He leaned against the railing beside me and let out a long breath.
“Well,” he said, “that escalated.”
I smiled faintly.
“A little.”
“I’m really sorry about my dad.”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“Yes, I do. I should have told him earlier.”
“That might not have helped.”
Daniel frowned.
“You think he would have acted the same way?”
“Probably not,” I said. “But then he wouldn’t have shown us who he really is either.”
Daniel considered that.
“He’s not a bad man,” he said quietly.
“I know. But he’s stubborn.”
“So are most Marines.”
Daniel laughed softly.
“That’s true.”
We stood there for another minute before the porch door opened again. Frank stepped outside. He looked different now. The certainty that had filled the dining room earlier had softened into something else, something more careful.
“Daniel,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Could you give us a minute?”
Daniel glanced between us.
“You sure?”
“I’ll survive,” I said.
Daniel nodded and slipped back inside. Frank walked slowly to the other side of the porch railing. For a while, he just stared out at the darkening yard. Then he cleared his throat.
“Well,” he said, “that was a hell of a dinner.”
I smiled slightly.
“Yes, it was.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“You know, I’ve replayed that conversation in my head about ten times in the last fifteen minutes.”
“That sounds uncomfortable.”
“It is.”
Frank shifted his weight.
“I spent half the evening explaining the Marine Corps to someone who commands more Marines than I ever met in my entire career.”
“That happens sometimes.”
He shook his head.
“No. Not usually like that.”
Another silence passed. Finally, he turned toward me.
“I owe you a real apology.”
“You already offered one.”
“That one was automatic,” he said. “This one’s deliberate.”
I waited. Frank looked me straight in the eye.
“I judged you.”
“Yes.”
“I assumed you didn’t understand the Corps.”
“Yes.”
“And I talked down to you in my own house.”
I nodded once.
“That part did happen.”
