A ripple went through the assembly, and everyone was directed to take a seat. Finn and his sisters were ushered to the front with his mother. She reached over and patted his knee briefly. He knew she would get emotional today. They all would.

A buzz of energy heralded the arrival of the president. Everyone rose, and then a hush settled over the audience as they took their seats. The president greeted everyone, adding a personal welcome to the families of the three men being honored today. Finn almost didn’t recognize his own name when she addressed him as Lieutenant Commander Malcolm Arthur Finnemore. It had been so long since he’d answered to that name. Another life, for sure.

The president gave an eloquent summary of the heroic actions of the four honorees, all of them being honored posthumously. Her voice wavered as she spoke of the stark reality of the ceremony—that the valor they were gathered to celebrate, the courage and selflessness, stemmed from the most dreadful moments of war, claiming the ultimate sacrifice.

“On his very worst day, each one of these men managed to summon his very best. Each one embodied the essence of courage. It is not the state of being unafraid, but the rare ability to confront fear. These heroes showed guts, they showed their training, and they put it all on the line for their fellow soldiers. We are free because of these men.”

Finn’s mother received the Medal of Honor in a glass-front box. The expected tears came, particularly in the aftermath, when the surviving teammates from Cambodia gathered around. Some of them remembered Richard Finnemore with photographic clarity. In a moment of decision no man should have to make, Richard had snapped a final photo, dropped his gear, and surrendered, somehow distracting his captors long enough for his team to escape. One man’s freedom, his life, in exchange for four others.

With a giant lump in his throat, Finn walked over to the freestanding photo display on one side of the podium. It had been created for the ceremony, a collage of smiling brave soldiers in the prime of life. Some of the pictures chronicled his father’s career, from Naval Academy graduate to combat strategist and communications specialist, reporting on the conflict in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia.

Finn wondered what might have shown up on the film roll he’d entrusted to Camille Adams. Stark images of war-torn villages? Recon photos? Pictures of his teammates on the mission? Damn, he wished he could have seen them.

Yet he couldn’t get mad at her, given the circumstances of the mishap. That was the reason he gave himself. But the real reason he couldn’t get mad at her was that he’d never met anyone like her before. After a rocky start, he’d found himself relaxing with her, listening and talking in a way that felt completely right. So often with women, there was that unspoken tension—will we or won’t we? Yet with Camille, the tension felt different, spun of warmth and attraction, not uncertainty.