“Why are you telling me?”
“Because I wanted you to hear it from me instead of a report.”
I nodded once.
He turned to go.
“Daniel.”
He stopped.
“For what it’s worth, that was the first decision you’ve told me that sounded like a father instead of a soldier.”
His shoulders stiffened.
Then he nodded without turning around.
I watched him walk away.
For the first time, he did not look like a man retreating.
He looked like a man beginning the long march back to himself.
PART 7 — WHEN THE TRUTH LEARNED TO BREATHE
A year after the Christmas at Fort Carson, the Reynolds estate looked different.
Not physically.
The stone walls remained. The flags still snapped in the mountain wind. The portraits still lined the halls, though one had been removed from the grand staircase.
General Victor Reynolds no longer watched over arrivals.
Margaret had taken him down in March.
