“I was thinking,” I start, lowering into the chair beside her. “We could take Dad’s flag back home when we leave.”
Her gaze slides to the mantel. She shakes her head. “No, this is where he belongs. He and I always talked about moving here someday, building a house down by the shore. His flag next to Norm’s, in this place”—she nods thoughtfully—“that’s how it should be.”
I grab her hand, pull her eyes back to me. “Mom, it’s always been yours.”
Eight years old was too young to grasp the meaning when she left Dad’s flag with Nana and Pops. But understanding came with time.
The folded stars and stripes belong to next of kin—it was supposed to be Mom first, then me. My mother with the big heart, however, recognized everything my grandparents would be without when she and I returned to our life in North Carolina.“We have each other, they can have the flag,”she’d said.
“I know that, sweetie.” She gives my hand a reassuring pat. “But I got you and his dog tags, remember?That”—she points at the fireplace—“is meaningful, yes, but at the end of the day it’s only fabric and stitching.Youhave always been what I cherish most in keeping your dad’s memory alive.”
Mom tweaks the fold of my beret to cap the discussion. I turn to Bri and Dubs working over the cheese tray. Nobody’s foaming at the mouth, so that’s a good sign.
I glance at my watch and stand from the table. “You guys need any help?”
My friend’s phone rings. “Sorry, gotta take this.” Dubs disappears out the front door before he connects the call.
Sidling in next to my stepsister, I ask again. “Can I help?”
“I think Tess and I are almost done here. You might check on Hannah, though. She’s working on things outside.”
The sliding door clicks shut behind me as I spot Hannah shifting picture frames on the guestbook table. I cross through the small clearing of trees, my steps quiet.
She pauses on the photo of Nana and Pops on the dock—the one we found in the garage the other day. My hand finds her hip and she jumps in surprise, nearly dropping the frame.
“Holy crap, you scared me!” She sets the picture on the table and turns around in my arms. Her eyes flare for a beat, then she retreats a few steps to look me up and down.
“Well, I can’t think of a more inappropriate time for you to show me this.” She comes close again, finger gliding over my smooth jaw. “And you shaved.”
“Yeah, sorry. Military rules.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t mind, you look good either way. I didn’t know you were gonna wear your dress uniform.”
“I wasn’t, but Dubs packed it. He’s wearing his too.”
“There’s two of you?” Her eyes bug out again. “Bri really doesn’t stand a chance.”
Laughing, I close my lips over hers. “Settle in, baby. There’s more.”
Over her shoulder, I nod toward the six men in full dress comprising the Honor Guard headed toward us.
Hannah hums. “On that note, I should warn your sister.”
In between Dubshelping Mom to her seat and introducing himself to the guys from the Honor Guard, he’s been ducking away to take phone calls every few minutes. Hannah’s stayed by my side to greet everyone as they arrive.
Her Golden Boys—Pops’ friends—are here as promised along with Lydia and Richard. The thirty or so other guests all hail from the VFW. Military bomber jackets covered in patches, Vietnam veteran hats, Garrison caps, it’s all represented by a small, but meaningful crowd who’ve come to honor my grandfather. Some walking by cane whether by injury or old age, others younger and still able to fit intotheir dress uniforms. I don’t know most of their names, but they’re here for Pops, and that’s all that matters.
Dubs reappears next to me as the last guest heads to their seat.
I squeeze Hannah’s hand. “I guess we’re ready then.”
She nods and turns to give the Pastor the go ahead, but my friend interrupts. “Not yet. We’ve got a few more.”
Dubs’ face is unreadable, but the sound of tires raking gravel pulls my attention before I can figure it out.
The SUV is unrecognizable to me, then again, most of the vehicles here are. But the four men who climb out of it aren’t.
I spin back to my friend. “What the hell did you do?”