Chapter 11 - The First Family Vacation
By June, the humid summer heat had settled over the suburbs, turning the local parks into green, sun-drenched playgrounds filled with the sound of children laughing and sprinklers hissing across manicured lawns.
For the first time in seven years, we packed up the trunk of our Ford pickup—not for a deployment, not for a hasty escape, but for a four-day weekend at a cabin by the lake in the northern hills.
Leo had spent the entire three-hour drive pressing his nose against the backseat window, shouting out every time he saw a cow, a red barn, or a boat strapped to the top of a trailer.
When we finally pulled up to the rustic log cabin nestled among towering pine trees right at the water's edge, Leo flung his door open before the engine had even fully cooled.
“There’s a dock!” he screamed, sprinting across the green lawn toward the glittering blue water with his red superhero cape trailing behind him in the wind. “Mom! Ivan! Look at the fish jumping!”
Jessi stood by the passenger door, shading her eyes against the afternoon glare, a genuine, unburdened laugh bubbling up from deep inside her chest. She was wearing a simple cotton sun-dress, her dark hair blowing free in the lake breeze, looking healthier and happier than I had ever seen her in all the years we had known each other.
“He’s going to fall in within five minutes,” Jessi warned, though she was smiling so hard her eyes crinkled at the corners.
“That’s why I brought a spare pair of shoes,” I said, walking over and wrapping my arms around her waist from behind, pulling her close against my chest. I rested my chin on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of sunscreen and summer air. “And if he does fall in, I’m trained in water rescue.”
Jessi leaned back against me, her hands coming up to rest over my arms. “You know... seven years ago, if someone had told me we’d be standing here by this lake, I would have told them they were completely insane.”
“Seven years ago, we were both drowning in other people’s lies,” I murmured, turning her gently in my arms so I could look down into her dark, expressive eyes. “It took us a while to swim ashore, didn't it?”
“We made it,” she whispered.
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And then, before either of us could say another word, a loud splash echoed from the direction of the dock, followed instantly by a triumphant, dripping-wet shout:
“I caught a frog! Ivan, come look at my frog!”
