Danish Pastry

"Leaving already? You just got here."

"Yeah. I saw you were having a reception and figured I didn't need to be here."

"Not even to say hello?"

"I just did." I was afraid to say anything else. My emotions would betray me. We looked at each other. Me wanting to beg for forgiveness; her...? I had no idea what, if anything, she wanted to say. Before either of us could speak, a member of her team saw her and ushered her back to the reception.

I left and went home. I decided not to have hotdogs or anything else for dinner.

She and I had no further communication and she and her team concluded their business and returned to SHAPE.

On Friday after they left I received, via NATO Courier, a package from her.

In it was an envelope from the same office that sent the original Separation and Divorce notice. It was addressed to me at my Washington address. My name had been crossed out and the words "No longer at this address" were written on it. It had not been opened. Attached to the envelope was a note from Irene:

"Phil,

I had my attorney send this to you, but it came back. Now I know why.

I was surprised to see you Monday. I hope you are happy.

Irene"

I opened the envelope and it contained the same papers I had signed and sent back, but this time there was another handwritten note from her attached to them.

"Phil,

I changed my mind about a divorce so didn't submit these. It seems I love you even when I don't want to. If you feel the same, Call me.

Irene"

I no longer had her phone number, but I got her office number from the SHAPE directory.

"This is Major Parker," she said when she answered.

"So is this. I got your package."

"And?"

"And I love you."

I could almost feel her smile through the line. "There is a 5:00 flight. I can be on it if you want me to."

"What time does it land? I'll meet you."

When we took the general home that evening, I told him about the phone call. "I'm happy for you and hope it works out. Take the weekend off and Monday if you need it; just let me know."

I was waiting when she came into the lobby. I wanted her in my arms, but wasn't sure if that might be too fast. I needn't have worried. She ran and flew into me. We blocked the way for a long time. Some guy said something in Italian as he walked by. "What did he say?" I asked her.

"He said 'get a room'." We both laughed.

We held hands to my car and as much as we could on the way to my quarters. My car was a floor shift standard transmission so when my hand was on the gearshift, her hand was on top of mine. Not much was said. We were just content to be near each other.

Ten seconds after the door closed, we were in each others' arms again. We broke apart and I asked her if she wanted something to eat or drink. We settled on wine. I poured us each a glass, we clinked them together, and sat on my sofa. We needed to talk, but where to start. She did.

"I was so mad with you."

"I know and I understand. I am so sorry, but seeing him and thinking you were with him... I just went crazy."

"So did I. When he called me and told me you had been there, I tried to call you to explain, but you wouldn't even answer your phone or return my messages. I assumed you never read them. That made me even madder. I was on an assignment and couldn't leave, but as soon as it was over, I flew to America to see you. The whole flight made me even more upset. Then you weren't home and I couldn't get in your apartment and I had to wait in the hall for you, it got worse. I cried on the flight to you and I cried on the flight back. I stayed mad and decided to divorce you. I told my sister and she tried to calm me down, but I wouldn't listen." She hesitated for several seconds, then continued. "I had calmed down a little by the time the papers you signed came back. My attorney is also my sister who is smarter than me. She didn't send them to the court. She kept them. She and I talked several times and each time I was calmer than the last. I came to realize that I really didn't want a divorce and asked her to see if she could stop it until I talked to you. She told me she had never submitted them. She was just waiting for me to cool down. I told you she was smarter than me." She paused again, and sipped her wine. "I tried calling you, but my number was blocked, and I got upset again because I assumed you didn't even want to discuss a.... how do you call it? Uh... a reconciliation? Then I sent the papers back you, but they were returned because you weren't there anymore. I didn't know where you were or how to contact you." She paused. "Then I saw you come in with the General and couldn't breathe."

"Yes. Reconciliation is the word. I was just mad and upset at first. I never wanted a divorce and after you came to Washington, I tried calling you, but you wouldn't answer."

She smiled. "I screwed up our first year together, and you screwed up this past year. We can't afford to screw up any more."

We both laughed. "No, we can't, and we won't." I took time to sip before asking, "Who is he? And why was he there?"

"He is my.... how do you say kusine....cousin. He and his wife were staying there while their apartment was being painted. He opened the door, saw you and at first thought you were Frederik. His English is not very good and he was nervous. He was at our wedding and had seen you there, and after he recognized who you were, tried to explain but couldn't because of his English, and you wouldn't listen to him. When he called me, he felt bad about not being able to communicate with you and explain who he was."

We sat for a long time not saying anything. I finished my wine and got up to get more. She saw what I was doing, gulped down the rest of her own and handed me her glass. While I was pouring more, she went to her carry-on bag and took something out, returned to the sofa and sat. I handed her glass and sat next to her. She put hers on the table without tasting it and extended what looked like an old, dried flower.

"When I got this, I cried for happy," she said. "It is the flower you sent."

I'd always heard "make-up" sex was the best you could ever have and after that night, I believe it.

The weekend was fantastic. I called The General on Sunday afternoon and confirmed that taking Monday off was still okay. It was, and we added it to the best weekend ever.

On Monday afternoon, I took her to the airport.

Working as the Aide to a General Officer means long hours and very little time off, but we took advantage of what time we had. Trips between Belgium and Italy were frequent and fun. That went on for four months. Then one day, General Thompson called me in to his office. "Phil, Esther (his wife) and I are taking two weeks off. We're going back to Cleveland to see her brother. He's not too healthy. We'll leave on Friday. In the meantime, we want you to take some leave as well."

"It's too bad about her brother, sir, and I understand her wanting to see him. I'll take the leave and spend it in Belgium."

"You won't have to. I've talked to the SACEUR, and told him I would like to have Major Irene Parker on my staff, so she's been transferred. She wanted it to be a surprise, but I hate surprises. She'll be here Friday. Frankie (Staff Sergeant Frank Branford, his driver) will take us to the airport so you can stay here and wait for her."

I thanked him profusely and left. The exec, admin assistant, and secretary all grinned at me when I walked through.

I had been living in the BOQ, where, it seemed, I spent most of my life, but two of us couldn't live there, so I went to the housing office to see what, if any, housing was available. Since I was the general's aide, I was entitled to a house on the installation. The only one available was on what they called "Colonel's Row". I wasn't a Lieutenant Colonel, much less Colonel, but they moved me there anyway. "Nobody will complain since you're the general's Aide", I was told.

The house was furnished with government furnishings, but they would suffice until Irene and I could get our own.

It was mid-afternoon on Friday. The general and his wife were gone and I was sitting in my office twiddling my thumbs when she walked in. I jumped up, went to her and kissed her. "I get the impression you're not surprised to see me," she said. "Who told?"

"General Thompson, and I'm glad he did. Come on, let's go home." Her car was loaded with her stuff, so she followed me to our house. She was surprised that we had a house. She expected we would be crowded into my little BOQ room for a while. "It isn't the greatest, but it's home for as long as we're here." I said.

"It's beautiful."

The next two years were good years.

General Thompson was reassigned back to the Pentagon and asked me if I wanted go with him. Irene and I talked about it and decided that we would prefer staying in Europe. The general completely understood and, again, called the SACEUR, who arranged for both Irene and me to be reassigned back to SHAPE. Like Mel Brooks said, "It's good to be The King."

In our case we weren't The King, but we knew him, so it was close enough.

We are back in Belgium now and have three years here, but can keep extending. Irene has been in her army longer than I have so will retire before me. When I retire, we will live in America, but visit Denmark often to visit her family.

Willy's grandmother is still alive and kicking, but she's doing it from a wheelchair. Willy, Sophie, little Phillip and his younger brother, Sean, have moved to Ireland to live.

Life is good.