Chapter 2 - The Dinner of Ghosts
The front lawn was lined with high-end sedans and official military vehicles by seven o'clock that evening. Laughter spilled out of the open living room windows, accompanied by the clink of crystal glasses and the rich scent of smoked brisket that my father had prepared on his massive backyard grill.
I didn't intend to join them, but around eight, my mother cracked the garage door open. Her hands trembled against the door frame. "Mara... your father says you should come inside for a plate. He doesn't want the neighbors asking why a woman is lurking in the driveway."
I stood up, smoothed out my slacks, and followed her into the bright, crowded house. The living room was packed with local veterans, retired naval officers, and members of the local civic league. In the center of the room stood Grant Reed, holding a highball glass of bourbon, gesturing grandly toward the shrine on the wall.
"Fourteen years of flawless naval service!" Grant announced to a circle of nodding men in blazers. "Surface warfare officer. Top of his class at Annapolis. Commended twice for navigation excellence in the Pacific Fleet. Mason knows what it means to carry the Reed name. No excuses. No disappearing acts. Just straight-down-the-line American discipline!"
Several guests clapped, patting Grant on the back. My father caught sight of me standing by the kitchen archway. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, appraising smirk.
"Ah," Grant said loudly enough to silence the surrounding chatter. "And here is my daughter, Mara. She decided to drop in from the ether."
A retired captain with white whiskers turned toward me, smiling politely. "Good evening, young lady. Did you serve as well, or did you take the civilian route?"
Before I could speak, Grant stepped between us, cutting me off with a patronizing chuckle. "Oh, Mara had a little stint in the Navy years ago. But she couldn't handle the structure, you see. Couldn't stand by the family standards. Dropped out of sight, working low-level contract clerk jobs overseas, refusing to answer to anyone. Disappeared for over a decade while her brother was out there doing real work for this nation."
A murmur of uncomfortable silence rippled through the guests. A few looked at the floor; others gave me looks of veiled pity. It was a calculated, deliberate humiliation designed to remind me of my place.
"Is that right?" the retired captain asked gently. "Well, support personnel keep the fleet moving too."
"She’s nobody's personnel," Grant snapped, his voice bitter. "She’s a ghost who only shows up when she wants a free meal. But Mason... Mason is the future of the Navy."
Just then, the front door opened, and Mason walked into the foyer. He looked handsome, tired, and sharp in his service dress blues. As soon as he crossed the threshold, his eyes swept past the crowd, bypassing Grant completely, and landed squarely on me.
"Mara?" Mason gasped, his eyes wide.
He moved through the crowd, ignoring outstretched hands, and stopped directly in front of me. For a moment, he looked like the ten-year-old boy who used to skin his knees climbing the old maple tree in the front yard. Then, without warning, he pulled me into a fierce, bone-crushing hug.
"You came," Mason whispered into my ear, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. "I thought you were still overseas. I thought you wouldn't get the clearance to travel."
"I wouldn't miss your promotion, little brother," I murmured back, patting his broad back.
Grant cleared his throat loudly, stepping in and pulling Mason by the arm. "All right, son, save the sentiment for later. Commander Bradley is here from the regional command. Come over here and meet the men who actually helped build your career. Don't waste your breath on someone who won't even be in uniform tomorrow."
May you like
Mason looked at our father, a flash of deep irritation crossing his face, but the conditioning of twenty years under Grant’s iron thumb won out. He offered me an apologetic glance before being dragged toward the circle of old officers.
I quietly slipped back into the kitchen, picked up a single glass of water, and returned to the cold concrete of the garage. I didn't need their applause. I knew what tomorrow held.
