Chapter 10
Two hours later, flashlights sliced through the parking lot darkness. The children stumbled into the backseat.
“Grandpa! Grandma!” Liam’s voice cracked like a misfired round as they stumbled toward the VA hospital entrance.
Fiona wailed into Martha’s cardigan, “You finally–finally–made it!”
“Alright, let’s bail,” Grandpa Robert them toward the exit. “This hospital’s giving me the creeps.”
Grandparents and grandchildren stumbled through Fort Belvoir’s unshoveled paths, frost biting arthritic joints as Fiona and Liam whined about the cold.
At discharge processing, the clerk’s voice cut through their exhaustion, “Outstanding balance: $3,840. Insurance lapsed last month.‘
Mr. Reynolds‘ cane struck linoleum. “Stella was handling this!”
Mrs. Reynolds paled. “Call her! Now!”
But Stella’s number rang into digital purgatory. When the VA threatened collections, Mr. Reynolds surrendered his Silver Star credit card–its first use in a decade.
Stella juggled double shifts at Brentwood Mills while single–handedly running the Reynolds household.
The seniors hadn’t touched chores since Clinton’s presidency, and Colonel Finn assumed his officer’s salary covered everything- rarely sending funds home.
When the hospital bill exploded like an IED, Grandpa’s face turned artillery–shell red. Even Fiona and Liam radiated nuclear fury.
“Grandma,” Liam slammed his juice box, “we’re filing for mom replacement! Mom ghosted us!”
“Forty–seven calls straight to voicemail!” Fiona’s braces glinted. “When mom slinks back, we’ll cancel her!”
Grandma’s inhaler hissed like a faulty valve. “That girl’s finished.”
They abandoned the ER at midnight–stumbling through pitch–black suburbs like refugees fleeing a demilitarized zone.
The house greeted them with its new reality:
No steam unfurling from showerheads
No garlic–roasted chicken warming the oven
Just the reek of yesterday’s forgotten trash
Fiona yanked the shower knob. “Freezing!”
Liam slammed cabinets. “Where’s food?”
The Reynolds seniors were adrift in domestic warfare. For decades since Stella’s arrival, their hands hadn’t touched a kettle or skillet.
Dinner materialized at 1800 sharp, hot water flowed like garrison plumbing, and quarters stayed inspection–ready.
Now Grandpa hauled buckets from the well like a raw recruit.
Grandma fumbled at the field stove, her arthritic hands trembling over canned rations.
When the “feast” finally appeared–lumpy oatmeal and charred Spam–both collapsed onto mess kits, spines screami training–level exhaustion.
Liam took one bite of the gruel and gagged. “This tastes like bilge water!”
Fiona emerged shivering in a towel. “My mattress feels like rocks!”
from basic
Mrs. Reynolds surveyed the warzone kitchen–her first cooked meal since Nixon resigned. “We’ll find Stella tomorrow. She’s just…
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wounded.”
“Wounded?” Mr. Reynolds snorted. “We saved her from trailer parks! Finn made her somebody!”
Night became agony. Mr. Reynolds‘ legs cramped without Stella’s nightly Epsom salt rubs. Mrs. Reynolds wheezed through neglected nebulizer treatments, too exhausted to sterilize equipment.
Dawn was just breaking over Quantico when Liam’s shout pierced the quiet.
“My prep school interview! It’s at eight!”
Fiona jolted awake beside him. Their sick leave had ended yesterday–now they
they were late for the most important day of the semester.
They scrambled into their uniforms like kids fleeing a fire drill, bolting without breakfast.
Behind them, Grandma Martha’s rattling cough echoed through the house.
She shook Grandpa Robert awake. “We need Stella back today. This household can’t function without her.”
“Agreed,” he winced, his bad leg sparking pain with every step toward the door.
The Fort Belvoir housing director rose swiftly. “Colonel Reynolds‘ parents! What brings-”
Mrs. Reynolds deployed her sweetest officer’s–wife smile. “Could you announce since yesterday’s… misunderstanding.”
the community PA? Our Stella’s been missing
Director Vance’s smile stiffened. He’d seen Stella hauling groceries through blizzards while the Reynolds brats zoomed past in their Range Rover.
“Of course,” he lied. “But perhaps Stella finally realized even military wives get discharge papers.”
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