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“You dance?” Ernie Yost had asked Kate such a simple question but it brought forth so much emotion. The way the elderly man held her hand to his chest, right near his heart, the way he’d sung in such a quiet tone of voice, the way McGee and Tony had watched, their expressions so uncharacteristically gentle and proud.
As soon as he released her, she retreated to the break room, intending to get herself together.
“You okay, Kate?” She hadn’t expected McGee, of all people, to check up on her.
“Yeah.” She swiped at her eyes.
“This touched close. Father or grandfather?”
Kate hadn’t expected this from McGee, but she decided to go with it. He wouldn’t use this against her like Tony would. “Father. He was wounded in Vietnam, limped. He was too embarrassed to go to the father-daughter dance. I never got to dance with him.”
Tim nodded in understanding, compassion but not pity written on his face. “That stinks. I’m sorry. He’s gone now?”
“Three years. Just after I was promoted to presidential detail.”
Tim nodded. “I’m sure he’s proud of you, Kate. How could he not be? Look at you, a NCIS agent, former Secret Service. You saved the president. And above and beyond that, look at how you just made an old soldier happy.”
He pulled out a clean white handkerchief and Kate found herself wondering just where McGee had come from. He was a throwback to another era. Kate took the snowy square of white and blotted her face.
“Let’s get out there and prove him innocent,” she said, new determination in her voice.