Page 45 of Welcome to Forever
Kat nodded. “Right.”
“I’ll pick Kimberly up in half an hour,” Mr. Markus said, taking a step back. “I’ll just go wait in the car.”
Kat turned back to the Friendship Club and watched the kids with their different chores, a giddy smile stretching her face uncomfortably. She’d stood up for what she believed in and hadn’t backed down. And it’d worked.
The mower came to a stop thirty feet away and she locked eyes with Micah, sweaty from the heat. He removed his ball cap and waved at her. Waving back, a flutter of heat tore through her, rivaling the pride she’d just felt in her administrative capabilities. He was an employee. A parent.
But she didn’t care because he was also the first man to make her feel this way in a very long time. Alive. Sexual. Like a woman.
—
Micah left the school that afternoon and drove straight to his aunt Clara’s. “Listen to your aunt, you hear me?” He pointed a finger at Ben, seated in his wheelchair beside the Jeep.
“Great-aunt,” Ben corrected, glancing over his shoulder at the older woman standing behind him in the driveway.
“We’ll be fine. Go on,” Aunt Clara urged, waving him away with her hand. “I’ve got him.”
Micah had grown to feel less guilty about leaving Ben here in the last month. He guessed that was progress. And Ben was starting to ask to come over, even when Micah had nowhere to go. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. A single man should want his freedom, not feel overwhelmed by it.
Tonight, though, he had no desire to leave Ben. Meeting his father at Camp Leon sounded more like a punishment than a good time, although for the life of him, he had no idea why the senior Peterson would want to punish him. Micah hadn’t told anyone about his plans not to reenlist next year. Not yet.
After hopping back in his Jeep, he drove all the way to the military base with the windows down. His father had said he wanted a tour of the “birds” which is what he called the V-22 Osprey. There was always a spark of pride in the old man’s eyes these days when he spoke about Micah being an Osprey pilot. Funny, he’d discouraged the decision when Micah had first announced he’d be applying for flight school. He’d been a twenty-two-year-old officer at the time and the options were endless. The obvious choice, though, according to his father, was to follow in his footsteps.
Instead, Micah had done six months in pre-flight classes before he was even allowed to set foot in the large aircraft. As soon as he had, he’d felt that unparalleled surge of adrenaline. The Marine Corps had never been his dream, but a new dream took hold of him when he sat in the pilot’s seat that first day. He did another three years after pre-flight before he was actually considered a pilot, and he’d suffered more than a little ridicule from his good ol’ dad during that time.
Colonel Peterson was waiting for him when he pulled up. Parking, Micah took a deep breath. He loved his dad, but sometimes, most times, he didn’t like him very much.
“Hey, Dad.” Micah waved and headed in his direction.
“It’s Colonel Peterson when you’re on the job. You know that. And where’s your uniform?” his father asked in the brisk manner that he’d always used to communicate with his only child.
Micah slid his sunglasses over his eyes and avoided the question. “What do you want?”
His father’s lips tightened. “Walk with me,” he commanded.
“I already did my PT today. So if it’s exercise you’re after…” Micah contained a grin as his old man’s gaze slid over. A lot of grunts would go limp-kneed at the look, but Micah had learned a long time ago that his father was all smoke and mirrors. And while Micah was usually anything but a smart-ass—that was much more Lawson’s style—he enjoyed smart-assing his father.
They didn’t walk far. Just to the edge of the fence, where there were several straight-backed and uncomfortable-as-hell metal benches. They sat in silence for a long moment. Micah recognized this maneuver, too. He’d gotten the silent treatment a lot as a child, expected to squirm as he wondered what was going on. Not now. Micah was a grown man, and he really didn’t care what his father’s opinions were anymore. All he cared about was the fact that he was missing dinner with his son right now in order to be here at his father’s beck and call.
Slapping his hands on his thighs, he glanced over. “Well, this was great, Colonel. If that’s all you needed—” He started to stand.
“It’s time you moved up in rank,” his father finally spoke. “I hear you didn’t take the classes required to qualify you for a rank change last month.”
Micah shrugged. Yeah, he’d been a little busy last month designing gardens that had made grown men weep. “That’s right,” he said, not feeling the need to justify himself. He slid his sunglasses back over his eyes instead, and crossed a foot over one knee.
“You’ll take the required trainings and apply for rank next month.”
His father didn’t say as much, but Micah recognized an order when he got one. He’d been taking orders his entire life. Tightening and relaxing the muscles in his jaw, he nodded. The alternative to agreeing with his good ol’ dad’s order was telling him where he could stick it. And then admitting that he wouldn’t be reenlisting next year, so upping rank wasn’t exactly a priority. Micah wasn’t ready for that battle of wills just yet, though. Not while he was still in the planning stages—building his client list for landscaping and pulling off exhibits like he’d done last week. His father was a man who was…effective at getting his way, and Micah didn’t want to leave him any room to crash his plans.
“Well, if that’s all, sir.” Standing, Micah offered a sarcastic salute, which could’ve just as easily been his middle finger going up. Then he headed back to his Jeep, hating that he hadn’t told his father where he could go with his hard-ass orders. Micah had made a calculated move, though, just like the military had trained him so well to do. His father had won this little battle, but the war was definitely going to be his.
