Chapter 3: The Adventure Continues

The flight back to Earth took 14 days – four less than my first trip aboard the Armstrong over five years ago. My new bride and I spent most of that time between the sheets in our small stateroom, getting up only for meals, trips to the head and our daily shower.

By the time we reached the third rock from the Sun, we were both itching to plant our feet on Terra Firma. We sprang into action when we heard the message from the captain to prepare for re-entry. We folded the bed and took our seats, fastening our harnesses. The video monitor flickered and we saw the flight attendant give instructions for re-entry.

I listened to the instructions and looked over at Kyra. She seemed a bit nervous.

“You ever experience re-entry?” I asked. She shook her head.

“No, never,” she told me. I took her hand in mine.

“Piece of cake,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’ve done this a hundred times. Just follow the instructions and you’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” she said, apparently still not convinced. The craft slowed down and I saw we were slowly entering the atmosphere. Then I saw the heat build up on the wings and felt the g-forces increase. The ride got a bit bumpy, but not any more than I would have expected.

Finally, the craft was in the atmosphere and we could see the blue sky as we continued our descent. The ship was set to touch down at the Daniel K. Inouye International Spaceport in just a couple hours. From what I read, it bragged the largest runway to be built entirely offshore.

“Feels strange to look out the window and see a blue sky, doesn’t it?” I asked. After seeing nothing but the blackness of space for five years, it was a welcome sight.

“Yeah, it does,” she said with a smile. Finally, the craft landed and came to a stop. We waited for the indicator light telling us we could deplane. Grabbing our carry-on luggage, we made our way into the terminal. For a moment, I considered kissing the ground. It felt good to be back on Earth. Strange, but good.

We went through security, then made our way to the luggage area where we grabbed our bags and then headed for the taxi stand outside the terminal. After we left the building, we each stood and took in large deep breaths. Fresh, uncirculated, unsterilized air. It definitely smelled different, and it felt good to breathe real, natural air for a change.

“Is it always like this for you when you get back from a mission?” Kyra asked.

“Most of the time,” I said. “Everything just seems so ... different to me this time around. Of course, I’ve never been on a mission this long before.” We got into our cab and made our way to the beachfront hotel we would call home for the next couple weeks. When we got to our room, Kyra seemed a bit tired.

“Are you okay?” I asked when I opened the door.

“I’m just a bit winded,” she said.

“I’m not surprised. You haven’t been at one-g for nearly five years,” I said. “You want to stay in tonight and just get some rest?”

“Yeah, if that’s alright with you,” she said.

“Sure,” I said. “Just one thing we have to do.”

“What’s that?” she asked. I smiled, then picked her up in my arms and carried her through the door. She smiled back and put her arms around my neck. “Oh my, you’re so strong, my husband.” I set her down next to the bed and gave her a kiss. She was definitely heavier than I recalled, but I didn’t say anything.

We didn’t do anything that first night back except eat in and cuddle together in bed. Both of us needed to acclimate to being in one-g after spending so much time in space. Even though Leesa kept Enterprise at .9 G or thereabouts most of the time, we certainly felt the impact of the extra gravity on our systems.

We slept good that first night and woke up early, ready to see the sights. After breakfast, we went to Pearl Harbor and visited the USS Arizona memorial. It was eerie to see parts of the ship below the surface of the water, and even more eerie to think that more than 900 men were entombed there. We were both stunned to hear that even after 160 years, oil still leaked from the sunken ship.

We ended the trip with a visit to the Shrine Room, where we paid our respects to the men who had given their lives on the ship that fateful day in December 1941. From there, we visited the USS Missouri memorial and took a tour of the old World War II battleship. Then it was off to the Pearl Harbor Aviation Museum. It was amazing to see how far we had progressed technologically since the days these old aircraft ruled the skies.

Kyra was a bit winded after all that walking, so we went back to the hotel, where we ate a nice dinner and sat out on the beach, holding hands and listening to the waves. I rather enjoyed the peace and quiet myself and I loved sharing this time with my new bride. We stayed there until after dark, and ended up making out on the beach.

I looked at Kyra and noticed her eyes were drawn to the sky. I looked up with her to see what was holding her attention, but only saw a few stars. Then it hit me.

“Gotten under your skin, hasn’t it?” I asked. She looked at me, curious.

“What do you mean?”

“Space,” I said. “We were out there for five years. Now we’re back on Earth, laying out on a romantic beach in Hawaii, and you’re staring up at the stars. At least, the ones you can see through all this light pollution.”

“Is it that obvious?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding my head. “Happens to all of us, I think. Once you’ve been out there, you can’t ever let go. I think there’s a small part of you that stays out there.”

“I used to wonder what it was that drove guys like you to keep going out there, even knowing all the dangers involved,” she said. “Now I think I understand, at least a little bit.” I held her there on the beach for a little while longer.

“Well, Mrs. Jones,” I whispered. “If you’ve got your Earth legs back, what do you say we retire to our room for a bit of R&R.”

“I’ve got an even better idea than that, spaceman,” she said with a wicked smile.

“What’s that?” I asked. She pushed me on my back and straddled me. As I watched, she untied her tiny top and tossed it on the sand next to us. I could feel myself begin to respond.

“Make love to me right here, on the beach under the stars,” she said as she untied her bottoms. She pulled her tiny bikini bottoms off and was totally nude. She worked my shorts off and began sliding my hard cock through her shaved slit. At this rate, I wouldn’t last very long.

“You are a naughty vixen, aren’t you?” I asked as I fondled her breasts.

“The naughtiest,” she whispered. “And I need my husband’s cock deep inside me. Right now.” The next thing I knew, she had impaled herself on me and I was balls-deep inside her warm wet pussy. We coupled like two teenagers right there on the beach, not caring if anyone saw us. She collapsed into my arms after her orgasm hit and we laid there for a few minutes, basking in each other’s warmth.

“I love you, Bill,” she said. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“And I love you as well, Kyra,” I told her. “Now and forever.”

...

All good things have to eventually end, and so it was that three weeks later, we said goodbye to Hawaii and flew up to Spokane, where my father met us at the airport. He came up to us as we made our way to pick up our luggage.

“You must be Kyra,” Dad said as he gave her a hug.

“And you must be Mr. Jones,” Kyra told him. He laughed at that.

“Mr. Jones was my Dad,” he said. “You can call me George, or better yet, just call me ‘Pop.’”

“Alright, Pop,” Kyra said.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he said, grabbing some of our luggage. “I’m parked right outside. So, how was Hawaii?”

“It was great, Dad,” I said. “By the way, where’s Mom?”

“She’s back at the house, getting your room ready for you,” he said. “You know how she likes everything to be shipshape.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. We got our luggage to his truck and loaded everything up. “I see you still have the old Ford.”

“Yeah, you know I like to keep things running as long as I can,” Dad said. “This thing’s been real good to me, so I see no need to trade it in.” I opened the front door for Kyra, but she insisted I sit in front with Dad. So I opened the back door for her and she climbed in. When we were all situated, he started the truck and we headed out.

“You’re looking good, Dad,” I said. Even now, at just over 60, Dad was in great shape, although he had put on a few pounds. “I see you’re letting your beard grow out. Looks really good on you.” Dad never had a beard until after he retired. He let it grow a bit, but finally gave in and let it develop into a full beard since I joined the Academy. He smiled and his eyes twinkled when he did.

“Yeah, well, your Mom says it makes me look a bit like Santa Claus. All I need is a big ol’ beer gut, but that ain’t happening,” he said with a laugh.

“So you were in the Corps as well, Pop?” Kyra asked from the back seat.

“As a matter of fact, I was. Retired about 20 years ago as a Master Chief Engineer. Gave the Corps 32 of the best years of my life. Poor Linda put up with it like a real trooper, so I promised her the next 32 years were hers, exclusively,” he said.

“So what do you do now?” she asked.

“Whatever the hell I want,” he told her, smiling. “For the most part, anyway.”

“Dad built himself a 30-inch telescope and a backyard observatory by the house,” I told Kyra. “You still mess around with that thing?” I asked him.

“Sure do,” he said. “Got some pretty interesting shots, too, I might add.”

“Oh? Like what?” Kyra asked.

“Got some interesting pictures of Mars here just recently,” he said. “I’ll show ‘em to ya when we get to the house. I think you might like ‘em.” We talked the rest of the trip home and Kyra was wide-eyed when she saw the view from the house.

“My God, this is beautiful,” she said as she looked down at the lake below. “You grew up in this?”

“All through my high school years, anyway,” I said. “Dad was moved around so much we never spent more than a couple years in any one place. After he retired, we came up here and this is where I call home.”

“I really envy you,” she said. “I’d love to live somewhere like this.”

“Maybe one day we will,” I said. “C’mon, let’s go inside. Mom’s dying to meet you.” We went inside and Mom rushed over to us.

“You must be Kyra,” she said as she hugged my wife. “I’ve heard so much about you. Please, come on inside and take a seat.” Mom looked at me with a big smile. “She’s just a pretty girl, Bill.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said. “I think so.”

“Well, you’d better,” she said, slapping me on the arm. “I just made a batch of lemonade. Would you care for a glass?”

“I’d love some, please,” Kyra said as she sat down. Mom went into the kitchen and came back with a tray containing four glasses and a big pitcher. We each took a sip from our glasses and set them down. “That’s delicious,” Kyra told my mother. “Did you squeeze this yourself?”

“Yes, I did,” Mom told her.

“So, Kyra,” Dad began. “Bill here tells me you’re a doctor.”

“Yes, I am,” Kyra said.

“What kind of a doctor are you? The kind that delivers babies?” Kyra laughed at that.

“No, Dad,” I said. “Kyra is a psychologist. In fact, she just got her second doctorate.”

“Second?” Dad asked, incredulous. “That is impressive. Maybe one day you can tell us all why we are the way we are,” he joked. “Where did you two meet?”

“On the Enterprise,” I told him.

“So you’re in the Corps as well?” he asked.

“Sort of,” Kyra said. Dad looked confused at that. “I actually hold the rank of Lt. Commander, and I’m now the ship’s counselor.”

“Ship’s counselor?” Dad asked. “I’m sorry, I’m not following this.”

“Well, Dad,” I began, “when they started the interstellar project, they made some changes to the rules regarding fraternization.”

“That would make sense,” he said. “Being in space on a voyage that long could cause some problems. So, how did they overcome that?”

“Basically, they relaxed the rules for the crew and junior officers, but kept them in place for command and senior officers,” I told him. “When I went to Advanced Operations School, they did a psychological profile and it turns out Kyra and I are compatible. She volunteered to join me on the mission, and the rest is history.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” he said. “So, you basically gave up your career to join my son?”

“Essentially,” Kyra said. “And I would do it all over again.”

“Do you realize how dangerous space travel is?” he asked her.

“Yes, I did, and I understand it even more so now,” she said. “But I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m glad I went on that trip. Meeting Bill is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“And this ‘ship’s counselor’ thing...”

“During the trip to Alpha Centauri, I counseled a number of crew members, and Command saw the benefit of having someone with my skill set on a mission like that,” Kyra began. “So, they decided to put a counselor on all interstellar missions. I was offered the job and took it, and they gave me a field commission. From now on, where Bill goes, I go.” Dad smiled as he nodded his head.

“I guess things really are changing. Wasn’t like that when I was in, let me tell you,” Dad said. “Oh, before I forget, let me show you something.” He went into his home office and came back with a large binder. He pulled out a photo of Mars and showed it to us.

“You took this with your telescope?” I asked.

“Sure did,” he said. “Got a new high-def camera that beats anything I’ve ever seen before, so I tried it on the scope. Pretty impressive. Picked up a lot of detail I’ve never been able to get before.”

“Wow,” Kyra said. “That’s amazing.”

“That ain’t all,” he said. “Take a look at that point of light just up and to the right of the planet.” I looked and saw a tiny blur but couldn’t make anything out. “Now take a look at this,” he said, handing me another photo. I gasped when I saw the outline of the Enterprise.

“You were able to get that much detail out of that camera?” I asked.

“Yep,” Dad said. “I zoomed in on that part of the digital file and blew it up as far as I could. That’s not all.” He pulled out one of his old binders and opened it up. When he found what he was looking for, he showed it to us. “Look familiar?”

“That’s ... the Enterprise,” I said. I looked at the lower right corner of the diagram and saw it was signed, “Jones, George, MCE,” and dated just over 20 years ago. Shocked, I looked at Dad.

“You drew this? Over 20 years ago?” I asked. He nodded his head.

“Sure did,” he said. “They’d been actively working to break the light barrier for the last 50 years or so. They finally came on an idea they thought might work, so my team was tasked with the initial design for a ship. I’m sure there were a number of changes made to our initial design, but I’m glad to see they kept it basically the same. When I first saw that picture, you could’ve knocked me over with a feather.”

“Damn,” I said. “I had no idea.”

“To be honest, I never expected to live long enough to see our ship actually fly,” he said. “You see, there’s a whole lot of problems with faster-than-light travel,” he added, speaking to Kyra. “For one thing, the human nervous system doesn’t even work that fast. But I guess they figured a way around that.”

“And there’s more,” Kyra said. “Your son is now the First Officer of that ship.”

“Really? First Officer of the Enterprise? Damn,” Dad said with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. “And all this time I was concerned your joining the service was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Kyra asked. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of my son. At the time he applied to the Academy, I was concerned he was doing it just so he could be with that girl, Tabitha,” Dad said.

“You mean, the girl he married?” Kyra asked. Dad nodded his head.

“Yeah, her.”

“So, how do you feel about your son being in the service?” Kyra asked.

“Listen, Kyra, I love my son,” Dad said. “I’d be proud of him no matter what he decided to do. I spent 32 years in the Corps and I know what it’s like. You’re gone half the time, out in the harshest environment known to man. One little mistake and it’s ‘cancel Christmas.’ I’m sure you understand that. It’s also hard on families. I got lucky with Linda. She stuck with me through all that crap. Hell, if I had my druthers, I’d rather he did anything other than become a spaceman. But he made his choice and stuck with it. He’s become a fine officer and I’m damn proud of him.” Just then, Mom came into the room.

“Dinner’s ready, everyone,” she said.

“Good,” Dad said. “Trust me, Kyra, you haven’t lived until you’ve had some of my wife’s award-winning venison lasagna.”

“Venison lasagna?” Kyra asked.

“Yeah,” Dad said. “Can’t hardly get real meat in the stores anymore, so I either catch or shoot most of what we eat. Butcher down in town takes care of it and we’ve got a whole freezer full of venison and elk.”

We sat down to the dinner table and Mom scooped a large portion for all of us. Kyra’s eyes widened when she took her first taste.

“That’s delicious,” she said. “I’ve never eaten venison before. And this is the best lasagna I’ve ever tasted.”

“I’m glad you like it, dear,” Mom said with a smile. After dinner, Dad got up and motioned for me to join him out back. On the way, he grabbed a couple beers out of the refrigerator and handed me one. By then, the sun had set and the temperature had cooled off a bit. We sat down on the deck and Dad pulled out a couple cigars, handing one to me. He lit his, then mine and we sat back on the deck looking out over the lake below.

“So, you dealing with that shit on the Armstrong okay?” Dad asked. I nodded my head.

“Yeah, I am, thanks. Kyra helped me out a lot,” I told him.

“That’s one helluva woman you have there, son,” he said. “A real keeper.”

“I think so,” I replied.

“I never got a chance to tell ya to your face, but I’m damn proud of the way you handled Travers,” he said quietly.

“I killed a man, Dad,” I said. “I’m not very proud of that.”

“I understand, son. You acted in self defense. You saved your life and who knows how many others,” Dad said. “Yeah, you killed him, but believe me, Bull Travers was no ‘man.’ He was a scum-sucking, maggot-infested putrid piece of dog shit. A predator from the word, go.”

“So, you knew him?” I asked.

“Yeah, I knew him. He was an asshole back then, too,” Dad said. “I never told you this, but he once tried to put the moves on your mother.”

“No way,” I said.

“Oh yeah. Caught him trying to feel her up at a barbecue my unit was holding. Kicked him in the balls so hard he started puking. He threatened to write me up for striking an officer. I told him, ‘go ahead, and then I’ll write you up for attempting to rape a subordinate’s wife.’ He backed off and never messed with me after that. But he did say that one day he would get back at me for that.”

“So, you think that’s why he went after me the way he did?” I asked.

“Possibly,” Dad said. “There’s no telling what goes through the mind of an asshole like that. I heard he was close to the end of his career, though. He was going to be retired after his tour on the Armstrong.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said.

“I still have friends in high places,” he said. “They keep me informed on the latest scuttlebutt. I may not be the most educated man around, but I do know one thing, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Any man with the balls to jettison Bull Travers out of an airlock ... well, that’s an officer I could follow anywhere.” He looked at me hard. “Anywhere,” he repeated. I looked at my father, shocked. Then I nodded my head.

“Thanks,” I said. I realized this was high praise coming from him.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “By the way, have you heard from Tabitha?”

“No, I haven’t seen nor heard from her since her court-martial,” I said. “Why?”

“We got a note from her about a year ago. Said she was being given an early release and was wondering where you were. We told her you were on a long-term assignment and weren’t available,” Dad said. “I spoke to her parents and they said there was some kind of judicial review thing going on and they were releasing a bunch of prisoners. Including her. They wondered if she was coming back, but she told them she already had something lined up.”

“But no specifics?” I asked. He shook his head.

“No, none,” he said. “Her parents said some people came by from Homeland Security asking about her, but no one knew where she was.”

“She’s not part of my life anymore, so I really don’t care,” I said. He nodded his head in agreement and we continued talking as we nursed our beer and our cigars. Eventually, Mom and Kyra came out on the back deck.

“Are you two going to stay the whole night out here?” Mom asked.

“Just enjoying a beer and a cigar,” Dad said. “We’re bonding. It’s a father-son thing.”

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Kyra said.

“I normally don’t,” I said. “In fact, this is the third cigar I’ve had in my entire life.” She grabbed the cigar from my hand and for a moment, I thought she was going to snuff it out. Instead, she took a drag from it, nodded her head and handed it back to me.

“Smooth,” she said. Dad started laughing, and Mom joined him.

“She’s definitely a keeper, son,” he said. “You’d better hang on to that one.”

...

That night, Kyra and I lay in the queen-size bed I slept in as a youngster and cuddled after a nice quiet romp. Neither one of us wanted to make too much noise and I was a bit nervous about having sex in the same house as my parents. I think Kyra felt the same way.

“So this is where you slept as a kid,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I really like your parents,” she said. “They’re so nice, down-to-earth.”

“They’re the best,” I said. “I just wish Dad could’ve been around more when he was in the service, but he always made it up to us when he came home.”

“Do you think there’ll ever be a time when people have kids on a starship?” she asked.

“Who knows,” I said. “Anything’s possible.”

“I really envy you, Bill,” she said. “Perfect parents, a beautiful home in the country. I can tell they really love you.”

“I love them, too,” I said. “What about you? Didn’t you have a happy childhood?”

“Well, we always had lots of stuff. My dad is a big executive for XNN. He runs the Interplanetary Division. Mom’s a psychologist and she’s written several best-selling books. Always on the talk shows, that sort of thing. They weren’t able to spend very much time with me as I grew up, so they had a nanny look after me. It was ... different.”

“I see,” I said.

“To be honest, though, I would have given up all the stuff if it meant we could have been as close as you and your parents,” she said sadly. I held her close to me and kissed her.

...

The next three weeks in Idaho went fast for us. Dad took us out on Lake Pend O’Reille a couple times and we had a blast. Kyra tried water skiing for the first time and spent more time in the water than on it. But she eventually got the hang of it.

The next time we went out, Dad showed her how to bait a hook and to my surprise, Kyra took right to it, catching a couple of very nice fish that Dad cooked up on the grill later that day. Never once did I hear her complain about touching worms or cleaning the fish.

I took her out for a drive and showed her around the area. We drove south to Coeur d’Alene and spent the day on the boardwalk that went out into the lake. She had such a good time on the lake that she fell asleep on the drive back.

One night, after dinner, Dad pulled out his banjo and began plucking on it.

“You know, we still have a couple of your old guitars sitting around,” he said. “You up to a little picking with the old man?”

“Sure,” I said. “Where are they?”

“Well, here’s one of them,” Mom said as she handed me an old Gibson I hadn’t played since high school.

“I put new strings on it when I heard you were coming,” Dad said with a wink. “The old ones sounded pretty flat.” I tuned it up and to my surprise it still sounded as good as it did all those years ago.

“Well, what do you want to play?” I asked.

“How about that old tune we used to play together when you were younger?” he asked.

“Dueling Banjos?” I asked. He smiled wide and his eyes twinkled as he strummed a couple chords on his banjo.

“That’s the one,” he said. “You still remember that one?”

“I sure do. Let’s do it,” I said. “You’ll love this,” I told Kyra. I started with the first three chords of the song, which Dad played on the banjo. We started slow and picked up the tempo as we went, until we were finally going full-bore. Kyra and Mom were clapping along with us and having a great time. Finally, the song ended with a high-five between Dad and I.

“That was great,” Kyra exclaimed.

“Thank you,” Dad said.

“Do you play anything?” Mom asked Kyra.

“Well, I took piano, flute and violin when I was younger,” Kyra said. “I later learned the mountain dulcimer, but it’s been years since I’ve done anything.”

“You know, George, I still have Dad’s old fiddle,” Mom said. “Why don’t I bring it out?”

“Sure,” Dad said. Mom left and came back a little later with a case she handed to Kyra. She opened the case and looked at the old fiddle.

“How old is this?” she asked.

“Dad said it’s from the Civil War,” Mom said. “He used to play it all the time. Go ahead, pull it out and tune it up.”

“Are you sure?” Kyra asked.

“Absolutely,” Mom said. Kyra pulled out the old instrument and tuned it up, then applied some rosin to the bow after tightening it up.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve played anything,” Kyra said. “I’ll probably make some mistakes.”

“That’s okay, dear,” Dad said. “We’re all family here. No one’s gonna care. Just have fun with it.”

“Well, okay. There’s this old song I learned called ‘Ashokan Farewell.’ It was written by Jay Ungar in 1982, I think,” she said.

“I think I’ve heard that before,” Dad said. “Let’s hear it.”

“Here goes,” Kyra said. She put the fiddle under her chin and began playing. I could tell she was nervous at first, but she stuck with it. The song was slow and haunting and sounded like it could have been written back in the Civil War.

As she played, I began accompanying her on the guitar. After a while, Dad began doing the same on the banjo. We followed Kyra’s lead, not wanting to put any pressure on her. I could see a tear start to form in her eye as she played. When she finished, we all applauded. Kyra set the instrument down and began sobbing for some reason. Granted, the song was something of a tear-jerker, but I suspected there was something else going on.

“What’s the matter?” I asked as I put an arm around her. Mom and Dad came over to her as well. Kyra buried her face in my shirt and sobbed for a few minutes. When she settled down a bit, she looked up at us and wiped tears from her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It’s just ... I’ve never played with family before and it made me feel so happy. It’s stupid, I know. I’m so embarrassed.”

“It’s not stupid and there’s no need to be embarrassed, dear,” Mom said. “That was lovely.”

“Thank you,” Kyra said. “When I was younger, my parents had me play in recitals all the time, but they never once played anything with me. It was always meant to impress their rich celebrity friends. This was the first time I’ve ever played anything just for the fun of it.”

“You’d better get used to that in this family, sweetheart,” Dad said. “Music is supposed to be fun and something shared with those we love, and we play a lot of it in this house. Don’t we?” he asked, looking at Mom and I. We both nodded our heads and said, “yes” in response.

“So, what do you play?” Kyra asked Linda.

“I play an autoharp,” Mom said. “Dad and I play together several times a week in fact.”

“Can we hear you play?” Kyra asked her.

“Of course,” she said, getting up out of her chair. She came back a few minutes later and sat down with her autoharp.

“Rosin the Bow?” Dad asked her.

“You know it, George,” she said.

“Alright, here goes. You kids jump in when you feel like it,” Dad said. They started playing together and I started playing along on the guitar. After a few moments, Kyra picked up the old fiddle and played as well. Before long, she was smiling from ear to ear as she watched Mom and Dad play together. We all applauded when the song was over. I looked at Kyra.

“Are you feeling better now?” I asked.

“You know it,” she said. We played a couple more songs before calling it a night. I held my wife close to me after we made love.

“You never told me any of that about your parents,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s a part of my life I hate to think about.”

“I can understand that,” I said.

“Just wait till you meet them. Then you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.”