The gathering around Aunt Helen's formal dining room table was less than welcoming. Uncle Henry was 'working late'. The pseudonym Kermit's aunt used instead of saying he had stopped off at the local bar on his way home. Kermit envied Uncle Henry.

Observing her rules, they had dressed for dinner. Lynn, Aunt Helen's fifteen-year-old daughter, sat primly at her mother's right with the ten-year-old Jake between Lynn and David. Paul Blaisdell, seated to the left of his hostess, could feel Jake kicking David under the table.

*Draw back and knock the hell out of the little bastard, David,* Paul thought as David's face began to turn red with restraint. The tension was unbearable. Marilyn sat beside her older brother. Trying to be polite and nice.

Kermit presented an eerily calm facade. Pointedly ignoring his aunt's third request that he remove his sunglasses at the dinner table.

Aunt Helen soon tired of his insolence and attempted to begin a tangible discussion. "Kermit, one of your old high school friends is back home. Benjy Latham. He's living with his parents now."

Benjy and Kermit had played high school football together. Chased girls and gotten sick on liquor when they were underage. Benjy had gotten his letter from Uncle Sam a few months earlier than Kermit. "Finish his tour or was he wounded?" Kermit knew it didn't matter. Most of the wounds he and his friends would carry were of the psychic variety. Unseen and misunderstood.

"Well," Aunt Helen continued as she leaned over the table in a gesture of secrecy, "Benjy was wounded but he was...a little confused. Had to be put away for a while."

*Put away?* Like old clothes nobody wore any more. Box them up where they won't offend anyone. Embarrass anyone. Kermit rose quickly and left the table.

"Kermit! You don't have-"

"Permission to leave, Aunt Helen?" Marilyn shot back as her chair clattered to the floor. "He has all the permission he needs!" She raced out of the room after her brother.

Aunt Helen was livid at the defiance. David squirmed uncomfortably. He wanted to follow his siblings but he also wanted to avoid a conflict with his new guardian. The cousins grinned. Paul Blaisdell fumed.

"Well, that tears it, Mr. Blaisdell. That boy is doing nothing but causing trouble here and I will not allow-"

"You won't allow what, lady? You won't allow anyone to have any pain that you don't understand?! 'Put away'??!! What could you have been thinking? That boy...excuse me...that MAN in there has been through hell and he still has more guts and heart than anyone I've ever known." Paul was angry. Angry at her ignorance and indifference.

"I don't care what you think, Mr. Blaisdell. My sister cared for you, but I do not. My husband and I have taken these two children into our home-" David, unable to bear it any longer, ducked out, also not asking for permission, "-and I will NOT have that sullen nephew of mine causing any more unrest." Aunt Helen straightened her blouse in a symbol of her control over her environment. "You would think he'd be grateful that I was willing to deal with them and take them off his hands."

Paul rose deliberately and quietly. Before he left to search for the broken young man in his charge, he whispered a threat. "Lady, and I use the term loosely, if you hurt those two children Maggie left in your care, I'll turn HIM loose on you and that sloppy drunk you call a husband!"

*****

Marilyn found him exactly where she knew she would. Outside. The formality of Aunt Helen's house seemed to press down on him. Their mother's house had been filled with light. Open windows, bright colors, and curves. Everything here seemed sharp and harsh. Daring you to touch it. She preferred the great outdoors as well.

"Kermit?" Marilyn timidly announced herself.

Kermit smiled and motioned her over to sit beside him. He had found a safe spot to hide on the large wooden swing hanging from a backyard oak tree. "I suppose I've been excommunicated from Auntie dear's table?"

"Her cooking stinks, anyway."

For a few moments, they sat in silence. Swinging lightly back and forth. Trying to make routine and rhythm where there was none. Finally, Marilyn spoke. "I went to see Benjy. He didn't even know I was there. His mother said he was still on medication. I just thought he might like to have a little company so I took a book and read to him for a while."

"That was nice. He could probably use some kindness." It was just like his sister to offer her warmth to someone in pain. He could feel it now. Trying to turn the focus back on her, he asked, "Are you okay? I mean, how is she treating you? You sounded pretty miserable in your letter."

"Oh, that. Don't worry. That was just the adjustment period." She was covering. Badly, but trying. "It's not like home. Like Mother. But it's a nice home and we have each other. Don't worry about us. I'll take care of David."

Wrapping his strong arm around her, he said, "Looks like you've been doing that already, baby sister. Time for you to lean on me for a while." He looked down as the sound of a painful sob squeezed out of the teenaged body in his arms. "Hey. What's all this?"

The sobs and tears flowed more freely. "I've missed you so much. I miss Mom and Dad. David is a mess and I don't know how to do all this, Kermit. I'm sorry to lay all of this on you, but...but...."

"Hey...you're just a kid yourself. I'm back now so just let go and I'll take over. Okay?"

Paul watched silently from the back door. Trying to leave them the privacy to comfort each other. *Honey, he can't even take care of himself right now....*

David scampered up to them and, mindful of his brother's warning, slowed down upon his arrival before clambering up between his brother and sister. "Hey, sport," Kermit greeted. "You bugged out, too?"

"Kermit, what's 'been through hell' mean?" David asked.

Paul hid his face in his hands. He'd forgotten what 'parrots' children were. Never lose your temper with one in the room.

"Where'd you hear THAT?"

"Mr. Blydell." David was too young to remember Paul clearly.

"Blaisdell," corrected Kermit abstractly. "Did he say that just now? Well, never mind. It doesn't matter. Just forget it, okay, squirt?" He rubbed David's hair affectionately. He looked at Marilyn, begging her silently to forget it, too. "Look, I'm back now, so there's going to have to be a lot of changes-"

"Anything's better than creepy Aunt Helen," David grimaced. "She looks just like Herman Munster - only not as nice."

Kermit and Marilyn exchanged grins over David's head as Kermit poked him in the side. "I hope you didn't say that to her."

"I'm not stupid!" David said, insulted. To Paul, he sounded exactly like Kermit.

"You said there are going to be changes?" asked Marilyn, anxious to get the topic back on track. She had had NO idea of what to do to get out of this dilemma but Kermit seemed to have an idea and she wanted to know.

"I have to work some of the bugs out," Kermit told her, "but I think it's workable. In the meantime, we're all going to have to put on the performance of our lives. We're going to have to do the impossible: go in there and be polite no matter what she says."

David spoke for all of them. "That's what we've BEEN doing!"

"I know, but we have to keep on doing it," Kermit said. "I hate it, too, sport. But it's necessary to...." he lowered his voice menacingly, "...the PLAN." Smiling, he looked up at Marilyn. "You guys have to trust me. And don't worry, okay?"

Marilyn smiled back, already feeling better. Kermit had a plan. She was hopeful - it was evident on her face. "We can do it, can't we, David?"

"Depends." David still wasn't happy. "What do we have to do?"

"You're not going to like it," Kermit warned. "We're going to have to go in there and apologize for spoiling Aunt Helen's dinner." Marilyn and David both stared at them, amazed that he'd even suggest such a thing. "Trust me," Kermit wheedled. "We need to get into her good graces...so that I can borrow her car."

"Coooolllll!" David said. He was feeling better already. "Then where do we go?"

"Not 'we', Davey-boy, ME. I'll be going into town. To find a place to live and a place to work," Kermit told him. "It'll get our lives back on track. Then, you and Marilyn will have to study hard to get good grades so you can earn scholarships and get out of the house early. And that's only the beginning...."

Paul listened critically. Kermit was telling them all the right things. So why did that make him feel so nervous?

"Kermit," Marilyn said, a little bashful. "I have something for you." She reached into her sweater pocket, pulled out a folded envelope and gave it to him.

Puzzled, he examined the blank face of the envelope. "What is it? Who's it from?"

"Mom."

*****

"His mother???" Savannah gasped. "What did it say?"

"I have no idea," Paul confessed. "He's never told me. He locked it away - he probably still has it but I have no idea where it might be."

Savannah inclined her head slightly toward the bedroom. "I'd better check on them," she said. "Be right back."

She rose from her chair and walked softly down the hall. Slipping into the bedroom silently, perusing her dozing family, she noticed that the t.v. was blaring to an unconscious audience. Kat had plastered herself to her father's side as she slept. Kermit had a protective arm around his daughter as he dozed. Just as Savannah reached over to turn off the t.v., her husband opened his eyes and looked at his wife. They smiled a sharing smile at each other and then, Kermit pointed to the closet. Savannah frowned in confusion and he pointed again.

After turning the t.v. off, she gave a little mental shrug, silently slid open the closet door and turned to her sleepy husband for more instructions. Kermit's eyes lowered to the small chest of drawers he never opened in front of her. He had told her it was a family heirloom and that he kept all of the important documents there. His will, power of attorney for Marilyn's house, guardianship agreement for Marilyn's kids and the like. Savannah knew where the key was - he had shown her for 'just in case.' But she didn't want to see what was encased inside, just all of the papers implied a tragedy to come and she was just as content to not pry. But Kermit was nodding his head ever so slightly.

Almost reluctantly, she pried the key out of its hiding place in the wall and opened the delicate lock. She opened the cover and, at Kermit's subtle gesturing, opened the left cubbyhole and took out the sheath of papers inside.

She looked at Kermit, silently pleading with him. She loved him and knew he loved and trusted her. But this...this was sacred. 'Are you sure?' was written in every fibre of her body.

Kermit, with his free hand, stretched his hand toward her. She came closer. He stroked her cheek and, reaching blindly in the stack of papers, pulled out one and placed it on top.

Savannah looked down to see beautiful, flowing cursive, a bit shaky in parts, but understandable.

Dearest Son,

If you are reading this letter, then it is a time of great joy for our family. You must finally be safe and home but my heart breaks that I couldn't hold onto my life long enough to hold you once more in my arms.

When we learned that you had been captured, it was a blow beyond words. The thought of you alone and in pain filled my dreams. Paul let me know that he would reach you if it took his last breath. I could read the love in his words, Kermit. Please turn to him when you need the guidance of a father. It will give me great comfort to know that you have someone to rely on, even if it can no longer be my heart that offers you shelter.

Marilyn and David will need you but do not give up YOUR life to be their parent. Your Aunt Helen will provide their physical needs. What you must do, dear son, is give them your heart. You cannot be their father but you can be their guide. Go out and find a life for yourself and be happy. That is the one gift that you can give to me.

You were always my 'whirlwind' child. Not a meek bone in your body. Quiet and observant then swift and decisive. All that bluster to protect others - and yourself. I worry that you guard that passionate heart so well, that once it's opened to the world, it will be vulnerable from inexperience. Be careful, dear heart. Give yourself wisely. Wait for that special woman who can share your love, not just take it from you.

Don't grieve long for me, Kermit. Remember me as the mother who loved you like no other. Remember the afternoons spent walking in the woods and telling stories. Remember that you were my first born. My teacher as well as student. And you filled my life with joy.

I'm not sure what the afterlife will be like, but I do know that even death can't keep me from watching over you. When you are lost or lonely, think of me and I'll be there with you. When you find that special woman to share your life with, picture me smiling down on you and your bride. When you hold your child, feel my love hold you both.

The only request I have of you, Kermit, is that you never forget who you are. You are a good man. A son who made his mother proud. No matter what this world sees fit to throw at you, hold onto who you are and what you know is right. The rest will take care of itself.

All my love,
Mother

Savannah was fighting her tears. For Kermit and Maggie Griffin. How she wished she could have known her! Savannah glanced at Kermit. It was obvious he had heard everything that she and Paul had been talking about; his homecoming, his problems, his fear for his sanity. She took his hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

Kermit sighed. "I haven't thought about that letter for years," he admitted in the barest whisper, in order to not wake Kat. "Now, I know why. I failed her so badly...."

Savannah had to stifle her gasp of horror. "You did not!" she whispered back fiercely. "You are everything she said you were!"

"I forgot what she asked me to do," he admitted painfully. "God...why didn't I keep that letter closer to me? So that I would do as she asked?" There were tears in his eyes now but he refused to shed them. "I didn't go out there and find a life for myself. I wasn't happy. I didn't give myself wisely. I forgot who I was and didn't hold on to what I was-"

"Stop that!" Savannah hissed as Kat stirred in Kermit's arms. "Just STOP. Listen to me....Are you happy now?"

Looking at Kat and back at Savannah, Kermit squeezed her hand. "Of course. Now."

Savannah leaned forward to nuzzle his neck as he wrapped an arm around her. "You dear, sweet man," she whispered, "you won't believe that you're special even when you hear it from your own mother?? You're everything she said; passionate, quiet, observant, decisive, 'a whirlwind'...." Savannah smiled. "So what if you got a little lost along the way? You're here NOW - and you're such a good man....She would be so proud of you!"

Kermit buried his head in her neck as she held him. "I finally found that special woman, Mother....you'd love her, too."

Savannah wiped her tears away. Somehow, she could feel and sense that Maggie Griffin would be smiling. "I love you," Savannah whispered in her behalf. "I love you."

She held him as his eyes closed once more and fell asleep in her arms. Carefully, she put a hand on his forehead. It was much cooler, but there was little doubt that he still felt weak from the fever. But, thanks to the orange juice, cold tablets and all the sleep he was getting, the worst seemed to be over.

She tiptoed from the bedroom and rejoined Paul. "So," she said, keeping the letter private, "something must have happened. What was it? Sounds like Kermit had everything under control."

"Oh, he had. Almost," Paul corrected. "He asked me for a loan to get started, got two jobs and worked like a dog. He paid me back first thing, despite my objections, and saved the rest, knowing each penny he put away led to a better future for his brother and sister. His aunt was just happy that Kermit didn't want to live with her and let him come over to see them all the time. But he forgot one crucial element. Himself and the programming inside him. He was like a pressure cooker. One false move and blam! He would explode. And he did." Paul sighed sadly. "To hear about it, it wasn't a pretty sight."

"How long did it take?" Savannah asked, clasping her hands in sympathy.

"About six or seven months."

*****

"Oh, Kermit, you are such a dear." Mrs. Buckley patted his arm in thanks. Frail and gentle, she was your classic little old lady. Light blue tint to her hair and white patent leather purse on her arm. Driving an extremely large DeSoto from another era.

Kermit deftly held her overflowing bag of groceries and opened her car door. "Any time, Mrs. Buckley." Grinning warmly at her, he added as she arranged herself behind the wheel, "Consider it partial repayment for all those baseballs I knocked through your window."

Mrs. Buckley smiled at the young man. She remembered those baseballs, too. And the times he cut her yard for free and the times he climbed up her oak tree to fetch her cat. "Paid in full, dear. Why don't you and that precious brother and sister come by for dinner on Friday?"

"We'd be delighted." They could use a night out, even if it was just a dinner at a little old ladies' house. A newly forming scene caught Kermit's attention across the parking lot as Mrs. Buckley drove away.

Two loud-mouthed jerks he remembered from high school. Donny and Blake. Donny was leaning on Mrs. Latham's wood-paneled station wagon. Blake had his hand stuck through the window. Tormenting a catatonic Benjy Latham and gleaning a great deal of pleasure at his lack of response.

"Some trained killer, huh, Donny?" Blake taunted as he rifled his hand through Benjie's hair. His victim merely sat. Vision fixed on nothing. Mind a blessed blank with all the horror wiped clean.

"Maybe he's on one of those LSD flashbacks." Leaning down into the young man's ear, Donny yelled, "All you guys were dope heads, right, Benj?! Bad trip maybe?!"

Kermit had tried to visit Benjy. Tried to reach his boyhood friend as they sat in the Latham's backyard. All Benjy could do now was exist. Even the control over wakefulness and sleep was denied to the broken young man. Benjy would stare into a scene only he could see for sometimes days at a time until he literally passed out.

Kermit understood the subconscious motivation. In country, G.I.'s feared the night. Feared sleep. That's when the V.C. roamed the jungle, aching to find a dozing soldier to slice. They ruled the night. Benjy fought sleep like a demon. The only victory left to him.

The dark circles under his friend's eyes pulled Kermit across the parking lot to his side. His brother in arms. "Maybe I should just send you on a bad trip to the hospital, you little shit." He stood defiantly on the sidewalk, keeping a discreet distance from the two. *Don't hurt them...don't do it....* All he wanted was to make them leave. "Maybe you might understand if you'd had the guts to see what it was like."

Facing his high school rival, Donny kept his hand on Benjy's unresponsive head. "So, it's the other town hero. Or maybe you're just as nuts as good ole Benjy. Ain't that right Benj?!" Giving his head a shove, Donny leaned away from his target and focused on the next one.

Blake moved in behind as Kermit approached Donny and his smart mouth. Caution had drained away from Kermit's being. The desire to restrain fading with each step.

"Kermit! Let it go!" Mrs. Latham had seen the building storm and rushed out of the grocery store and to her son. Cursing herself for leaving Benjy alone in the car.

Her words fell on deaf ears. "Why don't you stop picking on sick people and crawl back under your mama's skirt? You, too, Blake." They were becoming VC in Kermit's twisted memory. Cruel, sadistic bastards who could find humor in tormenting a mentally broken man.

Donny shot back, "You been wanting a piece of me since-"

"Since the last time I kicked your ass in high school, Donny-boy?"

Blake squared himself for a fight. Unbeknownst to him, one he had no chance to win. "Big talk from a guy who spends all his time shopping and doing laundry. Maybe tonight while you're busy, I could pay that prissy sister of yours a visit." As he reached out to provoke his adversary with a fist to his shoulder, a doomed Blake added, "She oughta be just about ripe by now."

The world spun in slow motion. As if Blake's hand flicked an invisible switch. *Kill him....* Kermit broke his wrist with one twist. Revelling as the bones crushed within his grip. Blake crumpled to the ground as Kermit jerked his knee upward to break his jaw. Casually, he flung him to the ground and kicked in his ribs as Donny leaped onto his back.

Red hot fury blinded the man behind the dark glasses. With the reflexes of a frenzied animal, Kermit methodically set out to destroy his prey. That was what the two men were at this moment. The objects of a brutal killer who contained a vicious blood lust beyond their comprehension.

Grabbing Donny's arms from around his neck, Kermit bent forward and used the young man's own momentum to fling him over his head and slam him onto the hood of a car. *Kill him....* Blake screamed his agony, lying in the street, blinded by his own blood as Donny kicked out at his crazied attacker. A near-fatal mistake - a hand caught the leg, used it to twist the body over and a crippling punch landed in his ribs. Donny lay stretched atop the hood of the car. Body seizing from the trauma to his nervous system. The trained assassin held his victim's head between his hands and began to pound it onto the metal body of the vehicle. Banging the stunned man into oblivion.

Kermit couldn't stop. The boy who grew up here no longer existed. The control he'd fought for day and night dripped away with that bully's blood onto the street. Desperate desire to kill pounded in his ears as he slammed the bully's head repeatedly to the hood. The screams of frightened bystanders couldn't penetrate his swirling rage. Sirens never penetrated the wall of anger and rage. Deadly urges that were part of him now.

The icy blow of a nightstick was finally able to disconnect the killer from the man. Blackness was his only rescue.

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