Son of a Soldier

By Aiken A. Brown

Son of a Soldier is the powerful story of how God used one unlikely, country girl to change the course of history. It seemed impossible to believe that an eighteen-year-old girl from the middle-of-nowhere, Tennessee would have any real significance in the history of our nationthat is until God chose her to make a Godly man out of a flawed, military heros stubborn son.

Hailey was a small town, farm girl who had never left her home state of Tennessee. She was a nave tomboy who possessed an unassuming charm, the power of which she could not comprehend.

Grant was a rebellious Army brat who had seen the world. Glib, sarcastic and self-destructive, he was a loner lost in a world he had never felt he fit into.

They seemingly had little in common, but when two hearts collided, two worlds became one; while Hailey embarks on a beautiful journey of self-discovery in this unique coming-of-age story, Grant travels a winding, dirt road that helps him rediscover a lost innocence and discover a renewed purpose.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 21, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462070084

Aiken A. Brown

Aiken Brown graduated summa cum laude from Spring Hill College in Mobile, Alabama. She is the author of In a Brother’s Eyes: the Brant McLachlan Story (2005), For Such a Time as This (2007), Son of a Soldier (2012) and His Heart I Hold (2015). For more information about the author, visit Aiken Brown at www.aikenbrown.blogspot.com.

Book preview

Son of a

Soldier

9781462070077_txt.pdf

Aiken A. Brown

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

Son of a Soldier

Copyright © 2011 by Aiken A. Brown

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4620-7007-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4620-7009-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4620-7008-4 (e)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 11/18/2011

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

9781462070077_txt.pdf

A bright-eyed seven-year-old walked alongside his mother as they strolled the aisles of the crowded, outdoor market. He maintained a mischievous, snaggletooth grin as a stick of blue raspberry flavored rock candy hung from his mouth. He zigzagged between shoppers, dribbling his basketball with the precision of a future point guard.

It was a Saturday afternoon; the summertime weather was refreshingly cool, and a slight breeze, filled with the pleasant aroma of freshly cut flowers and various fresh fruits, blew through the busy streets. The market was bustling with people carrying baskets filled with colorful fruits and vegetables. A man strumming a guitar sat in front of the corner fruit stand; children passed by in the street kicking a soccer ball back and forth, laughing as they darted effortlessly through the crowd. Two elderly men, both distinguished, sharply dressed, retired, college professors, sat outside a nearby café playing chess and laughing heartily over coffee and conversation.

The moment the little boy spotted the two gentlemen, he turned to his mother and asked permission to cross the street. With only a slant of her eyes, his mother reminded him that when he addressed her, he was to do so in English. He smiled, realizing his error, and his mother smiled back at him with an amused nod. Again, he asked permission to cross the street to go to the café, and his mother sent him on his way. The little boy dribbled his basketball across the street as he bounded toward his two companions, eager to hear what new stories they had for him.

Hurry back, Grant! his mother called after him. We have a lot of packing to do this afternoon! She breathed in her own words as she practically danced down the row of fruit with a spring that had been absent from her steps for months if not years.

Grant Cohen was a quiet little boy, much more comfortable in the presence of adults than with children his own age. He had spent the past two years being home schooled by two German professors who found his inquisitive nature most remarkable. They taught him the language, culture and history of their country while taking him through daily lessons on arithmetic, philosophy and literature. Otto and Ludwig didn’t believe in classrooms or textbooks, so, instead of boring their young student with lectures, they took him on frequent fieldtrips and allowed him to experience Europe firsthand. At seven years of age, Grant had an incredible command of the German language and a vast understanding of things beyond his years. He was an incredibly gifted child who genuinely enjoyed learning; he was a teacher’s dream…attentive, yet not without his own views, opinions and surprisingly well-thought-out theories. Otto and Ludwig’s teaching methods were unconventional, but Grant thrived under their care, and they grew to love him. The inevitable news that Grant’s father was taking him back home to the United States had hit them much harder than they had expected. In a matter of days, their young protégé would go back home to America and integrate into a classroom where Dresden is a dot on a map and studying its tragic history means looking at a picture in a history book, not going on an educational walking tour through the site of World War II’s most controversial bombings. Otto and Ludwig worried that, while they had educated Grant in the most stimulating manner they knew how, they had done very little to prepare him for the classroom he would enter back home in North Carolina.

It was not at all uncommon to find Grant, after his lessons were done for the day, sitting in the vast library in Ludwig’s office, mesmerized by the shelves of books that stretched from floor to ceiling. Grant loved literature, particularly, at that point in his life, the work of Ernest Hemingway. He was fascinated by stories of bull fights, boxing matches, fishing expeditions and warfare. One day, while on a train to Hannover, Grant found himself transported into the world of an American ambulance driver serving in the Italian Army during World War I. Ludwig was a tremendously talented storyteller, and he pulled no punches while discussing the fictional tales that Grant loved. While A Farewell to Arms was not necessarily intended for a seven-year-old boy, it was always Ludwig’s belief that if Grant possessed enough discernment to ask certain questions about a books’ content, it was his responsibility as an educator to answer them honestly. Grant was always full of questions; he wanted words defined, scenarios explained and themes analyzed. He sat on his knees there in his seat on the train listening carefully to every word that Ludwig said. Their conversation moved with ease from German back to English and back to German again. Fellow passengers found themselves intrigued by the astuteness demonstrated by the young, unassuming, fair-haired, little boy whose English was accented by a subtle, yet distinctive, German accent.

At night, Grant often sat outside at his father’s feet, dribbling his basketball and listening to his father and his father’s foul-mouthed comrades telling stories, which often included language that made his mother, who listened inconspicuously from the kitchen window, shudder angrily.

Nora Miller Cohen was a southern belle from a tiny Tennessee farm town, and, though she had traveled with her husband for the entirety of their twenty-six year marriage, she was unashamedly partial to the American Southland. When her husband’s job had landed the newlywed couple at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, she had fallen in love with the state, and, for the simple reason that none of her five children had ever lived in her home state of Tennessee, she now proudly called North Carolina her home.

As Nora walked through the market on that Saturday afternoon that summer, she did so with a pep in her step because in less than twenty-four hours she was going to board a plane that would take her and her family back home to the Tar Heel State.

All by yourself today, are you? General Cohen chuckled as he snuck up behind his wife.

Nora turned quickly, smiling at the sight of her husband, now a much older, but equally intense, version of the West Point cadet she had fallen in love with so many years earlier. Oh, Randy, you scared me, she scolded. You know I hate it when you sneak up on me.

Where’s the knucklehead? Randy asked as he draped his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

He’s doing his morning rounds, Nora mused. She pointed. He spotted Otto and Ludwig sitting outside the café.

From across the street, Randy watched his youngest son conversing with the two gentlemen. Grant sat on Otto’s knee, and they seemed to be discussing their Chess game with passionate intensity. Randy had never particularly cared for Chess, but his son’s introduction to the game had turned him into somewhat of a master strategist, and Randy reveled in thoughts of the possibilities that lie ahead of his brilliant mini-me.

Grant really will miss this place, Randy, Nora sighed. I’m afraid that his teachers back home might find that he speaks better German than English.

Well, we both know that he speaks perfect English and has a rather exhaustive vocabulary to boot, but perhaps Grant would prefer to spend another year here with his tutors, Randy suggested.

You let him speak German to you…that’s the problem, you know? Nora said, intentionally ignoring Randy’s announcement. Do you have any idea how it makes me feel that my seven-year-old can carry on entire conversations during which I have no cotton-pickin’ idea what he said? Sometimes I think you forget you were born in Massachusetts and not somewhere on this side of the world, Randy.

But thanks to a twang like yours, we won’t ever forget that you’re a farm girl from Tennessee, will we little lady? Randy replied with a roll of his eyes. During his days as a cadet, Randy had taken painstaking measures to eliminate what had once been a very thick Boston accent. For the sake of his job, in order to be taken seriously, he had acquired a sort of accent free, middle American dialect, but his wife was one hundred percent southern and proud as she could be about it.

What is that supposed to mean? Nora shot back. You don’t like the way I talk? Is that it? Is that why you’d rather have my son speaking some foreign language than back home picking up the twang of my people? You know, Randy, a nice southern drawl might just do that boy good.

Oh, Lord, help me, Randy sighed as he massaged his temples. Honey, he can park his car in Harvard Yard like my statesmen, drive his tractor down yonder to the general store like your folks, or find himself while backpacking through this foreign landscape with a cast of characters worthy of a Chaucer sequel for all I care.

You should care about what your son is exposed to, bless his heart, Nora said angrily. I don’t approve of the vulgarity you allow to be used in front of him. I don’t agree with the fact that he sees you drinking yourself into oblivion. You didn’t used to drink, Randy…not in front of me and certainly not in front of our children. You spent quality time with our other kids when they were growing up, but Grant spends way more time with those two old men than he does with his own father.

Nora, Randy said irritably, can we please discuss my parenting skills later? Right now I need to talk to you about a change of plans.

I heard what you said about staying here, but I’m ignoring you, Nora nodded. The plane leaves tomorrow, and we will be on it.

Nora, I can’t take you back to North Carolina right now, Randy shook his head, and I think it would be best if you and Grant stayed here, so he’ll have the benefit of spending time with his tutors.

Nora shook her head. I don’t believe this, she sighed, even though years as a military wife had taught her that nothing was definite until it happened. You promised me that we could go home and spend some time together as a real family…all of us… together…finally.

Well, plans changed, Nora, Randy explained rather harshly. Surely you can understand that is always a possibility in my line of work.

I’m taking Grant home, Nora insisted.

I think that Grant might do better if you stay here for now, Randy said in a tone that told Nora he had given the subject some thought. It’ll be hard enough on him if I have to leave, and that scenario is looking extremely likely. I think we should at least do him the courtesy of not ripping him out of school right now.

He doesn’t go to school here! Nora practically yelled. Going to school means learning to associate with other children…picking teams on the playground…finding a group of friends who will always save you a seat in the lunchroom…passing notes and hoping the teacher doesn’t catch you…that’s school, Randy! He spends all day long with two old men who sometimes seem to forget that he’s an innocent child. And his best friend? Well, his best friend, his only friend, is that basketball he hauls around.

There are other children he could play with, Nora, Randy argued. There’s a school he could go to, but our son’s just not like other kids; I think that if you take him away from Otto and Ludwig right now, he’s going to resent you. He’s not used to being confined to a classroom, and that new environment, coupled with the deployment of his father, could cause him to act out. You know how stubborn that boy can be.

I spent plenty of time taking care of our other kids while you were away, and I can take care of Grant too, Nora sighed, wishing that she could make her protest sound more believable. It wasn’t that Grant was a bad child by any stretch of the imagination; it was just becoming increasingly difficult for Nora to create boundaries for a child whose age said little about his abilities. In fact, there were times like that morning when Nora found the stained, blue lips of a carefree child unimaginably refreshing. Those were indeed the moments she treasured most…moments when she felt like she could relate to a child whom she feared was rapidly slipping away from her.

Randy said nothing as he stared across the street.

What about Emily? What about what is best for her? Nora shrugged. I promised Rachel that I was coming back home to help her take care of Emily. Our granddaughter needs us.

It’s about time that Rachel learns to take on full-time responsibility for Emily, Randy fired back. You raised the baby for the first four years of her life. We offered to sign the papers…raise Emily as ours…but Rachel insisted that she wanted to be her daughter’s mother. She chose to keep Emily in North Carolina, and, ever since then, it has been one problem after another…unnecessary stress put on you…money out of my pocket that I’m not always certain is going toward Emily’s needs.

Need I remind you how our daughter got pregnant? Nora said, almost hatefully.

That was seven years ago, Nora! Randy snapped. She’s not a fifteen-year-old girl anymore! Rachel is a grown-up now, and it is about time she started acting like it.

She’s only twenty-two years old, Randy, Nora sighed. She should be finishing college, starting her life…she didn’t ask to have a six-year-old daughter!

Randy shook his head insistently. Ever since she had the baby, Rachel has done nothing but squander her life away. I reached out to her in every way that I knew how, and nothing seemed to motivate her to pick up the pieces and move on with her life. Now she needs to grow up; it’s about time that she gets focused on what’s best for her and her daughter, Randy said, his voice booming, despite the fact that Nora was trying to shush him. He shook his head angrily and lowered his voice. And NO…I certainly don’t need any reminders of what happened to my little girl, but there has to come a time when she moves on. She’s not in college; she’s not trying to make anything out of her life, so the least she can do is step up and take care of Emily.

She’s never been the same since that night, Randy; you know that, Nora said tearfully. She needs me, and, I don’t care how old she is, I’ll always be there for her and for Emily. I know you’re disappointed in Rachel’s lack of motivation, but what about Joanna? Jo graduated from law school this year, Randy, and you had to miss her graduation! Well, I’m tired of missing out on things! I raised two sons and two daughters traveling from base to base, but at least they had each other. Grant doesn’t have that. He’s a loner, and I worry about him.

Nora, I have a job to do, Randy said sternly. Grant will understand that; why can’t you?

Your job, Nora challenged, is to be a father to our five children.

Randy swallowed hard, taken aback by the number his wife had used. We don’t have five children anymore, he snarled, and I think that fact alone testifies to my failures as a father. So are you happy now…do you rest your case?

The coldness in Randy’s voice made Nora turn away, though she made no attempt to hide her tears.

Randy grimaced as he put his hand on Nora’s shoulder. Honey, I’m sorry, he sighed after a moment. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you didn’t mean it that way.

Grant skipped across the street with his basketball tucked under his arm as he called out to his father. General Cohen ruffled the little boy’s hair affectionately. Speak English, he demanded. You’ll upset your mother!

Grant handed his basketball to his mother, raised his arms, and his dad tossed him effortlessly into the air, catching him with one arm. His arm around his father’s neck, Grant continued rattling off his thoughts in a quick string of German.

Grant, Randy said too harshly, did you hear me? Speak English when your mother is around! His voice softened. And, every now and then, mention sweet tea, turnip greens and cow tipping, so she’ll feel at home.

Stop it, Randy, Nora mumbled.

How would you like to spend another year here, Soldier? Randy inquired as he walked along the street with Grant in his arms.

Grant shrugged. If we’re not going to North Carolina, does that mean I can go on vacation with Otto and Ludwig?

We’ll see, Randy nodded.

Nora let out a squawk of surprise. What do you mean, we’ll see? Where are they going? she inquired, indignantly. This is the first I’ve heard of it.

Where are they going, Buddy? Randy asked calmly.

Otto is going to Prague to visit his cousin, Grant said excitedly. Do you remember when Otto and I went to Scandinavia and the sun was out twenty-four hours a day? Remember how he took me to Stockholm, and we went to the Royal Dramatic Theatre. Trips with Otto are my favorite! May I go? Please!

Is Ludwig going too? Nora asked.

No, Ma’am, Grant replied quickly. Otto will be back from Prague in a month, and he and Ludwig have planned a trip to Thailand. If you let me go, Otto promised we can go to Vietnam at the end of the summer because I’ve been reading so much about it. Grant giggled. Ludwig said he’s going to toss me into the South China Sea and see if I can swim all the way to the Philippines.

Any boy of mine better make it all the way, Randy laughed.

I just don’t know about all that, Grant, Nora sighed.

Nora, nobody is really going to toss him into the sea, Randy scoffed. Besides there are little islands along the way he could latch on to.

Nora rolled her eyes at her husband’s quip. Grant, Sweetheart, I just don’t know if right now is a good time for you to be going away.

Please, Mom, Grant begged. Don’t you remember last time you let me go on vacation with Otto? I got to see the Taj Mahal, and, in Bangladesh, I got to see a real tiger.

Nora nodded. Do you remember after you got back last summer, and you and I went home and took Rachel and Emily to Disney World? Wasn’t it nice to get to spend time with your family? Florida was beautiful, and there was so much to do that we couldn’t get it all done.

I had fun, Grant recalled.

Do you remember wearing Mickey Mouse ears and eating the chocolate covered ears off of Mickey Mouse ice cream bars? Nora asked with animated enthusiasm.

Grant nodded.

Did you have as much fun as you had with Otto? Nora gulped after a moment.

Nora, that’s not fair, Randy grumbled.

Grant shrugged. Mom, you do know that Tigger is a guy in a costume making minimum wage, and the tiger I saw in India was a stunningly beautiful beast on the verge of extinction, right? No cages, no nothing. No readily accessible, removable head for smoke breaks. No maintaining the same goofy grin that’s plastered on his face even as some kid tugs on his tail.

Oh, come-on now, Soldier, Randy shook his head with a chuckle. Don’t ruin the magic of Disneyland for your mother.

Nora stared back at her little boy, her face contorted, as though to ask who had stolen her child’s soul. Didn’t you enjoy eating breakfast with all of Mickey’s friends? she asked seriously. I remember how much you loved seeing the Pirates of the Caribbean. Emily was scared, but not you! You made us wait in line to go through for a second time and then a third. I couldn’t take my eyes off you for a split second in Epcot Center because you were darting about so curiously, and…

Nora, Randy interrupted, I think we should let him go with his teachers. You can go home and visit the other kids. You can make sure that Emily is getting everything she needs; you can even go to Tennessee and see your mother if you want to. It’ll be relaxing for you to get away.

Nora glanced at Randy, her eyes full of tears. I wanted us to go home as a family, she cried.

This is my job, Nora, Randy shrugged. You knew that before you married me.

Grant wriggled free of his father’s arms and reached for the security of his trusty basketball.

Randy stared at his wife, then glanced down at his son. Run on and tell Otto and Ludwig the good news, he said with a nod of his head.

Nora watched her little boy run across the street dribbling his basketball. She had once enjoyed watching high school basketball games, and, as Grant ran, she couldn’t help but wonder if she would one day sit in the bleachers watching him play the game that they both enjoyed. She didn’t know the rules to soccer. Randy had never once taken her to Boston to see his beloved Red Sox or Patriots play, but she understood basketball, and there was something about the game that transported her back to her youth and made her feel young and carefree again. She had bought Grant his first basketball when he was just a baby; she had never pushed him toward it, but when he gravitated toward it on his own, she had been quite pleased.

Randy put his hand on Nora’s shoulder. Are we okay? he asked softly.

Nora pecked Randy on the cheek. I’m going to enroll him in school in North Carolina next year, she said confidently. I need to be home for awhile.

I love you and our kids more than anything, Randy replied.

I know, Nora nodded, but you promised to slow down. Then after the accident… She couldn’t bring herself to finish her sentence. You’ve thrown yourself into your work, Randy. You could retire…you should retire. Ike is gone; I know how close the two of you were, but it’s been five years since we lost him…perhaps we should consider going to counseling.

Am I not allowed to miss my son? Randy shrugged angrily.

Nora shook her head. I miss him everyday, she sighed, but you have a seven- year-old who needs you. You could retire; we could spend time together. You could spend more time with Grant…build a relationship with him like you had with Ike.

Grant and I have a great relationship, Randy said defensively. And when he’s older we’ll have a relationship more like Ike and I had.

Grant bounded back across the street, obviously excited after having told Otto and Ludwig that his parents had signed off on his summer plans.

Randy put his hand on Grant’s shoulder. You know your daddy loves you, don’t you, Trooper?

Grant nodded.

See there, Randy smiled. This kid is just fine…he’s better than fine…you’re looking at the next General Cohen right here, Nora.

Randy, he’s a gifted child, Nora sighed. Do you even talk to him about what he wants to do with his life or have you just decided for him?

He’s seven, Nora, Randy grumbled. He doesn’t know what he wants out of life yet. He’ll have plenty of time to figure that out while he’s at West Point.

Nora rolled her eyes. Their oldest son, David, had graduated from West Point, becoming the third generation Cohen man to graduate as part of the Long Gray Line, but, much to his father’s dismay, David was counting down the days until his years of required service were over. Their middle son, Ike, had dreamed of nothing but attending his father’s alma matter, and, though Grant was only two when his brother Ike lost his life in a tragic accident, Randy seemed to have transferred Ike’s dreams onto him. At first it was endearing, the efforts of a father who wanted his son to follow in his footsteps, but it had become more than that. Ike had been, not only a spitting image of his father, but eager to please him. He had grown into a strong, disciplined young man who was totally focused on becoming an Army officer. He not only had a great respect for his father’s profession, but he strived to emulate his father in every way. In fact, the day of the deadly accident, Randy had been taking his eighteen-year-old pride and joy out to celebrate his appointment to The United States Military Academy. Ike never got to live out his dream of becoming an Army officer. The son who had shared Randy’s passion, hopes, dreams, goals…was taken from him in an instant. It was too early to tell what Grant would gravitate toward, but Nora worried that if it wasn’t West Point, her husband would have his heart broken.

Randy pulled Nora into a hug. I have a few things to take care of; I’ll meet you at home tonight, he promised. We’ll sit down and talk about where we want to go from here.

Nora pulled away. I’m not that naïve, Randy, she replied. I know you love your family, but you’re a slave to your job. You love it with everything you are, and, because that’s exactly how I love you, I’m going to take Grant back to the house, pull myself together and prepare myself for the inevitable possibility that this will continue to happen again and again.

Randy started to reply, but Nora shushed him and walked away, pulling her little boy along side her as he glanced back over his shoulder at his father.

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Following a summer away, Grant spent the next year acclimating to a classroom setting at a small, private, Christian school in North Carolina where his greatest struggle seemed to be the fact that he was much more advanced, both academically and socially, than the other children on his grade level. While his teacher was impressed by his grasp of the curriculum, she often struggled to keep him interested. At the school’s urging, Nora registered Grant for a series of written tests that would provide them with a better idea of what level he was performing on. When the results came back, Nora met with Grant’s principal who suggested that they consider bypassing elementary and middle school and challenging Grant on the high school level. Nora was shocked, if not appalled, that anyone would seriously suggest essentially robbing a child of his childhood. Nora, a staunch traditionalist, could not fathom sending her little boy into the high school jungle. He was her baby, and while he might have been mentally prepared for high school…she wasn’t.

What then? Nora exclaimed as she vented her frustrations over the telephone to her husband. If he graduates from high school in four years, are you going to be trying to get my eleven-year-old an appointment to West Point? I don’t think so! Is that even legal? I can’t send our baby to high school! That’s crazy! He’s not even four foot tall yet, Randy. He couldn’t reach his locker. He would be trampled. Am I a horrible mother because I think this idea is outrageous?

You’re a wonderful mother… Randy began before Nora spun off into another rant.

He wants to play basketball! He can’t play basketball with high school boys! Nora exclaimed. High school kids don’t get to spend recess climbing on the Monkey bars. Their Mommies don’t get to put Flintstone vitamins in their Spiderman lunchboxes. Seven-year-old little boys don’t get dates to the prom! Nora flopped down on the sofa, fully aware that she was pouting. I want all of that for him, Randy.

Then the decision is made, Randy agreed.

Are we being selfish? Nora gulped. I don’t want to give up my baby, and you’re holding out for West Point…not as subtly as you might think either. In the meantime, are we holding Grant back?

Grant will be just fine, Randy insisted. Maybe you ought to just pull him out of school and find him a private tutor.

No, Nora insisted. Call me an eternal optimist, but I think that school will do Grant good.

Grant was never a disruption during class; instead, he spent most of his time sitting in his desk with his nose buried in a book he had brought from home. Though his teacher desired to challenge him, she was busy trying to accommodate the other twenty-two children in her classroom.

Otto and Ludwig wrote letters as they had promised, but their words only served to make Grant miss them more. Ludwig wrote letters that went on for pages. He told magnificent stories penned in neatly written German, and, as Grant read them, he could practically hear his old friend reading them to him.

During the summer, while Grant was in Prague with Otto, he had fallen in love with cousin Ulrich’s housekeeper. She was a portly, middle-aged woman named Rayna who was so irreverently funny that she kept the witty old men on their toes. Ulrich was the only family she had, and nothing delighted her more than the idea of having a child around the house for the summer. She could not imagine a more affable little darling than the sandy-haired boy whose lucid smile and understated dimples tugged at her heartstrings. Every night, as Grant sat cuddled next to her, Rayna translated fascinating stories from her great-grandfather’s journal. He had been an incredibly wise and insightful man; his writings were so detailed that every sense was stimulated, as though you were right there with him on his adventures. He had written about everything from his views on politics to his childhood memories of growing up in a dirt poor, working class family. Rayna had never met her great-grandfather, but the journal had been passed down to her from her father, and it remained her greatest treasure.

Grant had thought about Rayna a great deal since arriving back in the states. All summer she had called him Master Grant, in her heavily accented English, and it still made him smile every time he thought about it. He remembered how excited she had been to show him the famous landmarks of her country and how, at night, he looked forward to hearing more of the journal. When the time came for the two of them to say goodbye, Rayna sobbed openly as she held Grant close to her bosom. She pointed a short, pudgy finger in Otto’s direction, warning him to take proper care of her young friend. Grant didn’t know if he would ever get back to Prague to visit Rayna, but he knew he would never forget her fieriness, the feistiness with which she popped Ulrich’s hand when he reached for dinner before it came off the stove, the huskiness of her voice, the volumes she spoke with a simple raise of her eyebrow. As Grant left, he waved to her for as long as he could see her, and, as her heavyset silhouette disappeared into the distance, he turned around and sank down into his seat, biting his bottom lip as he stared at the seat in front of him.

It was an unforgettable summer, and, at the end of August, when Otto and Ludwig took Grant to the airport to catch his flight home, he feared he would never see his two best friends ever again. He sat in his airplane seat, his little legs dangling over the edge as he looked out the window, wondering if he would have any luck making friends in North Carolina.

During a quick stop in Stockholm that summer, Otto had taken Grant into a small, corner bookstore. Shelves and shelves of old books were stacked to the ceiling. They were arranged in no particular order; the floors creaked; the air was musty, but both Otto and his pint-sized companion had looked at one another to acknowledge that they had discovered where they would spend the rest of the day. Library time at school, on the other hand, consisted of thirty minutes every two weeks, twenty-five of which were spent sitting on a rug away from the bookshelves listening to the librarian go over library rules, eagerly awaiting your group’s turn to go on a five minute search for the one book that you would check out until your class returned to the library two weeks later. The selection was trivial at best, but Grant occasionally found an interesting biography that he finished before day’s end.

During the year that Randy was away, Nora prayed daily for his safe return. She also made sure that Grant stayed busy to keep his mind off of his father’s absence and his attention off of news reports out of the Middle East. He played on multiple basketball teams in North Carolina and, by year’s end, had made several new friends in his teammates. The boys would run and play together, and, after several months of demanding basketball schedules, the letters to Germany became few and far between. Grant actually looked forward to going back to school at summer’s end, but when Randy returned home, he brought news of a move, and, before school started the following year, Grant found himself saying goodbye to new friends he would never see again and preparing to begin a new life, a world away from North Carolina…in Japan.

During the time that Randy was gone, Nora had also taken on full-time responsibility for Emily. Though Rachel loved Emily, she thought that it was best for her daughter to remain with Nora, as she had given up hopes of being able to support her either financially or emotionally. When Emily was with Nora and Randy, she felt secure in a way that she had not at Rachel’s apartment. Within a matter of a few short weeks, the once timid, stringy-haired little girl who had become accustomed to being ignored had blossomed into a bubbly extrovert, confident in herself and one hundred percent assured that she was loved.

Nora knew very little about Randy’s current job description, only that he constantly seemed to find new ways to busy his mind. He was a brilliantly talented officer with a network of connections and a wounded heart that no assignment would heal. He was looking for something to fill the void he felt in his life. He needed something to do. He needed to do great things; he needed to matter. He needed to use his skills and the wisdom of his experience to save lives. He had put his life on the line in the line of duty; he had saved countless lives, but what haunted him was the one life he couldn’t save. As an officer he was taught to make quick, informed decisions. He was entrusted with critical choices in critical moments. He had dealt with life and death situations on a daily basis. He was good at what he did, but he had never figured that the most critical choice of his life would come as a result of the most impossible decision he was ever faced with…and he never could have imagined that the decision wouldn’t happen on a battlefield, but a back road in rural North Carolina.

Grant and Emily were both enrolled in an International School in Japan. Nora was pleased with the curriculum and the school’s focus on each child’s unique needs. She admired their emphasis on the importance of self-expression and prayed that Grant would excel there. Though it was an English speaking school, there was a strong emphasis placed on the Japanese language and culture. Emily made friends quickly while Grant struggled to find his place in school. He was increasingly moody and brooding, and he seemed to actually prefer spending time alone. He was pleasant and sociable when he had to be, so Nora didn’t worry too much about his behavior. He wasn’t like Nora’s other children, and she was never quite sure how to handle him. While her other children were made to walk the line during their formative years and adhere to strict codes of conduct, she had never been successful in implementing such rules with Grant. He was unintentionally rebellious, but he wasn’t a bad kid. He was just the sort of kid who didn’t take things at face value. He had to discover things for himself. He was capable and resourceful, and he was allowed greater freedoms because of it.

Within a year, Grant had learned enough Japanese to communicate well, but, after a year at the International School, Grant was getting restless. He had more questions than his teacher had time to answer, and he began to get frustrated. Soon he was getting into trouble, skipping out on class to read books in any quiet place he could manage to sneak into. Though Grant’s offences seemed relatively minor, Randy wouldn’t stand for it, as Grant’s behavior was seen as reflective of his abilities as a commanding officer. As troubles began to escalade, Nora set out to find a tutor for Grant, and she found the answer to her prayers in the form of an elderly Japanese man who had been part of the Imperial Japanese Navy during World War II. Though he was extremely strict, Grant respected his intelligence and his willingness to venture beyond the set curriculum.

This former pilot gave Randy cause for concern, however. He was not at all thrilled about the idea of his young son being indoctrinated with propaganda, and he questioned Nora’s decision to entrust Grant’s education to someone whose views differed so drastically from his own. The only positive that Randy saw was that Grant seemed more settled. He wasn’t getting into trouble, and that was a huge weight lifted from Randy’s shoulders. He chose to momentarily ignore the fact that he wasn’t pleased with Nora’s selection. Even if he did keep it a secret from everyone he knew, he allowed Grant to continue spending his days with his tutor.

Each day while Emily attended the International School, Grant spent long hours with his new teacher. They grew close, and their budding relationship gave Randy extra incentive to make sure he made time to talk to his son about the things he was being taught. Randy seemed pleased by Grant’s ability to discern that what was being taught as fact was actually a point of view that varied greatly from those of his father and others. While Randy saw some benefits to Grant’s multifaceted introduction to world politics, he ultimately decided that Grant’s tenure with his tutor would be terminated at the end of the school year.

Finding Grant a new and suitable tutor proved to be a challenge until Randy was introduced to a young, Ivy League educated wife of a fellow West Point graduate.

Jill Scott was a cultured, free-spirited and unique young woman whose black rimmed glasses and alternative style of dress gave Nora reason for pause. Yet, when she witnessed the way that Jill and Grant got along, she decided to withhold judgment and give Jill a shot. Nora remained unconvinced, however, that her husband’s selection was any more appropriate than her own had been. Randy raved about Jill’s credentials, and, though he had rattled off a few impressive accolades, Nora believed that the only credential that meant anything to Randy was that Jill Scott had apparently been smart enough to marry a West Point man.

It was safe to say that twenty-four-year-old Jill Scott was the ripped blue jean clad, knitted scarf wearing object of Grant’s first crush. Jill, a New Jersey native, was bright and accomplished but as laidback as any person Grant had ever met. She smoked cigarettes and listened to interesting music. She wrote poetry and had a tattoo of an electric guitar on the small of her back. She introduced Grant to new books, taught him how to play guitar and piano and constantly referred to him by a variety of pet names. She repeatedly told him what a heartbreaker he was going to be when he grew up, and, for him, that time couldn’t come soon enough.

Grant’s innocent infatuation with Jill concerned Nora. Under Jill’s tutelage Grant seemed to spend little time on traditional subjects and more time honing his acting chops, practicing songs on Jill’s guitar and learning yoga in Jill’s living room floor. The day that Nora informed Grant that he would be going back to school instead of spending his days with Jill, Nora felt her relationship with her little boy change. The way he looked at her was different…cold somehow. He yelled at her, which he had never done before. When she scolded him for being disrespectful, he declared that she didn’t understand him and never would. He stormed off to his room, slammed the door behind him and buried himself under his covers, crying into his pillow until he drifted off to sleep. For two weeks Grant didn’t initiate a single conversation that wasn’t centered around Jill. She was no longer a part of his everyday world, but there was something about Jill Scott that would stick with him forever.

Though Grant found his replacement tutor less than impressive, he had to admit that he preferred studying with him to going back to school. The redeeming factor seemed to be focused around that fact that he also worked with a ten-year-old Japanese girl whom Grant became fast friends with. Hoshi Yamamoto spoke no English, but she and Grant became nearly inseparable. When Nora arrived to pick Grant up in the evenings, it was not uncommon for her to find the two kids lying on their bellies, staring at the television, the backs of their heads, Hoshi’s jet black hair next to Grant’s blond, all that she could see. The two kids laughed together, learned together, and when news of a move came, Nora feared that her son would have his heart broken again.

When it came time for Grant to say goodbye to Hoshi, it seemed almost like second nature to him. Though the two had become attached, he seemed to detach with the flip of a switch. Two days before his family was to head back stateside, Grant totally separated himself from the people he had met in Japan. He spent the majority of both days in the street, alone with his basketball. In the days, weeks and months that followed, Grant never mentioned Japan or anyone he had left behind. He had cut all ties with his former life, and, increasingly, he said very little at all.

When the Cohens left Japan, they found an apartment in Washington D.C.. The move was to be a permanent one, and Nora needed time to search out the perfect house. Randy’s work at the Pentagon left him little time to spend with the kids, but Nora was so thankful to be back in the states that she didn’t even nag him about his busy schedule.

There was a basketball court less than a mile from the apartment, and Grant would disappear for hours at a time to shoot hoops in the park. He had become an expert ball handler, and his skills shined on the court, even against guys who were older and bigger.

At school things weren’t going nearly as well. Grant got into more than one fight at the public school he was attending, and, after several warnings, he was expelled. The little time that Randy and Grant were able to spend together had become strained. Randy was humiliated by the calls coming from the principal’s office. He had never had to deal with behavioral issues out of his older children, and he wasn’t in the mood to start. Randy’s temper often flared, and he threatened military school on numerous occasions.

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The summer that Grant was twelve, he was sent to stay with his paternal grandfather in the Chestnut Hill area of Boston. The stay was to last two weeks, during which the retired colonel and former senator would spend time with his young grandson, teaching him about military history and the importance of discipline. Colonel Cohen came from old money, and, though he didn’t flaunt his wealth, he liked to splurge on his grandchildren…especially his youngest.

Though they had only seen each other three or four different times over the course of Grant’s life, the two had always admired one another. Every year around his birthday, Grant received a card with a hundred dollar bill and a note that always read in big capital letters: POPS LOVES YOU, SAM! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Nicknames are a West Point tradition, and when Hiram Ulysses Grant was appointed to the United States Military Academy under the name Ulysses S. Grant, he soon became known as to the corps of cadets as U.S. Grant. The U.S. came to stand for Uncle Sam, and Sam would stick with Sam Grant for the rest of his life.

R.J. Pops Cohen made the trip to North Carolina the day after his daughter-in-law gave birth to his youngest grandson, and, when his only child placed the baby in his arms, they bonded instantly. Randy had named both of his older boys after his hero, and he was anxious to tell his father what he planned to call the new baby.

Well, tell me already, Son, Pops insisted as he stared at the baby in his arms. What are we calling this handsome guy? He excitedly awaited Randy’s answer, imagining what twist on Dwight D. Eisenhower his son had come up with on the third go-around. Randy’s answer would surprise him.

Pops, his name is Grant, Randy smiled proudly.

Pops nodded as he stared at the baby named for the military man he most admired. Well, his voice cracked a bit as he gently kissed the baby’s forehead, welcome to the world, Sam.

Randy laughed, thrilled to see his father so overcome with joy.

We’re calling him Grant, Pops, Nora chimed in.

Maybe you and everyone else, Pops smiled admiringly, but this little fellow here is my Sammy. So it remained…Pops forever in awe of his Sam.

The Colonel had aged well, and, despite a lingering limp that was the result of shrapnel wounds, there was nothing that he wasn’t willing to try. He cut Grant no slack as he chased him around the makeshift basketball court in his driveway, and he was impressed, yet not surprised, by Grant’s speed and agility. In fact, when his twelve-year-old grandson revealed to him that his father had recently started requiring him to take the Army Physical Fitness Test each morning before he went to school, Colonel Cohen was not surprised in the least. With a chuckle, he recalled a recent telephone conversation during which his son had, with utmost sincerity, discussed the necessity of dying Grant’s hair at some point before he entered high school. Randy had lamented how he had always assumed that, at some point, Grant’s hair would darken to the shade that was shared by his four brunette siblings. He had gone on to say how disappointed he was that the transformation didn’t seem to be taking place. All of this, of course, to assure that Grant entered West Point with a more commanding look than he currently possessed. When Pops dared suggest that the reason Sam didn’t resemble Randy’s vision of the country’s most revered general had less to do with his hair color and more to do with the fact that he was a twelve-year-old little boy, Randy had dismissed the argument.

Randy had always been hardcore, bent on excellence and focused on molding West Point cadets. Zealous was always the word that the colonel used to describe his only child because it was the nicest way that he knew how to classify his son’s dedication, if not obsession, with his job. There was no doubt that he was proud of the patriot that his son was, but, personality wise, he and Randy were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Colonel Cohen was more laidback, more gentle, more understanding, more open-minded, and more willing to listen to Grant’s dreams rather than imposing his own hopes upon him.

During Grant’s stay in Boston, Pops arranged a trip to visit a friend who was a law professor at Harvard, and they took Grant on a tour of the campus. Pops took Grant to The Garden to see where the Boston Celtics play basketball. Grant got to see the locker room and even meet a couple of the players. They sat for hours in a bookstore in Cambridge. They sat at the kitchen table in the middle of the night, eating Zingers and talking about everything from the colonel’s days in Washington to Grant’s crush on Jill Scott.

Pops saw something very different in each of his three grandsons. David had always been the type to do exactly what was expected of him but little more, and it was no shock to anyone that David Cohen graduated from West Point at his father’s insistence, served his five years and quickly deserted Army life. He was a good man, a good husband, even a good police officer, but he wasn’t a born leader.

Eisenhower Cohen, or Ike as he was affectionately called, was the epitome of a military man. He had been the embodiment of the mature, disciplined and adaptable Army brat…a title he wore like a badge of honor. He was up every morning, never complaining about the regiment his father had prepared. It was all leading him toward his eventual goal. He dreamed of attending West Point, eager for the day when he would be asked to choose a division, and he would, without hesitation, choose to go infantry. Ike was his father’s son in every way, but, in molding himself after his father, Colonel Cohen truly believed that, while Ike had the instincts of an officer, he had spent too much time working to become a carbon copy of his father and too little time distinguishing himself as his own man. Ike died before he had an opportunity to prove himself as a cadet, and there was no doubt that he would have done well, yet it was the youngest of the Cohen boys that made the colonel think he was watching the evolution of something great.

Grant had never been one to blindly follow any certain path. He was a brilliant thinker, who, at twelve years of age, was interested in philosophy and psychology. He was relatively quite, much more content to read than engage in trivial conversation, but he asked thought-provoking questions, and when he articulated his views on a subject, one would have been convinced to bet on him in a philosophical debate against Aristotle himself. Not only was he intellectually gifted, but this gift made him the obvious choice to take the lead. He liked, and, expected even, to be in charge of things, and that was apparent in the way that he behaved. He didn’t appreciate being questioned; he expected people to trust him to take care of things and make the right decisions, and he usually did just that. He also had a charm that made him likable. There was a world behind those dark brown eyes that most people would never tap into, but there was a kindness in those eyes that made people feel comfortable in his presence.

The colonel seemed to understand Grant in a way that others didn’t; he knew when Sam wanted to be treated like a kid and when he didn’t feel much like a kid at all. The two of them fished and played basketball. They spent hours in the colonel’s massive study, reading books and looking at pictures. That was the summer that Grant fell in love with the work of William Shakespeare, and that was also the summer when the colonel called his lawyer and had an airtight will written up that would assure that if Grant opted out of West Point, or basketball scholarships didn’t land him at the school of his choice, his Sam would have the money at his disposal to go to any university he desired.

Before Grant left that summer, the colonel made promises of frequent return visits, and Grant was eager to take him up on his offer. The two had bonded in a way that Randy had never had time for, and, for the first time in a long time, Grant felt like he had a friend who wasn’t going to disappear from his life. Then, six weeks after Grant boarded a plane back to Washington, Colonel Cohen died of a massive heart attack.

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Grant’s sophomore year of high school, after continued trouble in D.C. had led to him spending his freshman year of high school at a strict disciplinary military school in Virginia, Randy prepared to move his family back to Germany. The move that was supposed to be permanent had only lasted a few years. For Grant’s sake, Nora insisted on staying in Washington with the children until the end of the varsity basketball season. Randy moved to Germany, and, three weeks later when Grant’s team lost out in the playoffs, Nora, Grant and Emily joined him. Grant had resented Nora for allowing his father to send him away to military school; he punished her by refusing to come home on the weekends. When she allowed him to finish out basketball season before moving to Germany, he, in turn, allowed her back into his good graces.

It had been years since Grant had heard from his old tutors. The first thing he did when he arrived in Germany was to go to Otto’s house in hopes of catching up on all the years he had missed. Otto came to the door and, when he saw Grant, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Grant might have been two feet taller than the last time Otto had seen him, but it was as though no time had passed. Otto had aged considerably, but his mind was as sharp as ever. The two embraced for a long moment before Otto invited his young friend inside. Sitting in Otto’s living room, Grant learned of Ludwig’s passing. It was difficult for him to take in; the man who had created the stories that dominated his childhood was gone. Otto and Ludwig had been extraordinarily close friends and colleagues, and Grant could see that Ludwig’s death had been difficult on Otto. Having Grant back seemed to be exactly what Otto needed, and, before Grant could even ask, Otto offered to resume tutoring him.

The only obstacle to Grant’s schooling was that Otto and his younger brother had planned a trip to visit a colleague. They would remain in Germany for three months, only to be gone for the next three months. Nora asked Grant to consider enrolling in school, but Otto had another idea. He wanted Grant to accompany him and his brother on their journey, and his plan came complete with a well-articulated sales pitch that he was sure Nora couldn’t possibly say no to. Nora trusted Otto to look after Grant, so she saw no reason that Grant couldn’t study while vacationing with his teacher. Otherwise, she knew, she would be left to deal with three months of one moody teenager and one high-strung general.

There was a certified high school teacher who lived on base. She home schooled her daughter, who, like Emily, was a freshman, and she welcomed the opportunity to tutor Emily as well. Emily’s teacher was originally from Macon, Georgia, and she, like Nora, had maintained her accent despite her travels. She and Nora became fast friends, and, after school, it was not uncommon for the two of them to spend time entertaining the girls. Her new friend helped her keep her mind off of the fact that Grant was away.

Nora missed many things in her life. She even missed Grant’s sarcasm when he was away. She missed Ike, and she missed the way that her husband had been when Ike was around. She missed her mother and the little town in Tennessee that would always have a part of her soul. She missed North Carolina and being close to her other children. David had a daughter now, and the reality that she was not there for every important moment of little Leah’s life broke her heart. Joanna had a serious boyfriend whom Nora had yet to meet. Rachel didn’t call enough, and when Nora tried to get in touch with her, she was rarely able to reach her. Nora had been an Army wife for the entirety of her adult life, and she was desperately ready to settle down. She was a prayerful woman, raised by two, devout southern Baptist parents; her faith was all that had gotten her through the difficult times…the rape of her daughter, the death of her son, the moments when she didn’t know if her children’s father would make it home alive. She relied on that faith, and she prayed every night that Randy would realize that it was time for him to walk away from his work and spend time with his family.

Otto’s brother was a solemn man and, seeing the duo together, made Grant think of his childhood with Otto and Ludwig. Ludwig had shared Grant’s love of literature, and Otto’s brother shared his love of language. When he discovered that his American protégé had an aptitude for language, they began the task of learning Russian. Grant was fluent in six languages, and he welcomed the chance to add another to his repertoire.

In addition to being a skilled linguist, Otto’s brother was also a renowned math whiz, so, in addition to daily Russian lessons, he took Grant through daily sessions of geometry and calculus. They