Three Little Words

“Yes, dear.”

“Better.”

“And I love you.”

“Much better.”

“But I can’t talk long,” I continued. “I need to head to the airport in a few minutes. Get a pen and paper. Here’s my flight information.” I gave it to her.

“The arrival time is Pacific. Make sure you tell your parents.”

“Okay. We’ll meet you at the gate. Oh, and Harry and Marianne and the kids are coming to dinner, if that’s okay. They want to see you before we leave tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. I love you,” I said again. “I’ll see you when I get there.”

“I love you too. See you soon.”

I walked out of the jetway in San Diego and was only mildly surprised to see just Christy and her father. I gave her a hug and kiss and then shook his hand.

“Good to see you again, Harold.”

“You too,” he said, and sounded like he meant it. “Anne would’ve been here too, but she and the girls are baking dessert for tonight.”

“No problem,” I said. “Thanks for picking me up yourself.”

“My pleasure.”

“Your duty, at least.”

“No,” he said, “my pleasure.”

Christy beamed at him. “Thank you, Daddy.”

He gave her an indulgent smile, and I understood why it was his pleasure.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be polite.

“Yes,” I added, “thank you very much.”

We made small talk as we walked down to baggage claim and waited for my suitcase, skis, and boot bag. During the drive home, Christy sat between us on the front seat, while Harold and I talked politics over her head (physically, not intellectually). He was about as conservative as I’d imagined, although he didn’t seem bothered that I wasn’t, especially when I mentioned women’s lib.

“Well, I have a wife, a daughter, and four granddaughters,” he said as he turned into the neighborhood. “What did you expect? Genghis Khan? Of course I want Birdy to have a career, if that’s what she wants.”

“What if I want her to stay at home and raise kids?” I asked. She shot me a questioning frown, but I shook it off.

Harold simply chuckled. “Son, I know a trap when I see it. I study politics and war, remember?”

“Yeah, you caught me.”

“Besides,” he added, “I can’t imagine Birdy with any man who’d try to tell her what to do. We raised her to stick up for herself. The boys even taught her to wrestle.” He looked at me sideways. “So no funny business on this trip of yours.”

“Not a chance,” I said with a laugh. “And though she be but little, she is fierce.”

“Don’t you forget it, mister.” He paused and tried to place the quote.

“Shakespeare?”

“Yep. A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

He pulled into the driveway and waited for the garage door to open.

“I mostly read the histories,” he said. “Henry V and Richard III.”

“I like the St. Crispin’s Day speech.”

“That’s a good one,” he agreed. “We read it when I was at the Naval War College.”

He parked the car and we headed inside, where Anne and three of her granddaughters were icing a cake. I set my suitcase and backpack on the kitchen floor and said hello. Anne handed a chocolate-covered spatula to one of the girls and gave me a hug. Then she re-introduced me to Harry’s daughters, Virginia, Amber, and Rose, who all said hello politely.

“Christine, dear, why don’t you show Paul to the guest bedroom,” Anne suggested. She smiled at me. “You can sleep in the house this time.”

“Moving up in the world,” I joked, and she smiled.

“Don’t get used to it,” Harold said.

“Oh, behave,” she told him.

“Thank you very much for letting me stay,” I said to them. “I promise I won’t wear out my welcome.”

“You’re always welcome,” Anne said sincerely.

Christy showed me to the guest bedroom, which was down the hall from hers, with a bathroom and the linen closet in between. She made sure to leave

the door open as I set my things at the foot of the bed. I risked a kiss, and she came willingly into my arms. But then she stepped back and dabbed at the corners of her mouth.

“Is my lipstick okay?” she asked. Then she flinched and yanked a tissue from a box on the dresser. I tried not to grin as she wiped evidence from my lips. “You’re going to get us in trouble,” she half-whispered. “Remember what happened last time.”

“How can I forget? I’ve never had a gun pointed at me before.”

She had the good grace to look embarrassed. “He’s just protective.”

And a psycho, I thought, but kept it to myself. “Speaking of Rich… will he be here tonight?”

“No. He’s… somewhere else.”

“Oh?”

“Deployed. I don’t know where. My dad does, but he can’t tell us.” She shrugged. “That’s how it is with Rich. He goes places and… does things.”

“Kills people, you mean.”

“I don’t know. But if he does, they’re bad people. Communists and insurgents.” She gave my lips a final check and then smoothed my shirt over my chest as an excuse to gather her thoughts. “Rich is a good person. I know he can be… dangerous.” She looked up at me earnestly. “But he protects us.

Our country. And that includes you.”