Field of Blackbirds - Clayton Jeppsen & Lindsey Jeppsen (me reader txt) 📗

had driven a truck packed with explosives into the lower level garage of the World Trade Center. The blast killed five people and injured dozens more. It was really the first time terrorism had surfaced in the Home of the Brave. Mr. Love was invited to a preparatory evening in the home of New York’s Governor, Mario Cuomo. The Central Intelligence Agency was only beginning to piece together the evidence. It was uncertain how long their stay in New York would be.
Mr. Love assured Lindsey her stay would simply be for leisure. In the cab he handed her a credit card and said, “Just bring me back receipts. Some of it I might be able to write off.”
Lindsey had always been a modest spender but she had to admit she was anxious to see what she could find. She heard no shopping compared to the shopping in the Big Apple. And besides, who knew when her next visit would be?
After examining the glory of their hotel room and receiving Mr. Love’s instructional tips on navigation and safety, Lindsey found herself, for the second time, afloat in a yellow river of taxis.
“Time Square please!” Lindsey asked politely.
“I’ll take you there, but it’s only a few blocks away.” advised a young man of Middle Eastern decent.
“It’s okay,” she answered. Lindsey just felt it was all part of the New York tale, you know, the scene in the movies.
Her first stop was the Red Eye anecdote; Starbucks. An iced cappuccino latte would give her just enough spring to last until lunch.
Stores like; Barny’s, Bloomingdale’s and Saks 5th Avenue had already intimidated Lindsey’s personal spending habits. It was all the high end fashion she could handle. She did, however, satisfy a lifelong craving of buying jewelry from Tiffany’s. She purchased the cheapest diamond earrings in the store at $325.00. She was more comfortable in stores like; H&M, GAP and the small gift shops. Lindsey was surprised to see her shopping spree in Time Square only lasted a couple hours. There was still a lot of sightseeing she wanted to do. She removed a folded map from her hand bag, circled the Rockefeller Center, the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island and finally, Central Park.
From the Top of the Rock, Lindsey could see the inspiring landscape and magnificent character of New York. At first glance, it had a gentleman like charm and poise suited for the finest ballroom. At second glance, it was the hard working, tough guy look, rugged and dirty, certainly more prominent than the first. But the third glance was most attractive, a personality that looked her right back in the eyes. One that bore a million years of history, a million faces, a million dreams, a million stories told and untold and a collective ownership of pride herald by hard work and humility. It was this glance that brought goose bumps to her skin as she looked down on the nation’s oldest son.
Although she clicked away two rolls of film, the pictures would never do justice. Mr. Love recommended the Rockefeller Center over the Empire State building due to the tourist traps and long waits. She was happy with the pick and bought a bulb, Christmas ornament from the gift shop to remember the occasion.
On her trip to Lower Manhattan, hunger pains began rolling through her stomach. Lindsey asked the cab driver to recommend a good place for famous New York Style pizza.
This time the cab driver, an older, heftier man with a classic New York accent replied, “Miss, do I know da place fa you!” His excitement grew rapidly. Lindsey wondered if he would try to join her for lunch.
“You gotta eat at Joe’s Pizza. It’s thin and greazy, da way New Yorkas like it. Just fold it and eat it. But listen doll, you gotta save some room for a canolli at Rocco’s. It’s just around da corna. I eat two a day. If the Misses ever found out where all my tips wa goin, oh boy, listen da me!”
After lunch, Lindsey was off to Battery Park, where she would board a ferry to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. In the park she was approached by several men, said to be from Somalia. First it was watches, then sunglasses and then one man heaved a large bundle at her feet. He untied four corners of a sheet and exposed, in young ladies terms, a pot of gold. Before her, posed a colorful mountain of “knock-off” purses; Prada, Louie Vitton, Kate Spade, Coach and Channel. Lindsey ordered one of each.
The ferry set sail between the two jagged horizons, Jersey City and New York, both competing for attention. But her attention was already devoted. The rotting metal bled such a beautiful color over her. Her might was invigorating, her message, clear. The Heroin, the Mother, the Matron of America; Liberty, she was breathtaking. Lindsey would never forget the day when she met her in person.
Lindsey rode the subway back through Midtown. The flashing of the tunnel lights were almost in sync to the beat of Tag Teams, “Whoomp! There it is.” Meat Loaf’s, “I Would Do Anything For Love,” just couldn’t keep up. Lindsey exited when she arrived in the Upper East Side where every stay-at-home mom had a nanny. There she found an open space large enough to breathe. It was the patch of green that she saw from the Rockefeller Center and a place seemingly not so far from home; Central Park.
As Lindsey walked through the park, she couldn’t help but notice all the cameo scenes from the movies. Every love story, comedy or mystery had some friendship with the Manhattan commons. Eventually she found herself climbing the uneven steps to the Belvedere castle, the ring bearer of so many matrimonial unions. On a quiet ledge overhanging a pond of turtles, a sentiment began to stir in her core, one she’d been trying to calm the entire day.
For the first time, Lindsey started to question her judgment. She wondered what it would be like if she told Reed she loved him before he joined the Marines. It was selfish, she knew, but where would they be now. Would they be married already; pregnant with their first child maybe? All the beautiful things she was seeing, they could have experienced together. She wished she could surrender all of her strength just for one kiss, one moment with him, wrapped in his arms. Lindsey felt so alone and so guilty, guilty for not believing he left her enough to get through. It was enough, she told herself. She knew Reed loved her. She just never knew how bad the distance would hurt. Lindsey silently asked God to lessen the guilt and the pain, and then silently thanked Him in advance for doing so. She wiped the tear blazing a cool trail down her cheek.
Lindsey looked down at her watch and was surprised to see it was already five o’ clock. She was supposed to meet Mr. Love back at the hotel at six o’clock. He was taking her to Broadway to see ‘A Bronx Tale’. It was Mr. Love's choice. The play was four years old but it had gained new momentum when Robert DeNiro brought it to the big screens.
When Lindsey returned to their room she was disappointed to see the note on the buffet in the entryway.

“So sorry Lindsey, we’ll have to postpone our date until tomorrow night. So many unexpected people taking up my time. I hope you had fun today. – Love Dad.”

Lindsey showered, put on a black silk robe, complimentary of the Four Seasons and lay on her bed. Only then did she realize the soreness in her feet. She looked down at her toes; saw the redness around the edges. She really had seen so much of New York for one day. The city was alluring. As she thought about what she would do on the morrow, she slipped into an unexpected slumber.
Lindsey awoke to the sound of Mr. Love setting his briefcase on the table by the phone. She looked over at a clock that read eleven o’clock. She didn’t want him to think he woke her. She knew how quiet he was trying to be, so she just pretended to stay asleep. The phone rang, which Mr. Love hurried to answer. Lindsey turned her head in his direction.
“Yes this is he. Oh Sam, how are you?” Mr. Love glanced calmly over his shoulder toward Lindsey. She quickly shut her eyes again.
“Yeah Sam, give me just a minute.” Mr. Love took the cordless and walked out of the room into the hallway. Curiously, Lindsey sprang from her bed to listen at the door. She could hear Mr. Love’s deep voice sort of echoing in the hall. She was astonished at what she heard.
“Reed’s team, are you sure? I thought everything was going fine. You told me they would have everything they needed.”
Lindsey’s heart began to pound rapidly. Her ear was hurting from the pressure of holding it so firmly against the wood. What could he be talking about? It was eating her up. Was it her Reed? This wasn’t fair. Mr. Love went on, this time he was a little closer to the door. Lindsey moved back a step.
“I don’t care if they’re in Bosnia. You send in another team and get them out of there. I’ll send more money. . . . . Okay, do what you have to do. Keep me informed.”
Lindsey heard the distinct tone when he shut the phone off. She froze for a second. The door opened. Mr. Love’s silhouette shadowed her body. Then their eyes met, hers already filled with tears. He still couldn’t tell her . . . . . and he knew how badly she was hurting.

“Lindsey, I’m sorry.” He reached for her. She cleaved to him, setting free all that had been locked inside her.


Chapter 29 – To Condemn and Forgive


Refugee Camp outside Srebrenica, early 1993

Masked behind aspiring, golden brown sunflowers and droopy, moisture laden tree limbs, they parked just before the valley began its descent. The morning was still rigid with frost.
Radenko lowered a pair of binoculars, “It looks safe from here; nobody in fatigues and no guns. But I can only see a few hundred deep. There are thousands out there.”
Radenko looked over at Lazar. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to what he was saying. He was fixated on the multitude. And for the first time, Radenko noticed an ounce of nervousness in Lazar’s