Chapter 5
I remembered thinking that if I could just see Pavel's face, I might somehow make the right decision.
But there were fourteen people in the cabin.
And four crew members depending on me.
The recording captured my final order.
“Recover the swimmer. We're departing.”
Dominic didn't argue.
Gabe didn't hesitate.
The hoist began moving.
Then, almost too quietly to hear, I said something I had forgotten saying.
“I'm sorry, Pavel.”
Tyler stopped the video.
Nobody moved.
I stared at the tablecloth.
There was a small gravy stain near my plate.
For some reason, I couldn't stop looking at it.
Then my mother began crying.
Not loudly.
Just a few soft, broken breaths.
“Oh, Katie.”
I shook my head.
“Please don't.”
She covered her mouth.
“I didn't know.”
“I know.”
My father leaned forward.
“You saved fourteen people.”
I nodded.
“Fourteen on our helicopter. Nine on the other.”
“Twenty-three,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
He looked at the television.
“And one?”
I couldn't speak.
Grandpa answered for me.
“One didn't make it.”
My father lowered his head.
For a long moment, nobody said anything.
Then Mitchell cleared his throat.
“Well,” he said, “that's certainly impressive.”
I looked at him.
He was staring at his plate.
“But you have to understand, Kate, you never really shared much about your career. We couldn't know what you didn't tell us.”
Something inside me finally broke free.
Not my temper.
Not my grief.
Something much older.
The belief that if I explained myself carefully enough, Mitchell would eventually understand.
I set my napkin beside my plate.
“Mitchell, look at me.”
He didn't.
“Look at me.”
He raised his eyes.
“You told Tyler I failed flight school.”
He shifted in his chair.
“That was years ago.”
“You told Mom I washed out.”
“I thought—”
“You told your friends I did desk work.”
“You do work at a desk now.”
“You told everyone at this table that Tyler was the first real pilot in our family.”
Mitchell's jaw tightened.
“Are we really going to make Thanksgiving about this?”
“No,” I said. “You already did.”
Denise looked down.
My father closed his eyes.
And Tyler, who had spent his entire life admiring his father, stared at him with an expression I had never seen before.
Disappointment.
Not anger.
Something worse.
“Dad,” Tyler asked, “did you know she earned her wings?”
Mitchell looked toward the kitchen.
“It's complicated.”
“No, it isn't.”