Not long after taking off, she ate a perfectly prepared steak for the first time in five months, accompanied by a pile of steaming scrambled eggs and some rye bread. A flight attendant helped her turn a bench of seats into a bed. Full, exhausted, sore, and emotionally empty, she had barely lain down when she fell asleep. The next thing she knew, a different attendant woke her, explaining that they would be landing soon. She had slept for more than eleven hours and still felt tired all the way to her bones.

She found a seat by the window and looked out as the coastline came into view. They would land at Andrews Air Force Base soon.

Hearing movement behind her, she turned her head and saw her father approaching. Before she could escape, he sat down across from her.

“The press will be there in droves when we land,” he remarked.

She glared at him. “That is the first thing you have to say to me in the last thirteen hours?”

“I assumed you didn’t want to talk about anything else. And then you were sleeping.”

As she examined his face, she noticed the fatigue lines around his eyes and his unusually pale skin. “I’d love to discuss me getting back to work in my clinic.”

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Cynthia, this is not the time.”

She leaned forward. “This is the only time. This is just you and me, and you have no escape, no meeting to attend, no function waiting on your presence.”

“You aren’t going back,” he snapped. Then he relaxed and said, “I’m sorry. It’s just . . .” He took a deep breath. “What happened to us did nothing but solidify my belief that you made the right decision and the best place for you is in the States.”

She crossed her arms. “You coerced my decision. I didn’t have the freedom to actually decide for myself.”

“Well, clearly that was wise on my part, or else you’d still be there.”

“You understand, don’t you, that you seriously damaged our relationship.”

“I’ll take a daughter mad at me over having to bury her.”

Jaw set, eyes steady, she waited for him to speak again. Finally, he broke eye contact and looked out the window. She heard and felt the landing gear deploy.

“You might want to go run a brush through your hair, maybe slap on some lipstick,” he said. “If your mother sees you disembark like that, she’ll be embarrassed.”

“I don’t want to meet the press,” Cynthia said.

“You don’t get to choose. They were there last night. It’s already news. They’ll be waiting for us.” Her father leaned forward and took her hand. “I love you, sweet pea. I’m sorry my career has interfered with yours.”

Hot tears sprang to her eyes. “It doesn’t have to.”