Page 53 of North

North stirred his chili, took a bite. He might have even moaned with the way it nurtured his bones. Now Frank’s words soaked in too. He nodded. “I grew up as a pastor’s son. He wanted me to go into the ministry. I wanted…to do something more hands-on.”

“Oh, I can think of many preachers who are plenty hands-on, son. But I get that.”

“I joined the Navy. Became a SEAL. And maybe along the way, I sort of forgot the mercy part.”

Frank cocked his head at him. “Really? You have nightmares, son?”

North’s mouth opened. “Um…” He lifted a shoulder. “Some.”

“That’s because you care. You’re not without mercy, or grace or compassion. If you were, you wouldn’t be haunted.”

Okay, so maybe he liked this guy, despite the man’s being a little rough around the edges. Could be that North was too.

“Took me years to understand my nightmares,” Frank said finally. “Why they kept coming. Why I couldn’t shake them.”

North took another bite of chili. “What did you figure out?”

“That they came because I wasn’t a stone-cold killer. Because somewhere inside, I still cared.” Frank’s weathered hands wrapped around his coffee cup. “A true monster sleeps easy at night. It’s the men with consciences who wake up screaming.”

Oh.

“How did you…” North’s voice trailed off.

“Learn to live with it?” Frank smiled slightly. “Miriam. She found me one night, out here in the kitchen at 3:00 a.m. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t close my eyes without seeing faces.” He paused. “She sat down right where you are now and said, ‘Frank Hendrickson, you did hard things because someone had to. Now do better.’”

“Do better?”

“Live with mercy. Find grace. Remember why I did what I did—not for the killing but for the protecting.” Frank’s eyes met North’s. “The nightmares didn’t stop. But I learned to forgive myself. Started living in grace instead of guilt.”

“Does Miriam…” North swallowed, cut his voice low. Miriam had gone upstairs, maybe to check on her grandchildren. “Does she know everything? What you did over there?”

“Every detail,” Frank said with a sigh. “Can’t build a life on secrets. She loves me not just in spite of what I did but because I served my country the best way I knew how. Because I kept my heart while doing the hard things.” He gestured around the kitchen. “This farm, my family. I still have something to defend. It’s all about protecting something. Building something. Making sure our world stays a little safer.

“I don’t know you, son. But here’s what I do know. You can be a warrior and a good man. They’re not mutually exclusive. And in case you forget that…that’s what your wife is for—to remind you.”

“What if mercy gets her killed?”

“Mercy isn’t weakness, son. Sometimes the most merciful thing we can do is stop those who have none. But we do it remembering why—not for revenge, not for pleasure. We do it to protect. To serve. To keep our humanity while facing the inhumane.”

Frank got up then and walked over to a small built-in kitchen desk. Picked up a cordless phone and handed it to North.

“Find her,” Frank said quietly. “Save her. But don’t lose yourself doing it. That’s what separates us from them—the ability to do dangerous things while keeping our souls intact.”

Miriam came down the stairs. “Those kids. They want their pops to tuck them into bed.”

He glanced at North. “Pops to the rescue.” He got up.

North picked up his phone. Opened his contacts. Selah’s, of course, was at the top. The charging cord was too short for him to call and keep power, so he punched her number into the cordless phone.

Please answer.

The phone rang once. Twice.

And a male voice answered.

* * *

Sixteen or so years ago…