Chapter 11 - The Monday Morning Departure
The predawn air on Monday was sharp enough to frost the windshield of my sedan. Inside the house on Maple Lane, the smell of fresh coffee mingled with the familiar, comforting scent of toast.
Dad was already awake when I came down the stairs, dressed in his favorite flannel shirt, standing by the kitchen counter with my travel mug in his hand. He looked different than he had a week ago—shoulders back, expression clear, the heavy invisible weight lifted from his chest.
“Pack your seabag, Captain?” Dad asked, handing me the mug with a gentle smile that didn't quite hide the reluctance in his eyes.
“All loaded up,” I said, taking a sip of the dark roast. “And all legal paperwork regarding the property transfer is safely filed with the county clerk. You’re the sole owner of record, Dad. No liens, no secondary loans, no surprises.”
Dad nodded, walking over to wrap his arms around me in a tight, steady hug. “You saved this house, Lauri. More than that, you saved me. Drive safe down to Norfolk, and call me the second you hit the gate.”
“I will, Dad. I promise.”
May you like
Ten minutes later, I backed out of the driveway, shifting my car into gear. As I pulled away down Maple Lane, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Dad was standing on the porch, his hand raised in a steady, proud salute. I blinked back the sudden stinging in my eyes, smiled, and pressed down on the accelerator, heading south toward the coast and the gray, familiar waters of the Atlantic fleet.
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