Fragile Male Ego

The Fragile Male Ego.

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I left the job at noon on Friday, and my day was complete. I'd just finished a deal that would net the company a lot of money, and when the contract was signed, I sent my team home, telling them to enjoy the weekend. Mine certainly promised to be.

I sat in my favorite coffee shop, relaxing over a large coffee and a scone the shop owner's daughter had made. They were always delicious, always fresh, and sold out rapidly, and I managed to snatch up the last three. Then I heard the bell over the door and glanced up. There she was, the ex-wife, looking just as good as when we were married. The hand she held didn't belong to the man she was supposed to marry next month, and I wondered if there was trouble in paradise. Most likely, but it was none of my business, and I had long since passed the point where it affected me one way or another.

She stopped giggling when she saw me, said something to the man, and he walked out. Then she marched up and, without asking, plopped down, glaring at me. "I hope you're happy!"

My grin startled her. "I am, Dawn, happier than I have been in a long time. The last time I was this happy was the weekend before you so casually announced you were having affairs with two different men, and I was going to have to live with it or divorce you because you weren't going to stop. I think you were shocked I went the divorce route. It's been over three years, but I'm in a good place now. Why would my happiness be of interest to you anyway? Does it offend you that I'm not pining for you?"

"Damn you, Jax! I know you talked to Harry; he called the wedding off."

Well, that was news. I wondered if Harry realized how big a bullet he dodged. I laughed, which pissed her off even more. "If you and Harry split up, it wasn't because of me. When he ran into me that day and asked what had happened between us, I told him it was my fragile male ego and asked you to define that for him. That was the whole conversation. Sorry, it didn't work out. For you, not so much, but Harry, he's better off."

Her lips went back into a snarl. "And there it is! That pitiful ego of yours. If it wasn't so fragile, why did it take you more than eighteen months to even date anyone again?"

" No, I didn't date for a while, but it wasn't because of my ego. I did it because you shattered my trust in women. It doesn't matter how big the mountain is if you plant enough dynamite and pack enough into your actions to level Mt. Everest. You know you hurt me to my core, and it took a long time to recover. What it didn't do was make me pine for you. You made your choices, then got surprised when I made mine. What did you miss most about me, my affection or my money? You didn't get much, even though you tried as hard as humanly possible. I bet it made you grit your teeth when I started getting promotions. There have been two since we split up, and there'll be another in a year if I stay on track. I'll be making almost three times what I was making when we were together when it comes through. Aren't you proud of me?"

It occurred to me that she had been living with Harry and allowing him to pay the bills. That could have explained the new guy, another personal ATM. I knew from experience she preferred not to spend her own money. I changed subjects to keep her unbalanced. "So, what happened to Harry? I thought you guys were solid."

Her frown got deeper. "Someone told tales about my past!"

"Tales or the truth?"

"It doesn't matter! I don't do those things anymore."

I was intrigued. "Really? Why not? According to you, it was a brave new world out there, and men needed to learn their place in the grand scheme of things. That's still your opinion, right? Look, I know you did a lot of research and saw the change growing within you, but I thought it was just a phase you were going through. Looking at it in the cold light of day, you'd realize how unrealistic it was. I never thought you'd go along with that shit. Your friends probably helped with our demise. Are they still spouting that feminine-led propaganda? How many are still married to the ones they were when this all started? I'm guessing not many."

"My friends are none of your business!"

"Exactly, and that's how I'd like to keep it. I wouldn't give most of them air in a jug. Idle curiosity, mostly. How's Bets? Still into her black phase? I know one of the affairs you had was with a black man. Tell me, are they bigger, better, able to fuck all night? Inquiring minds want to know."

Snorting, she suddenly laughed. "And there it is, the fragile ego again."

It took her by surprise when I laughed along. "Remember when we watched Princess Bride over and over? When Fessick kept repeating 'inconceivable' until Andre the Giant and Ignacio asked if he knew what it meant. Well, when it comes to men and egos, you're Fessick."

"What does that mean?"

"Dawn, humor me here. Define ego."

"What?"

"It's just a simple question; you seem to know so much about a male ego, but what's the actual definition of ego? I'll wait." Two minutes later, I smiled. "You can't, can you? Let's Google it."

I pulled it up on my phone. "Here we go. Ego is a sense of self-worth, esteem, and importance. There it is, in a nutshell. How does having a decent value of your self-worth translate into being fragile? How could it be fragile if grounded in my core beliefs and solid? If it were, how could I have walked away? Here's another definition that seems to suit you better. Listen to this."

Dawn looked like she was struggling to keep up, so I gave her a minute. When she opened her mouth to talk, I started reading again. "The feeling of self as contrasted to another's, an inflated pride in your superiority to others. That's hitting close to home."

I grinned. "To summarize, my self-worth was inferior to yours. Yours was overinflated to the point you convinced yourself of your rightness and that others needed to follow along. When you realized life doesn't work like that, you didn't handle it well. Tell the truth now, did you, having known me for five years before that conversation, seriously think I would accept your expectations? Be honest here."

She started to speak, stopped, started again, and stopped before blurting out, "I was doing what I thought best for our relationship! You should have loved me enough to go along."

I grinned. "That's bullshit, and you know it. It was just a manifestation of Cake Eater Syndrome. Deep down, I think you wanted me to leave so you could explore your new reality and be ready to return. I was just a fallback plan in case the grand adventure didn't turn out to be what you thought it would be. Honestly, it's been three years, and you haven't found anyone dumb enough to buy into that reality, have you? We know the answer is no. Ultimately, my ego wasn't too fragile; yours was too big. How's it doing now? Are you still confident you did the right thing?"

She blustered for a bit before looking uneasy. "I may have adjusted my expectations somewhat. Maybe we should..."

I held up my hand. "You can stop right there, Dawn. If I wasn't going for it before, what makes you think I want to stand in line for your affection while you date others? If that had been the case, we would never have divorced."

I stopped for a second, wanting to make one more point. "I don't want you to think because of our situation, I fault all women. I'm sure, at this very second, some asshole is trying to convince his faithful, loving wife of the virtues of an open marriage or that his occasional dalliances ever hurt their relationship in any way. I'm also sure she's reacting the same way I did. Egos can be dangerous if left unchecked, regardless of the gender."

The barista came by just then, grinning as she put two cups on the table. Gillian must have sent her a text. Dawn was wondering about them when the door let in a cold blast of air. A twelve-year-old blond bundle of energy ran up to the table, hugging me. "It's freezing out there! Is that my Dutch chocolate cocoa and scone? It better be, or I'm revoking your temporary Dad status."

"Temporary?"

She grinned so hard that all you could see were dimples and eyelashes. "Yeah, at least until the wedding. Then I guess I'm stuck with you."

The woman walked up, shrugging out of her coat, her jet-black hair spilling under the mink-lined hood. It was a Christmas gift and matched her daughters' perfectly. I didn't want my ladies to get cold. She laughed as she ran her hand over her cheek. "Be nice, Andrea. Remember, someone has to fund your college education.

The child scoffed. "Like that would be a worry. Besides, you make more than he does, Dr. Jones. When we move into our new house, then I'll be a spoiled little princess." Then she grinned and stuck her tongue out.

I grinned back. "That would be a change; how exactly?"

The woman kissed me, not a peck, one just barely appropriate for a crowded coffeehouse. "Behave, you two. Honey, where are your manners? Who's your friend?"

I stood, pulling the chairs back for both girls. "This is Dawn. We've known each other for a long time and have discussed how lifestyle decisions can evolve. I'm glad I sought a professional opinion to better understand."

" Sounds boring! How could she stand it?"

"To be honest, it wasn't going very well. Dawn, this is Dr. Gillian Jones, Psy. D., soon-to-be wife, and this is her daughter, Andrea. I'm stuck with her if I want to marry Gillian, and I do, more than anything else. If she gets on my nerves, I can lock her in the basement."

"Daddy! We don't have a basement!"

I ruffled her hair. "Well then, I guess you'll just have to stay in the bedroom you decorated. Life's hard, huh?"

Gill offered her hand, and Dawn shook it as she rose, stone-faced and pale. Then, without a word, she left. Gill watched her as she walked away. "That's Dawn? I thought her fangs would be longer."

"She wore them down, chewing through men. How did the dress fittings go?"

I sighed as I listened in stereo about how 'darling' they were, thinking I would have to listen to things like this for at least the next four or five decades. I was hoping they went by slowly.

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I met Gillian at the public library, of all places. There was an event modeled after the European system of checking out people instead of books. It was some fundraiser, and Bob (mainly his wife Karen) thought it would be a good idea to get me out and about somewhere that didn't offer alcohol as a prominent draw. There were wine and craft brews available, so I picked out a mead that was quite good and wandered around. I'd always loved libraries, especially the smell. Libraries reeked of knowledge. I've attended two events like this before and found them both entertaining and often thought-provoking. After all, you only got twenty minutes, so you tried to stay focused.

Gillian had a long line waiting to talk to her, and reading the placard, I knew why. She was a psychologist, and I bet most people were trying to get a free session. I secured one of the few remaining slots and went to speak with a Buddhist priest, simply because I'd never met one before. He was a pretty sharp guy in his fifties, intelligent and well-educated, and he described his religion without going into much detail. After discovering he was a big fan, I surprised him by talking about baseball. He was passionate about the local pro team, and we discussed the upcoming season, which looked challenging, considering the trades and retirements. Then he went into a discourse about the zen nature of the game until our time ran out. He gave me his contact information, telling me to call him if I needed someone to attend a game with. I kept the card.

My time slot came up, and I slipped into the comfortable chair across from Gillian, taken by her natural beauty and, more importantly, her intelligence. She grinned and asked what I wanted to talk about. "Well, I just spent my time with the Buddhist monk talking about the zen of baseball. Why don't you surprise me, and let's talk about something you want to, for a change?"

That caught her by surprise. "You know I'm a psychologist. Do you know exactly what that is?"

"Probably, in the broadest of terms. What are your hobbies? Married? Children? Who are you when people don't have to address you as Doctor?"

"I'm not here to talk about my personal life, but I'll give you the broad strokes. I have a daughter six months shy of her twelfth birthday, and she already thinks she's smarter than I am. She's right in many instances. No husband, we parted ways years ago, and without going into details, we no longer shared life goals. I was a good softball player in college and still enjoy watching a baseball game occasionally. Now, it's time to share. I also enjoy old westerns, so quoting a John Wayne classic, Who might you be when you're at home?"

"Well, I ain't Court Evans. I'm Jackson Jarvis, but friends call me Jax. I have no kids, but I share the same statistical demographic as you, divorced, though not as long. Eighteen months now. It was surprising; in other ways, I could see it coming from miles away. She fell into a crowd that believed in female-led relationships and the ability to have as many lovers as she wanted while still legally attached to me. It surprised her when I refused her gracious offer. She tried to fight it while still clinging to her ideas, and when she tried to explain it to the judge, it went off the rails. He didn't even order counseling. I have a vague question about your line of work. Can you recommend a good, definitive book on the concept of ego? She kept talking about 'the fragile male ego,' and I've always wondered what she meant."

She seemed a little surprised, then smiled slightly. "Fragile male ego is a catchphrase right now. Try 'The Way Of Integrity,' by Martha Beck, or 'You Are Not What You Think,' by David Richo. Many others are out there, but a layperson best understands those two."

I shook her hand; my time was up. "Thank you so much. Maybe I can understand what was going through my ex's mind when she reached those conclusions."

She returned the smile. "As a qualified professional, I think it's safe to say no man can understand how a woman's mind works or a woman a man's. You tend to fumble along as best you can, and with each passing year, if you have a good, solid relationship, you understand just a tiny bit more. Best of luck and all that. Tell me, are you in a serious relationship now?"

My smile disappeared. "It's been eighteen months, and I've just started dating again. I don't think I'm damaged too badly, but I am exceedingly cautious."

"It took almost three years before I went out with a man, and though I sometimes enjoy the dates, I haven't connected with anyone on a level deep enough to consider a relationship. My first thought will always be my daughter, and she will always come first."

I nodded. "As it should be. Is her father still part of her life?"

The frown was pretty deep. "No, sadly, he divorced her as well. She was six when he left, and she wouldn't know him if he passed her on the street."

It was my turn to frown. "I have no children, but if I did, there is not a situation I could think of that would keep me away."

She showed me a picture of a young girl with blond braids and a big smile. "She's going to be as beautiful as her mother. Oops! I didn't mean to say that out loud, but I stand by it. I have to go now, but meeting a refreshingly honest woman in this day and age was excellent."

She shook my hand and frowned a little. "There are many honest, decent women out there; you're just now starting to come to terms with that reality. Email me if you need anything explained while reading the books."

She handed me her business card. I gave her mine, knowing we'd never talk to each other again.

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Four months later, I thought about her when a vendor handed me four terrific seats at the Saturday ballgame. The team was in the chase for a pennant, and this could be a crucial game. None of my friends or colleagues were interested, so I used them.

Before I invited her, I thought about the monk I had spoken to, found his temple, and sent him an invitation. He called me, happily accepting. He didn't own a car, so I picked him up, surprised to see him in his robes.

Dr. Jones replied to my email, thanking me but saying she couldn't find a babysitter. My reply surprised her: "I had four tickets and assumed you'd take her since it's such short notice. Does she like baseball?"

She replied that her daughter was on a softball team and was really into it and would be over the moon to see a professional game. I met them in the parking lot, where we introduced ourselves to each other, and then we found our seats. She was going to sit beside me, but I insisted that the child be between us for safety. There wasn't much conversation due to the crowd noise, and soon we were cheering as well. Andrea, the girl, had impressive lungs and outshouted the whole section. The ump made a bad call, and she questioned everything from his eyesight to his intelligence and ancestry to the delight of the fans near us. None of us drank beer in deference to Han and Andrea, but she consumed hot dogs, nachos, popcorn, and peanuts and must have inhaled half a gallon of soda. I idly wondered when she'd explode. Gillian did in two dogs and a hot pretzel, while Han pigged out on items that didn't interfere with his religious practices. I insisted on paying since they were my guests, and it was the best $300 I'd ever spent.

The game went down to the wire. The home team was down at the bottom of the ninth, with two outs, and it didn't look good. Then the pitcher, with a.170 batting average, slapped a two-base hit to right field. This brought the top of the order, and the first baseman came up. The man was a solid chunk of granite and a deceptively fast runner. It went to a full count, then the pitch got away from the pitcher, and a puffball floated across the plate. He hit it so hard that it broke the bat. Off and running before the pieces hit the ground, the ball headed right towards us. I didn't think, worried it might hit Andrea, and caught it with my right hand. That stung. My left hand was still locked in hers as she chanted 'Hit, hit, hit' repeatedly, her right gripping her mother's. Her eyes opened when the ball hit my hand, inches from her face. It was almost touching her nose when my hand stopped moving.

I grinned and handed her the ball, telling her she needed to bring a glove next time. The crowd erupted as he trotted around the bases, ending the game with a 6 to 5 score. The cameras had captured the ball's flight, and we were all on the sports section of the nightly news as I handed the ball to her, and she leaped into my arms. The hitter said in an interview that if I brought the ball back, he'd autograph it for her.

That prompted a phone call, and we were in the bleachers the following Sunday. The first baseman proved true to his promise, signing the ball, taking pictures with her, and giving her a jersey with his number and a team cap. He gave all of us hats, and the cameras panned to us often to see Andrea and Han holding hands and jumping up and down after a home run. The jersey was about ten times too big on her, but she wore it and the cap throughout the game. The camera found her pretty quickly, and when he hit another home run, they did a split screen, showing him trotting around the bases while she screamed, jumping up and down.

Baseball players are a superstitious lot, and the manager decided that if they won twice while she was in attendance, she would come to more games. As a result, we became a fixture until they lost the chance to advance by one game. Han had become a good friend by then, and he and Gillian sometimes had deep discussions about his religion and her profession. They discussed the Western concept of ego versus the Buddhist view of zero ego. It was fascinating, but it quickly left Andrea and me behind, so we'd grab the gloves and toss balls in the backyard.

Andrea didn't like me at first. Some of it was due to her father's departure, and some was due to her protecting her mother. I understood it, mostly, so I just stayed polite to her. Gradually, she warmed up, especially when I told her every fourth date would be for her, and she could pick what we would do. Gillian would smile as she pored over activities, trying to decide.

I think I ruined her when she found my hobby. My grandfather would go out on the weekends with his metal detector, looking for artifacts, and I inherited his passion. We lived in Virginia, and the whole state seemed to be a battleground during the Civil War at one time or another. The bug had bitten me, and I planned to visit the site of a minor skirmish with some friends. It was on private property, but we had been permitted to detect it.

Kevin, our amateur historian, had researched everything he could about the fight and narrowed the site down to about thirty acres. Thirty acres is a lot of ground to cover when working in four-foot grids, but since we weren't under a time limit, we knew we could always come back, which made us thorough.

I'd shown the detector to Andrea and let her play with it in my backyard. She grasped the basics quickly, so Gillian and I would sit on the swing underneath the big pecan tree, rocking gently while she tore up my yard. My house was reasonably new, but it was the fourth on the plot, going back ninety years. She found horseshoes, tin cans, old-fashioned beer tabs, and every once in a while, she'd find something interesting. Sometimes, we'd have to look things up to see what they were, like the large harness bell typical for the early eighteen hundreds. It predated the property, but we assumed it had come into the owners' possession through inheritance. She found some coins, wheat head pennies, and two silver dimes.

Gillian had a little display case built to show her treasures. She rolled her eyes when I invited them to join me at the battle site and opted out, so I picked Andrea up at six in the morning on a Saturday. After a quick stop for a fast-food breakfast, we were on our way. It was a three-hour drive, and she'd dozed off halfway to our destination. Andrea was awake before the truck came to a stop, bouncing around the back to retrieve the equipment. Jim was there, along with his twelve-year-old son. Bob had his twins, both girls, and Miguel brought his eleven-year-old son.

We'd discussed it and decided today would be a training day for the next generation. All we were going to do was supervise and encourage. Bob had put this expedition together, and he gathered us around his truck, looking at the plats. "As near as I can determine, the Union cavalry came down this ridge, surprising a small force of about a hundred Southern infantrymen. The battle lasted less than two hours, and both sides suffered heavy casualties, each withdrawing as quickly as possible. As a result, they likely left a significant amount of gear and fallen men behind as they retreated. Let's start here at the base of the ridge and work our way across the bottom. We'll work the ridge, starting at the bottom and working upwards. The next weekend, we can get together and work the ridge. Everybody ready?"

On Friday, he and Jim had come up and placed flags. We each took a section and worked on it slowly. The kids were amazingly patient, though they seemed excited every time a detector signaled a hit. Miguel's son, Roberto, got the first artifact, a northern cavalry coat button. It was flagged on the map, and he moved on. Andrea was next, finding a Confederate belt buckle and three bullets. The others found things, and the hollow rang with the excited cries of children on an adventure. Tia and Mia had the first significant find, an infantry bayonet in excellent shape.

We worked about a third of the ground before daylight ran out. We had to pause for an hour because Andrea got a big hit. When she dug down with the small shovel and trowel I'd bought her, going very slowly, she uncovered a human skull. Part of his hat was intact, with the metal insignia still on it, identifying his troop. He was a Confederate. After everyone calmed down, we called the local Sheriff and reported it, asking what we should do.

"Cover him back up and put a flag where we can find it. It'll be treated as a grave. We won't put up markers because someone might decide to dig him up, but we'll put his pin on the map on the wall of our office. Bring the kids by someday, and we'll show it to them. Gray represents the Confederacy, blue represents the Union, and if we can't determine which, we place a white pin. You'll be surprised at the number, but this ground changed hands at least four times. Thanks for telling us." He ended the call by inviting us to the office to see the map if we were back in the area.

We'd invited the landowner. He was a little reticent when we first asked him, but Bob put him at ease. "We don't want anything except the joy of exploration, so you can have it all when we're done. We will have our children with us, and the one favor we would ask is that they keep their first find."

He agreed, and I think he regretted it when he saw the bayonet, but honored his word. We showed him a video of uncovering the skull and told him what the Sheriff told us. He nodded, not surprised at all. "Willis owns about three hundred acres on the other side of the county. He quit letting people metal detect because they kept finding bodies, sixteen before he made them stop. Said it felt like they were violating a graveyard."

He was pleased with the buttons, the iron stirrup we had found, the belt buckles, and, surprisingly, cannon balls. They were small, about the size of a softball. He looked closely at the cannonballs and went a little pale, making a phone call to the state police. "Yeah, we need the bomb squad out here. My friends found some Civil War mortar rounds, and I'm pretty sure they're fragmentary. Yes, we're away from the population, so we'll leave them alone and wait for you guys.

He was still waiting when we left, and the next time we were out, he told us they were filled with powder and.69 caliber minie balls, the forerunners of grenades. The bomb squad went over the area marked and found three more and told the landowner to put the area they'd marked off limits. I asked him if they were still viable after almost 170 years. These weren't, but a man on the other side of the state found a bunch of them in cannon size and took them home. He put them in the basement, dropping the last one. That was just conjecture because it sparked a chain reaction that blew the house off its foundations and vaporized the owner when it went off. I didn't share the information with Gillian.

We all took videos to remember the day, and Bob had a friend who worked at the local television station and did video editing on the side. So we sent all the footage we had to him, and he distilled it down to a 45-minute video. Every child got a copy. Andrea showed it to her history class, and when they found out she had discovered a body, her cool factor skyrocketed.

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Gill and I had gotten closer, but we hadn't been intimate. Yet. We both knew it was coming, but surprisingly, we were in no hurry. We both had baggage, and her profession made it difficult for us to open up to each other. We rarely spoke about past partners, but it seemed her ex was as big an asshole as mine was. We'd move to the stage where we could cuddle openly around Andrea. She thought it was cute unless she needed attention. Then she'd wriggle between us on the couch, and we'd watch a movie she wanted to see.

She'd cuddle with her mother if it were a romance, me if it were a horror. I had no experience with children, and now I had a tween girl imprinting on me. After one particularly dull movie, we drifted off to sleep. I woke up to Andrea cuddled up to me while Gill cuddled her with her arm across my chest. I thought it was one of the best feelings in the world and drifted off. A couple of hours later, Gill shook me gently. "Wake up, honey. We all went to sleep, and now it's 2:00 a. m. There's no way I'm driving back into the city at this time of night, so you have yourself two houseguests. Grab us a couple of tees to sleep in and help carry her to bed."

I was glad I was a gym rat because while Andrea was small, she was a solid chunk of muscle thanks to her sports background. Still, she wrapped her arms around my neck and sighed as she settled back in the bed. Gill had a strange look in her eyes. "I'll get her ready for bed, honey, then I'll come in and kiss you goodnight."

That sounded like an excellent plan, but it took her almost an hour before she came into my bedroom, wearing one of my dress shirts she'd sneaked out while I was in the bathroom. She giggled at my expression. "I don't like T-shirts. Andrea is snoring, and I can't get to sleep, so move over; you're getting a bed buddy tonight. Don't get any ideas; we're just going to cuddle."

It was hard, pun intended, to sleep with her because as soon as she drifted off, she draped herself over me and didn't let any space get between us. If I rolled over, she did as well. I woke up to her snuggled to my back, one hand on my painful erection. I don't know where it would have gone, but Andrea stood there, grinning. "I'm hungry. You need to get up and fix me pancakes if you have them. We'll let Mom sleep in."

She walked out grinning, so I slowly eased myself out of bed, threw on a shirt and shorts, brushed my teeth, and headed to the kitchen. Andrea was rummaging through the cabinets, wondering where the mix was. I didn't use mixes, so I walked her through how to make it from scratch. She thought it was the neatest thing she'd ever seen. After showing her how to flip them, I got the eggs and ham and chopped the potatoes for home fries. Soon enough, the ham and potatoes were sizzling, the pancakes layered with pats of butter waiting for the syrup, and I sent her to wake her mother. I heard the murmurs of conversation before they came out, and she was still wearing my shirt, though it was buttoned all the way up to the top. Andrea had on one of my band tees, and I grabbed my phone, getting off a dozen shots before they stopped me.

They liked their eggs over easy, and as I fried them, Andrea told her how to make pancakes from scratch. I got out the syrups, and they eyed them. I grinned. "Corn syrup is one of the worst things you can put in your body. Margarine is just seven points different from the recipe for plastic, so I only use real butter. The jug contains maple syrup, and the jar is filled with homemade black walnut syrup that I made this spring. You should try it."

I plated everything and grinned as they dug in. Andrea had two pancakes with maple syrup, then took a single pancake and poured some walnut syrup on it. After she tasted it, she grabbed another one and poured a healthy portion of it, forcing Mom to take a bite. They managed to finish their plates but were groaning as they sat back.

I let their food settle before I told Gill that, since Andrea and I had cooked, she was responsible for the dishes, according to the house rules. It surprised her, but she found herself laughing. "Fair enough. Andrea, help clean the table and get dressed while I load the dishwasher."

They insisted I sit and enjoy another cup of coffee. I used real cream, not the powdered stuff, and Gill smiled. "If we're not careful, you'll have a couple of fatties on your hands. I'll have to watch you like a hawk when it's your turn to cook dinner."

What she said hit her, and she blushed as Andrea laughed. "Mom, he's a better cook than you are, so you'll be cleaning up a lot in the future."

Andrea realized what she'd said and colored a little, so I hugged her. "Don't work like that, kiddo. You'll learn to cook so that we can take a break now and again.

Her dimples popped out. "The first thing you will teach me is how to make your fried chicken."

"Yeah, all that oil and breading isn't fattening at all. We should have it three times a week."

Gillian was shocked for a second. Then that sweet little smile crept onto her face."Just a hot minute, you guys! I should get the deciding vote. Chicken once a week for a while, and either steaks or barbecue on Sundays. We'll experiment with the rest of the time. And you're not going to get out of taking us to dinner a couple of times a month, buddy, and we pick the restaurant. Understood?"

They both laughed when I said, "Yes, dear! Whatever you want, dear!"

Andrea was grinning like crazy when they left.

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They came back with a small suitcase and a backpack. Andie ( I called her that once, and she thought it was cool) talked a mile a minute as we prepped the grill that afternoon. Gillian was in the kitchen prepping salads, and I was cleaning the grill, so it took me a minute to realize she'd gone quiet. I turned around, and she looked back through the patio door, watching her mother move about, her lips moving as she swayed. She turned around to me.

"Mom's dancing. She used to dance all the time when I was little, but when my father left, she just stopped." She thought about it for a minute. "I'm glad you're making her happy enough to dance. I'm glad you're in our lives. Do you think this might lead to permanent things?"

I didn't laugh or brush her off. We sat down at the picnic table and talked. "I think by now you know I'm giving it serious thought. How would you feel about it? You're part of the equation as well, and it's a package deal. Could you handle us all living together?

She frowned. "I think we could. When you started dating Mom, you didn't brush me off like the last man she saw. He didn't like me much, and Mom noticed, so he disappeared. Mom trusts you enough to let me go places with you, and I think I trust you, too."

"Well, that's good information to have. I could tolerate you. I'll lock you in the basement if you get on my nerves. You wouldn't have to stay long, three or four days at most.

She tried to see how serious I was and grinned. "You don't have a basement."

I sighed. "Well, there went a perfect plan shot to pieces. Look, Andie, it won't be just her if I marry your Mom. I'd be marrying you as well, as a daughter. And, if that happens, the first time I hear you say 'Stepfather' and not father, I'll dig that basement."

It started as little sniffles that morphed into full-out bawling as she clung to me. I just held her until she calmed down, and she started grinning. Gill carried the meat out and asked her why her eyes were so red. "I got smoke in my eyes. Da... Jax is teaching me how to cook a perfect steak, so please don't bother us for a while."

She started, then smiled, and a tear might have trickled out as she sat and watched as I walked Andie through how to grill a good steak. "Never, under any circumstances, think charcoal is a good idea. I primarily use oak, with hickory for variety. I have some apple and peach wood for a flavor variation. I also have cherry, but you need to be careful, or the scent will overpower the food."

I'd already gotten the wood down to the coals, so I let her (while I hovered) place the seasoned steaks on the grill with the oversized tongs I had. While they were cooking, I discussed the concept of hot side/cold side cooking and its potential impact on the taste of the meat. After the meat thermometer reached the desired temperature, we plated and covered them so the juices they expelled could be reabsorbed. Gill laughed when we sat down to eat, and Andie took the biggest one, a steak that had to weigh at least 20 ounces. She tried her best to eat it, but almost half was left because she had eaten so many side dishes.

Gill had her carry in the dirty dishes while I cleaned up outside, and by the time I got back inside, Andie had crashed on the couch, snoring lightly. I had a new dishwasher, but Gill said she found hand washing satisfying on a fundamental level. I joined her, drying and storing the dishes. Then we made a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table.

"You know you're the only one allowed to call her Andie?"

I reflected for a moment before grinning. "Andrea just seemed too formal. It surprised her the first time, but I think she's come to like it. We had an interesting discussion while we tended the grill. She wanted to know where this relationship was going."'

Gill took a moment. The question came in as meek a voice as I'd ever heard her use. "Where do you see it going?"

I looked into her eyes until she squirmed and looked down. "Well, it's probably a little early to say it out loud, but I'm leaning heavily towards the 'until death do you part' option, but much of that depends on you."

We sat beside each other, and both chairs hit the floor when she leaped at me. It made a big racket, and Andie came running in to see us on the floor while her mother alternated between laughing, crying, and trying to talk. "What happened?"

"I think I made your mother very happy, at least I hope so. Help us up."

Just as soon as she reached down, I pulled her on top of us and started tickling her. Both girls were highly ticklish, whereas I was not, which irritated them immensely.

She went to bed soon after, grinning as she told us goodnight. "Try not to make too much noise, okay?" She skipped out laughing while Gillian glowed red. Of course, nothing happened but a lot of groping, and we familiarized ourselves with the secrets of the other's body before slipping into a restless slumber. Andie had appointed herself our alarm clock and roused us early so I could teach her how to make biscuits. We made them with buttermilk, slathering them with butter as soon as they came out of the oven, enjoying them with strawberry jam.

She told me she wanted to learn to make my version of paella the next day, and I had to remind her they were going home that afternoon. That didn't sit too well with her, and she lobbied Mom until she got exasperated. "You have school tomorrow, young lady. How will you get there? And I have to work, and we need clothes. And more importantly, he didn't invite us to stay!"

I sensed more than school logistics at play here. "Wouldn't you like to stay?"

"That doesn't make any difference."

"That makes all the difference. You must know I would like nothing better. If you would like an official invitation, it is available here. Gillian Jones, would you and your daughter care to cohabitate with me? I would greatly appreciate it if you would. Wait for just a second before you answer. Miss Andrea Jones, would you like to live here under the supervision of two parental units? I warn you: I'll have that basement dug the first time you try to play us off each other. You may confer if you wish. I'll be outside, waiting for a decision."

I could hear her asking Andie what a basement had to do with anything as I went out the door. She was giggling as I closed it. I stayed outside for about half an hour before she opened the patio door and motioned me in. Andie was on the couch, grinning, so this might be a good conversation. "Mom and I have decided that it would be in our best interests to accept your offer, with certain conditions. My school is three blocks from your office, so you will be responsible for transporting me. You leave earlier at the end of the day, so you will pick me up. You will be required to attend any school functions that may occur. If asked, you will identify yourself as my Dad. Since your hours are more regular, you and I will be responsible for most meals. Mom will contribute on the weekends, and we will dine out occasionally. I get the bedroom at the end of the hall, and you'll help Mom decorate it to suit me."

"Wow. Is that it?"

She grinned like a little shark, which made me think she would be a good lawyer when it came time to consider a career. "No. My birthday is in three weeks, and we will have my party here because it will be our home. You will grill for us, and the menu is to be decided. As a gift, I would appreciate a full Detech 6000 kit. Do you agree?"

It was a top-of-the-line metal detector; a complete kit could cost around three grand. I had already ordered it to make sure the kit I wanted would be available. "Your mother and I will decide the gift. No steaks, I'll do pork and chicken, maybe burgers. School duties accepted. Now, what does Mom have to say about it?"

Gill was grinning as tears threatened to leak out. "I think it's a good plan if I can correct a few flaws concerning our daughter. You'll be a pushover where she's concerned, and I'll have to watch you closely. I'll have to accompany you to school for the afternoon pickup to get you registered so that they can release her to your custody. We'll address other issues as they arise. Get your truck and follow us back to the condo so we can start the move."

................................................................................................................

Andie chose to ride with me. She stayed quiet for a while before she started whispering. "I never really knew my father. I was six when I left, and I have a few fleeting memories of a big man holding me, but that's it. All I've ever known was my Mom, and even though I knew she loved me, I'd look at the other kids and their dads and wonder."

I reached out to hold her hand, and both latched onto me. "Well, in comparison, I've never had a daughter, either. I had a wife once, but we didn't stay together long enough for children. I regret not having any, but I'm grateful I didn't have any with her. So we're starting fresh here. It might be a bumpy ride."

She giggled. "It will be. In thirteen more months, I'll be a teenager."

"That basement addition is looking better every day." She held my hand the rest of the way. I stopped and picked up Chinese, and we got the stuff into the house before eating and declaring it a night. They could sort themselves out tomorrow afternoon. We had great intentions when we went to bed, but the day's emotions weighed heavily on us, and we were asleep in minutes.

.................................................

Andie was beating on the door. "Mom! Ja.. Dad! Up! Up! I need to get ready for school and want pancakes for breakfast."

Mom looked like her face would split from the smile, and I just lay there basking in being called Dad. She slapped my ass, and I watched hers bounce to the bathroom. She looked back and grinned, wriggling with large swaying motions, before laughing and closing the door just before I got to it. I used the hall bathroom and joined Andy in the kitchen, helping her finish the pancakes and sausage. Mom joined us, then shooed me into the bedroom to shower and dress. I always wore suits, even though some of my contemporaries didn't. I thought it best to project a professional image with clients. It was one of the reasons I had the best team in the group. The two men and three women on my team followed my example, and although we were teased for looking old-school, they stopped teasing when it came time for the bonuses.

With breakfast served, Andie almost jumped into the truck. "I can't believe I'm being driven to school by my dad. This is going to be so cool!"

I grinned at the exuberance. "Technically, I'm not your dad yet."

She looked at me. "Say that again, and it could get ugly." She wasn't smiling.

"Noted, and here we are."

She made a production out of getting out of the truck, giving me a big smooch on the cheek, and yelling, "BYE, DAD!" so loud they probably heard her at the elementary school across the street. I was still smiling when I walked into the office. I had been alone for so long, and my team was having a ball now that I was in a relationship, but they were genuinely happy for me. After the usual weekend catch-up, it was business as usual. I tend to get wrapped up and would often stay over when I was alone, but now it seemed I had responsibilities, and I'd set my phone to chime when it was time to pick Andie up.

I was surprised at the line, thinking it would take forever to pick her up, but then I remembered and parked. I provided my name to the school resource officer, who checked his list and informed me of where to go. Gill was already there, talking to the principal, and was grinning. "Here he is now. Jax, this is Marty Malone, Principal. Marty, this is Jax, my future husband, when he asks me."

She was a middle-aged woman who knew her way to the gym with a warm smile and firm handshake. "I'm pleased to meet you, Jax. When we're alone, Marty is fine, but in the presence of students, please address me as Principal Malone, and I'll address you as Mr. Jarvis. You're about to discover what it's like to parent a tween. They all think they're twenty, and females are just as bad as males. Angst, drama, crushes, you'll run the gamut in a couple of years. You're most fortunate to have Gillian to guide you. Here is a list of rules for parents, an outline that you should become familiar with. The second page lists activities and scheduled conference dates. You've come along late in the year, so you've escaped this year's drama, but school vacation is shorter than one thinks."

"I think I'll run away now," I said with a grin.

"No, you won't! Besides what I'd do, Andrea will chase you down like a bounty hunter after a million-dollar fugitive." She was joking, of course. Maybe. I hoped so, anyway.

"Guess I'll just stick around then--a pleasure to meet you, Marty. I've got to get home and make dinner. She beats me when she gets home if it's not on the table."

"Yes, I noted your bruises and scratches when you came in. The black eye is a dead giveaway. There are resources available if you need them." It was all she could do not to burst out laughing. Gill brushed my cheek.

"They were necessary to establish hierarchy. He's mostly trained now, so the punishments should slow down." Then she laughed and kissed me. "Go! I want paella for dinner, accompanied by a nice salad.

"Yes, ma'am."

When I went to collect Andie, they were still giggling. She was sitting on a bench with some other kids under the watchful eyes of teachers and the resource officers--there were three. This was a private school--an expensive school, but the teachers were top-notch. The college placement rate was currently at 93%, and they worried about how to increase it. They used to wear uniforms, but did away with them because it made the kids stand out, and rich kids made good kidnapping targets.

I knew Gillian had money, but I never asked and shushed her when she tried to tell me. "Someday we'll talk about it if we need to make a significant purchase. Currently, money is not a priority."

I had some money; I lived alone with minimal bills and earned an excellent wage.

When Gill entered the door, the paella was simmering, the salad was tossed, and the tea was poured. She looked at us for a minute before snuffling and disappearing into the bedroom. She came out just as I was about to plate the food, grabbing Andie up in a bone-crushing hug before trying to pull my tonsils out of my mouth.

Andie finally had enough. "Mom! Children are trying to eat here! If you keep his lips covered, he can't get any food in his mouth, so save it for later."

Gill pulled back, blushing, and I kissed her again before serving her bowl. After clearing the dishes, Andie grabbed my detector and went outside to 'practice.' We sat where we could watch her, and I remarked that I would save a bunch of time mowing the grass this summer.

"Let her be. All she's known has been condos and parks. She's never had a yard of her own."

"I don't like condos and apartments. I grew up with a large yard, a thirty-acre field, and a patch of woods beyond that. This house is fine right now, but we'll need to look for a larger one later."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to be a biological dead end. When, not if, we become husband and wife, I want one child out of the union. It's a bit early to bring this up, but it means a great deal. It's not a deal-breaker, but it would make me very happy.

"She sure cries a lot," I thought as she scrambled to the bedroom. It took her forty minutes to return, and she snuggled up to me.

"We'll start negotiations with one," she grinned. "I'm 34, and the factory will be closing soon."

We'd never discussed ages, but I was surprised to learn that she was four years older. She didn't look it. I thought she might have been a child bride; she looked much younger.

......................................................................................................................................

Andie's birthday came, and we hosted thirty tweens as they swirled around. Two more sets of parents were present to help wrangle them. The kids had a ball, the predominantly female crowd screaming as they whirled around. Gill seemed a little miffed when I gave her the detector. "Like I said, you're a pushover. You should never have spent that much on her."

"Look at her face and tell me that. Remember that this is the first child, so cut me a little slack here."

I had set the machine up, knowing she would want to try it out immediately. Her best friend Alma had spent the night the previous weekend, and her parents came out for a meal when they picked her up. Pat and his wife Shiri were of Indian descent, and both were attractive. I looked at Alma and thought she'd gotten the best of both parents. I said as much as she and Andie ran the detector over the backyard for about the hundredth time.

Shiri laughed, and Pat grinned. "Thank you for the compliment, but think about what you say. Your child is just as beautiful, and I think sleepless nights will be our future in a few years."

I hadn't thought about that, and it didn't sit well with me. I also knew I could do nothing about it except try to help her learn to make good decisions.

Of course, now that she had the new detector, she was keen to revisit the battle site. We had an open invitation now, but called him anyway, as a courtesy. He said he might stop by to see how it was done. This time, I was along as Bob marked out the grids. We were going to sweep up the ridge along what might have been a trail at one time. We talked as we set the flags. If it'd been just adults, we wouldn't have flagged anything, but with kids, you needed structure; otherwise, they'd scatter like fallen leaves in front of a big wind.

"I've been thinking about those mortar rounds. From the little I could find about the fight, there was no mention of a mortar, so it may still be lying somewhere. If anyone finds it, they should back away because there are probably more rounds nearby.

I hadn't thought much about it, but knew he was right. "I agree. We need to tell the kids first thing."

Gill was coming to watch us. When we left at five, she kissed us both and went back to sleep. She was coming out later and bringing lunch. She and the other wives had conferred, and each was getting a dish. We had already packed a cooler with water and snacks. Kids that age are always hungry.

I brought my old detector for one of the twins so they didn't have to share. We reviewed the rules again and stressed the actions that would have happened if we had found more shells. The state had set up markers covering about half an acre. It was on the field, so we didn't worry much because we concentrated on the ridge. Following the vestiges of the trail, we started getting hits almost immediately. It was primarily buckles, buttons, and bullets until Andie found a horse skull, with the bit and metal bridle pieces visible. We discussed it and agreed to take the metal and leave the horse head. Andie liked horses and said it wouldn't be right, so we covered it back up. Tia got a hard beep a couple of feet past, and when we moved the dirt, we found the remains of a McClellan saddle, with the rifle scabbard still attached, the rifle still in it. A couple of feet to the right, Mia found a cavalry sword. We never saw a body, so we conjectured that the horse got hit and the trooper had to get away fast.

Then Roberto's detector went off the charts; every inch within a ten-foot radius gave a strong response. The kids dug in, and after an hour, they had uncovered five horse skeletons and six human ones. That must have been a pretty intense confrontation. Miguel looked down the hill, mentally marking an area of the field we had yet to detect. The scene was chaotic. We found forty spent bullets, shapes smashed as they hit something solid. There were remains of saddles, several rifles, two revolvers, and three cavalry sabers. We never touched anything, making a video of the site and then covering it back up. We all agreed, even the kids, that it would be tantamount to grave robbing to remove anything.

The adults talked about it after our wives and girlfriends brought out lunch. Bob said it best. "It's obvious this land had never been investigated. I know people who would do nothing short of digging the whole area up, selling their finds for enormous prices. Let's come off the ridge, take a closer look at the field, and never return. In my opinion, we shouldn't tell the landowner. He seems like a good guy, but men often succumb to greed. This was a minor skirmish; it would still be undiscovered if I hadn't found a reference in an antique book I picked up at a yard sale. I vote we finish the day and not come back and never speak of what we found."

We all agreed, but Miguel asked what we were thinking. "Do you think the kids can keep a secret?"

"Andie can, especially when she knows the stakes. All of them are deeply invested in this and can remain quiet. They're all historians in the making, and I think they understand."

That afternoon, we found the mortar. It looked like a mini cannon with two skeletons beside it. We immediately called it a day and packed up. We talked while we watched the kids make one more sweep.

"This was a hotter confrontation than what little information gleaned indicated. We've found what, nine bodies? It must have been too dangerous for burial details, or maybe they had to rush off somewhere else immediately. Anyway, I've been thinking about not telling the landowner what we found. You see how he accepted it when we found the first skeleton; he seems like a private person, and we ought to tell him. Ultimately, it's his property and decision, but he'll do the right thing. Besides, if word gets out, he wouldn't have a respectful group like us out here; he'd have trespassers swarming around until the place is picked clean."

The others nodded, so we told him what we'd found when Mr. Lee (unrelated to the general) came out. I think it saddened him as he looked across the property that so much death had occurred here. We thanked him for the opportunity he'd given us and pledged to remain quiet. He was impressed when we gave him the musket, still in the scabbard. It brought a grin.

"How good a shape will it be in when we remove the scabbard? I know a man who specializes in restoring weapons from the conflict. I'll give it to him for examination."

He also took the saber after we explained it was found about three feet from the skeleton. Just as we were about to leave, he grinned. "I'd like to ask a favor. This is just a small parcel of the original plantation, and I own most of the original tract. The mansion burned down about 1900, and no one has been around it for nearly a hundred years. The local historical committee has been lobbying for an archaeological examination, and I have tentatively agreed to help select the crew. Wanna help?"

We spent the rest of the summer and part of the fall working there, often camping to avoid travel time. It was well-documented, and a film was produced for public television, so the kids got to be in a movie. They were praised for doing such a professional job and interviewed as part of the film. Andie summed it up best.

"We know we're young, and America is a new country in the grand scheme of things, but every time we find a comb, a button, pieces of a necklace, a suspender gallus, or a belt buckle, it reminds us we're not the first person to walk this ground, and if you count in the First Nations, they weren't either. Those things belonged to people who hoped for a brighter future, and we can have respect for those who went before.

Her speech was played as the credits rolled, making her a minor celebrity. When it came out, her school played it in every history class. Soon enough, the school had a Detecting Club, with me as Senior Advisor. We organized an outing at a spot Mr. Lee had selected and lectured them on the procedure to follow if they found human remains. Most parents were well-to-do, or their child wouldn't attend an expensive school. However, I recommended lower-end detectors, knowing this would be a fad for most of them. Gill and I purchased three more for the scholarship students to use.

We met at the school for three weekends to familiarize them with the equipment and procedures. They decided to practice on the school grounds, which had once housed a retirement home, so it was no surprise that they found a few items. A cufflink, a gold cross, buttons, an ornate snuff box, and other era-appropriate pieces that they carefully cleaned. The findings were displayed in a case in the lobby, featuring a picture of the retirement home and one of the club members.

..................................................................................

Our wedding was fast approaching. We took care of as much as possible, and the mothers handled the rest. I think her parents liked me. Her father questioned me a good bit before he seemed satisfied. Her mom hugged me all over, whispering in my ear.

"I hear we can expect another grandchild soon. I vote for two."

My mother was, as she was fond of saying, 'tickled pink,' especially about having a premade granddaughter. It was just my sister and me; her wife wasn't much on kids, so she was about to give up hope. She and Gill got along well. Mom was impressed with Gill's profession and intelligence, and Gill with Mom's common sense and life wisdom.

Dad also liked her, and Andie followed him when she could. He showed her some of the things he'd collected from his detecting days, including a fully restored 1860 Navy Colt revolver. He'd found it in the middle of a field, still in the flapped holster. Nobody was around it, and he surmised it was probably just lost. Getting it back to nearly new condition didn't require much effort. It could even be fired if you used the special black powder required for vintage weapons. As far as I know, he'd never discharged it.

They got along so well that Andie asked if she could spend a weekend with them so Grandma could teach her how to bake. Gill and I also used the weekend to bond.

She was a mature woman, but she maintained great shape. Her body showed evidence of childbirth. Her breasts sagged a little, and her stomach had that slight 'pooch,' as she called it, but in my eyes, she was perfect. She was equally fierce and timid in bed, which I loved. When she was feeling shy, we made love. We tried to slam each other through the mattress when she felt fierce.

................................................

The wedding day came with the proper amount of pomp and circumstance. Andie and Alma looked amazing as junior bridesmaids. I noted the boys swarming around them when the dancing began, but they were in full view and well-supervised. I danced with both mothers and surprised Andie when I insisted on one for us. She swirled around, crying and laughing in equal measure, and I knew in my heart that we'd recreate this dance at her wedding not too many years in the future.

Gillian was so beautiful it almost hurt my eyes to look at her. I remember the kiss after the vows as being the best I'd ever gotten in my life. Only Gill, I, both mothers, and her doctor knew she was estimated to be seven weeks pregnant. She decided to give me this as a wedding present, making sure she went off birth control early enough to make it happen.

We left for our honeymoon, knowing Andie would be safe, as she would be splitting her time between both sets of grandparents. When she was with my mother, she badgered her into showing her how to cook, as she put it, "Southern." When she was with Gill's mom, it was needlepoint lessons. Some of her efforts were almost tapestries and hung on our walls.

.................................................................

Well, that's my happily ever after, with one footnote. Our friendship with Han lasted until the day he passed away. He was our baseball buddy, Andrea's advisor, and, by extension, her friend. Han was one of my groomsmen, wearing his orange robes, and did a blessing for us at the end of our wedding ceremony.

He and Gill organized the "Check a Human Out" fundraisers for the library for many years. Andrea would also come with us as she got older and check out people. She spoke with Catholic priests, CEOs, and artists, including a potter and weaver, learning something from each of them. When Han stayed over, he and Gill often delved into things well beyond my understanding and attention span, but I loved listening.

Gill wrote several professional papers about some of their discussions, which led to an invitation to a regional TED Talk, where they discussed various aspects of the super-ego, the notion of non-ego, and the balance needed for emotional well-being. It was so successful that they were invited to the national stage, and judging by the attention they got at the end of the presentation, they did an excellent job.

The regional presentation was held in our hometown, and as I sat off to one side, I thought I saw someone familiar. I dismissed it as one of our friends, but when the lights went up, I got a full-on view and realized it was Dawn. It had been seven years since the coffee shop. She had gained the weight that middle age required; her hair was a shade lighter, but it was still her. She was holding the arm of a man who looked a little older, smiling at her. Gill kept her single name for her practice but insisted on being introduced everywhere else as Mrs. Jarvis.

I wondered what went through Dawn's mind when Gillian explained how we met and thanked her husband for the opportunity, calling me out by name. Dawn looked in my direction, recognizing me. Her eyes went wide as she made the connection, but then Andrea and Alma came up, hugging me as their boyfriends looked uncomfortable. Our son was with Grandma. When we managed to untangle, Dawn was gone. I never saw her again.

I told Gill about it as we drove home, and she smiled. "I would have liked to talk to her to see if her perception of ego has changed over the years."

That would have been a conversation I'd have loved to hear.

........................................................................................................

Footnote:

Andrea kept her love of metal detecting for the rest of her life and majored in History at the University of Virginia. Alma was her roommate, studying a different discipline, but they spent a lot of time poring over anything written about the region, especially the Civil War.

Alma found a set of letters often overlooked as trivial, and as they read, they became excited, for there was a mention of the Lost Major, a war myth of epic proportions. Major Smithson Longtree, two Captains, Weathers and Livingston, a Sergeant named Jones, and nine enlisted men vanished off the face of the earth while carrying the last known Confederate payroll, mainly in gold. They had used pack mules instead of wagons to disguise their cargo. Rumors persisted that they'd decided to take the money and abandon the cause, scattering across the American West.

One of the letters was from the sergeant to his wife, confessing that he feared they would not survive as they traveled, the area thick with deserters of both armies and bandits. He mentioned an obscure crossroads where they hoped to camp. Andrea pored over maps of the time and identified the crossroads and an account of an inn located at the junction. It was on private property, the roads now nothing but woodlands, and they narrowed it down to a two-mile square.

It took two years of negotiating before the landowners gave them access, and Andie was chosen to lead the research with academic advisors. They found the remains of the inn at the end of summer and had to wait until the next season to continue.

The first thing they did was excavate the remains of the inn, uncovering artifacts that dated back to before the Revolutionary War. They also found five gold coins indicative of what the pack train was carrying. They spread out in a radius around the inn, going almost a quarter of a mile before finding human remains identified as Confederate. They found the remains of five more men, three mules, and four empty packsaddles a hundred yards farther.

It took one more expedition, but they found the Major, one of his captains, the sergeant, and two troopers, the remains scattered across a small ridge. Judging by the spent bullets and holes in one skull, it seems this was a last stand. Carefully detecting down the ridge, the remains of three more men were found. They wore no uniforms and had no identifying markings, so they were believed to be bandits. No money was ever seen, and the ridge was designated a state historic landmark even though it's in the woods on private property.