Page 57 of Reeves

"You can call it 'recon' for short."

"Yeah. Recon."

He starts digging again with renewed energy. Sand flies everywhere.

"Want some help?"

He considers this offer seriously. "Do you know about building traps?"

"I know about making things that won't fall apart."

That's apparently good enough. He scoots over to make room.

I kneel beside him and start packing wet sand around the edges of his hole. "If you brace the sides like this, it'll hold its shape better."

Benjy watches every movement. When I hand him a clump of wet sand, he copies exactly what I did. His tongue pokes out slightly as he concentrates.

"Why does that work?"

"Wet sand sticks together. Dry sand just crumbles."

He nods, then packs another section, testing the technique.

"Where do you work? Do you help kids like my mom?"

The question comes out of nowhere. I pause, a handful of sand still in my palm.

"I'm in the military. I help people in other countries."

"Like a soldier?"

"Yeah. Like a soldier."

His eyes go wide. "Do you fight pirates?"

Close enough.

"Sometimes I fight people who hurt others."

"Do you go on missions?"

"I do."

"Secret missions?"

"Some of them."

He leans in, lowering his voice. "Maybe you could teach the pirates lessons about not stealing treasure."

"Maybe I could."

We work together for several more minutes. He asks about helicopters and boats. I keep my answers simple. The kid soaks up every detail.

This isn't what I expected.

Instead, we're building fortifications in the sand while discussing military tactics.

It's almost normal. Whatever normal is.