Free Blaze of Glory by Catherine Mann Page A

any
other
number
of
mental
disabilities.
Still,
she
wasn’t
sure
there
was
enough
reassurance
in
the
world.
    “Well,
thank
you
very
much
for
sharing,
but
I’m
not
concerned
with
your
opinion.”
She
tugged
open
the door.
    He
sidestepped,
which
blocked
her
entrance
to
the
vehicle.
“Don’t
you
think
that
while
you
were
back
in
the States
a
plane
ticket
might
have
been
a
little
less
trouble
than
hauling
your
fine
ass
across
the
Pacific
Ocean?
    Or
is
this
a
lastminute
impulse
and
you
figured
that
while
you’re
in
the
neighborhood
you’ll
give
him
a ride?”
    “Do
you
really
think
I’m
the
impulsive
sort?”
    “Valid
point.”
He
shifted
feet,
frowned,
never
taking
his
eyes
off
her
no
matter
how
much
his
body
fidgeted.
    “What’s
going
on,
then?”
    Hand
on
the
dark
green
door,
she
sagged.
“My
father
is,
uh,
eccentric.”
    “I’m
still
not
following.”
    Grace
Marie
stiffened,
straightened
and
opted
for
the
truth.
“My
father
is
a
genius
with
only
one
toe
barely dipping
in
this
world.
I’m
afraid
he
may
have
pulled
even
that
out.
Professionally,
I
know
I
have
nothing
to feel
ashamed
of,
but
the
reactions
and
distrust
of
others
still
string
me
tight
on
a
personal
level.” Surprise
sparked
through
him
for
a
simple
second
before
he
blanked
his
face.
She’d
trusted
him
with something
huge
and
he
needed
to
be
appropriate—worthy
of
that
trust.
“Your
father
has
mental
problems?” The
strain
on
her
face
was
unmistakable
and
damned
hearttugging.
She
should
be
the
last
person
to
give any
credence
to
the
stigma,
but
still
he
could
see
it
was
hard
for
her
to
say.
    “Yes.
I
haven’t
heard
from
him
in
six
weeks,
and
I’m
afraid
he
may
be
off
his
meds.
I
need
to
see
him, check
on
him
and
possibly—probably—take
him
home.”
    His
hand
fell
on
her
shoulder,
with
a
support
he
doubted
she
would
accept
for
long.
“Don’t
you
think
they’ll notice
around
here
at
the
camp
if
you
suddenly
show
up
with
your
old
man?”
    “Of
course.”
She
shrugged
from
under
his
hand.
“But
if
he’s
not
all
right,
nobody’s
going
to
turn
him
loose to
roam
the
jungle.
I’ll
get
him
on
a
plane
home
with
a
flight
doc.” He
quirked
his
eyebrow.
    She
sighed.
“It
may
not
be
the
best
plan—”
    “It’s
not
a
bad
plan.
Sounds
to
me
like
you’re
going
for
the
General
George
Patton
approach—
‘A
good plan
executed
today
is
better
than
a
perfect
plan
executed
at
some
indefinite
point
in
the
future.’”
    “You’ve
studied
Patton?”
    He
stuffed
down
the
resentment
over
her
intellectual
snobbery.
“I’ve
even
read
two
books
since
college graduation.
Or
maybe
it
was
three.
I’m
not
sure.”
    She
covered
his
hand
with
hers.
Then
her
mouth
rounded
into
an
O.
She
slid
her
hand
away
as
if
trying
to