Chapter 7

Jennifer

I sat in the hospital waiting room chair, wiping the tears from my eyes. While Madison was sleeping in my lap, Whitney’s hand rested on my leg, the reassuring touch helping to calm my nerves. My mind was racing with all kinds of what ifs, and all of them were ending up in that dark, no good corner of my head.

I lifted my head and looked at Whitney and shook it in disbelief. Across the room, Chaplin Harrison and Chief Murkowski sat on a bench. They were trying to give us space but would check in on us from time to time to see if we needed anything.

“We’re going to get through this. Together, I’m right here for you, babe.” Whit’s voice was steady and reassuring.

“Thanks, I don’t know why this is hitting me so hard.”

“Jennifer, you’ve known Dallas your whole life. You went to school with him since when? Kindergarten? First grade?”

“Kindergarten,” I murmured

“You were best friends. He was your date to the prom, he’s the father of your child. Regardless of the status of your relationship to him now, you two will forever be connected because of Madison.”

I looked at Whit with a blank face. So many things were swirling through my head, I wasn’t able to process words.

“Jenn, you’re buzzing.”

“Huh?”

“Your phone. It’s buzzing.”

I glanced down; it was Dallas’ parents. They were walking into the hospital and wondering where I was. I told them which waiting area we were in, how to find it, and a moment later they walked in.

Mama O. motioned for me to sit back down.

“You don’t have to stand because I’m here. You have a precious bundle sleeping in your arms. Let’s try not to wake her.”

But it was too late. Little eyes opened, and a head turned to the sound of a familiar voice. She sat up in my lap and reached out to her Babcia.

“Have you heard anything yet?” a tired Papa O. asked.

“Not yet.” I glanced at my watch, it was one thirty in the morning. They had made good time getting here. We all slumped back into chairs and waited. Chaplin Harrison and Chief Murkowski came over and introduced themselves to Dallas’ parents. The Chief left and returned a few minutes later with a cup of coffee for Papa O.

It was a couple minutes before two AM when a doctor came around the corner looking for us. I knew what he was going to say by the slowness of his gait and the ashen look on his face. The words which came out of his mouth a moment later confirmed my worst fears.Whitney

“I’m not wearing a dress or a skirt, Whitney. I told you, I’m done with them. No more, never again. I don’t like them.”

“But you can’t wear jeans or cargo pants to a funeral, Jennifer.”

“I know, I’m going to go find some slacks or a suit. I dunno what, just something.”

I put another pod in the coffee machine and hit brew. It was going to be one of those days.

“Can I get anyone a refill?” I looked over at the table. Mr. Olinski held up his cup.

“Please.” The ache in his voice was palpable.

“Thanks again, dears for letting us spend the night.” Mama O. said to Jenn and me as I sat back down next to my girl.

“Of course, there is always room for family.

We were all tired. Neither Jenn nor I slept well once we got home from the hospital. While Jenn got Madi put down in our bed, I had gotten Madi’s queen-sized bed, a bed formerly for guests, ready with some clean sheets so Mr. and Mrs. Olinski could spend the night. I did what I could to help Jenn relax and get some sleep. But she tossed and turned like I’d never seen her do before. Not that I was surprised by it though.

Right then, a little one appeared in the kitchen. She had just woken up and her hair was all askew. She saw her Babcia and climbed into Mama O’s lap.

“Morning sunshine,” her grandma said softly as she stroked her hair.

I heard Jenn and my phone’s ding simultaneously. “Who’s it from?” I asked Jenn as she looked at her phone. She, more than I, had received many texts from people across the company expressing sympathy for Jenn and Madi. I had left texts with my mom and uncles letting them know what was happening and that neither of us would be in the office. Word was getting out.

“Captain Eriksen.” She looked at me. Nothing more needed to be said.

We sat around the table for a couple more minutes, when Mr. Olinksi broke the silence.

“Well mother, we should probably get our things ready and head to Port Angeles. We got some work cut out for us.”

“Do you need me to come and join you?” Jennifer said.

“I think we can manage, dear. We’ll let you know if we do. It’s mainly Dallas’ personal stuff. His place was furnished, so maybe, other than his futon, I don’t think he has anything big. And that we’ll probably find someone there who might like it. I think a few other enlisted personnel live in his building.

We were standing in the driveway watching Madi’s grandparents pull out when a delivery van pulled up. A middle-aged woman got out with a bouquet.

“Delivery for a Madison DeLuca,” she said, walking towards us.

Jenn pointed down to Madi, who was still in her jammies, even though it was now just past noon.

“Here you go, sweetie. A little something to brighten your day.”

Jenn plucked the note card out. The flowers were from Ginny and everyone at the Maritime office. It was a nice touch.

We both attempted to work the next day. I went over a few times to check on Jenn. As did my Mom. Clearly, Jenn was going through the paces and was barely putting one foot in front of the other.

That afternoon she had gotten a call from Mama O. with some details of the service for Dallas. The public affairs officer at the base was working closely with them to hammer out the details, but it appeared Saturday would be the day of the service. Since Dallas lost his life in the line of duty, it was expected that many people would attend the service, out of respect for his service, if nothing else. And it was turning out to be difficult to find a venue large enough on such short notice.

As I left the Maritime office to head back to my office from a mid-afternoon visit, I said on my way out, “Well, tonight then after work, we’ll go shopping and find you something.”

In the evening, while my parents watched Madi, Jenn insisted we look first at the thrift store to see if there was something she could wear on her budget. Her argument made sense. How many funerals does she plan on going to in the next few years? This was going to be a one and done purchase.

There was quite a collection of business pant suits, but none of them were of a style and color acceptable for a funeral, or if they were, they were the wrong size. Jenn kept trying and checking out different options, but nothing was working for her. While she kept looking, I went over to the girl’s section and found a cute dark navy sailor dress perfect for Madison. Not black, but it was respectful and honored her father’s position, I thought. I headed back to a frustrated Jenn.

“Aargh! There has to be something here that will work.”

“Nothing’s doing it for you, huh?”

“Yeah, I know what I want. I want something along the lines of a men’s suit but made for a woman. Like what that artist was wearing at the museum. I’ve thought about going over to the men’s section and trying on a suit or two, but I know the pants will be all wrong.” Jenn pointed to her hips. “I might not have a booty like yours, Whit, but my hips are still a mother’s hips. I have tried many pairs of men’s pants in the past and none of them work for me. They don’t feel right.”

“Jennifer, I have an idea, but you have to work with me here a bit. I think you will find stuff you like where I want to take you, but you’ll probably want to put it on my nickel. However, I think you will find you can use it more than once.” Jenn looked at the piles on top of the racks she had considered, then looked over to me and bowed her head.

“Ok, help me put this stuff away, and then we can go to your place.” She was rather quiet on the drive across town, but we pulled into the small plaza where in the middle was a store with a rainbow sign which simply said SUITS.

Jenn was looking around the place as we walked in. It looked like a 1920s haberdashery, somewhere Harry Truman would feel comfortable in, except that every manikin had hips and boobs.

“Evening, I’m Val. Can I help you?” A short, butch woman in a three-piece suit approached us.

“Yeah, my girlfriend says this is the place where I can get a suit for a funeral.”

“Oh bummer, I’m sorry for your loss. But you’ve come to the right place.” Val began pulling out different suits and laying them out on a table for Jenn to review. As my girl leaned over, her hair fell into her face. Of course, I swooned a bit as she tucked her hair behind her ear which Val also noticed.

“Wait, let me get a closer look.” Val came up and looked at the studs in her ear and the small loop at the bottom. “Do you always wear these earrings?”

“Um yeah, why?”

“I got the perfect thing for you, hang on.” We watched Val scurry over to a rack in the corner and pull out a dark gray suit. She carefully laid it out and stuck a white shirt in with it. A simple solid black crossover tie finished the ensemble. It was a three-piece suit, and if you looked carefully, you could see faint lines embroidered in the pattern of three dots, followed by a slightly larger loop. Exactly like Jenn’s ear jewelry.

Jenn tried it on, and it was perfect, it fit who she was. Especially the vest. It made it pop on her.

“Will need to do a few alterations. When do you need it?”

“The funeral is Saturday, over on the peninsula. Could we get it by Friday afternoon?”

Val thought the timeframe was tight but doable. She took a few more measurements, and I happily paid the bill. During the drive home, I keep thinking about Jenn in the suit. She is going to look so good in it. Plus, I think we can find another reason for her to wear it. Someday, if I’m lucky, that is.

I heard the familiar “kathunk” sound as we drove off the ferry heading to Port Angeles, this time with no excitement. We were silent the whole drive to where Dallas’ memorial was being held. As much as possible, I held my girl’s hand. It was good we got to the high school early. The parking lot was filled with representatives from both military and first responders from all over the region.

The high school gym was one of the few places they could find on such short notice to host this many people. Jennifer and Madison were quickly recognized and led to the front. We looked around the room and saw along the sides were several large pictures on easels of Dallas. There was the typical official head shot from his Coast Guard file. But my eyes were drawn to one of Dallas and Madison taken at the Father Daughter dance. Both of them looked so happy. I got up and walked over to one while we waited.

Unconsciously, my hand reached out and touched the picture. I saw an older man in a uniform come up to me.

“Delightful picture. How do you know Petty Officer Olinski?”

I don’t know the rank insignia well, our tug captains don’t wear uniforms. But judging by all the ribbons on his uniform and large number of braids on his sleeve, I could tell he was someone important. Then I saw the single star on his lapel and got an idea of who he was.

“This little girl lives with me. Her mommy is my girlfriend. I was lucky to meet Dallas on several occasions. He was a good man.”

“That he was, and he will be sorely missed. I think we had better get back up on the stage, they’re about to start.”

We found our seats. Madison was sitting between her grandma and Jenn. I held Jenn’s hand on one side and a bunch of tissues on the other. I looked around the room. There must be at least 500 people here. Most of the air station and support base were there, as well as many from neighboring stations as well. First responders of all types filled the gym.

One of his station mates sang a beautiful rendition of Amazing Grace and was followed by a eulogy from the Station’s commanding officer. He was followed by the pilot and commander of the crew Dallas served with. At the end, he addressed Madison.

“Miss Madison, I know nothing we do can replace your daddy. I know he loved you deeply. He talked about how when he was stationed in Hawaii, he got you a special doll for Christmas. I know the doll maker from when I was stationed there as well. I called him the other day, and he made something special, just for you.”

He reached into the lectern and pulled out a box. Carefully, he lifted a doll out of it. “Madison, this is a new doll that is going to join the line of dolls he makes. This one’s name is Dallas. He has a rescue swimmer’s outfit, complete with a safety helmet and flippers. He wanted you to have the very first one.”

Madison reached out and accepted the doll. I could see the Admiral I was talking to earlier wipe a tear from his eye. Many of the people in the room were doing the same. I sure did, as Madi gave her doll a hug.

“I don’t know if I can follow that,” the Admiral said, approaching the lectern a moment later. “Petty Officer Dallas Olinski loved his country, his family, and the United States Coast Guard. Like all our sailors, we know the challenges we might face when we sign up. Petty Officer Olinski was the model we hope all members of the Coast Guard strive to be.”

“It’s my privilege and honor to award Petty Officer Olinski with the Coast Guard Medal, the highest award we can give a service member who distinguishes themselves by heroism not involving conflict with an enemy. For the decoration to be awarded, an individual must have performed a voluntary act of heroism in the face of great personal danger or of such a magnitude that it stands out distinctly above normal expectations. Petty Officer Olinski met these requirements in spades. I shall now read the official citation.”

I watched him pick up a piece of paper, then pause and collect his thoughts for a moment.

“For heroism on the afternoon of 17 July, while assisting with medical evacuations from a stricken cruise ship in the Puget Sound. Petty Officer Third Class OLINSKI was informed of multiple crew members trapped in the engine compartment of the vessel. Upon arrival in the compartment, Petty Officer OLINSKI found the ship’s crew fighting an uncontrolled fire, unable to reach their injured shipmates. Without regard to his own safety, Petty Officer OLINSKI entered the burning engine compartment multiple times and brought six crew members to safety. Five of whom survived the fire because of the efforts of Petty Officer OLINSKI. During his rescue efforts, he suffered many third and fourth degree burns, which claimed his life the following day. Petty Officer OLINSKI’s courage, selflessness, and devotion to duty are most heartily commended and are in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Coast Guard.”

“On behalf of the Secretary of Homeland Security and the President of the United States, I award Petty Officer Third Class Dallas Olinksi with the Coast Guard Medal. Normally, if the recipient were with us, I would pin it to his or her uniform. And when the award is posthumous, it is presented to the next of kin, in this case his daughter, Madison. But today, if it’s okay with you Madison, may I pin it on your new doll?”

The Admiral left the podium and took a knee in front of Madi who had stood up from her chair. She held up her doll as the Admiral pinned the medal to its chest. A few claps and cheers broke the otherwise somber tone of the gathering.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I also received a call this morning from the Secretary of Homeland Security. As some of you might know, the Coast Guard signed a contract recently for the next generation of fast cutters. Until now, they were known as the Mark II Sentinel class Cutter. It has been the tradition of the US Coast Guard to name these vessels after heroic enlisted personnel. The secretary has informed me this morning he is going to recommend to the US Congress that this next class’s launch vessel will be named the USCGC Dallas Olinksi and the class will be the Olinski Class cutters.”

A thunderous applause erupted from the gymnasium. Looking down my row, I saw Dallas’ father get a big smile on his face and attempt to hold back some tears. A small token of appreciation during this time of grief.

Following the service, we hung around for a bit. All kinds of people wanted to express their condolences to the Olinskis, Madi, and to a lesser degree Jenn. All the attention was making Madi tired, and she was anxiously wanting to get into Jenn’s arms. Since Jenn was busy talking to one of Dallas’ crew mates, I scooped her up.

A moment later, the admiral came over.

“Well, Miss Madison, are you holding up over here?”

Madi rested her head on my shoulder and got shy.

“I think she is, but being around all the strange people is getting to her.” I tousled her hair and made sure Nani was getting along with the Dallas doll, both of which were securely fixed in her arms.

“Well, you hang in there, Miss Madison. I wish we could have met under different circumstances.” He gave Madi a final hand wave and then disappeared into the crowd.

We joined Madison’s grandparents for dinner at a local restaurant. Madi climbed into her grandpa’s lap while we waited for our food. The Olinskis were good people, people of simple means and big hearts.

“When will we next see you all?” Mama O. asked.

“I don’t know,” Jenn replied. “We’ll have to figure something out. I want to make sure Madi continues to have a connection with you. She needs family in her life, more than just me.”

“You both are always welcome to visit us, Jennifer.”

“And Whitney too.” Mr. Olinski chimed in.

“Thanks,” I said, and gave Jenn a side hug.

“I just wish there were others who would want to see us if we came back to Idaho.” The pain in Jenn’s voice made it evident to whom she was referring.

“I’m sorry about your mom, dear. We heard about what happened. What she did was not right.”

I could tell that Jenn was trying to hold back her tears.

“I can deal with her shutting me out. But her ignoring Madison as well pains me. I can’t change who I am, and if she wants to be mad at me about it, fine. But she should be here to support her only grandchild.”

I caught a glimpse of Madison as I pulled her to me, and she buried her face against my shoulder. Muffled sobs poured from her. She was letting go of months of frustration.

“I love you, babe,” I whispered in her ear. “We’re here for you.” It frustrated me that there was not much more I could really do. But just being present for her was the best thing I could do.

“Thanks.” Jenn wiped the dampness from her eyes as Mr. Olinski handed her a tissue.

“Stuck a few of these in my pocket this morning,” he said wryly.

It took her a few minutes, but Jenn collected herself and held my hand. The conversation moved on from Jenn’s mom, and I got a bit of a grilling about what I did. I think Grandpa was looking out for Madi and indirectly Jenn, to make sure his girls, as he called them, were taken care of.

“Now Grandpa, they’re grown women. They can take care of themselves. And I know our Madison is in excellent hands, aren’t you, dear?”

“Don’t worry, Whitney will look after Madi and me. She is good at that.” Jenn rested her head on my shoulder a moment and batted her eyelashes at me.

They asked Jennifer if there was anything Dallas had she might want to keep for Madison someday. She didn’t think there might be much, maybe a picture or two, or perhaps a uniform. A few days later, a box arrived at Jenn’s desk. Inside was Dallas’s dress uniform, his life insurance paperwork naming Madison his beneficiary, and a crayon drawing of Madison holding hands with both Dallas and Jennifer. I was on the other side of Jenn, holding her other hand. A portrait of her family. We went that night to the store and found a nice frame for it. The following morning it was proudly on Jenn’s desk at work.

With the assistance of a tax attorney from my old office, we set up a trust for Madison with the proceeds of Dallas’ life insurance. Like mine, she couldn’t access it until she was 27, but it could be used before then to pay for college, or to put as a down payment on a house, if it wasn’t needed before to help raise her.Jennifer

It started about two weeks after the funeral. Frankly, I’m surprised it took this long to happen. I didn’t recall Whit getting out of bed, but her doing so is probably what shook me out of my deep sleep. It must have been the latter part of the night, as that’s when I’m in my deepest sleep. I could see Whit’s pillow, and the usual lavender scented pile of brunette goodness was missing.

Looking around the room, I could see the bathroom door was open with the light off. So, she wasn’t there. Slipping out of bed, I made my way down the hall. I could hear faint humming coming from Madison’s room.

Peeking through the door, there was Whitney, with a sleeping Madison in her lap. She was rocking her back and forth on the edge of the bed. A quick gesture from her told me to keep quiet. Leaning against the doorjamb, I marveled at how much Whitney cared for my daughter and how comfortable Madison was with Whit that she could be comforted by her so easily.

A pale moonbeam illuminated the bed and guided Whitney as she eventually tucked Madison back into bed. We were so quiet, tiptoeing out of the room that neither Madison nor Skipper, who was curled up at the foot of her bed, stirred as we left.

“Thanks,” I said as we climbed back into our bed. “What happened?”

“Madison screamed out in terror. I was half awake, but you were dead to the world. Poor thing was having a nightmare.”

“I sort of figured that’s what happened. I should look into some counseling for her. The first day I picked her up from preschool after the funeral, Paster Sara was waiting for me and gave me some names of some counselors who specialize in childhood trauma.”

Whit bobbed her head ever so slightly and gave me an understanding and reassuring smile. “And?”

“I looked a couple of them up. One had some videos on their site about how they work with young children. Sounds like most of what they do is to help those who are recovering from their parents’ divorcing or sexual assault. I emailed them, and they said they can help Madison as well. And I’m encouraged to be in the first sessions, which, honestly, will make me more comfortable.”

“When does she start?”

“Next week, Tuesday.”

“So, Madison, would you like to keep playing with the toys? I’d like to talk to your mommy for a few minutes.”

“Yes.” She continued with the police officer action figure and helicopter. They were props her new councilor, Dr. Prahalla, had been using with her.

“Thanks for bringing in Madison. Sounds like the two of you have been through a lot in the last year,” Dr. P. said.

Biting my cheek, I squinted a moment. “Yeah, there have been some moments. Some were good too, but it’s been, um, eventful.”

“More than her father passing and having her apartment blown up?”

“Those were some of the low moments. But there’ve been some good ones too. She’s also seen her mom fall in love, and we’ve done some fun things with my girlfriend and her family.”

“Girlfriend? Is she okay with her mom being gay?”

“I think so. She has said nothing or asked questions other than when we first started dating. She’s gone with the flow. Plus, she’s gotten attached to Whitney. And it’s Whitney that’s been calming her at night when she wakes up screaming. Whit’s taken it upon herself to comfort her in the middle of the night. Some of it’s due to it happening when she’s more awake than I, but I think she secretly likes the bonding time with Madi. Makes her feel more like a mom.”

“Sounds like an excellent partner.”

“Yeah, Whitney’s the best. I can’t imagine doing life without her now. And her folks love Madison to death as well.”

“So it sounds like she’s done stuff with your partner’s family?”

I murmured in an affirmative.

“What about yours?”

“Madi was there when I came out to my mom. That didn’t go so well. Even though I’ve tried to call her or text her since then, she’s been ignoring me for months now. Didn’t hear a peep from her when Dallas died.”

“Uff. That’s tough. Have you considered counseling on your own? Most people would benefit from talking things out.”

“Yeah, I haven’t gotten to it yet. Not sure where to go.”

“Well, if you need a referral, I know some good ones.”

It was about an hour after we got home when Whitney arrived from work. I had dinner going and Madison was up playing in her room.

“Hi Honey!”

“Hey Babe, yum, dinner smells good.”

I got a quick kiss. She looked sexier than fuck in her tight jeans, blouse, and blazer.

“So how did it go?”

“Good, a lot of getting Madison comfortable with the environment. Dr. P. does everything for kids this age as playtime and games.”

“Did anything big come out of the session?”

“No, and Dr. P. didn’t expect any this time. Probably it will be a few sessions before anything noticeable happens. But I got a referral to another therapist for me to visit. She is also in the same building. I have an appointment for tomorrow morning.”

“Wow, that’s quick.”

“There was some sort of cancelation that opened up a session.” I picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the contents of the pot simmering on the stove.

“Well, I’ll be interested in hearing how it goes.”

A hand came to rest on the small of my back. I looked up from the pot and found the gaze of my best friend smiling at me. Putting the spoon down, I wrapped my arms around her neck. My lips reached out and found hers. I don’t think we were going on for long when the pitter patter of little feet could be heard coming down the stairs.

“Mommy I’m hungry. When’s一 Miss Whitney, are you kissing Mommy again?”

We quickly untangled ourselves.

“Nope Munchkin, this time it was your mommy kissing me.”

I watched a pair of eyes roll at my girl and me.

“So, how long till dinner Mommy?”

“Soon, pumpkin, soon.” I looked back at Whit, and we both had a giggle.

“So, what was going through your mind when you were crouched in your kitchen?” My new therapist, Dr. Kirkpatrick’s eyes were focused on me. How she kept track of everything, while not taking any notes, amazed me.

“Two things, I was scared trying to keep Madison safe and thankful Whitney was there with me.”

“Whitney again?” I heard her murmur. She lifted her head and asked me, “Were you scared for her as well? For Whitney?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Tell me more.”

“Because I love her. And I didn’t want to lose her.” The answer rolled off my tongue so easily.

“But you told me you had broken up for a while. That you found her frustrating. Is that right?

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. The chair wasn’t uncomfortable; I was. And I wasn’t sure why.

“She does一” I looked over at a potted plant, then back at Dr. Kirkpatrick. “一no did. Actually, she has gotten a lot better.” My mind raced as I processed. Were we doing better? I asked myself. I pondered it a moment and concluded we were better. A lot better.

“How so?”

“Like seeking my opinion on things, such as what we want to do, or, for example, when Skipper, that’s her cat, shredded a houseplant the other week she waited, and we picked out a new plant together. Frankly, since I moved in, I don’t think there have been any decisions made where we were not both involved.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

Here I had to stop and think. How did it make me feel? Not once since I moved in did Whit surprise me. Plus, there was no ‘this is how we do it here’ kind of thing.

“Jennifer? How do Whitney’s actions make you feel?”

“I’m thinking.” I sat there for a moment to get the right word. “Respected, I think. Valued? Loved for sure.”

The sound of soft chimes rang in the room’s corner.

“Unfortunately, Jennifer, that’s the signal to remind us our time today is drawing to a close.

“Wow, that went fast. I thought we were going to spend more time talking about the explosion or Dallas or something. Not so much Whitney.”

“You kept circling back to her, so I figured it was important to you to unpack your relationship. You pointed the light into that corner of the room. I simply helped you open the boxes and unpack them.”