Authors: Catherine Mann
Bobby
pulled
his
hands
free
and
clasped
them
between
his
knees,
leaning
forward.
“Then
there
are
the choices
we
make
as
adults.
Shechose
to
shoot
up
while
she
was
pregnant.” Grace
Marie
could
envision
the
hellish
scenario
too
easily
and
wanted
to
find
the
woman
and
kick
her
ass seven
ways
to
Sunday.
The
image
of
Bobby
as
a
baby
going
through
withdrawal
stabbed
at
her
heart
so hard
she
almost
doubled
over
in
pain.
Only
years
of
professional
training
enabled
her
to
keep
some semblance
of
control.
Silence
seemed
the
best
course
of
action.
Let
him
take
the
lead.
Bobby
shook
his
head
as
if
ridding
himself
of
the
dirt.
“Anyhow,
we
were
talking
about
my
mostcool grandma.
Things
were
better
moneywise
when
I
moved
in
with
her,
but
we
sure
didn’t
have
extras.
We lived
in
a
neighborhood
that
you
probably
wouldn’t
have
been
caught
dead
in,
and
if
you
made
a
wrong
turn into
it,
you
would
likely
lock
your
doors.
But
we
always
had
plenty
to
eat.” Grace
Marie
noticed
how
it
kept
coming
back
to
the
food
for
him.
Hadn’t
he
mentioned
being
border
line hypoglycemic?
It
must
be
hell
having
your
life
ruled
by
food
but
being
completely
out
of
control
where
it was
concerned.
“Grandma
worked
her
butt
off,
though,
and
I
really
hated
that
for
her.” The
picture
cleared
for
her.
“So
you
brought
home
whatever
freebies
you
could
to
make
things
easier.”
“Pretty
much.”
His
smile
surfaced.
“I
crossed
the
line
once
with
her,
though.”
“What
line?”
“I
stole
a
package
of
steaks.
I
had
stolen
stuff
when
I
lived
with
my
mom,
but
I
was
so
young
then
and
truly hungry,
somehow
I
could
forgive
myself
for
that.
But
this
time,
I
was
about
eleven,
solid
weight.
She’d
sent me
to
the
corner
grocery
store
to
buy
milk
and
a
box
of
corn
starch.”
“Corn
starch?
You
remember
the
most
interesting
details.”
“Important
events
paint
a
brighter
picture
in
your
memory
so
I
won’t
slack
off
and
forget.
Anyhow,
I
saw this
package
of
steaks
on
clearance
and
the
sellby
date
was
right
then.
It
was
five
o’clock
in
the
afternoon, so
I
told
myself,
hey,
they
would
just
be
tossing
out
those
perfectly
good
steaks
in
about
five
minutes.
Why let
them
go
to
waste?
It
wasn’t
like
I
was
taking
money
out
of
the
grocer’s
pocket.
In
fact,
I
was
saving
that butcher
some
time,
which
meant
he
could
go
do
something
else,
which
would
actuallyhelp
the
business.” Interesting
how
a
person
could
justify
something
and
even
more
interesting
that
she
saw
so
much
guilt
on
his face
even
now,
all
these
years
later.
Somehow,
in
spite
of
a
hellish
childhood,
he’d
grown
into
a
strong
and honest
man.
“Grandma
didn’t
quite
see
it
the
same
way
I
did.”
“You
told
her?”
Grace
Marie
leaned
over
to
whisper,
even
realizing
there
was
no
way
the
rest
of
the
camp could
hear
them,
tucked
away
in
their
green
lawn
chairs
a
football
field
away
from
the
bulk
of
the
activity.
“She
knew
I
didn’t
have
the
money
to
buy
Tbones,
even
on
clearance.”
“She
punished
you.”
Bobby
smiled
again,
guilt
gone.
“She
blistered
my
ass
with
a
switch.”
He
held
up
both
hands.
“Before
you go
shrieking
about
child
abuse,
let
me
assure
you
the
woman
rarely
resorted
to
corporal
punishment—only three
times
in
my
life—and
I
had
it
coming.”
“What
were
the
other
two
times?”
“I
backtalked
a
teacher
in
the
fifth
grade.”
He
took
a
deep
breath.
“And
my
sophomore
year
in
high
school, I
came
home
wearing
a
gang
jacket.”
She
tried
to
picture
that
in
her
mind,
a
large
teen
and
a
tiny
grandma.
While
Gracie
Marie
wasn’t
going
to even
delve
into
the
whole
tospank
or
nottospank
question,
she
thought
more
about
how
terrified
that
poor woman
must
have
been
to
think
her
grandson
was
headed
down
the
same
road
as
her
junkie
daughter.
“She whipped
you
in
the
tenth
grade?”
“Yep.”
“Weren’t
you
bigger?”
“By
about
eleven
inches.”
“And
you
just
took
the
whipping.”
“Hell,
yeah.
That
was
my
grandma.”
His
restraint
combined
with
his
love
and
respect
for
that
little
old
woman
blew
Grace
Marie
away,
after
all her
conflicting
feelings
about
her
father,
who’d
never
once
laid
a
hand
on
her,
even
at
his
absolute
lowest points.
Bobby’s
face
flooded
with
guilt
again.
“When
I
turned
around,
she
had
tears
in
her
eyes.
She
told
me
she would
rather
see
me
shot
dead
in
the
streets
making
a
stand
for
good
than
have
me
end
up
like
my
mother.” She
couldn’t
stop
her
gasp
even
as
she
understood
the
desperate
measures
that
drove
his
grandmother
to
say such
a
thing.
“Grandma
said
the
measure
of
a
person’s
character
isn’t
in
how
many
days
they
live
but
in
having
lived them
honestly.”
Grace
sat
in
her
chair,
totally
humbled.
Here
she’d
been
expecting
to
help
him
through
some
trauma
and he’d
been
the
one
with
all
the
depth.
She
felt
so
damned
inadequate.
For
the
first
time
she
thought
to
wonder if
she
was
enoughwoman
for
Bobby.
“What
an
amazing
lady
your
grandma
was.” Bobby
nodded
his
head.
“Yeah,
she
was.”
His
face
went
dark
as
if
somehow
he’d
sensed
her
judgmental thoughts
earlier.
“So
sure,
I
stuff
my
pockets
with
those
free
samples,
I
dance
close
to
the
edge,
but
I never,never
cross
the
line.”
As
much
as
she
didn’t
want
to
be
the
professional
at
the
moment,
her
training
told
her
well
he’d
stretched himself
as
thin
emotionally
as
possible
and
needed
space.
He
shoved
up
from
his
chair,
bursting
their
mid
America
fantasy
and
striding
away.
She’d
always
thought
it
would
be
her
choice
whether
or
not
to
have
a
relationship
with
Bobby.
She’d
never considered
the
decision
might
behis
and
he
would
findher
lacking.
CHAPTER
TWENTYONE
STRIDING
AWAYfrom
the
best
damn
thing
to
ever
happen
to
him,
Bobby
held
the
pieces
of
himself together
with
emotional
duct
tape,
the
only
way
he
could
keep
from
falling
apart
in
front
of
Gracie.
He
needed
to
target
practice
with
his
knife
or
get
in
a
bar
fight,
except
Padre
kept
breaking
those
up
for
the good
of
the
crew.
Crew
unity.
It
was
everything.
Maybe
he
just
needed
to
hang
with
levelheaded
Face
for
a while
to
even
out.
Eyes
focused
dead
ahead,
he
didn’t
even
see
Gracie’s
dad
until
they
brushed
shoulders.
“Sorry,
dude.
Guess I
need
to
get
my
eyesight
checked.”
Although
his
vision
was
clearly
twentytwenty
and
working
well
now
as
he
stared
at
Gracie’s
father
with
a skateboard
under
each
arm.
Really
wickedass
skateboards,
probably
contraband,
that
didn’t
come
cheap, even
over
here.
Element
brand
skateboards,
the
smile
series,
personalized.
Cool.
And
odd.
He
had
to
see
what
was
up
with
this.
Matthias
Lanier—Matt,
as
their
U.N.
spy
called
him—paused
to
look
Bobby
up
and
down.
“I
hear
you’re seeing
my
daughter.”
“Yes,
sir.
When
she’ll
have
me.”
“Any
reason
she
shouldn’t
have
you?”
“Honestly?
About
a
hundred
and
seventeen
reasons
at
last
count,
but
I
just
can’t
stay
away.
I’ve
tried.
Didn’t work.”
He
swallowed
hard.
Sheeit.
How
the
hell
had
men
gotten
through
saying
this
to
prospective
fathersinlaw
since
the
freaking
beginning
of
time?
Bobby
inhaled
deeply
and
let
the
truth
flow.
“I
love
her.” The
older
man
nodded
his
head.
“I
pretty
much
figured
that.
My
Gracie
deserves
much
more
love
than
she’s been
given
in
her
life.
Any
man
who
can
fill
those
spaces
for
her…well…”
He
swallowed
as
if
overcome
by emotion.
“Well,
what,
sir?”
Matt
straightened
to
a
height
that
topped
Bobby
by
a
good
three
inches.
“I
promise
not
to
blow
up
that
man’s house
with
one
of
my
experimental
nuclear
‘accidents.’”
He
pivoted
on
his
heel
without
another
word
to
indicate
he
might
be
joking—the
guy
had
to
be
joking, right?
Bobby
fidgeted
double
time
as
Matt
made
his
way
toward
Gracie.
Hmm…her
father
had
called
her Gracie,
too.
How
interesting
that
now
there
were
only
two
people
in
the
world
who
used
that
name
for
her.
What
a
rush.
Bobby
halted
his
retreat
and
turned
back
toward
Gracie,
watching
her
dad
advance.
Bobby
figured
his
talk with
Face
could
wait.
Right
now,
he
couldn’t
stop
himself
from
watching
the
exchange
between
father
and daughter.
Parental
relationships
were
still
pretty
much
a
mystery
to
him,
but
if
he
managed
to
find
a permanent
place
in
Gracie’s
life,
this
man
would
play
a
critical
role.
“Hey,
Daddy,
how
are
you
doing?”
Gracie
kept
her
gaze
pinned
to
his
as
if
studying
his
eyes.
Her
voice
drifted
over
and
Bobby
refused
to
feel
guilty
for
eavesdropping.
He
probably—hell,
definitely—
had
worse
sins
on
his
soul
than
that.
And
quite
frankly,
he
wanted
Gracie
so
badly
he
would
take
advantage of
any
edge
he
could
get.
Like
with
her
question
about
her
father’s
mood.
How
early
in
her
life
had
she
learned
to
do
that
to
determine her
bipolar
father’s
disposition?
“Doing
okay,
baby
girl.”
He
sagged
to
sit
in
the
other
ugly
but
functional
green
lawn
chair,
propping
the
two skateboards
against
the
seat.
“Much
better
than
earlier,
but
I
have
to
admit
to
being
a
little
insulted
that
you felt
the
need
to
cross
the
ocean
to
make
sure
I’m
eating
my
vegetables.” He
reached
down
beside
him
and
pulled
up
the
hot
pink
skateboard.
“I
had
one
of
these
Army
dudes
drive me
downtown
to
the
openair
market
and
I
picked
something
up
for
you.” Surprise
flashed
in
her
eyes
as
she
reached
for
the
board
with
her
name
scrawled
in
hot
pink
with
a
smiley face
over
it.
“It’s
not
my
birthday.”
Regret
creased
the
older
man’s
face
as
he
watched
his
daughter
with
undeniable
love.
“I’ve
probably
missed a
birthday
or
two
at
some
point
in
time.”
She
stayed
diplomatically
silent
for
a
few
seconds,
staring
at
the
gift
in
her
lap,
tracing
her
cursive
name.
“We
did
grow
up
together,
didn’t
we?”
He
pulled
up
the
second
board
and
rested
it
across
his
knees,
his
name
painted
in
midnightblue.
Matt stroked
his
hands
over
the
varnished
skateboard.
“Yes,
my
little
Gracie,
we
did.
I
wished
better
for
you
than I
could
give.”
She
looked
up
with
an
expression
of
such
total
peace
Bobby
envied
her.
“And,
Daddy,
I
thank
you
for giving
me
the
very
best
you
had.”
Gracie
leaned
to
kiss
his
cheek
before
straightening,
quirking
a
brow
and
lifting
her
skateboard.
Without
a
moment’s
hesitation,
they
both
sprang
from
the
buttugly
chairs,
boards
under
their
arms
as
they raced
across
the
camp.
Luckily,
no
Army
dudes
loitering
about
tackled
them.
Instead,
everyone
backed
up
to see
how
far
this
skateboard
gig
would
go.
Gracie
nodded
toward
the
lowered
C17
load
ramp.
Her
father
smiled
in
return
and
jogged
alongside,
their feet
thunking
all
the
way
up
the
metal
ramp
into
the
belly
of
the
cargo
plane.
Bobby
leaned
back
against
an overgrown
persimmon
tree
and
squinted
to
see
deep
into
the
plane.
Their
ride
down
the
ramp,
then
the
cement
path
to
Base
Ops
would
be
bumpy,
to
say
the
least.
Almost certainly
there
would
be
scraped
elbows,
if
not
broken
bones,
but
this
ritual
seemed
worth
it
to
the
two
of them.
Bobby
waited,
mesmerized
by
this
playful
side
of
Gracie
he’d
never
seen
before.
What
he
wouldn’t
give
to have
her
let
go
this
way
with
him.
How
could
he
find
the
key
to
this
footloose
side
of
her?
He’d
learned long
ago
not
to
want
anything
unless
he
was
damn
certain
he
could
have
it.
Saved
disappointment.
But
right now,
he
wanted
Gracie
enough
to
risk
everything.
So
he
watched
her
with
her
father
to
learn
whatever
he
could
about
the
multifaceted
woman
who’d
nabbed his
heart.
Matt
placed
his
foot
on
the
board
and
shouted,
“That
which
cannot
kill
me
will
only
make
me
stronger.”
“Amen,
old
man,”
Gracie
concurred,
settling
her
foot
on
her
shiny
Element
board.
“Amen.”
“Ready,”
Matt
called.
“Set,”
Gracie
answered.
“Go!”
they
shouted
together.
Her
foot
launched
her
into
action
down
what
must
have
been
a
teethrattling
ride
alongside
her
father
down the
cargo
plane
load
ramp.
Whoops
and
hollers
echoed
from
the
growing
crowd
of
crew
and
support
personnel
gathering
around
the base
of
the
plane
and
lining
the
cement
walkway
to
Base
Ops.
Money
even
started
exchanging
hands
as
to who
would
last
the
longest.
At
the
base
of
the
ramp,
with
a
kick
at
the
back
of
the
board,
Gracie
catapulted
herself
airborne
to
take
the slight
bump.
She
landed
with
unmistakable
skill
on
the
hill
toward
Base
Ops.
Holy
crappola.
She’d
really
done
this
before.
She
pushed
harder
with
the
other
foot,
even
working
a
slight sway
from
side
to
side
to
keep
her
father
from
passing
her.
NASCAR
drivers
had
nothing
on
this
woman when
it
came
to
defending
her
lead.
The
wind
tore
at
her
hair,
pulling
unruly
locks
from
the
scunchie
until the
hairband
gave
up
and
dropped
off
behind
her.
Gracie’s
full
mass
of
blond
hair
trailed
behind
her,
her
Tshirt
plastered
to
a
postergirl
perfect
chest
as
her arms
splayed
out
for
balance.
But
all
Bobby
could
see
was
her
smile
of
unfettered
happiness.
He
wanted
to
be
around
to
see
that
smile
for
the
rest
of
his
life.
The
cement
path
neared
its
end,
Gracie
still
in
the
lead
with
Matt
only
inches
behind.
At
the
last
second,
he veered
off
the
path
onto
a
jutting
rock,
his
rangy
body
taking
flight,
totally
in
control
as
he
hooked
an
arm around
his
daughter’s
waist
and
landed
them
both
on
their
feet
in
front
of
the
Base
Ops
door.
Applause
exploded.
How
could
it
not?
Who
would
have
expected
this?
Over
the
chaos,
Padre
shouted,
“How
do
we
decide
the
bets
since
they
finished
at
the
same
time?” The
masses
parted
to
reveal
the
Felicia
chick—who
the
hell
could
pronounce
her
last
name,
anyway?
She perched
her
hand
on
her
hip
in
a
way
that
made
cammo
pants
on
a
woman
look
more
than
a
little
risqué.
“Uh,
excuse
me,
but
I
do
believe
I
was
the
only
one
to
place
a
bet
on
a
tie,
so
hand
over
the
cash,
boys.” Her
audaciousness
made
her
winning
fun
even
if
it
cost
money.
Sandman
strode
forward—apparently
the
bookie
for
this
operation—and
passed
her
a
stack
of
bills.
“Interested
in
letting
me
buy
you
a
drink?”
Felicia
patted
his
cheek.
“Thanks,
little
boy,
but
I’m
already
taken.” She
strutted
right
past
the
crew’s
wellknown
player—currently
slackjawed
over
the
rejection—and
made her
way
to
Matt.
He
released
his
daughter
and
strode
through
the
crowd
to
Felicia.
She
reached
to
cup
his face
and
planted
a
big
kiss
on
his
unshaven
cheek.
Catcalls
ripped
through
the
air,
only
to
grow
louder
when
Matt
looped
his
arm
around
her
waist
and
pulled her
closer
for
a
fullout,
oldfashioned
dip
kiss
that
would
have
done
Bogey
proud.
Bobby
searched
the
crowd
to
find
Gracie,
but
she
seemed
to
have
momentarily
disappeared
from
sight.
Had she
fallen
when
her
father
left?
Was
she
taking
her
skateboard
ride
deeper
on
her
own
to
air
out
her
brain?