Chapter 9 - SAVANNAH’S SECOND ENGAGEMENT
Five years after Lucas Mercer, Savannah got engaged again.
She called me at 5:45 in the morning.
“Marcus proposed.”
“Why are you calling before reveille?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Congratulations.”
“You sound dead.”
“I was asleep.”
“Be happier.”
“No.”
She laughed.
Then:
“He wants a prenup.”
I sat up.
“Good.”
“You’re insane.”
“No.”
“He said because my Palmer shares are mine and his teacher pension is his.”
“I love him.”
“You’ve met him twice.”
“Enough.”
Their wedding was small.
No investment bankers.
No corporate announcement.
No Mercer Ridge.
Dad walked Savannah down the aisle.
Before they started, he whispered something.
Later she told me.
He said:
“I’m proud of who you are when nobody is watching.”
She cried before reaching the altar.
Dad had changed too.
Retirement was difficult.
Then useful.
He volunteered with a small-business mentorship group.
Apparently telling strangers not to overborrow was easier after nearly destroying his own company through pride.
Mom still judged people by shoes more than she should.
Progress is uneven.
At the reception, Savannah raised a champagne glass.
I immediately pointed at her.
“Do not.”
She grinned.
“Back to your barracks, loser.”
Marcus looked horrified.
Dad groaned.
Mom shouted:
“Savannah!”
I laughed harder than anyone.
Because the sentence no longer had power.
It had history.
Different thing.
Then Savannah became serious during her toast.
“My sister spent years letting us underestimate her.”
I shook my head.
“No speeches.”
She ignored me.
“She never corrected us because eventually she stopped believing she needed our approval.”
Her eyes filled.
“I wish I had learned that sooner.”
Then:
“To Captain Palmer.”
Everyone raised glasses.
I whispered:
“Major.”
Her eyes widened.
“What?”
I had been promoted two weeks earlier.
I had not told them yet.
Savannah screamed.
Dad started laughing.
Mom cried.
Marcus asked:
“Is that good?”
Savannah slapped his arm.
Apparently some traditions survived.
Later, Dad pulled me aside.
“Major Palmer.”
“Dad.”
“Your grandfather would—”
I raised one eyebrow.
He stopped.
Then smiled.
“No dead people deciding what you should feel.”
“Good.”
He corrected himself.
May you like
“I’m proud.”
That was enough.
