The King's Deception

He’d already tendered his resignation to Stephanie Nelle, ending his twelve-year career with the Magellan Billet and an even longer stint with the navy. He’d made it to full commander and would have liked to have been a captain, but no more.

“So you’re leaving,” Gary asked. “Moving to another country.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

But he was.

By the time he quit, he and Pam had lived apart five years. He’d come home from an assignment one day to find her gone. She’d rented a house on the other side of town, taking with her only what she and Gary needed. A note informed him of their new address and that the marriage was over. Pragmatic and cold. That was her way. Decisive, too. But neither one of them had sought an immediate divorce, though they only spoke when necessary for Gary’s sake.

A lot of life had passed between them while together. He’d changed from a navy recruit, to a lawyer, to an agent for the Justice Department. She’d become a lawyer herself. He spent his time traveling the world. She prowled the halls of Atlanta’s courthouses. They saw each other every week or so, dividing their time with Gary, who was growing up faster than either of them realized. They’d lived in a neighborhood with friends neither of them really knew. But living was the wrong term. More like existing. Taking that bullet in Mexico City had finally made him ask — was this the life he wanted? Neither he nor Pam was happy. That much they both knew. And the leap from unhappiness to anger was one Pam had easily made.

“Will you ever be satisfied?” she asked him. “The navy, then flight school, law school, JAG, the Billet. Now this sudden retirement. What’s next?”

“I’m moving to Denmark.”

Her face registered nothing. He might as well have said he was moving to the moon. “What is it you’re after?”

“I’m tired of being shot at.”

“Since when? You love the Billet.”

“Time to grow up.”

“So you think moving to Denmark will accomplish that miracle?”

He had no intention of explaining himself. She didn’t care. Nor did he want her to. “It’s Gary I need to talk to. I want to know if he’s okay with that.”

“Since when have you cared what he thought?”

“He’s why I got out. I wanted him to have a father around—”

“That’s bullshit, Cotton. You got out for yourself. Don’t use that boy as an excuse. Whatever it is you’re planning, it’s for you, not him.”

“I don’t need you telling me what I think.”

“Then who does tell you? We were married a long time. You think it was easy waiting for you to come back from who-knows-where? Wondering if it was going to be in a body bag? I paid the price, Cotton. Gary did, too. But that boy loves you. No, he worships you, unconditionally. You and I both know what he’ll say, since his head is screwed on better than either of ours. For all our failures together, he was a success.”

She was right.

“Look, Cotton. Why you’re moving across the ocean is your business. But if it makes you happy, then do it. Just don’t use Gary as an excuse. The last thing he needs is a discontented parent around trying to make up for his own sad childhood.”

“You enjoy insulting me?”