Owen was standingat attention in the middle of the Remembrance Day parade—right in front of the cenotaph—when he heard Charlie cry.
His grandson’s holler pierced the minute of silence marking the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, and Owen couldn’t react. He couldn’t pivot his head to find Becca, almost certainly trying to shush him, and he couldn’t laugh, but on the inside, he was grinning.
That was his boy. He’d recognize the cry anywhere, just the same way he’d always known Becca’s cry, too. Adam’s indignant voice and the unique way only Josh could slam a door.
On the other side of the cenotaph he saw a retired fire chief, who had once worked with his dad, and who had hired Owen on as a firefighter back in the day. It had been a number of years since Owen had made a point of seeking him out and saying hello. There was only so much of“Your dad would be proud of you, son,”that one could hear when it didn’t always feel true.
Today, though, he wanted to introduce Becca and Charlie.
Once they had marched back to the armouries and were released from parade, he made a bee-line for his daughter. “There’s someone I want you and Charlie to meet. Someone your grandpa once worked with.”
She followed him through the sea of different uniforms until they found the firefighters, and behind them, the retired ranks.
“Sir,” Owen said, finding the man who had once been a colleague of his dad’s. “I’m Michael Kincaid’s son, I don’t know if you remember—”
The chief’s face split into a broad smile. “Owen, good to see you.” He did a double-take. “Don’t tell me this is your daughter.”
“Becca,” she said, holding out her hand. “Nice to see you again.”
“And this is Charlie,” Owen said. “My grandson.”
“Well, I’ll be…” The chief leaned in and Charlie made a face. “I can see Michael in him, that’s for sure. It was nice to see you. I think I heard through the grapevine that your brother Adam is joining our ranks.”
“Yup.”
“Your dad would have some misgivings about that, I think, but it’s a good thing. It’s in your blood.”
Owen took a deep breath. “I think so. I admit to having my own misgivings.”
“That’s understandable. I always knew we wouldn’t have you for long. It wasn’t for you, but good to get out of your system.”
Owen didn’t know what to say to that. That was unnervingly accurate. “You’re not wrong, sir.”
The chief laughed, then they said their goodbyes.
As they made their way back to the front entrance, Owen brought up hearing Charlie in the moment of silence.
“I’m sorry,” Becca moaned. “He was so quiet, and then I think he saw you? I don’t know if he can recognize you that far away, but…”
Owen took his grandson, who was waving his hands for attention. “I think he can. You know me anywhere, don’t you big guy?”
Charlie smacked him in the face with a tiny wet hand. Owen laughed. Was there anything better than the sweet wobbliness of infants?
Nothing. Except maybe watching a toddler take her first steps, or figure out how to dive off the edge of a pool. The soaring triumph of a kid who walked themselves home from school alone for the first time. The gentle grace and understanding a child had when they realized their parent was struggling.
“You okay, Dad?”
Owen blinked at Becca. “Yeah. I’m great.”
“Do you have to get back to work?”
He looked around for Will, who was nowhere to be seen. His brother had been right behind him on parade. “I need to find your uncle.”
“Which one?”
Fuck it. He didn’t know. “All of them, probably.”
Owen was pretty sure he’d chicken out if he waited for each brother to get back to him one by one, so he sent a group text instead.
