Mac jumped into the water, the cold not even registering on his skin. He dove to intercept the Colonel before he hit bottom. Water closed over his head and filled his ears, deafening him. He grabbed the back of his father’s shirt and pulled, kicking with his feet and paddling with his free hand. But they didn’t move. Mac couldn’t propel them both toward the surface. His lungs burned. His brain scrambled. His mouth opened, emitting a stream of air and filling with water.

He couldn’t do it. They were both going to drown. He was a split second away from letting go and summoning Grant when his father tugged on his arm. His eyes were open and still full of confidence, even though his lungs must have been screaming. Mac’s were. The Colonel pointed toward the shallow end of the pool.

And Mac understood. Renewed purpose lent him strength.

He planted his boots on the concrete bottom and walked up the incline, using the muscles of his legs to pull his father behind him. The entire incident took less than ninety seconds, but Mac felt as if he’d aged ten years when their heads broke the surface. The cold air that filled his lungs felt like a thousand needle pricks. Lightheaded, Mac rolled the Colonel onto his back and pulled him toward the steps. Grant and Lee waded into the water and helped lift the Colonel out onto the concrete. They wrapped him in a blanket. Hannah grabbed Mac’s hand and guided him up the steps. She wrapped a thick towel around his shoulders and patted him on the back, her best effort at comforting him.

Numb and weak-legged with relief, Mac sank onto the patio. The adrenaline that had fueled the rescue drill left him high and dry. Nausea flooded him. He scrambled for the flowerbed and hurled pool water into the shrubs.

“I knew you could do it,” the Colonel said. “There’s no shame in puking after you get the job done.” The Colonel laughed and reached over to slap him on the shoulder.

“My father was a crazy bastard,” Mac said.

He could still picture the Colonel’s face, his raw determination, his complete confidence in Mac. As a kid he didn’t realize what was happening, how the Colonel had been manipulating his emotions. But now Mac understood how the Colonel had lead his troops. His sheer force of will had been contagious, and just as his soldiers had followed his orders in battle without question, his children had followed his lead into insanity.

But he’d taught Mac a few things about determination and faith.

“No kidding,” Stella agreed.

“The next day he shoved us into a pool, blindfolded and with our hands bound.”

“What?” Stella stared at him. “That’s crazy.”

“It was OK. We lived. He taught us not to panic.”

“Sounds like your father took his water drills seriously.”