Free The Repentant Demon Trilogy Book 1: The Demon Calumnius by Samantha Johns Page B

career, which apparently had ended at some point, allowing him to work toward degrees.  He seemed to be free from any work schedule both during day and nighttime hours, and yet he lived in student housing at the university.  It had crossed her mind that he might be independently wealthy, and she liked this explanation better.  He was a pilot—one with his own private airline—as well as a military veteran and a student of antiquities.  She wondered if a man could possibly come more perfectly packaged for her. After waiting a lifetime, could it be that I have finally found Mr. Right?
    The flight from Spirit of Saint Louis was more fun than Abigail could ever have imagined.  She was used to commercial flights with crowding, waiting, and a series of inspections.  This was more exciting than a thrill ride at an amusement park, a quick two-hour trip with both a take-off and a landing that jolted her from her seat.  Their brief arrival in D.C. amounted to a quick switch from the hangar where the Cessna was parked to a jeep and driver, which took them to the huge cargo carrier headed for Iraq. 
    She had expected to see cargo and troops, but the sight of Humvees and drones chained to the floor made her realize she was actually riding in a floating garage.  All human passengers lined the sides on benches equipped with seat belts during take-off and landing, but in between they were free to wander around.  Doug introduced her to one friend of his, the rest he didn't seem to know personally, though they all saluted him as he passed.  They obviously knew him—or knew of him—because he was not in uniform.
    Sergeant Malcolm Quigg spoke only briefly before walking away to attend to his duties, but he made a comment before departing that aroused questions for Abigail.  He said, “Sorry to hear about your dad, Doug.”  And Doug answered with a simple, “Thanks.”  He hoped to leave it at that.
    “Doug, you didn't tell me much about your father—or your mother either,” she began, seeing that he was uncomfortable, but he began to tell her what had happened.
    “It hurts, even now, to think about it,” he said, somberly. “I was a big disappointment to my father, in the end.”
    “What?  You must have made him so proud with your military accomplishments.” Abigail seemed shocked.
    “He was very proud of my military career,” Doug explained.  “But he didn't like my interest in history or anything in that area.  Then when I became a Catholic, it was the last straw for him.  He refused to speak to me for the last five years of his life.  My mother wasn't happy with his choice, and she wanted to see me.  We stayed in contact, but secretly.  She had been raised in the faith, but she did not practice after marrying my father—a devout atheist, if there is such a term for it.  On his deathbed, he forgave me and asked to see me.  But I didn't make it in time, missing his passing by only minutes.  After that, my mother went back to church.  We went to Mass together whenever I was in town.  Then she died just two years ago.  They are both buried in Arlington National Cemetery in the same plot.”
    “Oh, Doug, I am so sorry.  You've been through so much,” said Abigail, “and here I thought you lived this charmed life—had the world as your oyster.  You've suffered greatly.”  She put her arms around him.
    “I do consider my life charmed, in spite of all that.  I have a good life,” he said, smiling at her and returning her embrace, “and it just gets better every day.”
    They strolled through the rows of parked aircraft and other military vehicles.  He seemed very proud of the drones that had been so successful on military missions throughout the Middle East, and he went into great detail describing the features of each military vehicle. 
    “You can't be interested in this,” he said apologetically. “Please stop me when I start boring you.”
    “I'm not at all bored, Doug,” she