35. Ben
Isat on a bench overlooking the Severn River. The air was clear and crisp but cold for April, which explained why so few boats were on the water. As quick footsteps approached, I stood and turned in the direction of the sound because I’d know my dad’s fast gait anywhere. He was in his khaki uniform that he wore to teach classes to the midshipmen and still looked every inch the vice admiral. He was 6’1”, the same height as me, and almost as broad-shouldered. He looked at least ten years younger than his sixty-three years, with sharp blue eyes and close-cropped gray hair.
But his face softened when his gaze landed on me. For all his sternness in his work life, he’d been a gentle and sometimes indulgent parent at home. But at some point, his standards for me had become more exacting, and my ability to disappoint him had plumbed great depths. I wondered if he ever looked at me without thinking of me as Three-Be Ben.
He grinned as he approached me. He moved as if to hug me, but I stuck out my hand, and we shook.
“Good to see you, my boy.”
I couldn’t say the same because we were about to embark on a conversation I’d been avoiding for seven years.
“Can we walk?” I asked.
I’d learned that from him. As a kid, I’d thought he suggested it so I could work out pent-up energy when I was nervous about telling him something. As an adult, I knew the advantage of avoiding eye contact when saying hard things. What a brave and mighty Ranger I was, nearly thirty years old and too scared to look my own father in the eye. I was grateful as hell as he agreed, and we fell into step together. We made idle chit-chat while we walked past the Academy, heading away from the water.
“Do you want to do the questions or the answers?” he finally asked.
If that was something else from my childhood, I didn’t remember it. “What does that mean?”
“It means you obviously have something important to say. Do you need to ask me questions, or do you need to speak your piece and have me ask the follow-up?
I rubbed the back of my neck. I’d take C, none of the above. But I couldn’t go back to Savannah with my tail between my legs. Time to Ranger up.
“Actually, we should sit.” I motioned to another bench, this one far from the water. But I wasn’t there for the view.
We sat and turned to face each other. Yeah, making eye contact sucked. All I could do was think of Savannah, remember how much faith she had in me, and dive into the deep end of the ocean.
“Why did you call me Three-Be Ben?”
He widened his eyes, seemingly surprised by the question. “As I recall, there were a few times in high school when I was frustrated with some of your decisions. You were bright, in fact, brilliant, at so many things. But I worried if you didn’t stick with things long enough for them to become hard, you wouldn’t learn resilience. Obviously, it was a misplaced concern.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He was fucking minimizing it. “A few times? You called me that all the time.”
Again, he looked shocked. Then deflated. “Ben, did it seem that way? I suspect the truth is somewhere in the middle of both our memories, but if you felt that way, I said it too often. Maybe saying it once was too often. I’m sorry.”
Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t pinpoint that many specific memories of the words. “Maybe you’re right about the middle ground. It only sliced so deep because I desperately wanted to earn your respect.”
“Ben, you’ve done that a hundred times over, before and after high school.” He rubbed his neck, the habit he’d passed on to me. “I can’t believe I’ve cocked this up so badly. Such a stupid thing to say.” He genuinely looked wounded.
“It’s not really about the nickname, Dad. It’s about you doubting I could commit to Savannah.”
“Savannah?” He frowned. “Are you talking about the talk we had right before you left for basic? If we are, I think you misunderstood my meaning. You were so young. I worried you would both get hurt.”
“Sure, I was twenty-two and dumb, but you and Mom started dating when you were only twenty-four.”
“And we married when we were twenty-five. Did you ever wonder why we waited seven years to start having kids?”
Thoughts about birth control and menstrual cycles and other things I didn’t plan to discuss with him ran through my head, but I guessed that wasn’t what he meant. “I assumed you waited until you were ready.”
He nodded. “In a way. The truth is, your mother nearly divorced me a few years into our marriage.”
I sat in stunned silence. My parents had always seemed rock solid. A love story like theirs had seemed out of reach for me, except for the summer seven years ago, until the past three weeks.
“May I ask why?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. It’s the relevant part of the story.” He looked me in the eye, being brave. Being a man. “I was too selfish to be a good husband to her.”
I hoped to God he wasn’t about to tell me he’d screwed around on my mother, or I might never speak to him again.
“Wipe that look off your face. I’ve been a one-woman man since the day I met your mother. But she gave up a lot to marry a military man. Especially one so driven. I took promotions and transfers without asking her. Every time she tried to put down roots and grow something for herself, I uprooted us to climb the next rung of the ladder.”
That was the deal when you married a military person, and to my knowledge, my mother had always understood that.
“There’s a difference between knowing what you’re getting into and living with it,” he said, as if reading my mind. “And you, Ben, are your father’s son. I wasn’t worried that you wouldn’t commit to anything. I was worried you’d commit to everything, all at once. Your career and Savannah, and like me, you wouldn’t find the balance.”
I shook my head. “But it worked out for you.”
“Only because your mother forgave me and clawed back a life that worked for both of us. I didn’t want you to take that risk.” He sighed and stared out at the busy street in front of us. “Oh, Ben, I don’t expect you to understand this until you have kids of your own, and maybe not even then. But it’s the hardest thing in the world watching your kids repeat your mistakes without trying to save them from the fall.”
“So to save me from the heartbreak of Savannah leaving me, you advised me to break both our hearts by leaving her.”
He shook his head. “Not on purpose. I didn’t know you were already in so deep. I can see it now, seven years on, that you were. And you still are. I’m sorry, Ben, for that careless nickname, but more than that, for letting my fear get in the way of your happiness.”
I couldn’t let him think he’d ruined my one chance for joy, especially since I’d learned in these past three weeks that I had another shot. “We’re dating again. It’s getting serious.”
“You and Savannah? Ben, that’s wonderful news. I’m so happy for both of you, and your mother will be over the moon.”
“And you’re not worried about my commitment or my resilience or anything else?”
He looked wistful, a feeling I’d recently become acquainted with. “I always worry about you and your siblings. But that’s not because I doubt you. It’s the price of being a parent. What I want most for you is happiness.”
I grinned. “I’m happy with her. I really am.” I glanced up at him. “You really think we’re that much alike, you and I?”
“Don’t you?”
“I guess so. It’s nice knowing you were a screwup, too.”
“You should have just asked your mother,” he said. “She would have told you that years ago. And she probably would have given you much better advice about your love life.”
Maybe. But deep down, I’d feared exactly the same thing my dad had. I couldn’t remember asking Savannah about her dreams that summer. How supportive would I really have been of them? Maybe I would have derailed her success. Maybe, in order to be with me, she wouldn’t have pursued building her own company at all. Now that she was going to rebuild it, I couldn’t think of anything better than being here for her. But I suspected twenty-two-year-old me would have been more selfish.
“I get it, Dad, I do. And I’m sorry for putting all the blame on you.”
“Let’s make a deal. No more nicknames other than Ben or son.”
I shrugged. “Or Purple Haze. I’d let you call me that.”
He gave me a quizzical look.
“Like the song by Hendrix,” I explained. “H-a-z-e instead of H-a-y-e-s.”
“I get it, but I’m never going to call you that,” he said, smiling. “Now, can I hug my son?”
I leaned forward and obliged, which gave me a chance to blink back tears.
We stood and headed back toward the water. We were both smiling now. I’d had no idea how much I’d needed this conversation, but Savannah had known. Her own hard-won experience with her mom had taught her that. She would get a great big thank-you from me when I got back to HEAT. That and anything else she wanted, and if she didn’t have a list, I had some suggestions.
“That’s the happiest look I’ve seen on your face in ages,” my dad said. “She really is good for you.”
“I think we’re good for each other,” I said. “And this was good, too. But not how I thought it would go.”
“Oh? What did you think?”
“I thought there’d be yelling.”
His eyes crinkled as he laughed. “I blame your Ranger training for that.”
I shook my head. “I probably picked it up before that, in basic. Fucking Army.”
He cleared his throat.
“Come on, Dad, you know I swear. And Mai and Michael do, too.”
He frowned. “I know it, but your mother doesn’t. Or at least she likes to pretend she doesn’t, so remember that Friday night.”
“Friday night?” I grinned. “Did I agree to something I’ve forgotten?”
“Your sister agreed for you,” Dad said.
I remembered last week’s team dinner when I’d suspected Mai was up to something. “I should have guessed.”
“But don’t hold it against her. She means well.”
“Trust me, there are worse things I could hold against her, and hold over her.”
He smiled. “Benjamin, it’s not polite to threaten your sister with kompromat.”
I laughed, then stopped in my tracks. “Kompromat.”
“Yes. I’m sure we all have things we could tell your mother that… Oh, I see. That look on your face isn’t about the family. It’s about whatever it is that has kept you from starting the job in Chicago.”
“I can neither confirm, nor deny, nor discuss.”
“That’s my boy.” He sighed. “God help us both.”
I jumpedinto Kyle’s car that I’d borrowed, strapped in, and drove toward the highway. Then I hit the speed-dial number for Savannah’s HEAT-supplied cell phone. She picked up on the first ring.
“I know what we’re looking for!” We both said at once. “What?”
“You first,” I said.
“Ben, it’s not just about the money and bank accounts. It’s about—”
“Kompromat,” I said. “Like they plan to use against you. They—”
“Gather data on all their recruits, then they hold it over their heads. When I told Pasco what I thought WCI was hiding on those servers, it took him almost no time to find it. We’re printing out the files as we speak, and we’ll start combing through them.”
I glanced in my rearview mirror. There was a black sedan in the left lane tracking to my flank that drew my suspicion.
Savannah was explaining how the team was reviewing and classifying the information Pasco was uncovering. Anson and his organization seemed to have secrets about every person they’d pulled into the cult under the pretense of management courses and self-improvement classes.
Now another black sedan was on my tail. I slowed down. Neither car made a move to pass me.
“All these people have kompromat hanging over their heads,” Savannah said. “When we find the file on Devlin, I could get answers about what he’s been doing to the company. Ben?”
“Still here. I’m on my way to HQ now, so I can help…” I stopped speaking. The car on my flank sped up and passed me, then pulled in front of me.
“Ben?”
“I’ll be there in about forty minutes to help.” The car behind me drifted into the lane to my left, and now it was on my flank. “Sav, are you in the conference room with the team right now?”
“I am.”
“Is Pasco there, and if so, can you put me on speaker?”
“He is.”
“Hayes, what’s up?” Pasco said.
“Are you tracking my phone?” Shit. A third black car was now on my tail.
“Hold on,” Pasco said. He came back in less than a minute. “I’ve got you on I-97.”
“Can you get a visual with traffic cams?”
I heard his fingers clacking on keys.
“What’s wrong?” Savannah asked. Her voice was tight.
I hated worrying her. “Probably nothing, but I might have company.”
As I finished speaking, the car in the left lane moved in beside me, the car behind me sped up, and the driver in the car in front of me slammed on the brakes. Metal screeched, and glass shattered around me. A bright light flashed, and a loud pop echoed in my ears.
My last thought was Christ on toast, I might be shot.