Author's note: Thank you, thank you for your continued interest and reviews.

"Dad! Dad..."

He was twelve. Soaked to the bone and numb. He couldn't keep his teeth from chattering, his hands from shaking. The raw morning had dawned, filled with the promise of another full day on the pond.
His friends raucous voices.
"He shoots, he scores!"
The blades of their skates carving shallow tracks into the ice.
"Another goal for the Pittsburgh Penguins!"
The sound of their hockey sticks slapping against the glass surface. He had turned around, toward Brian's goal, to see his best friend...
"Tommy! C'mon! Show 'em what you've got!"
Skating just beyond the lines of their rink, getting a fast start. He was right there. Then the terrible cracking sound.

"Tommy!"
The panic.
"Tommy!"
Peter throwing off his skates and running for help. They could hear him yelling down the block.
Slipping to his hands and knees he started to crawl toward where Tommy had gone in. He'd be right there, wouldn't he? He'd come right back up. Why wasn't he answering them? Why couldn't he hear them?
John's older brother ordering all of them them to stay back as he moved, as if in slow motion, toward the gaping hole in the ice. Max racing along the bank, trying to lower his hockey stick into the water.
"Tommy!"
Jimmy's Dad running out of the house toward them. A scream.
"Tommy!"
Peter's father's car pulling up, with a loud screech. Tommy's father, jumping out of the passenger side. Terrified voices growing louder.
"Tommy!" Another scream.
"Tommy!" Someone was crying. A siren sliced through the bitter air.
"Henry, stop!" Brian's father's strong grip on his jacket, pulling him back. Fighting against the hold before sinking to the frigid ground.
His mother's panicked voice ringing in his ears. He hadn't realized it was he who had been screaming himself hoarse until he felt her arms wrap around him.

"Daddy?!"

Her soft hands were cold as she held his face in her palms. Her gentle brown eyes full of dismay, "Henry, promise me right now. No matter what happens you'll keep your eyes closed..." she whispered, frantically. She held him against herself as she steered him along the frozen bank.
More voices. The ambulance arriving. Then the scream. The scream that could only have come from Tommy's mother.
He moved to look back, to turn around. His own mother pressing his face against her chest, holding him tightly.
His mother held him.
She held him as they went into the house, as she sat him in the kitchen, as she pulled off his soaking coat and wrapped him in a warm towel. She pressed a kiss to his forehead before running upstairs to start a warm bath. From far away, he heard the telephone ringing.
Small Erin running into the kitchen to answer, her light eyes growing wide at the sight of him seated there.
"Mommy! It's for you!" His mother hurrying back down the steps.
"Somebody's crying," he heard his sister whisper anxiously, as she passed the phone to their mother. He didn't need to move his gaze from the floor to know.

"Daddy, please! Don't die!"

He was twelve, shivering in bed, despite the extra blanket, as he listened to the sound of his parents' raised voices.
"He can't just mope around."
"Patrick, he's doing the best he can. What do you want from him? He's a little boy who lost his best friend less than 48 hours ago!"

"Dad. Daddy, what do I do?"

He was twelve when he buried his closest friend, when he waited until dark to walk home from the church so that no one would see his tears.
When he met his mother waiting up for him in the living room, when he fell against her, and hiding his face in her shoulder, he sobbed.
His mother, steady, as his emotion wracked her slender body. It wasn't until many minutes later that he realized she was crying, too. Her soothing voice was heavy with tears, "It's okay, Henry. It's going to be okay. I love you so much."

He was twelve, sobbing into the hot water of the shower for exactly twenty six days afterward.
His father's dismissal echoing in his ears. "Boys don't cry, son. Pull yourself together, Henry. It's time to move on."

Twelve, on that early Sunday morning, kneeling behind the altar, when Father Joseph held the host in his hands and said "Do this in remembrance of me."
He felt Father Joseph's gentle gaze pass over him, but he kept his head ruthlessly bowed, his eyes fixed on the floor. The silence ringing throughout the church.
When he sat in the pew after mass, the still and empty church mimicking his broken heart. The quiet.
He'd heard the words of the liturgy every Sunday for as long as he could remember, but did they mean anything now? How could they mean anything now that Tommy was-?

"It's okay, Henry. God goes silent on us all." Father Joseph's gentle reassurance, his understanding, his promise.

"It's okay, Henry. God goes silent on us all."

He looked up for the first time in four weeks, into the gentle gaze of a world-weary but faith-filled man. Blinking back tears, he shook the Father's hand and blessed himself with the sign of the cross. His head held high, he walked outside into the early morning sun.

"It's gonna be okay, Dad..."

He was thirteen. Christmas morning, surrounded by his brother and sisters and cousins. Colorful wrapping paper flying through the air, rambunctious laughter. The new football he'd longed for tucked safely under his arm.

"Mom, where did you go to school?"
His mother bustling around in the kitchen, "I went to Nursing school in Allentown after I graduated from high school. I became a registered nurse and I worked at the hospital near Nanna's old house."
She glanced at him, leaning against the counter. As if she could read his thoughts, she continued, "Your Dad didn't go to college because his father didn't go to college. He just followed in his dad's footsteps."
"Like he wants me to do." sighing, heavily.
His mother smiled, brushing her pinned auburn waves away from her cheek. "We all know what your father wants, Henry. There hasn't been a day in our marriage that he hasn't made that clear. But you and I know that sometimes life doesn't work like that. We don't always get what it is that we want."

"Can I go to college?" the question slipped from his mouth before he could stop himself. He'd been wondering for so long. His mother's dark eyes were suddenly glossy with tears. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Her hands covered in baking flour.
"Of course, you can go to college. You can do anything, Henry. You have a smart head on those shoulders and a good heart. You keep God close to you and you can do anything you set your mind to."
"Do we have the money, Mom?" His mother standing at the sink, squaring her shoulders, looking over at him. "You let your father and I worry about money, all right? You just keep doing well in school and everything will work out. You'll see."
"You think I could get a scholarship or something?"
His mother smiled, "I think it's worth a try."
"You think Dad'll be disappointed in me?" She dropped the sponge into the soapy water.
"I can't think of anything in the world that should make him prouder. I can't speak for him, but you are our son. Anything that you want to do to better yourself or to help yourself in the future is positive in my eyes, Henry. I'll do anything to help you, hon."
Patting his mother's back, "Thanks Mom." He left the kitchen just before his father walked through the back door.

"Dad, I'm gonna go for help. I'm gonna find someone who can help us."

He was fourteen. The clock in the kitchen read 1:24am. His science project lay completed on the counter top, his exhausted head lay against his arms. His brother tapping his shoulder, "Go to bed. I think the galaxy will still be here in the morning."

Fourteen. Shane and Maureen fighting over the bathroom, the television, the radio. He kept turning the pages of his books and tuning them out.

He was fifteen. The big game was on the television. Cheering loudly with Peter and John. Erin ran in and out of the room with her cheer pom poms, singing the Victory March, "Cheer, cheer for old Notre Dame, wake up the echos cheering her name..."

Fifteen, Honor roll at school. "Dad, I made the honor roll. All A's and one B."
"How did everyone else do?" He was saved from answering by the phone's ring.

Sixteen, passing his driver's test on the first try. His mother's excited smile.
"I got my license today, Dad."
"How many times did you take the test?" his father hadn't looked up from the newspaper.
"Just once. First try."
"Don't take the car without my permission."
"Yes sir."
"Don't wreak it."
"No, sir, I won't."
"Can I get a ride to practice tomorrow?" Shane piped up.
"Don't think this means you can ride around picking up girls to mess around with-"
"Patrick! Don't you know your son at all?" His mother's shrill cry stopped him from a reply that was sure to get him into trouble.

"Dad, Daddy, I'm gonna go out and get help."

Sixteen. Clearing his throat as he walked into the living room. His father on the couch, his mother in the rocking chair, Erin on the floor skimming a magazine. Baseball on the television. "Dad, Mom can I- can I talk to you?"
"Erin, go upstairs. Your brother's probably in trouble."
"Patrick!"
He was tired, he didn't know how his mother didn't tire of her attempts to change his father.
Erin, peeking at him around the wall, from her hiding place on the steps.
Without preamble, "I'm gonna go to college-"
"We can't afford it-"
"Let him finish-"
"I'm gonna go to college and I found a way to pay for it. I'm gonna join the ROTC. I'm gonna apply for their scholarship and if I get it, then I'm in."
"The ROTC? Then, what branch?"
"The Navy, so I can go into the Marine Corp. The air wing. I wanna fly planes," He felt eight years old again.
His mother nodding encouragingly. His father's shrug. "If you can get in, be my guest. They don't give scholarships to just anyone."
"Good thing our son's not just anyone," his mother's faith in him making him grin.

"Dad, we're gonna be okay."

Sitting with Frank in the kitchen, going over his application for the ninth time. "It looks real good, Henry. Religious Studies. It's pretty unique. They might go for it. Those committees love that kind of thing. Of course, I'm in engineering but they're always looking for diversity."

University of Pittsburgh, Duquesne University, Carnegie Mellon, University of Virginia.

"Virginia? What's in Virginia?"
"It's a good school, Dad. Their program is ranked real high."
"You'll pay out of state tuition."
"If I get the scholarship I won't have to worry about tuition, Dad."

Sending in his application. Showing up at the Navy recruitment office every day for two solid months.
"Hi, I'm-"
"Hey there, Henry McCord,"
They knew him by name.

"You took my sweater!"
"Why would I want your sweater? It wouldn't fit me!"
"You always take my stuff!"
"That's not true. I don't take anything!"
His sisters' screaming at each other, his brother turning up the volume on the TV.
"Girls! Stop right now! Maureen, don't push her! Shane, turn that down! Henry, phone!"

Walking into the kitchen and meeting his father's eye, as he took the phone from the dish towel his mother had laid it on to stifle the commotion.
"Henry, this is Dr. Robert Henson. I'm the head of the Naval ROTC program at Carnegie Mellon University..."
"Yes, sir." He knew the man's name well. He'd worn the writing off the business card he'd received at the recruitment office.
"Henry, I wanted to thank for applying for the program and I'd like to congratulate you on being chosen as a recipient of one of our scholarships."
He couldn't speak, turning away from his father's scrutiny, stretching the cord as far into the living room as he could go and clearing the lump in his throat.
"Really? Thank you, sir. Thank you." He kept his face impassive, hanging up the phone.
Erin sitting on the counter top, swinging her legs against the cabinet, "What'd they say?"
His mother holding the towel to her mouth to keep herself from making noise. When he met her dark eyes, he laughed in relief, cutting through the tension in the room, "That was Dr. Henson from CMU. I got it. I got the scholarship."
The invitation to the open house came two days later.

Walking around campus with his parents and Erin, his father nit-picking the class sizes, the dorm rooms, the dining hall food.
Looking around anxiously, trying to figure out of he could fit here. He knew some of his buddies from school would end up here. People packed the common areas. Traffic honked right on the edge of campus. The buildings were tall and new. It wouldn't be so bad...

Laying in bed later that night, mulling the day over in his mind.
In the darkness of his bedroom, he let himself admit what had been bothering him since he got the call.
He wasn't sure he wanted to stay here. He wasn't sure he wanted to go to school so close to home. To stay in Pittsburgh.
If he was being completely honest, he was afraid his father would get to him before he could finish his freshman year and try to convince him to quit and work with him in the steel mill. Restless.

He stayed silent and thoughtful for a week.
"Mom. I don't think I can go to Carnegie Mellon," he announced, as they walked home from church. His father, half a block ahead. Maureen, with some boy she'd been out with. Erin, chattering excitedly to her friends. Shane, racing a school mate down the sidewalk.
"Henry," she said his name lightly, like his proclamation wasn't the end of the world. "It's all right. We still have time to wait to hear from your other schools. Don't put so much pressure on yourself to decide right this minute."
"I don't have a lotta options, Mom. I'm crazy if I turn this down, right?" his voice rising with his misgivings.

"You're not crazy, Henry. You're worried. You're uncertain and you have every right to be. This is what growing up is all about. But be patient, all right? For me, Henry," when she saw the exasperated look on his face.
"Give it a few more weeks, okay? And while you're at it, give your worry to God. That smart brain of yours won't do you any good if you're bogged down with anxiety, hon."

That was his mother's advice, "Give it to God, Henry." He could almost predict it was coming before the words left her lips. Regardless of how many times he heard them, it didn't make them easier to swallow or untrue. If there was one thing he knew, it was that his mother was always right. He'd have to wait.

Seventeen. The final game of the season. He could hear his mother cheering through the pounding of the rain on his helmet. Brian caught the ball.
Running at the other team and tackling the biggest guy he could before they got to Brian. He saw Brian go and go and - he didn't feel his ankle break. He felt Kevin's hands slapping his back, he heard Peter's elated yells, felt the rest of his team's excitement. The scene before him, the crowd rushing on to the field, screaming in happiness, the rain making the night glisten.
His sisters screaming the team's praises. His mother weeping with happiness.
Sitting in the locker room, the trainer taking a look at his broken ankle, Brian pressed the football into his grasp, "That one was for Tommy." That night, he felt sure that his best friend knew it, too.

Seventeen, in the passenger seat beside John on the way to the basketball game. Laughing at a bad joke Max had just told. Peter, singing along loudly to the radio station. Blushing, as the girls flirted endlessly with each of them. Getting the guts to tell Megan Pierson that she had the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen. He meant it. Until he saw Elizabeth's.

Seventeen, walking out to the mailbox on an early Saturday morning. Two bills, a card, his cousin's wedding invitation, a newsletter from the church for his mother, and

TO: Mr. Henry McCord

FROM: Navy ROTC Unit
PO Box 3435
Marriot Drive
Charlottesville, VA.

"I'm gonna go for help, Dad."

"Can we take a drive to Virginia?"
"What's in Virginia?" Erin asked, adding half the bag of chocolate chips to her pancakes.
His mother, dropping the fork she was holding, her face bright with excitement. "You better tell me right now, Henry Patrick McCord, before you give me heart failure!"
Laughing, as he handed the letter to his mother, watching her weep with joy as she read it.
"Mom, don't cry. It's okay." He was embarrassed.
"I'm happy, Henry. Let your mother be happy for you!"
Kissing her cheek, ruffling Erin's hair, and stealing a handful of chocolate chips.

Green. The campus was green. There was more air, more room than he was used to in the city. He turned to look at his mother and she was holding up her camera, snapping his photo.
"Mom!?"
His father nit-picking the campus, the classrooms, the professors, the work load, the dorms, the dining hall, the drive. This time felt better. He felt confident, he felt sure...there was just something about this place.

Getting out of the car in the drive way, his father's complaints couldn't sway his foundation.
"What do you think, Mom?"
"I want to know what you think, hon."
"I like it. A lot. Really I do. I think – I think it's right."
Catching the smile on her face. "What, Mom? What do you think?"
"I think you fit there, Henry. You already look like you fit."

The letter fell out of his suitcase...

Henry,
Two nights ago, you sat with me in the kitchen, helping me to finish the cake for Maureen's party.
Your eyes were so bright. You have been so full of excitement. Rightly so.
My son is going to college. I am so proud of you, Henry. You have worked so hard for this chance. You are the best, most intelligent, most passionate, kindest, most honest young man I know. I am so proud of the person that you are and the man that you are growing up to be.
You have a strong faith, Henry and that will sustain you through anything.
I know that you are the only one of my children who humors me in all of my church-going, but there is nothing that makes me happier than seeing you come down those stairs into the kitchen dressed so handsomely in your Sunday clothes, telling me you want to go with me to Mass.

You asked me the other night, how you got so lucky. You said how could a poor city kid like you end up with all of this? I had to hide my tears from you because I love you so much. Henry. It's all supposed to be happening this way, Henry. That's all I can tell you. It's your faith and your trust that you will be taken care of. Don't ever be afraid, Henry. I will do anything for you, so will your father, believe it or not. You can come to us with anything and we will do our best to help you. Be the strong, brave, young man you are. I would tell you to stay humble but you already have too much humility for your own good. I wish you'd give some to your sister! You are one of my greatest gifts as a mother. You will always, always be my son (no matter how old you are.)
Now, go out there and find your life. I love you, Henry.

Proudly and With All of my Love,
Mom

Dad, we're gonna be okay.