by Glen Tate
Lisa didn’t care about political nonsense from over 200 years ago like “lives, fortune, and sacred honor.” All she cared about was having a husband, and her kids having a father. She genuinely cared about Grant. She wanted him to live. To not get maimed. To not be crazy from all the violence he would see. And all the violence he would commit. She wanted a normal husband and normal family. Was that asking so much?
Maybe not from the majority of men. Most men in America were trying to get by with as little risk as possible. But for Grant—who had these useful skills, had extensively prepared for this, and had the Team, the people at Pierce Point, and the trust of Ted—it was asking a lot of him to just try to get by with as little risk as possible.
Grant was different. He didn’t want to be. He just accepted that he was. So if Lisa had married a normal guy, it wouldn’t be asking much.
“Daddy!” Cole said. “How was your day?” he asked, practicing his social questions. He was grinning from ear to ear. His dad was home. Safe and at home.
Lisa looked at Grant and smiled her warmest, happiest smile ever. Lisa and the kids were so perfect. So wonderful.
Might as well enjoy them all I can, Grant thought.
“I had a good day,” Grant said, lying. The day you decide to commit treason and sign up with a guerilla unit is not a “good day,” even if it needed to be done.
“How was your day, lil’ buddy?” Grant asked.
“Super,” Cole said. “Sissy and I went to the beach and dug clams. We got lots of them and Grandma made soup,” he said with a smile. That must be the great smell in the cabin: clam chowder.
“Cole was talking up a storm today,” Manda said. She told Grant all the new things Cole had said that day. It was amazing. He was doing so well out there. He might be the only person thriving in these conditions.
Grant was so happy. For a little while, right then he wasn’t thinking about war or killing or losing everything. Instead, he was thinking about the new words Cole was saying.
“Were you a good boy today?” Grant asked Cole.
“Roger that,” Cole said.
What? Did Cole just say that? They’d never heard him say that. Autistic kids weren’t supposed to be able to spontaneously say figures of speech.
Everyone burst into joyous laughter. Cole had just said slang!
“Where did you learn that?” Grant asked Cole, knowing the answer.
“You and the Team,” Cole said. “The men with guns who protect us.”
Grant started to cry. It was happy crying. Cole had just summed up exactly why Grant was doing all this. An autistic kid who supposedly couldn’t talk had just said it all.
- End Book 5 -
