Cadet - 15. Cadet Second Class • IV

“What do you think?” Ritch kept his eyes on the road, waiting for Bender to pass judgement. They had left Will’s old pickup at the Academy, agreeing Heinrich was a better ride, and were on their way to Wyoming to celebrate Thanksgiving with the Bender family again. Ritch was more concerned with the speech he was to deliver Friday morning.

“It’s good, bro.” Will stashed the phone in a cup holder; he had been reading the remarks Ritch had prepared for the ceremony. “Short and sweet and very well written. I’m impressed.”

“Ha! That was my dads’ doing with an assist from my brother. The initial draft I sent them came back with more corrections and suggestions than one of my school essays.”

Melissa Griffon, Ritch’s aunt, engineered the return to Glenrock, insisting he represent the family. She had organized a ribbon cutting ceremony for the rehabbed and renamed clinic at the Bar Nunn Animal Rescue Center.

During construction, Melissa had sent regular progress updates and included pictures of the structure, as the old barn’s insides were gutted and rebuilt. Her most recent message included a shot of the sign he was to unveil. It read: Davenport Family Animal Health and Nutrition Center.

“Just out of curiosity, how much did you guys contribute? Melissa’s making a huge deal out of this.” Will had been verbally slapped a few times when he had brought up his friend’s wealth. He sounded apologetic for revisiting the matter.

“The dads gave her a hundred grand.” Ritch had asked for the family foundation to make a yearly contribution to the animal shelter but had been surprised at the amount. “And they committed to doing the same for a few more years.”

Will’s whistle was loud in the Porsche’s confines. “Damn! No wonder she’s making a big to do out of this. Remember to send me the speech once you finish tinkering. I have to include it with whatever pictures I take.”

Ritch groaned. As pressured as he felt about properly representing the family when speaking on their behalf, the expected aftermath bothered him even more. When Melissa approached him about her plans, Ritch demurred, claiming he needed Academy permission before participating.

He first spoke with Kai Palakiko, his squadron’s commander. The Cadet Lieutenant Colonel grinned like a fool when Ritch explained what his aunt wanted. “This is great, Peterson. The brass’ gonna eat this shit up!”

Ritch had groaned then too. The reaction was not what he expected. He had hoped he would be refused permission to appear at the event. “What do you mean?”

“This is an opportunity for the Academy to look good in public. Bro, they’re gonna fucking kiss your ass in the middle of The Terrazzo.”

They did. When he explained he would spend Thanksgiving at Bender’s home, Will was called into the Public Affairs office too. He was tasked with attending the ceremony and documenting the event. Both were ordered to wear their service dress uniform to it.

“Forgive my lack of eloquence. I’m only comfortable speaking in public when I’m berating lower-ranked cadets.” The chuckles from the small group in attendance gratified Ritch. His brother had suggested he start with humor to get the audience on his side.

“Two years ago, after I turned eighteen, I became a member of my family’s charitable foundation’s board of directors. At my first meeting, I requested a donation for the Bar Nunn Animal Rescue Center. My parents suggested a larger gift than I asked for. Last year at Christmas, we presented my aunt, Melissa Griffon, with a check for a modest amount.

“She extended an invitation my parents accepted to visit the Center. Upon their return, they asked me and the other members of the board to make a long-term commitment. Unanimously, their suggestion was approved. I’d like to announce The Davenport Family Foundation has pledged a total of half-a-million dollars to be disbursed over five years. We hope our contributions will help maintain the high level of care Bar Nunn has previously displayed.”

A couple of politicians, a few donors, and the Center’s staff greeted his announcement with applause. The reporter sent by the Casper Star-Tribune snapped pictures of Ritch and the attendees. At the end of his remarks, Ritch agreed to answer questions about the foundation and its commitment.

“Bro, this is sick. You made Air Force Times!” Joel Boxworth, Ritch’s roommate, rose halfway out of his chair and offered him a fist bump.

Will and Ritch had left Wyoming late in the afternoon on Friday, spent Saturday skiing and chasing women in Vail, and Saturday night with a pair of sisters from Arizona. They returned to Colorado Springs on Sunday. Monday had been busy with classes, squadron business, and a short conversation with Miranda Kerr about the ski club.

Ritch sat at his desk trying to prioritize his responsibilities for the coming week. “We did?”

“Here, take a look.” Joel handed his tablet over. “You look a little like your aunt.”

The picture showed Ritch and Melissa flanking the sign he had just unveiled. “Yeah… same dark hair and blue eyes. At least I don’t have any gray like she does. Yet. I swear, Joel, I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the end of the semester. The group project for Leadership, Teamwork, and Organizational Management’s kicking my ass.”

“You’ll make it, Peterson. All you have to do is ask for help, and The Wing will fly to the rescue.” Joel grinned and pointed at the tablet. “Did you notice the article’s byline? They included Bender and credited the photograph to him.”

Ritch glanced at the screen and grinned. “That’s cool! Maybe instead of joining JAG, he’ll work in public relations.” The Judge Advocate General's Corps, also known as the JAG Corps or JAG, was the legal arm of the United States Air Force.

“Yeah, right. That boy wants to be a lawyer as much as you want to be a pilot.” Joel appeared lost in thought for a moment. “You know something? This shit’s entirely unfair. You’re a hunk. Your brother and his husband are too, and your dads are DILFs. As if that wasn’t enough, you guys have big money and big hearts. Don’t you have a hidden brother I could marry?”

It felt good to laugh. Joel was a great roommate. “Sorry, Boxworth. No more of us, and I’m definitely not interested.”

Because CJ and Owen were expecting, and the birth was to happen around the end of the year, the family convened in Washington for Christmas. Both homes were full of visitors, and the mounds of presents under the trees rivaled each other.

The period between Thanksgiving and the end of the semester had been stressful for Ritch. He felt overextended and questioned his ability to juggle all his responsibilities. It may have been sibling rivalry or his competitive spirit, but after hearing what his brother’s schedule was like, Ritch felt reenergized and ready to tackle whatever came his way once he returned to base.

Following the stay in Key West in late spring, Owen resumed work at the Nature Conservancy. CJ went back to school for another degree, started working part time as a consultant, created a new not-for-profit, and somehow found time to write another book. Diplomat Dad: Un Año en Mexico would be published in January and excerpts had already been released to the media. The clamoring for interviews and appearances was immediate, but CJ refused to schedule any before the end of the year except for one.

“Why are you dragging me to this thing when I could be home catching up on six months of no sleep?” Ritch was in the back of his brother’s Tesla next to his niece.

“Mate, it’s Boxing Day!” Owen glanced at his brother-in-law in the rearview mirror. “I know it’s not celebrated in the U.S., but in the Commonwealth, it’s when we give presents to those in need. At least that’s one of the reasons for the holiday.”

“And because José Andrés asked me to speak to the troops.” CJ chuckled. “Get it? Troops?”

“Ha, ha. Why does everyone in the family insist on using bad military puns?” Ritch had been bombarded with them from the moment he entered the Academy. “That’s the famous chef who dissed Trump, right?”

“Yep.” When announcing his run for the White House, the xenophobic presidential candidate had denigrated immigrants, particularly those from Mexico, calling them murderers and rapists. José Andrés’ reaction had been swift; he canceled plans to open a restaurant at the Trump International Hotel in Washington. “He’s on the board of DC Central Kitchen. We met him a few years ago at their annual Capital Food Fight fundraiser, and we’ve kept in touch.”

“The organization prepares meals for schools, shelters, and nonprofits, Ritch. While training people for the food industry.” Owen took turns around Stanton Park faster than he should have, and Liebe squealed each time she was jostled from side to side. “She likes this, so we try to do it a couple of times whenever we take her out.”

“Anyway, bro. Although I said no to every other request, I couldn’t turn José down when he asked me to come speak. He called it a treat for paid staff and volunteers.”

“For some reason, he thinks your brother’s inspiring. Beats the hell out of me why.”

“Asshole.” CJ mumbled the word in deference to their daughter being in the vehicle.

Ritch once again marveled how his brother and brother-in-law complemented each other, even when telling a story. They almost finished each other’s sentences. He hoped to one day have a similar relationship.

“So, CJ, really, why did you agree to do this? You were adamant about not risking being busy around birth time.”

CJ chortled. “Birth time? When we came back from Mexico, we went to Heroes Haven for a visit. To make a long story short, we met a guy who had been a cook before he became homeless. José gave him a job when I asked. The man’s employed, has his own apartment, and last I heard was dating a volunteer at World Kitchen.”

“That’s cool.” As usual, Ritch was impressed by how CJ pulled people together. “And it reminds me of something I’d forgotten to tell you guys. There’s a group in Colorado Springs starting a small house community for homeless vets!”

“Really? You been there? How does it compare?” CJ had turned to look at his brother.

“Nope. I read something about it and sent them a hundred bucks as a contribution. I think they plan on breaking ground on the first houses in spring.”

Owen suggested what had already crossed Ritch’s mind. “You should go volunteer. And take them a copy of A Home for Warriors.”

“We have a bunch of discs at home. Remind us to give you a couple to take back.” CJ, as usual, pushed his brother to get involved in the community. “Hell, you should organize a bunch of cadets to do it with you. I’m sure the Academy would approve it. Win win for them. They help veterans, and they get positive PR.”

“And based on Thanksgiving, we know they love that shit.” Ritch had been the center of attention in his squadron after the article was published.

“This might just get you another promotion, bro.”

Ritch flew to Colorado on January 2, 2023. On the fourth, he became an uncle twice over. That night, he video-called Washington, and got to virtually meet his nephews. The next day, everyone he ran into was forced to look at pictures of Jefferson and Roosevelt Abelló. It was impossible to tell them apart.

Miranda, beer in hand, walked into Ritch’s room and dropped herself on the bed. “We need to talk.”

Ritch groaned. “What did I do now?” Following their ice cream outing, Miranda had gradually relaxed around him. By the time they were on the bus to Vail, for the Ski Club’s now annual MLK trip to Falcons Lair, they were back to joking and laughing together.

“Why, Peterson, is there something I should know about?” Her expression was pure evil.

“Let’s just say when you walk in my room while I’m getting undressed to shower, I wonder what you’re looking for.”

“In your dreams, Romeo. I wanted to talk about spring break without the crowd hearing. Where we going this year?”

Ritch was surprised. Although their relationship had regained normalcy, he could not believe she wanted to travel with The Wing again. “Really? You want to go somewhere with us? I thought—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Miranda sounded dismissive. “Just because you know I’m a lesbian, I’m not gonna crawl under a rock and hide. Been there, done that, and it didn’t work.”

She drained the remainder of her beer and placed the empty bottle on the nightstand. “You helped me realize I really don’t have a lot to be scared of, Peterson. I’ve done a lot of thinking since our little chat. I’m not going to blab about it on social media, but I’m ready to step out of the closet before graduation. I’ll start with whoever travels with us.”

“Fuck! You have horrible timing. But I’m proud of you. Anyone gives you shit, you let me know. I’ll back you up.”

“Oh, like you stood up for Boxworth? Are you gonna run into a fist for me too?” Miranda joined a long line of friends who had given him crap about getting decked the previous semester.

“Fuck you! Anyway, we’re not going anywhere, unless one of you organizes it. I’m gonna be in Washington, meeting my new nephews.”

Liebe hung over the back of the sofa, her little arms squeezed around Ritch’s neck, while Taisha tried to take a picture. He held two nephews in one arm, and the third in the other. “Loosen up, Liebe. You’re gonna strangle me.”

The previous year, looking for a larger home to start a family in, cousin Rod and his wife purchased the house across the alley from CJ and Owen. A month after Jefferson and Roosevelt were born, Taisha gave birth to Raishod Abelló.

“Take the picture already. We don’t want him to drop any of them.” CJ had been home when Ritch stopped by. So had Taisha. Owen and Rod were out together running errands. Something about low diaper stock and having to increase the frequency of Amazon deliveries.

“They look so cute dressed the same.” Taisha at last took the picture and immediately snagged her son from his perilous position.

Ritch had brought home three identical Air Force onesies for the newborns. Prior to sitting on the couch and posing, he had helped dress them. “Ugh! Somebody crapped their diaper, and I’m not sure which one it is.” One at a time, he raised his nephews, so he could smell better. “This one,” he said while jiggling his right arm.

“That’s Roo. I’ll change him.” CJ lifted the culprit and started unsnapping his outfit.

“Roo? He’s got a nickname already?”

“Blame her!” Taisha nodded in Liebe’s direction. “She complained the names were too long, so she christened them Jeffer, Roo, and Raish. Although she calls her cousin Rash right now, I have a feeling those nicknames are gonna stick. They’re kinda cute.”

With only one kid left in his arms, Liebe ran around the couch and jumped on Ritch’s lap. “I like my shirt, Uncle Ritch.”

“A little large on you, kiddo. It’ll fit better when you get bigger.” During football season, the Air Force Academy Falcons had worn a jersey honoring the famed Tuskegee Airmen. The smallest kid size was too big for the girl, but she had insisted on wearing it as soon as Ritch gave her the package.

“There’s a good seamstress at the corner dry cleaners we use.” CJ had returned and had Ritch hold both boys again. “Time to feed the monsters. Hang on to them while I get the bottles ready.” He took the few steps to the kitchen and rummaged through a cabinet. “Anyway, about that seamstress. I’ll take the shirt over and have her take it in a bit. At a minimum, we need to shorten it, so Liebe doesn’t trip over the hem.”

Ritch had made sure Roo was on his left and Jeffer on the right. He had no idea how CJ could tell them apart, or if anyone else could. He sure as hell had not discovered any differences in the boys.

“And we have a full house.” CJ tapped the screen on the kitchen’s tablet. “Rod and Ozzie just pulled into the garage, and Harley and Kim are at the front door.” He looked at Ritch, tilted his head a tad and grinned. “Hope you’re ready for this, bro, Lucy’s with them. Everhope, unlock front door.”

Ritch wanted to stand but was trapped on the couch. Until someone relieved him of at least one kid, he did not dare move for fear of dropping either. He and Lucy had briefly seen each other since breaking up during their senior year in high school and traded generic holiday greetings via texts. Otherwise, they had no contact.

His jaw dropped when she followed her brother and his girlfriend into the kitchen. With her long, dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, and wearing almost no makeup, she looked better than most women did, without even trying. Their eyes met, she smiled, and his heart fluttered.

Harley preempted anyone saying a word, when he immediately bumped fists with CJ and opened his mouth. “Bruh, we’re on our way to the airport to drop off my sister, but she wanted to meet the boys before heading back to school. Kim drove so I wouldn’t have to, and that means we can sample a new weed a guy whose motorcycle I work on all the time gave me. Never heard about it before, but Wedding Crasher’s dope. I smoked a joint last night, and that was enough. It—”

Instead of verbally stopping the monologue, CJ hip-butted his friend, and nodded in the family room’s direction.

Looking over, Harley realized they weren’t alone. “Oh, hey, Ritch. When did you get in?”

“This morning. Hi, Kim. Haven’t seen you in a while.” Ritch smiled at Harley’s girlfriend, but his eyes never left Lucy. “You look great, Lucy. Headed back to Boston?” She was a student at Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

“Yep. I guess you’re starting your break?” She pecked CJ’s cheek and walked towards the couch. “Can I hold one of them?”

“Yeah, I decided to come home this year to meet the munchkins.” He looked down at his nephews and grinned. “Pick a baby. Any baby you want, since I can’t move real well with both of them.”

Lucy lifted one of the boys from Ritch’s arms and cradled him in her own. “Oh, look at him smile!”

Ritch ended up sandwiched between her and Taisha, each of them holding an infant.

“Photo op! Don’t anyone move.” Owen stood in front of them and snapped a couple of shots. “Rod went next door, Taisha.”

“On that note, I’m joining him. Time to feed Raish. My boobs are so full they hurt.”

“How old is he now?” Kim had approached the group and perched herself on the sofa’s arm. “A month?”

“Almost six weeks.” Taisha looked tired.

Ritch assumed she was not getting a lot of uninterrupted sleep, if she was breast-feeding the boy. “You should take a nap, T. You look exhausted.”

“Kim, wanna hold him for a minute so I can get up?” Baby-free, Taisha struggled to rise. “I use the pump, so Rod can do some of the night feeds, but it’s still a pain. As much as I love him, I’m not sure I want to do this again. He may well be an only child.”

“It gets better.” Owen reached for the boy in Ritch’s arms. “With Liebe, we always complained about the middle-of-the-night feedings. Now, with two, both of us get up, get it done, and fall back to sleep as soon as we hit the bed.” Owen grabbed his son from Ritch’s arms. “Come on, Jeffer. Uncle Ritch can hold you again later.”

Two steps on his way to the kitchen, Owen turned around. “Actually, Kim, wanna feed Roo? That way Harley and CJ can go outside, and Lucy and Ritch can catch up about school.”

“Yes! I’d love to.” The Vietnamese-American woman took the other infant from Lucy and followed Owen.

Alone with his ex-girlfriend, Ritch wiped sweaty hands on his jeans. “Wanna go see the nursery? They redecorated it when Liebe moved to her own room and the boys took it over. I’ve only seen pictures myself.”

“I’d like that.” Lucy stood and offered Ritch a hand. “Come on, I don’t have a lot of time before I have to be at the airport. I saw the picture they posted. The dolphins mobile looked really cute.”

“You follow my brothers on social media?” Ritch was surprised.

“Don’t be silly, Ritch. How long have I known CJ? Of course I follow him and Owen.” She looked down before raising her head and locking eyes with Ritch. “I follow you too, you know? You seem to be doing well and enjoying the snow.”

“Really? You follow me?” Ritch was beyond thrilled; something inside felt warm. Although they had agreed to break up after she terminated an unexpected pregnancy, he had never stopped having feelings for her. All the getting laid was fun, but Lucy was often in his thoughts.

Climbing the stairs behind him, Lucy chuckled. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? I loved the pictures you posted of you and your friends in front of the Vail house. It looks better than what my brother described.” Harley had been part of the group celebrating CJ’s eighteenth birthday skiing.

“You should come out for a visit. I’ll have plenty of passes next year.” The multiple promotions would provide additional ones again. “And since I have Heinrich at the Academy, I can drive to Denver and pick you up. Maybe over a long weekend?”

“Tempting… We’ll see.”

“Tio Ritch, quiero un taco.” Liebe, sitting next to him, pointed at the container of moo shu pork and the thin pancakes resembling Mexican tortillas.

He had spent the entire day at Everhope, joining CJ and Owen, when they took the kids to Lincoln Park two blocks away. “They’re not really tacos, Liebe. This is Chinese food.”

“You take a tortilla”—she pointed at the unfurled aluminum the restaurant had wrapped them in—“and then you put that stuff in it.” This time she signaled the pork dish.

Owen pushed the container a little closer. “Forget it, Ritch. To her it’s a taco no matter what you say. She got hooked on the things while we were in Mexico City.”

From across the table, Brett pointed an eggroll at Ritch. “You staying here tonight, or you coming back to Georgetown with us?” The fathers had stopped by the restaurant to collect the previously ordered food and joined their sons for Sunday dinner.

Ritch was conflicted. As much as he wanted to spend the night and wake up the next day with Liebe, Roo, and Jeffer, the Georgetown townhouse was still legally his home. “I’ll go home tonight, but I’ll spend a couple of nights here later in the week. If that’s okay with you and Dad.”

“Fuck! Now César and I won’t be able to walk around naked. And we’ll have to keep the noise down.”

“You said a grown up word, Grandpa Cap. You’re not allowed to do that in front of me.”

“Grandpa Cap? When did that start?” Ritch grinned at his niece. “Cap’s been a bad boy, Liebe. We’ll have to punish him. Should we spank his behind?”

The girl giggled while nodding.

“I’ll put him in time out later.” César winked at Ritch. “You do realize when you spend the night here you may be put to work in the middle of the night, right? Those kids don’t feed themselves.”

“Whatever… That don’t scare me. The smelly diapers do.”

A week later, he did not want to leave. He had changed his share of diapers, fed his niece and nephews more than once, and decided he wanted a couple of rugrats too. When the time was right.

Ritch found himself in a quandary as the end of spring semester approached. Earlier in the year, he had invited Wendy Jones to be his date, but his encounter with Lucy Wilkinson had left him confused. Their conversation had been short due to the impending departure of her flight at the time. Still, they had made plans to see each other again.

His philandering over the past couple of years had been fun, but it never dimmed the torch he carried for Lucy. Seeing her in Washington, he realized he was still infatuated with the woman. Maybe the time away from each other had been for the best. After all, having been together since they were kids, the separation allowed him time to mature and determine the depth of his feelings.

“Thanks, bro.” Joel stood in front of the mirror and adjusted his bowtie. “How’d you learn to do one of these so well?”

Ritch finished tying his own. “My brother. I’ve been going to formal events since I was a kid. He used to tie them for me before I learned how to. Hell, I’ve outgrown three tuxedos so far. Let’s see how long this one lasts.” It was not a tuxedo per se he wore, but the Air Force equivalent. He thought he and Joel looked resplendent in their mess dress uniforms, and he liked the fact it was a distinctive blue instead of black.

When his phone buzzed, Ritch smiled before he even picked it up. “See you at dinner, bud. That was Wendy. She’s on her way, so I’ll go wait for her outside.”

Joel smirked. “Someone’s getting lucky tonight.”

“Asshole!”

The American college tradition of class rings began with the class of 1835 at West Point. From there, it spread to Annapolis. The Air Force Academy continued the custom, beginning at its inception. It was the only service academy to have had them for every class.

Ritch had ordered his ring in January, and along with the rest of the Class of 2024, would take possession of the prized jewelry that evening. The Ring Dinner Dance took place at the beginning of Graduation Week festivities for the class ahead of the ring recipients.

He smiled when Wendy waved at him from inside the Uber he had sent for her. Later that night, after the event ended, he would drive her to The Lodge at Flying Horse, where he had reserved a room. “Oh my god! You look gorgeous.” Ritch extended a hand to help her out of the car. As she planted a high heel on the ground, the side slit on her full-length black skirt opened, revealing a shapely leg. Ritch swallowed.

“Why, thank you, Colonel Peterson.” He had mentioned his upcoming promotion to her over the phone. “You look very handsome yourself.”

“Thanks, Wendy. And thank you for agreeing to be my date.”

“My pleasure. I’m actually looking forward to it. The Academy’s so different from regular schools. I’m curious to see what happens tonight.”

While most C2Cs were of legal drinking age, Ritch would not turn twenty-one until July. “You know, this really sucks.” He looked around the table and shook his head. “You all get to have champagne, while I’m stuck drinking ginger ale.”

“Suck it up, Romeo. I’m sure you’ll make up for it as soon as you get a chance.” Edrice had invited the daughter of his sponsor family’s neighbors. The girl he had drooled over the past couple of years was now eighteen and a senior in high school.

“Shut up, Bond.” Ritch had started the nickname as a nod to Cadet King’s interest in intelligence work. “Anyway, time to do the deed.” He smiled at Wendy. “Ready?”

She had been clued in on the tradition and called it silly fun. Her nod was the signal Ritch was waiting for. With him in the lead, every cadet raised their flute; their class rings were at the bottom. Following a toast, they downed the contents and ended up with the rings between their teeth. The smiles were augmented by giggles from a couple of dates.

“Pucker up, Romeo.” Wendy grabbed the back of Ritch’s head and pulled in her direction. Although not sloppy, the kiss was far from chaste. She ended up with the ring in her mouth. “Are they all white gold?” she asked while wiping it dry with her napkin.

“Yeah… The other academies use yellow gold, so ours are distinctive.” Ritch held out his hand, and she slipped the ring on.

Weeks before the Ring Dinner, after returning from spring break in Washington, Ritch had a chat with Wendy. He explained he had encountered his ex while on vacation. They had talked and made plans to see each other again. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen, Wendy, but I don’t want to lead either one of you on. I’ll understand if you don’t want to go to the Ring Dance with me.”

“You know something Mr. Peterson? You’re an honorable man. Unless you tell me you don’t want me there, I’d still love to go.”

“I do. I think it’ll be fun. Even if we’re going as just friends.”

“That’s all we’ve ever been, Ritch. Friends. I’ve had fun with you, but I never thought it was more than that. And of course I want to go with you. It’ll be a blast and an experience.”

Once the ring bash was over, Ritch drove Wendy to the hotel, said goodbye outside, and promised to let her know what happened with Lucy.

“Peterson, it’s been a pleasure.” Kai Palakiko gave Ritch a bro hug and took a step back. “You tear it up this coming year, and we’ll hopefully end up training together.” Kai was on his way to pilot school, although unlike Ritch, he was not interested in fighter jets. His goal was to one day be in command of Air Force One.

“Man, I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me. I’ll try to live up to your example. Let me know if you get leave and want to go skiing. The family place in Vail ain’t going nowhere.”

Miranda Kerr’s goodbye embrace was in contrast longer and more effusive. Not interested in flying, she wanted to put her degree in Political Science to use at the Pentagon. Her initial posting was at Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling in Washington, D.C. “I won’t report for thirty days, so I’ll miss you when you go back home.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be home regularly, so we’ll connect.” Ritch had grown to appreciate her quirky sense of humor and respect her professionalism. He hoped she would sometime soon feel comfortable enough in her sexuality and throw open the closet doors, never to close them again. “Remember my brother’s expecting you to call him. CJ, Owen, and the dads will, at a minimum, offer you a home-cooked meal now and then. And my brother’s going places.” Ritch smirked and tapped fists with her. “Feel free to hitch your wagon to him.”