James Rawles - Liberators

Seeing Malorie for the first time gave Joshua the opportunity to compare Megan alongside her sister, and their differences were apparent immediately. While Megan was a classic beauty, Malorie was taller, with sharper facial features. She could have worked as a model. Both sisters were brunettes with blue eyes, although Malorie’s hair was a shade lighter than Megan’s. Megan’s hair was longer, reaching the middle of her back, when unbraided. Malorie had the fashion-model cheekbones, but Megan had the prettier smile. They both had pale complexions and a strong LaCroix family resemblance that was distinctively French—so much so that both would have fit in without comment if they were included in a “Beauties of Quebec” calendar.

“Did you find the place easily?” Megan asked.

“I did.” Joshua took a knee to be on the same eye level as the boys, and he said, “Hello, you must be Leo and you must be Jean. My name is Joshua, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” The boys knew enough to offer their extended hand to shake Joshua’s, but had not learned the art of eye contact or a firm grip yet. “I heard that you boys liked to eat your vegetables, so I brought these veggie rolls for us to have with lunch.”

None of the interaction was lost on Megan, who was warm but not overly affectionate with Joshua in front of the boys. She was not experienced in how to navigate the situation and Joshua was very cautious to pick up on her signals and tread lightly. Malorie came over, and after she was introduced said, “Cool Jeep. Megan tells me that you did a small-block Chevy swap.”

“I had it done, since I’m not set up at my apartment to do that kind of work. Everyone recommended Sam up at Mid Atlantic in Glen Burnie. I went to talk to him because originally I thought about swapping a 4BT Cummins into the Jeep. Sam knew his stuff and said that the twelve-valve 6BT was likely a better candidate and would work with the longer wheelbase on my Jeep. But in the end, those drive trains are heavy, require a lot of suspension work to accommodate the extra weight, and are expensive and hard to come by, so a small-block swap was less expensive, by a large margin. I love it. I’m guessing that Megan told you about my spare HEI circuit board?”

“No, she left that part out. But you can be sure that your stock value went up with her when she heard that, though! Going for EMP-proof?”

Joshua smiled and said, “I’m guessing that the analyst gene is dominant in the LaCroix DNA.”

Megan asked, “Who’s hungry?” and the boys responded loudly and raced each other round to the back porch. The five of them sat down at the table, where lunch was served. Megan looked at Joshua, squeezed his hand, and asked him if he would pray before their meal.

After lunch, Malorie offered to clean up and put the boys down for a nap. Joshua discreetly asked Megan if it would be okay if he left the Hot Wheels cars on the couch where the boys could find them after their nap. Megan kissed the boys and left with Joshua to go get coffee at the Black Dog Café.

As Joshua pulled down the driveway, a chicken strutted out at the Jeep and then ran off of the gravel driveway. Joshua looked over at Megan—realizing that he had never seen her in jeans before but certainly wasn’t disappointed—as he said, “Leo and Jean are great boys! Very polite, and they listened to their mother very well; I know that you’re proud of them, as you should be.”

Megan smiled and her piercing blue eyes caught his. “Butter me up all you want, but you’re still buying the coffee.”

As they cruised along the back roads, Joshua slowed down to enjoy the scenery and found that comfortable RPM in fourth gear that allowed him to hold Megan’s hand and not have to shift. The weather was perfect and the whole firmament seemed to resound with praise toward its Creator with lush green in every direction that they could see. Joshua eased the Jeep into the dirt parking lot close to both the farmers’ market and the Black Dog Café. “Aw, too bad the farmers’ market is only open on Wednesdays; I could really go for some fresh vegetables and local honey!”

Joshua continued to hold Megan’s hand as they walked up to the door of the Black Dog Café. He held the door for Megan, and she waved to Marcy as they walked in. Megan looked over to Joshua and said, “I am going to the little girls’ room, just get whatever Marcy recommends for me—she knows what I like.” He nodded back and walked up to the counter to order.

Joshua brought her coffee, some freshly baked goods, and a tea for himself back to the table where Megan was sitting. He was hoping for a long afternoon of conversation with her, because there is really nothing like falling in love at a coffee shop. It would have been nice to take her to Montreal, but Charles Town, West Virginia, was as good a place as anywhere to talk for a few hours.

“It was nice to finally meet Malorie. She really seems to know her vehicles. And your boys are quite handsome and well-behaved—I can say that now that I’ve made good on buying you coffee, ma chérie . They certainly seem like a lot of fun. Are they a help around the homestead?”

Megan averted her gaze and traced her finger across the lace holes of her Dr. Martens unconsciously as she answered. “I think that they’ve had to grow up faster than I would hope. I was expecting the Thomas the Tank Engine stage to last a lot longer than it has, but the boys really have become good workers around the homestead. Auntie Malorie cracks the whip between snacks, hikes, games of tag, and extra stories.” Megan smiled, locked eyes with Joshua, who was listening attentively, and said, “They don’t understand why Eric isn’t there, but they do very much realize that he’s absent.”

Joshua reached out and put his hand on her hand, gently squeezed it, and did not say anything as Megan continued. “Hawaii was paradise. Eric and I were very much in love as newlyweds. Eventually, we both came down on orders together—compassionate assignment, of course—to come to Fort Meade. It was hard to get promoted in the Marine Corps when you’re having children—that is a fact. So I was passed up for two promotions and was seemingly locked in at being a corporal. As an NCO I had plenty of responsibility, but as an E-4 it’s hard to live on such a small paycheck. Eric was in the navy and we were fortunate to be stationed together. The world was our oyster, or so we thought. We found this house in the country and we bought it. Eric wanted to raise the boys far out of the pressure cooker of the Beltway metropolis, but then not long after we got settled into our new routine and duties, Eric came down on orders to deploy again as a ‘Sand Sailor.’”

Joshua asked for clarification. “Sand Sailor? I’m afraid that I haven’t heard the term before.”

“It’s navy slang for a ‘fish out of water’ or a sailor who is deployed in the desert. It’s almost always used as a pejorative term.”

“I see.” Joshua thought it best not to interrupt her.

“So he was on orders for a whole year; our oldest son was two and starting to toddle around. We thought that he would go over, get his ticket punched, and be in a good spot for his next promotion—such a simple plan. All the while I would be home saving the extra money and paying down our mortgage. Eric said that he liked the job okay, and the long days made the time go by so that he didn’t have to think about missing Leo and me as much. But as the time went on, he was not staying grounded in true godly things. He stopped going to chapel services and there was a noticeable decline in substantive letters from him. I guess that the targeting mission really got to him. It’s one thing to process signals impersonally as strictly empirical data; it’s another to track someone’s life and be responsible for steel on target when the boys in black show up to shoot people in the face.