Free Blaze of Glory by Catherine Mann Page B

be
unobtrusive,
but
the
flame
shone
in
her
eyes.
“I
apologize
for
prejudging.”
    “I
may
not
have
graduated
with
honors,
but
I
finished
on
time.”
He
put
his
hand
back
over
hers
on
the
door.
    “Nice
try
diverting
me
from
the
subject.
I
feel
fairly
certain
there’s
nothing
I
can
do
to
persuade
you
this
is
an insane
plan.
And
since
I
excel
at
the
nutzo
stuff—no
offense
meant
to
your
father—”
    “None
taken.”
    “—then
it
only
makes
sense
for
me
to
go
along
with
you.”
    “Now
you’ve
really
gone
over
the
edge.
There’s
a
solid
chance
I
might
be
late
returning
and
there’s
no
need for
you
to
get
written
up
as
well.
I
can
do
this,
although
I
do
appreciate
your
willingness
to
help
out—” Enough.
He
cupped
the
back
of
her
head
and
kissed
her
once,
closemouthed
and
for
a
mindblowingly
long four
count
before
he
backed
away.
    “Damn
it,
Gracie,
anybody
ever
tell
you
that
you
talk
too
much?”
He
held
up
a
finger
right
over
her
lips.
    “Never
mind
answering
that
one.
Just
climb
on
inside
and
slide
over,
Slim.
No
arguing.
I’m
coming
with you.”
    

    

    GRACEMARIE
GRIPPEDthe
Humvee’s
steering
wheel
as
the
finetuned
machine
jolted
through
the pocked
roadway
leading
deeper
into
the
jungle
toward
the
university
retreat.
    With
Bobby
at
her
side.
    His
“slide
over,
Slim”
comment
had
only
earned
him
a
place
in
the
passenger
seat.
This
vehicle
belonged
to her
unit
and
she
would
take
the
hit
for
anything
that
went
wrong.
She’d
let
him
come
along
because
it
really did
make
good
sense.
Two
people
were
safer
than
one,
and
she
might
well
be
occupied
caring
for
her
father on
the
trip
back.

    Which
meant
she
would
have
to
acquiesce
to
Bobby
driving,
but
she
would
deal
with
that
later.
Her
father was
at
the
end
of
this
trail
and
nothing
would
stop
her
from
getting
there.
She
should
arrive
right
around breakfast,
which
shouldn’t
make
her
appearance
seem
too
odd
and
that
would
give
her
just
enough
time
to return
for
her
thirteenhundred
brief
after
lunch.
    Memories
of
past
incidents
with
her
father
scrolled
through
her
mind…of
taking
him
supper,
forcing
him
to wake
up
and
walk
around
when
his
disease
lured
him
to
sleep
and
sleep
and
sleep
into
infinity.
Or
polaropposite
moments
when
he
would
fly
high
and
play
with
her
chemistry
set
with
her
until
three
in
the morning
and
her
eightyearold
self
would
be
struggling
not
to
fall
over
on
the
lab
counter.
    Overall,
she
had
little
to
complain
about.
Her
father
recognized
his
problem,
stayed
in
therapy,
took
his meds.
He
told
her
after
she
graduated
with
her
Ph.D.
as
a
psychologist
he’d
taken
the
meds
forher,
so
he could
be
the
best
possible
father
he
could
manage.
She’d
cried.
How
could
she
not
in
the
face
of
such heartfelt,
deep
and
difficult
love?
    Her
life
had
had
erratic
moments,
but
all
in
all,
she
had
developed
into
an
independent
woman.
But
now,
he