Princess Comes Home — The Conclusion

After speaking with the neighbor of Billy and Sally Stevens, it seemed as though I didn’t really have a lot to go on.

But at least I had a starting place.

“Well thank you very much ma’am. You’ve been very helpful. If you don’t mind and Princess is willing, I think I’ll keep her with me for awhile.”

“I think she’d like that,” the woman replied. She leaned down and stroked the dog’s back.

“You be good for Mr. James Princess.”

Princess chuffed and nuzzled the woman’s hand and I turned and headed back to the car. I’d only taken five or ten steps when Princess fell in pace alongside of me. I looked down at her and grinned.

“It’s the Twinkies and the Slim Jims right?”

When Princess barked I couldn’t help but laugh.

The two of us headed out the next morning. For most of the night I’d been churning on an idea. So Doug Stevens joined the Marines eight years ago and was reported MIA. As far as I was concerned, missing was supposed to be a far cry from dead.

Although in war, and in government-speak sometimes missing in action is just a precursor to the final words — killed in action.

Still, I was going on the assumption that Doug was alive. Seeing as how I was only a stones throw away from Hampton Virginia I thought I’d try my hand at getting some information on Doug.

It would take some digging, but I was still on speaking terms with a couple of people at the VA hospital. Apparently I’d created a lot of buzz after that expose I did on the terrible health care conditions for vets hit the streets.

Well, it was what it was. I didn’t make the shit up. I just broke the story.

I looked up a buddy of mine in records. In fact, caught him at his favorite coffee shop on his way in to work.

“Uh, shit James,” he growled, “you got a lot of balls showing your face around here.”

I didn’t say we were that close. Come on folks.

“So listen up Simpson, I need your magic fingers to do me a solid.”

“You know I hate that fucking alias you gave me. What’s in it for me?”

“Oh let’s just say the name that wasn’t mentioned in the piece I did on the VA will be the same name I bury this time as well.”

“Are you trying to extort my ass?”

“I don’t know. Is it working?”

Simpson nodded his head, sighed and took a sip of his latte. He looked at me then held up a single finger.

“Just this once asshole, then I’m going to forget I ever heard your name and you better by God forget mine. Deal?”

I knew better than to think of sealing the pact with handshake. Instead I wrote Doug Stevens, Marines, 2011, MIA and my cell number on his coffee napkin and walked out.

Princess and I hung out in a Hampton Virginia motel room until my cell phone rang the afternoon of day two.

“This is Henry.”

“Alright here’s the deal.”

“Well hello Homer. So good of you to call.”

“Just shut the fuck up and listen James. The dude you’re asking about was originally reported MIA around Falujah. All the other squad members with him were either killed or captured, but everyone was eventually accounted for. Everybody except him. Two years later A recon squad found his ass. He was wandering around in a fucking village dressed up like a towel head. The locals took care of his wounds, but he was still fucked up pretty bad in the head. They brought him back here but he didn’t have a clue who he was. The doctors said he suffered from PTSD related amnesia. Said he may never get his memory back.”

“And?”

“Goddammit isn’t that enough?”

“You know me Homer. Is it ever enough?”

“This is the last time James. The last fucking time.”

“And?”

“So the doctors thought maybe if they sent him home it would help, but then they found out…”

“His parents had been killed in a car accident,” I replied.

“How’d you know that?”

“Doesn’t matter. So where is Doug Stevens living now?”

“I’ve got an address, but hell it’s old. There’s no guarantee he lives there now.”

“I’m guessing it’s not too far from a VA hospital right?”

“Again, how the hell did you know that?”

“Elementary my dear Watson.”

“You are such a dick. You know that James?”

“I know, give me the address.”

I was right about the address. By car it was only about an hour’s drive from the VA hospital which had taken care of Doug. So me and Princess took a drive that day and we found the tiny garden home with little problem. It appeared as if someone lived there. The lawn was immaculate, and whoever lived there seemed fastidiously intent on upkeep and routine maintenance. I got out of the car then leaned in the open window on the passenger’s side.

“Okay Princess, stay here for just a bit. We may be chasing a wild goose on this one.”

When the dog chuffed and curled up in the seat I gave her a pat on the head and walked to the front door. I saw the door bell, but instead pulled open the screen and gave the wooden door a few solid raps.

I stepped back, folded my hands in front of me and waited. I heard a few boards creak from inside the house and the next instant the wooden door swung open. I stared at the man behind the screen and waited.

“What do you want?”

“Mr. Stevens?”

“So they tell me.”

“Sir my name is Henry James and you don’t know me from Adam, but I’ve been to your home town and seen where you and your parents lived. I’ve also got something which belongs to you and I brought it here with me today.”

“James is it?”

I nod.

“Yes sir.”

“Just so you know, I don’t remember anything from my past. Sometimes I think I do, I mean sometimes I see bits and pieces but nothing makes any sense. The doctors tell me I may not ever remember. It’s like I’ve lost my soul. Does that make any sense?”

Again I nod.

“Yes sir, makes perfect sense. If you’ll just step out on the porch I think I, well I think she, may be able to help with that just a little bit.”

“She?”

“Yes sir, come on out on the porch and let me get her.”

I turned and walked the short distance to my car, then reached in and petted Princess. She raised her head and was about to lay back down when I opened the door.

“Come on girl I’ve got someone you need to meet.”

Princess was three steps down from the car when she spotted the man standing on the porch. I’ve seen her run once before, but man, never as fast as she did that day. Before I could blink she was up the stairs and had her paws wrapped around the man’s chest. She was barking, but from where I stood it almost sounded as if Princess was crying. She kept her forearms around the man and began frantically licking his face.

I watched the man crumple to his porch and continue to hug and pet the animal as Princess ringed him excitedly.

I stopped at the foot of the stairs and grinned at Doug Stevens. He had a look of confusion on his face, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s her name?” He asked me.

“Princess. Ring a bell?”

Doug shook his head.

“No, can’t say that it does. I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

“Trust me Mr. Stevens, Princess knows you very well. When you stop to think about it that’s all that counts. I really need to be on my way now. You think you can handle her?”

“I think we’re going to be fine. So what do I owe you?”

I shook my head.

“You don’t owe me a thing Mr. Stevens. Just being able to pal around with your dog for a couple of days is payment enough.”

I walked away and got in my car. When I gazed at the porch Doug Stevens was still playing with his childhood pet, a sweet, trusting dog that had spent the last eight years of her life waiting for her companion to come home. I told myself things probably hadn’t turned out the way she’d planned, but from where I sat it looked like the results ended up the same.

Instead of Doug coming home to her, Princess found her way home to him.

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