Pops saw something very different in each of his three grandsons. David had always been the type to do exactly what was expected of him but little more, and it was no shock to anyone that David Cohen graduated from West Point at his father’s insistence, served his five years and quickly deserted Army life. He was a good man, a good husband, even a good police officer, but he wasn’t a born leader.
Eisenhower Cohen, or Ike as he was affectionately called, was the epitome of a military man. He had been the embodiment of the mature, disciplined and adaptable Army brat…a title he wore like a badge of honor. He was up every morning, never complaining about the regiment his father had prepared. It was all leading him toward his eventual goal. He dreamed of attending West Point, eager for the day when he would be asked to choose a division, and he would, without hesitation, choose to go infantry. Ike was his father’s son in every way, but, in molding himself after his father, Colonel Cohen truly believed that, while Ike had the instincts of an officer, he had spent too much time working to become a carbon copy of his father and too little time distinguishing himself as his own man. Ike died before he had an opportunity to prove himself as a cadet, and there was no doubt that he would have done well, yet it was the youngest of the Cohen boys that made the colonel think he was watching the evolution of something great.
Grant had never been one to blindly follow any certain path. He was a brilliant thinker, who, at twelve years of age, was interested in philosophy and psychology. He was relatively quite, much more content to read than engage in trivial conversation, but he asked thought-provoking questions, and when he articulated his views on a subject, one would have been convinced to bet on him in a philosophical debate against Aristotle himself. Not only was he intellectually gifted, but this gift made him the obvious choice to take the lead. He liked, and, expected even, to be in charge of things, and that was apparent in the way that he behaved. He didn’t appreciate being questioned; he expected people to trust him to take care of things and make the right decisions, and he usually did just that. He also had a charm that made him likable. There was a world behind those dark brown eyes that most people would never tap into, but there was a kindness in those eyes that made people feel comfortable in his presence.
The colonel seemed to understand Grant in a way that others didn’t; he knew when Sam wanted to be treated like a kid and when he didn’t feel much like a kid at all. The two of them fished and played basketball. They spent hours in the colonel’s massive study, reading books and looking at pictures. That was the summer that Grant fell in love with the work of William Shakespeare, and that was also the summer when the colonel called his lawyer and had an airtight will written up that would assure that if Grant opted out of West Point, or basketball scholarships didn’t land him at the school of his choice, his Sam would have the money at his disposal to go to any university he desired.
Before Grant left that summer, the colonel made promises of frequent return visits, and Grant was eager to take him up on his offer. The two had bonded in a way that Randy had never had time for, and, for the first time in a long time, Grant felt like he had a friend who wasn’t going to disappear from his life. Then, six weeks after Grant boarded a plane back to Washington, Colonel Cohen died of a massive heart attack.
Grant’s sophomore year of high school, after continued trouble in D.C. had led to him spending his freshman year of high school at a strict disciplinary military school in Virginia, Randy prepared to move his family back to Germany. The move that was supposed to be permanent had only lasted a few years. For Grant’s sake, Nora insisted on staying in Washington with the children until the end of the varsity basketball season. Randy moved to Germany, and, three weeks later when Grant’s team lost out in the playoffs, Nora, Grant and Emily joined him. Grant had resented Nora for allowing his father to send him away to military school; he punished her by refusing to come home on the weekends. When she allowed him to finish out basketball season before moving to Germany, he, in turn, allowed her back into his good graces.
It had been years since Grant had heard from his old tutors. The first thing he did when he arrived in Germany was to go to Otto’s house in hopes of catching up on all the years he had missed. Otto came to the door and, when he saw Grant, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Grant might have been two feet taller than the last time Otto had seen him, but it was as though no time had passed. Otto had aged considerably, but his mind was as sharp as ever. The two embraced for a long moment before Otto invited his young friend inside. Sitting in Otto’s living room, Grant learned of Ludwig’s passing. It was difficult for him to take in; the man who had created the stories that dominated his childhood was gone. Otto and Ludwig had been extraordinarily close friends and colleagues, and Grant could see that Ludwig’s death had been difficult on Otto. Having Grant back seemed to be exactly what Otto needed, and, before Grant could even ask, Otto offered to resume tutoring him.
The only obstacle to Grant’s schooling was that Otto and his younger brother had planned a trip to visit a colleague. They would remain in Germany for three months, only to be gone for the next three months. Nora asked Grant to consider enrolling in school, but Otto had another idea. He wanted Grant to accompany him and his brother on their journey, and his plan came complete with a well-articulated sales pitch that he was sure Nora couldn’t possibly say no to. Nora trusted Otto to look after Grant, so she saw no reason that Grant couldn’t study while vacationing with his teacher. Otherwise, she knew, she would be left to deal with three months of one moody teenager and one high-strung general.
There was a certified high school teacher who lived on base. She home schooled her daughter, who, like Emily, was a freshman, and she welcomed the opportunity to tutor Emily as well. Emily’s teacher was originally from Macon, Georgia, and she, like Nora, had maintained her accent despite her travels. She and Nora became fast friends, and, after school, it was not uncommon for the two of them to spend time entertaining the girls. Her new friend helped her keep her mind off of the fact that Grant was away.
Nora missed many things in her life. She even missed Grant’s sarcasm when he was away. She missed Ike, and she missed the way that her husband had been when Ike was around. She missed her mother and the little town in Tennessee that would always have a part of her soul. She missed North Carolina and being close to her other children. David had a daughter now, and the reality that she was not there for every important moment of little Leah’s life broke her heart. Joanna had a serious boyfriend whom Nora had yet to meet. Rachel didn’t call enough, and when Nora tried to get in touch with her, she was rarely able to reach her. Nora had been an Army wife for the entirety of her adult life, and she was desperately ready to settle down. She was a prayerful woman, raised by two, devout southern Baptist parents; her faith was all that had gotten her through the difficult times…the rape of her daughter, the death of her son, the moments when she didn’t know if her children’s father would make it home alive. She relied on that faith, and she prayed every night that Randy would realize that it was time for him to walk away from his work and spend time with his family.
Otto’s brother was a solemn man and, seeing the duo together, made Grant think of his childhood with Otto and Ludwig. Ludwig had shared Grant’s love of literature, and Otto’s brother shared his love of language. When he discovered that his American protégé had an aptitude for language, they began the task of learning Russian. Grant was fluent in six languages, and he welcomed the chance to add another to his repertoire.
In addition to being a skilled linguist, Otto’s brother was also a renowned math whiz, so, in addition to daily Russian lessons, he took Grant through daily sessions of geometry and calculus. They solved proofs and advanced algorithms for fun, and Grant commonly outwitted his genius professor.
Things seemed to come too easily to Grant, but Otto lived to find new ways of challenging his young student. Grant thrived academically under Otto’s supervision. He spent his days seeing the country, learning the language, reading books and playing basketball with different groups of strangers every night. Otto was impressed by what a skilled athlete Grant had become. He saw the boy’s passion for basketball, and, it too, seemed to come easily to him.
The three chums enjoyed Moscow’s vibrant night life; they saw St. Basil’s Cathedral; St. Petersburg was hauntingly beautiful, and Grant was mesmerized by its architecture. The bridges, palaces and immaculate cathedrals were all awe inspiring. Grant loved traveling and seeing the world, but, at night, he would dream of what it would be like to feel settled, to stay in one place and build a life there. He thought a lot about North Carolina in those days. He liked the house there; his brother, his sisters and his little niece were there; his mother seemed happiest there…and part of him longed to go back…and stay forever.
On the last day of their trip, after a day of sightseeing, Otto and his brother took Grant into a local pub. The legal drinking age was eighteen, but it wasn’t enforced, so it had not been unusual for Grant to accompany Otto and his brother to their favorite establishments. It was the last day of their amazing, extended vacation; the following day they would return to Germany, and Russia would become a fond memory.
Larissa was a thirty-two-year-old Russian model, and, with her sensual walk and captivating stare, she was the walking embodiment of the seductive femme fatale. She may have been an out-of-work actress, but that night she was playing the leading role in a sixteen-year-old boy’s fantasy. Wearing black stilettos and a scandalous dress, she walked up behind Grant, gently running her finger along the nape of his neck as she breathed in his ear. Grant laughed to himself, knowing she was trouble, but more than willing to take the bait. She whispered something in his ear, and Grant followed her to the bar. She seemed to know the bartender, and, with nothing but a wink, she ordered them both a drink.
When Grant woke up the following afternoon, he was alone; he was cold; he had a headache that wouldn’t quit despite the fact he only recalled having one drink, and he had no memory of the room. He propped himself up on his elbow as he lay in bed; he groaned to himself and glanced down at his watch to check the time, but Pops’ watch was gone. Grant rolled over and grabbed his blue jeans off the floor and quickly searched his pockets, only to find them empty.
“Oh, nice job, Grant,” he rolled his eyes as he fell back on the bed. “She took your watch…your money…your identification…” At that, he shot up out of bed, suddenly remembering the backpack he had been carrying. He searched the room frantically, then, realizing that it too was gone, he flopped back onto the bed. “I don’t believe this,” he groaned.
Grant pulled his shirt on, then his jeans. He rolled his eyes as he tied his shoes, thinking that he should probably just put the laces to good use and hang himself because he was as good as dead anyway when his dad found out that he had fallen prey to a much older woman who had drugged him and made off with all of his passport and visas. There he was, the son of one of the most prominent men in the United States military, trapped in a country with some of the most strict immigration laws in the world.
Grant walked outside, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He had the worst headache he had ever had in his life; his eyes were still a little blurry, and his shirt was on backward and inside out. Back when his father had sent him away to military school, Grant had felt like his dad had made a rash decision without taking time to examine the facts. He felt like every incident that had led to his father sending him away had been anything but his fault. Now, as he passed by a clock on the side of a building and saw that the plane he was supposed to have been on had left half an hour earlier, he knew that this time he had really let his father down. He was disappointed in himself, and his greatest regret was that his father, whom he had such tremendous respect for, would be disappointed in him to. He had never been in such hot water in his entire life, and, as he walked, he began to orchestrate the lie that he would tell his father, if he ever made it home.
Nora’s nagging finally seemed to have paid off, and, by the time Grant was a high school junior, Randy had retired to North Carolina. Grant attended a local public school and quickly established himself as the starting point guard on the varsity basketball team. At home Randy and Grant were spending quality time together talking about college and life in general; it seemed as though the two of them had really bonded in the months since Randy had settled down. Randy radiated with pride when Grant spoke of West Point, and he couldn’t wait for the day when he would see his youngest son commissioned as an Army officer. There were many times when Grant talked about not wanting to be in the military because he hated the nomadic lifestyle, however, there was always a part of him that wasn’t sure he knew how to stay in one place for very long. There were also times when he and his father were deep in conversation, their arms folded exactly the same way, that Nora could imagine her son wearing a cadet uniform.
For awhile, Nora thought that Grant may actually be considering following in his father’s footsteps, then, suddenly, in the blink of an eye, things took a very different turn. The relationship that Grant and his father had built seemed to crumble in an instant right before Nora’s eyes without rhyme or reason. Grant seemed different all of a sudden; he was always angry, rarely spoke, and, if he said anything at all, it was always said in a very passive aggressive tone. Nora never knew when he was going to decide to come home or where he was going to be. First there were calls from the basketball coach…then from the school principal…then, one night, after a fire at a local convenient store, a call from the police station that turned Nora’s world upside down.
When school ended after Grant’s junior year, he was eager to get out of town. He headed to the University of North Carolina for a week of basketball camp. From there he went straight to the University of Tennessee for another two weeks of camp. Back home, Nora waited, each night, for a phone call that never came. The day finally came that Grant was supposed to arrive back home, but when he didn’t show, Nora began to panic. She made repeated calls to his cell phone that went unanswered. Randy called around to the older children to see if they had heard anything from their brother, which they hadn’t. Another day passed, and Randy, who had been positive that Grant was just playing a cruel mind game with him, became infuriated by Grant’s brazen disregard for anyone other than himself.
Joanna and Emily sat on the sofa in the living room as Nora paced the kitchen floor.
“What if something is wrong, Randy?” Nora cried. “What if this isn’t just Grant being Grant? What kind of parents will we look like if a few days down the road he’s still not back, and we never reported our son missing?”
“I’m gonna make him wish he was missing,” Randy grumbled.
“Don’t say that,” Nora insisted. “What if he’s in trouble? What if there was an accident, Randy? Grant could be out there somewhere needing our help, and you’re back here plotting his punishment.”
“What if something really is wrong, Jo?” Emily asked softly.
Joanna patted Emily’s knee. “All we can do is pray that he’s okay,” she gulped.
“What does your gut say?” Emily asked. “Do you think he’s okay?”
“If I didn’t, I’d be out there looking for him,” Joanna sighed.
“This is typical Grant,” Randy scoffed, “and, as soon as he gets back here, I’m done paying for that cell phone he refuses to answer. That car I bought him now belongs to me. My misguided father saw to it that Grant will become a very wealthy man on his eighteenth birthday, so, as far as I am concerned, he is on his own until then.” Randy rolled his eyes and curled his lip. “I swear that old man must have been senile in the end!”
Emily walked down the hall toward Grant’s room. She sat in his desk chair and turned on his computer. She glanced down at his desk drawer and slowly pulled it open. She rummaged around for a moment as she shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t believe this,” she groaned. “Grant, what have you done this time?” She took a long, deep breath as she thought about the possibilities. “Dad, can you come here for a minute?” she called.
Randy, Nora and Joanna all promptly appeared in the doorway.
“I think his passport’s gone,” Emily announced matter-of-factly.
“What? How do you know?” Randy asked as he barged inside.
“He keeps it right here in this drawer; I’m sure of it,” Emily nodded.
