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Sgt. Vincent Trent kept an eye on what was going on with his business partner across the little gap on the cul-de-sac between their homes.
“You think he's going to remember that he doesn't have to pull out the carbonator any more?” his 17-year-old daughter Vanna asked him.
“We'll see in a little while – so far he is doing well.”
Capt. Ludlow was not aware that he was being lovingly observed … he was thinking about his first cup of coffee for the day at dawn, and why he did not feel that he needed another one.
“Normally I want one by now,” he said aloud, and then turned his head and met his wife's smile.
“Normally you are carbonating by now,” she said, “but you know that it s being handled at Rhodes Bottling, so unless you want to make some soda for us, you don't have to do any of that this afternoon.”
“Thank you for bringing that from the back of my mind to the front of my mind, Thalia.”
Mrs. Ludlow watched a great weight slide off her husband' shoulders.
“I made a note to myself and even read it this morning not to set up the carbonator, but my mind is still not fully taking in the reality yet … we really have made it to the next stage of the business, in which the founders are not messing in the business every day!”
“Congratulations,” Mrs. Ludlow said, “again.”
“Now, Sgt. Trent and I can work on the business more,” the captain said, “and, I can rest more today. Since you did lunch for us, I already have the burgers for dinner marinating, so you can go write until then, too.”
“I'm taking the day off to rest with you, Robert,” she said. “I am way ahead of delivery deadline on the second portion of my articles.”
“You know how to make sure I get my rest,” he purred. “I probably would find some work to get into otherwise, but with you hanging on my arm, not so much.”
In the next instant, seven-year-old Amanda Ludlow came and grabbed her grandfather's other arm in silent plea, her big brown eyes filling with tears.
“I guess there are a few people around here interested in making sure I rest and live a long time,” Capt. Ludlow said, and picked up his granddaughter and kissed away her tears. “All right, y'all can stop worrying. I'm going to sit right there on the sofa, and let all of eight of y'all watch me rest.”
Half an hour later, Capt. Ludlow was asleep, his head in Mrs. Ludlow's lap while Amanda was asleep on his barrel chest. The other six Ludlow grandchildren did quiet activities, all arranged around the sofa: George (9), Grayson (6), and Lil' Robert (5) worked on their Legos, and Eleanor (11), Andrew (10), and Edwina (8) caught up on their reading.
Mrs. Trent got a text because Mrs. Ludlow wanted a picture taken, and came back and showed her husband.
“Well,” Sgt. Trent said, “one less thing for me to worry about. Capt. Ludlow will make it to 60 after all. He has learned how to transition into resting without difficulty.”
“You figure it shouldn't be a problem,” Mrs. Trent said. “We only have three little ones left, but phew!”
Sgt. Trent smiled.
“You've never been a soldier,” he said, “and then Capt. Ludlow is by nature a hard-driving man on top of that. But see, healing does a lot for a man. He doesn't need to rip and run if he learns how to value added peace at home.”
Mrs. Trent embraced her husband.
“One thing I have always admired you for,” she said. “I forget you are a soldier sometimes, a man of war, because even in our few divorced years, you never made me the enemy. You are the most peaceful person I have ever known, and you've given me time to get my diagnosis and work on being peaceful with you. You supported me and the kids even through those years in every way that was possible, and when more became possible, here we are again!”
“Well, you figure a soldier would know the difference between an enemy and a wife,” he said as he embraced her back, “although, God is good, because the lines can blur and do blur for many, but He did not let them and will not let them blur for me.”
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