Chapter 3 - The Rank He Never Knew I Earned
Captain Lewis held his salute until I returned it.
"At ease."
"Yes, ma'am."
Vernon looked from him to me.
Then to the ribbons on the captain's uniform.
"What's going on?"
Nobody answered.
Two lieutenant colonels entered behind Captain Lewis.
Then Brigadier General Hannah Pierce.
She stepped into the room, saw the photographs on the floor, and frowned.
"Rebecca?"
"I'm fine."
Her eyes moved to Vernon.
"What happened?"
"Family issue."
Caleb muttered, "He shoved her."
Vernon pointed at him.
"I barely touched her."
General Pierce's expression hardened.
Before she could respond, another voice came from the hallway.
"Where is she?"
I knew that voice.
Caleb smiled.
"Dad's here."
Vernon looked confused.
"Your father?"
Caleb gave him a long look.
"No."
Lieutenant General Marcus Cole entered.
Three stars gleamed on his shoulders.
He was sixty, tall, silver at the temples, composed in the way only someone accustomed to commanding thousands of people could be.
To me, none of that mattered.
He was Marcus.
My husband.
My safest place.
He walked straight toward me.
"Rebecca."
"I'm all right."
He looked at my shoulder.
"You don't look all right."
"Marcus."
His eyes narrowed.
"Who touched you?"
No one answered.
Caleb raised his hand slightly.
"Grandfather."
Marcus slowly turned.
Vernon stared at the stars on his uniform.
Then at me.
Then back at Marcus.
"You are…"
"Lieutenant General Marcus Cole."
Marcus offered no hand.
"And you are Vernon Hart."
It wasn't a question.
Vernon tried to recover.
"So you're her… commanding officer?"
"My husband."
Silence.
Aunt Diane's mouth actually fell open.
Vernon looked at me.
"Your husband?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Eighteen years."
"You never told us."
I stared at him.
"When exactly would you have liked me to tell you? During one of the phone calls you intercepted?"
Diane turned away.
Vernon ignored her.
"You married a general?"
Marcus corrected him.
"She married me when I was still a colonel."
Captain Lewis looked like he wanted to disappear into the wall.
This was becoming painfully personal.
Marcus took my hand.
"Are you hurt?"
"Old scar. Shelf caught me."
He looked at Vernon again.
"He pushed you?"
"Marcus."
"I asked a question."
Vernon raised both hands.
"This family is being dramatic."
Caleb laughed.
"You shoved her because you wanted Grandma's letter."
"I lost my temper."
"That's one way to say assault."
Marcus's voice remained quiet.
"Would you prefer military police or local police?"
Vernon's eyes widened.
"You threatening me?"
"No."
Marcus took out his phone.
"I'm asking which agency you'd rather explain yourself to."
"Marcus," I said.
He looked at me.
"No police yet."
"Rebecca—"
"Not yet."
He knew that tone.
My officers knew it too.
Marcus put the phone away.
Vernon seemed relieved.
Then I added, "We're not finished with Mom's letter."
His relief vanished.
I picked up the pages.
Aunt Diane sat in a chair.
She looked twenty years older than she had during the funeral.
"Keep reading."
I did.
My mother's letter described years of lies.
Every time she asked about me, Vernon claimed I didn't want to be found.
Every time she considered hiring someone to locate me, he threatened to leave her.
She wrote that by the time she finally discovered the scale of his deception, she was already sick.
That word stopped me.
Sick.
My mother's final illness had progressed quickly.
At least according to the relatives who had finally contacted me.
I kept reading.
"Rebecca, I know about Caleb."
My son's eyes lifted.
"I know he joined the Army. I know he became an aviator. I have a photograph of him in uniform hidden beneath the lining of this box."
Caleb immediately crouched.
He felt beneath the cedar insert.
There was something taped underneath.
He pulled it free.
A photograph.
Caleb at flight school.
He stared at it.
"I sent this to Grandma's birthday card."
"She got it," I whispered.
His eyes became wet.
He turned away before anyone could see.
My mother had written beneath the photograph:
My grandson. My greatest regret is that I never hugged him.
Caleb pressed his lips together.
"I would've hugged her."
"I know."
Vernon muttered, "Enough."
Marcus stepped in front of him.
"You don't get to decide when it's enough."
Vernon glared.
"You think those stars make you important in my family?"
Marcus's expression didn't change.
"No. Rebecca makes me part of this family."
He pointed toward me.
"And unlike you, I understand what that's worth."
Vernon stared at him.
For once, my father had no comeback.
I reached the final paragraph.
"If your father ever claims I stopped loving you, don't believe him. If he says you abandoned me, don't believe him. And if he tells you that winter night was your fault… Rebecca, I need you to know there is more you were never told."
I stopped.
Caleb came closer.
"What does she mean?"
The letter continued.
"I made a recording. Mr. Avery knows where it is."
Every face turned toward the funeral director.
Mr. Avery nodded.
"Yes."
Vernon exploded.
"No."
He pushed toward the door.
Marcus grabbed his shoulder.
Just once.
Firmly.
Vernon froze.
"Take your hand off me."
Marcus leaned closer.
"You've spent twenty-seven years interrupting Rebecca."
Then he released him.
"You're going to listen now."
Mr. Avery reached into a locked cabinet.
He removed a small digital recorder.
My father's face drained of color.
That was when I understood.
May you like
Whatever my mother had recorded—
Vernon already knew what we were about to hear.
