Still worked within the restrictions of my assignments.
The difference was what I carried home.
For the first time, I stopped thinking that I needed to explain myself to anyone who demanded answers.
I had fulfilled my obligation to the court.
I had protected the information I was required to protect.
And I had honored Dad’s instructions.
That was enough.
Three weeks after the verdict, I visited my father’s grave.
It was a quiet Sunday morning.
The cemetery was nearly empty.
A breeze moved through the trees, scattering small leaves across the grass.
I wore ordinary clothes.
Jeans.
A dark blue sweater.
The old watch Dad had given me when I received my commission.
I brought fresh flowers.
Nothing elaborate.
Dad had always disliked expensive arrangements.
He used to say flowers ought to look like something a person might actually find growing in a garden.
I knelt beside his headstone.
For a while, I said nothing.
I brushed a few leaves away from the base.
Straightened the flowers.
Read his name.
Everett Voss.
It still seemed impossible.
I had spent years calling him from places where I could not tell him the time zone.
Now there was no number I could call.
I sat back on my heels.
“Hey, Dad.”
My voice sounded small in the open air.
“I guess you know what happened.”
A bird called from somewhere behind the cemetery wall.
I looked down at the grass.
“I’m sorry it turned into such a mess.”
The words came automatically.
I almost smiled.
Even alone at his grave, I was apologizing for something I hadn’t caused.
I could practically hear him correcting me.
That’s not a measurement you get to make alone.
I took a breath.
“I did what you asked.”
My voice cracked.
“I got the proper certification. I followed the process.”
I wiped my eyes.
“And I didn’t tell them anything I wasn’t supposed to.”
I looked at his name again.
“They believed me in the end.”
The wind moved through the trees.
I sat quietly.
