your business," said Uncle Jesse. "Now, why don't you just git over there outta the way and let Daisy read her letter."

Rosco was contrite and relieved enough not to complain.

Daisy left her puzzled cousins, a more than concerned uncle, and a fidgety sheriff staring at her from the bottom of the stairs as she carried the box and the letter to her room.

Safely tucked away, at least temporarily, from the curiosity of her family, Daisy sat on the edge of her bed staring at the box and the envelope on top.

She set the envelope aside. From the slight bulge, she knew what was inside. Putting off the inevitable, she drew out the last bundle of un-mailed letters from Enos, all thirty-two of them, and started to read.

The week after Turk came to Hazzard to convince Enos to go back to L.A.

The two weeks after he met Kate

The six weeks after the accident that sent Inez to the ICU and made him Uncle to an eleven-year-old boy

The two weeks he spent back in Hazzard pining over what she had done to her life by marrying L.D.

The two weeks after he was shot

The week he made Detective

...and the day he met...her.

Daisy wondered if he knew what he had actually written between those lines. It was only then that she opened the envelope she had set aside.

Leaving the second page of the letter, the ring, and a thin book in the secret cubbyhole of the chifforobe, Daisy took the first page, the box, and the rest of its contents downstairs. Uncle Jesse and her cousins were in the kitchen preparing supper.

"Sorry," she said. "I guess I lost track of time."

"Never mind worryin' about us, Daisy."

"Thanks, Uncle Jesse," she said, still cradling the box in her arms. "Rosco go back to the station?"

"Nope," said Luke, "he's sinttin' out there on the front porch in the swing. Refuses to leave."

"Maybe he's waitin' ta' be asked for dinner," Bo quipped.

"Then ya'll better make enough, 'cause he's stayin.'" She didn't wait for a reply or a protest and headed out the front door.

"Told you she was actin' weird," Bo said.

"No," Luke replied, "You said she seemed a little off."

"Well, ain't it the same thing?"

"No, it ain't the same thing."

Uncle Jesse held up the wooden spoon he was using to stir the beans and shook it at them. "If you two don't stop jawin' and help me git supper ready..."

"Okay, Uncle Jesse," Luke said, swaying out of the way of the spoon, "You can put that thing away. We can take a hint."

Daisy sat next to Rosco on the swing. He had retrieved Flash from the cruiser and was stroking the ears of the droopy-eyed hound. She put the box on the porch floor in front of him and took Flash onto her lap.

"Oooohh. Be careful, Daisy? Flash is gettin' on up there, ya' know. Gotta be real gentle cuz he's real sensitive."

"I'll be careful, Rosco," she said, pointing at the box. "That's for you. For your birthday."

"For me?...I thought he sent it to you."

"Then why'd you wait out here all this time if you didn't think there was somethin' in it for you? Well, aren't you gonna' to open it?"

"Course I'm gonna open it."

He was still eyeing the box suspiciously. Never could tell what that lug nut would do nowadays. Callin' him an' practickly givin' him orders and such...

Still, he gingerly picked it up like it was going to explode with those snakes-in-a-can that fly out and scare the dickens out of you.

Instead, he found inside a neatly folded dress uniform blouse. The nametag over the right breast pocket read 'E. Strate.' Pinned over the left breast pocket were enough ribbons to decorate for the Fourth of July.

Under that, there was also a ball cap with SWAT emblazoned across the crown, eight medal presentation cases, and various citation documents.

Rosco opened the cases one by one and ran his fingers down the ribbons and over the metal medallions dangling from each, lingering over the medal in the largest case.

"Daisy girl. Do you know what this one's for? It's for..."

She put her hand on his and closed the case. "I know what it's for, Rosco." She smiled, then put her head on his shoulder. They sat there, swinging slowly until Bo came out on the porch and called them in for supper.

"She is definitely actin' weird," Bo muttered to himself as he followed them into the house. "Real weird."

Daisy assigned Rosco the seat next to hers, fussing over him like he was royalty and him eating it up, and across from open-mouthed Bo and Luke. Cooter didn't have the market cornered on dumbstruck. Uncle Jesse took his usual seat at the head of the table, only slightly less baffled and trying to be nonchalant, still wondering when they were gonna' be hit with the Paul Harvey moment. He could feel it in his bones.

Daisy pretended not to notice and busied herself setting out the large bowl of crowder peas with ham hocks, a bowl of mashed potatoes, fresh-baked bread, and a warm pumpkin pie.

She smiled sweetly and waited until their plates were nearly empty before she said, "I know ya'll are chompin' at the bit to find out what this is all about."

All activity related to eating ceased, although Rosco sneaked in one more bite of ham hock. They were listening.

"First, I have to tell you that Enos is no longer with the Los Angeles Police Department."

The story was short, missing most of the details, and filled with gaps. When she told them where Enos would be living for the foreseeable future, the only one at the table who found his voice was Rosco.

"South Koh-reeya! Thunder and tarnation. Always knew there was somethin' wrong with that boy. Has the dipstick done lost his pea pickin' mind? What's the blazes is he doin' in South Koh-reeya?"

"Probably havin' breakfast with his wife."

"That was some important information to be leavin' out, don'tcha think?" Bo said, with indignant consternation.

Daisy hadn't known herself that they were married until she read the first page of the letter. Guess it wasn't complicated after all.

She related only the bare-bones basics about the woman who was now Mrs. Enos Strate. Born in South Korea, an American citizen, worked for her uncle's accounting firm, played the violin, they met at a fancy dress soiree, and they were trying to adopt Soonie's niece – period. Anything else was too tangled up with everything else in Enos's life right now. You pretty much had to 'be there.'

The fact Enos was married to someone other than Daisy, although few in Hazzard had ever thought that would ever happen either, still eclipsed the fact he had quit the LAPD and would be living seven thousand miles away. The very notion was absurd. The news spread like wildfire in the San Fernando Valley, with Daisy encouraging Rosco to fuel the flames as much as he could. Everyone should think Enos had lost his mind when he lost his heart and had given up everything to be with his new wife. To a certain extent, that was the truth. Living in Korea would get them closer to getting custody of little Gem. It wasn't the whole story. Only a few people on the planet knew why he had quit and Daisy felt it a privilege, along with the responsibility, to be one of them. She had her role to play.

Bo's reaction had not been much different than anyone else's at the supper table on Monday evening, except he was convinced the tale needed to be retold – again and again. Luke was the silent one. He said nothing about it and sat on the front porch, long after everyone had gone to bed, before making the call that would change his life.

Monday, November 24, 1997 – Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean

Benjamin Enos Strate was born on April 2, 1952, in the year of the Dragon. At least, that's what Aunt Soon-hee had told him while giving him a crash course in Korean etiquette during their three-hour layover at the San Francisco airport.

"Number One: Prepare to do a lot of bowing...head tilting when greeting, when taking leave, or when saying 'gamsahabnida' (thank you)...And there are rules for how deeply to bow, depending on the circumstances... the lower you bow, the more respect you show. A forty-five-degree bow is for apologizing and held for a few counts. If your offense is egregious, the bow should be deeper and held longer. With hands at the side or crossed in front of you, deeper bowing shows a greater level of respect. The deep bow with hands crossed over the forehead [he forgot what she called it] is reserved for much more formal greetings, like when meeting your future in-laws."

There were also occasions for kneeling bow. Soon-hee had said, "Since this is usually performed by the groom to the bride's parents at the wedding, that ship has sailed."

Enos had no problem with showing respect. He was from a culture where not saying 'sir' or 'ma'am' to your elders could earn you a swat with a rolled-up newspaper or a razor strop.

"Number Two: You should not make a direct refusal...of anything...it should always be accomplished indirectly, and a gift should be rejected, also indirectly, several times before it is accepted."

Neither sounded too far from plain old-fashioned politeness to Enos.

"There are different rules for handing someone something and for receiving something. Give and receive with both hands – it is rude to give or receive with one hand...Money exchange should always be put into an envelope to be offered to the other person with both hands."

There was something else, but it escaped him at the moment.

"Carry business cards or name cards – you will be asked, and it shows respect if you already understand. Always present them with both hands."

"Strong handshakes are a no-no; weak handshakes are okay. And everyone will want to know your age, or more precisely, the year you were born, so they know whether to address you formally or informally according to your age. It also tells them if you are a rabbit or a rat...or a dragon."

All in all, he believed, possibly naively he admitted to himself, he could adapt. He had some experience adapting to a different cultural mindset and rules. So, he didn't anticipate it should be too difficult. It was the kneeling bow to Soonie's father Soonie had neglected to tell him about, and they had circumvented, that had him worried.

And, also, the drinking. He was told the rigid, socially acceptable standards often required tempering with alcohol in copious amounts. Soonie drank. He didn't, and it was not something he planned to negotiate. Momo had said, "there are ways to get around it, but you will need to navigate those on a case-by-case basis."

After she finished, she presented him with a book on the Korean Language and one called Korean Etiquette in a Nutshell – it was two inches thick. It made him smile when he thought of teaching Los Angeles culture and societal norms to the folks back in Hazzard. Or vice versa. It could fill volumes.

Aunt Soon-hee had also told him, not only was he born in the year of the Dragon, his element was Water. Soonie was born in the year of the Ox and her element was Metal. He wasn't at all sure how the Water Dragon fit him, but the Metal Ox surely fit his wife.

Over the past four or five months, Soonie had told him a little about Korean social standards without providing much detail because she hadn't expected to be tied to those particular social norms again. Her aunt had embraced the western culture and adopted American customs long ago. However, she was also careful to observe the cultural traditions and practices of her native South Korea whenever she visited there or when she was in the company of family or Korean friends in the U.S.

Soonie was repulsed by the thought of being referred to by her father's surname instead of Strate. In Korea, women did not take their husband's surname as a matter of practice. It wasn't a law, but a woman taking her husband's surname was just not done. She stubbornly intended to refer to herself as Kyung-soon Strate, and that was the end of it. She was going to have to suffer enough indignities as it was without relinquishing what, to her, was now sacrosanct – and, if nothing else, a matter of principle.

This new direction they were taking was bound to be harder on her than it was likely to be on him. He was only ignorant. She was straight up rebellious and dug in like a tick. He hoped it was the head cold making her so adamant because it was likely not to win them any points with her father.

Enos shifted in his seat again. He closed his eyes and tried to nap but sleep still eluded him. They'd been on the near-capacity 747 for nine of the thirteen-hour flight from San Francisco. Between the Dramamine and the cough syrup, Soonie was not having a problem sleeping. Though he'd already turned off the overhead air-jet blowing on her, she still shuddered in her sleep every so often. Reaching over to adjust the lightweight blanket over her chest and under her chin, he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. He added his blanket for additional warmth, wondering for the hundredth time in four days how he had gotten so lucky.

He shouldn't have gotten so lucky. He should have fought harder against it. He was beginning to discover he should pick any battles with his wife carefully. Because, when faced with a knife fight, Soonie pulled out her broadsword. She was right, though. There were all kinds of dangers from which he would not be able to protect her.

His wife's head cold, hanging on to her like a sticktight burr, had kept him from sleeping. The jet lag was going to catch up with him. Number one on the list for what needed to be done when they landed was to take Soonie to the doctor – again. He was beginning to fret more over her health than the remote chance of a plane crash taking her away from him. He knew he should stop obsessing over the possibility of losing her but was finding it nigh onto impossible. It had begun to outstrip his need to find Kate.

The trail had gone cold after he and Tommy had found the log entry for the cargo vessel headed for the Black Sea. Too many ports, too many places, all in different countries and cultures, with different rules and regulations.

Fortunately, all the countries bordering the Black Sea were members of Interpol, including Russia. Even if they picked up the trail again, he would have to be part of Interpol to gain access to any of the ports where Kate might have ended up. He also worried about Mignon. There was still a credible threat, and if she was threatened, so was Daisy, and for that matter, Hazzard.

Those concerns would continuously be in the back of his mind. He shoved them aside to concentrate on the more immediate problem of getting settled in South Korea and beginning the legal battle for four-year-old Eun-kyung. He gave up on trying to sleep. After checking the arrangement of Soonie's blankets and travel pillow one more time, he pulled his jacket over his arms. He tried to relax while eavesdropping on the quiet conversations, many in Korean, around them.

Tuesday, November 25, 1997 – Hazzard

Daisy's initial problem was how to tell Aunt Judy and Uncle Frank what they needed to know without alarming them or giving away anything that would put Enos, his new family, Kate, or anyone in Hazzard in danger, including them. The Strate farm was the first visit she made before Rosco started spreading the news around town. Thanks to Alvin Dobbins, the HazzardNet had already been set abuzz about the package from Enos that had arrived for Daisy the day before.

When she pulled up to the Strate house on her Harley, she prepared herself for the cold reception she was sure to get when she knocked on the door. Looking around, she realized how long it had been since she had stood on the porch of the house that had built Enos Strate. 24

Uncle Frank had taken good care of the farm. He hadn't squandered the money Enos had been sending them all those years that he was in Los Angeles. The fences were in good condition, the picket fence around the three-bedroom single-story house was freshly painted, and cured wood had been piled neatly in the wood rack, ready for winter.

Frank was already holding it open for her when she turned around to knock on the screen door. He looked so much like an older version of his brother Otis, and of Enos, for that matter.

"Com'on in, Daisy. We been expectin' you."

Even though the welcome seemed to be less frigid than she had anticipated, she still felt out of place.

"Did Enos tell you I would be coming by?"

"No'um. I reckon we're the last two people in Hazzard he'd be callin' about you" Frank said, putting his hands in the pockets of his blue overalls.

Straight-laced Aunt Judy had never approved of Enos's affections being settled on her. Judy had once raised his ire in the heat of an angry exchange by calling Daisy a trollop. Daisy had long ago forgiven her, but the incident had prompted Enos, then twenty-six, to move out of the farmhouse and into a room at the boarding house in town. That he had asked them to attend the wedding (the one that never happened) was a testament to his capacity for forgiveness. But even though the property was still in his name and he never asked Frank and Judy to leave, he never went back there to live.

"Now, Uncle Frank," she dared address him, "that simply isn't true..."

"Miss Mary Bowling was by yesterday evenin' ta' pick up summa' my pickled scuppernongs," Judy said. Until now, she had been sitting quietly on the same neatly upholstered sofa with the little floral roses that had been in the house since before Enos's father died.

"We got to talkin' about how they're Nephew's favorite snack," Frank said, "and she said how she was talkin' to Elviry Rose over ta' the feed store when Alvin Dobbins come ta' daliver her a package from her sister Amy Louise. An' we just put two 'n two together when we saw you ridin' up the road. Said the Sheriff was there when the package 'rived."

"You got sometin' ta' tell us, child?" Judy asked.

"Yes, Ma'am," Daisy said, with an appreciation of the fact that Aunt Judy's worrisome half-smile seemed to be genuine, and maybe all she could hope for.

Daisy pulled a photo out of the envelope she'd had tucked in her leather Duke University jacket and sat down on the sofa.

"He wanted me to tell you before you found out from somebody else," she said, handing Aunt Judy a photo of Enos in a Sunday suit with his arm around the waist of the woman standing next to him in front of a church altar. The woman wore a tailored coral wedding outfit and held a small nosegay of flowers in her left hand. They were both wearing wide gold wedding rings.

"Her name is," she tried her best to pronounce it correctly, "Kyung-soon. But Enos calls her Soonie. She was born in Korea. South Korea, that is, not North Korea. They were married last Thursday afternoon."

Daisy had tried her best to explain to Aunt Judy that marrying Soonie wasn't the most insane thing her nephew had ever done and that he had not been seduced by the wicked ways of a big city floozy. Even Uncle Frank had a hard time with the fact that this Soonie woman was someone they had never even heard of until today. She hadn't been able to accept it either - at first. Why should they?

"I think they are very much in love."

How could Daisy tell them she knew that to be true because she had met Enos's wife without telling them that she had been to Los Angeles? When she told them he would be living in South Korea, the peas started sliding off the plate.

References:

(24) The 'house that built Enos Strate' is a nod to Miranda Lambert's song, The House That Built Me.