Fifteen Years After My Father Changed the Locks, He Seated Me at Table Twenty-Two
I set the phone in the center cup holder next to my ignition key.
For fifteen years I had stayed away, building an Air Force career out of clear thinking, clear chains of command, and a distance my father could not reach or threaten.
I put my foot on the brake pedal, shifted the sedan into drive, and turned on the headlights.
I turned onto the highway toward Greenfield late that night and began the three-hour drive back to the town where my father had changed the locks.
Betty set the second folder on the counter and squared its edge with the first.
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