The Blood of Patriots Read Online Free Page B

iPhone,” Joanne said. “I couldn’t tell her not to read it. We looked at a few of the articles together when we got home.”
    â€œAnyone give her a hard time?”
    â€œNo,” she said. “Not for what you did. Or rather, who you did it to.”
    â€œAh. I have street cred in Basalt.”
    â€œBut she’s embarrassed,” Joanne said. “I guess that’s not the best word. Uneasy, maybe? She doesn’t know how to be around you.”
    â€œI’ll take that up with her,” he said. “Look, I’m embarrassed and uneasy and scared , too. I came here because I needed to connect with the only people on the planet I thought would give me a fair hearing.”
    She nodded. “What did your folks say?”
    â€œThey’re in China. I’m not sure they’ve heard about it.”
    â€œAre they okay?”
    â€œThey’ve got their health and they’ve got their pension,” Ward replied. “They’re fine. Thanks for asking.”
    Joanne turned quickly. He knew the move well. She did it when she wanted to yell at him for being stupid but didn’t feel like fighting. Ward followed her up the walk.
    â€œI noticed the town’s undergone a few changes since last year,” Ward said.
    â€œTowns do that. A lot of people want to make more of this than it is.”
    â€œTough not to. The first three places you see when you enter town have signs that have to be translated. That’s a pretty big change.”
    â€œBetter they should be boarded up?” she asked. “And don’t talk like that in front of Megan, please.”
    â€œLike what?”
    She stopped and turned on him. “Disparagingly. Would you have said that if they were in Chinese or Spanish?”
    â€œIf I were in Tibet or Arizona, maybe,” he said.
    â€œMegan has Ute friends and French-Canadian friends and I hope she will have Muslim friends as well,” Joanne said. “Do you understand me, John?”
    â€œNo, but I hear you,” he replied.
    The Vassar College liberal lion was in full roar. Ward backed off. It all came back, the whole marriage, like undigested sushi. The differences you overlooked for months because you thought she was really smart and hot and she thought you were brave and studly. And then you were parents and all the illusions ended.
    They walked around the side of the inverted-V roof, along a slate path. Every second slab was glazed with a painting of a bird underneath. Ward wondered how many owls broke their necks dive-bombing the cartoony suckers. He experienced a sudden deep longing for New York sidewalks with gum, chalk art, and real pigeon droppings.
    Hunter and Megan were grilling corn, red pepper, and eggplant on a firepit. Joanne took the tongs from Megan, who ran over and locked her spindly arms around her father, her cheek pressed to his chest.
    â€œHi, Daddy—”
    â€œHey, Princess,” he cooed.
    She had grown taller, and stronger. It was no longer a little girl who held him.
    â€œI hear you’ve been surfing the net,” he said.
    â€œI was worried about you,” she said. She chuckled through a sob. “You’re a superstar on Fox.”
    â€œMe and Homer Simpson.”
    â€œActually, it’s Hannity,” Megan told him. “They said they’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”
    Ward hadn’t bothered to check any of his cell phone messages. He didn’t want to hear from attorneys or officials and he certainly had no intention of giving interviews; there was nothing to be gained from intellectualizing a moment of conviction or living it over and over—though now that he thought of it, maybe his next career could be as a talking head or radio host or blogger. Part of him, a big part, still hadn’t accepted the idea that he wouldn’t be going back to his old life.
    Megan continued to hug her father in silence as Ward cradled her head. He