Chapter 6
“Frank.”
He sighed.
“No. Probably not.”
We both laughed.
Then his expression became serious again.
“You know what bothers me?”
“What?”
“I used to hate officers who did that.”
“Did what?”
“Walk into a room and assume rank meant they were automatically the smartest person there.”
I said nothing.
“And apparently I retired and became one.”
“You’re not that bad.”
He looked at me.
“You don’t have to make me feel better.”
“Good, because I wasn’t planning to.”
That got a real laugh.
Then he asked, “Can you tell me anything about what you’ve done?”
I considered it.
“Not much.”
“Anything?”
I looked through the kitchen window.
Jason was stealing whipped cream directly from the bowl.
Mom was pretending not to notice.
Tyler was checking his phone.
Normal family.
Normal Thanksgiving.
“I can tell you that some nights I didn’t sleep because Americans were in dangerous places and my team was trying to understand what might happen next.”
Frank’s smile disappeared.
“I can tell you that sometimes we were right.”
I looked into my coffee.
“And sometimes we weren’t.”
He understood that sentence differently from everyone else.
Soldiers understand the cost hidden inside “sometimes.”
“I can tell you,” I continued, “that there are people alive today because analysts found something early enough.”
Frank looked at me.
“And there are people who came home because somebody understood the picture?”
I met his eyes.
“Yes.”
That was all I could give him.
It was enough.
He nodded.
“Then I’m proud of you.”
I didn’t expect that to affect me.
It did.
“Thank you.”
He looked embarrassed.
“I should have said that sixteen years ago.”
“Probably.”
We stood there in silence.
Then he smiled.
“You still think my surveillance assumption was wrong?”
I laughed.
“Completely.”
“Why?”
“Nice try, Colonel.”
He laughed so loudly Mom opened the back door.
“What are you two doing?”
“Discussing real operations,” I said.
Frank nearly spilled his coffee.
Mom stared at us.
I smiled.
“Don’t worry. He’s finally starting to understand the complexity.”
Frank pointed at me.
“I deserved that.”
“Yes, you did.”
Something changed after Thanksgiving.
Not dramatically.
My family did not suddenly receive security clearances.
I didn’t begin telling war stories over Christmas dinner.
Most of my work remained exactly where it belonged.
Unspoken.
But the way they treated me changed.
Jason stopped introducing me as “my sister who does government stuff.”
He started saying, “My sister works in defense intelligence.”