A chill raced up my spine. “Were you scared to cross the border?”
“No. Plenty of roads into New York without border patrol. I wanted to see you so bad.” This time Ron leaned over to hold me. And he wouldn’t let go.
After a minute passed, I pulled away to look him in the eye. “This is all Dad’s fault.”
Ron glanced away for a second, then met my gaze. “You know what? I honestly don’t blame him.”
My mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Three years away has given me a lot of time to think about him. And what it was like for us to be his kids. When Freddy’s head got blown off, it got me wondering how many times Dad saw the same thing. He was a foot soldier once, before he moved up the ranks in World War II, then made it all the way to colonel in Korea. Can you imagine how war has affected him?”
“Leon said the same thing this morning. I’d never thought about it before.”
“Neither had I till I got to ’Nam. Think about it: Dad grew up in a military household, then went to West Point when he was eighteen. The army is the only life he’s ever known. He had to be a rigid SOB with the thousands of soldiers under his authority. He just didn’t know how to pull it back when it came to his family.”
I let his words marinate before answering. “Are you saying you’re not mad at him anymore? I sure am.”
“I’m saying I can’t live my life estranged from our one and only father forever. I don’t know what that looks like, but there has to be a peace treaty at some point.”
“I called Mama yesterday. She told me Dad wants to apologize, and he’s realized all kinds of things.” I rolled my eyes.
“Good! Let him apologize. He’s got a lot of it to do.” Ron crossed his arms over his chest. “Our father is so full of pride; I’m surprised he would consider admitting he’s wrong about anything.”
“We’ll see,” I said, unconvinced it would ever happen.
A memory of Dad holding my hand at the zoo when I was little crossed my mind. I saw love in his eyes while he handed me pink cotton candy on a long stick. He had tenderness in his voice when he told me the cotton candy was twice the size of my head.
The remembrance of my younger years with Dad filled me with a surprising warmth. “Dad hasn’t always been a monster.” Tears stung my eyes. “Maybe he does this stuff because he truly believes he’s saving us from burning in hell.”
Ron leaned toward me. “Our chaplain back in ’Nam says that’s bullshit. When I told him I was gonna defect, even if it meant I’d burn in hell, he said God wouldn’t do that.” He put his hands on my knees to meet my gaze. “He said God loves us unconditionally, no matter what we’ve done. And forgives us for all of it. All we have to do is believe.”
“I wish your chaplain could talk to Dad.”
Ron chuckled. “That ain’t gonna happen.” His broken-tooth smile killed me.
“Dad should have come to the festival,” I said. “Maybe smoking a little weed would have set his soul free.”
Guttural laughter spewed from Ron’s throat. And mine. We held on to our stomachs. It was the first time we’d done it in ages.
After the laughter subsided, I remembered Leon’s words about forgiveness. “Maybe someday I can forgive him. It’s just gonna take me a while.”
Ron caressed my freckled cheek with the back of his hand. “I know you can do it.”
We gazed at one another a few seconds before I said, “Can I ask you a question?”
He nodded.
“How doesLivyfit into this? I mean, I get she’s your girlfriend and all, but she told me she was happy she could help you. What’d she mean by that?”
“She’s the one who came up with the defection plan.”
I gripped the arms of the chair and leaned back. “Figures.”
“Hold on a minute. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive. I ... would’ve shot myself.”
That was hard to hear.
Ron tugged on his beard. “I’m sorry I never told you about her. I, well, we didn’t want you mad—”
