“Mom,” Freya says, as if both expecting her question and used to ones this intrusive. “We’ve talked about it.”
A part of me feels this is Faith massively overstepping her role. But then, another part of me remembers that Freya was born with sickle cell anemia, and it wasn’t expected. Faith has been through unthinkable things as she wondered for years what the fate of her child’s health would be.
So, I have to give her this one. “We decided we’re ready for anything that doesn’t put Freya at risk. A perfect baby for me is one that arrives safely.”
Lita lowers her head. “Amen.”
And for the first time since entering this house, Faith nods in approval and finally tackles her muffin. With a knife and fork.
“So, Anton,” Faith says, with less attack but still more an interview than a casual conversation over breakfast. “You were in the military? Navy SEALs, is that right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And what inspired you to do that? I always wonder what pushes people to go into the military.” She takes a bite of muffin from her fork.
I can’t tell if she asks it like,why in the world would anyone do thator from genuine curiosity. I can see why this woman is Queen of the Courtroom. She’s incredibly hard to read, composed as shit.
Now I know where Freya’s alpha female energy comes from.
I’m honest. “I joined because I wanted to do good in the world. I stayed because I found out how much bad there really was.”
Lita taps her daughter’s arm. “I’ve heard that line before.”
Faith smiles. It’s pursed but a smile nevertheless.
I guess being a district attorney, you have to first start off with the idea of making a difference, too. Hopefully, Faith will realize we have more than doing good in common, but also, wanting to make her daughter happy.
I’m not known for my charming first impressions, but I won’t stop until we get there. If Freya decided to stay in Echo Valley, and I’m hoping more and more by the day that she does, Faith knowing she’s safe here is important to me.
She folds her hands in front of her and places them on the table. “And you were in for how long?”
“I was in the SEALs for four years. I did my first year, loved it, then got offered a top-secret assignment. Unfortunately, when that was done after three years…let’s just say they had to pull me.”
I had to be burned. I’m sure their erasing my service is what made me so comfortable with the idea of going vigilante when my marriage broke down.
“Honorable discharge?” Faith asks, but this time, I see she’s expecting me to say yes.
Either because she’s softening or because she knows her daughter wouldn’t choose a total degenerate.
“Yes. When I took the secret mission, I figured four years was the max anyone could do in the SEALs and come out without physical or psychological damage. It sounded exciting at the time, but sometimes, I wish I could have stayed enlisted.”
Especially when the life I thought I was coming back to—my wife, possibly starting a family—didn’t wait for me.
I can see Faith wants to ask if I am, indeed, mentally or physically damaged, but she leaves me with the kind ofpolite end of a discussion that a lot of public servants give me when they hear about the SEALs. “Well, thank you for your service.”
I’m not a point scorer, and maybe I’d be doing better with Faith if I were, but it seems like being a military man has given me a tick in the pro column, and you never know with people how they’re going to react to it, especially when they know you’re able to keep secrets, so I take it as a win.
I’m guessing Faith has had to keep secrets more than once in her career, too.
Faith takes another sip of her juice and sets the glass down with a quiet clink. “Well,” she says, “if we need to be out the door soon, I suppose we should freshen up.”
Freya nods and pushes back her chair. “Bathroom’s down the hall, first door on the left.”
Faith moves briskly in that direction, her spine straight as a rail.
Lita watches her go with a knowing look, then turns back to me. “She’s not trying to be difficult, baby.”
Somehow, Lita calling me baby affects me. It’s…homely.
