Maid’s Daughter Helped an Old Man Every Day — Until a General Walked In With 5 Military Officers
Chapter 6
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The next day, 3:30 came and went. Emma stayed in her closet. She tried to do her math homework, but the numbers swam. She felt a heavy, cold feeling in her stomach. She pictured Mr. Hank staring at the door, waiting.She lasted two days.On the third day, she couldn't take it. She had her cookie. She crept out. She checked the hallway; it was clear. She ran to room 214 and slipped inside.Hank was in his chair, staring at the door. When he saw her, his whole face seemed to light up for a second before the familiar scowl returned."You're late," he barked."I'm sorry," she said, handing him the cookie. "My mom... I got in trouble.""Yeah, well. Trouble is part of life."He took the cookie. His hands were shaking more than usual. He tried to lift it, but his fingers fumbled. The cookie dropped onto his lap.He cursed, a low, angry sound. He tried to pick it up again, but his swollen knuckles wouldn't cooperate. He looked defeated.Without thinking, Emma stepped forward. She picked up the cookie."Here," she said gently. She held it up to his mouth.He stared at her. His fierce blue eyes seemed to water. He looked away, embarrassed, but he leaned forward and took a small bite.They stayed like that for a minute: this 10-year-old girl and the 84-year-old man, as she patiently held his cookie for him.When he was done, he cleared his throat. He reached to the bedside table. He fumbled in the drawer and pulled something out. He pressed it into her hand.It was a coin. It was heavy, and not like a quarter. It had a fancy design on it."Found this," he grumbled. "Don't need it. Go on, take it. A... a trade for the cookies."Emma looked at it. It was beautiful. "Thank you, Mr. Hank.""Don't thank me. It's just a piece of junk."He turned to the window, and she was dismissed.That was yesterday, and today Emma sat on the soft leather seat, her legs too short to touch the floor. She stared at the back of the driver's head. He wore a black suit and never said a word.Her mother sat beside her, stiff as a board. Mary was nervously picking at a loose thread on her uniform. She had tried to go home and change, but General Sinclair had been polite but firm: "There isn't time, Mrs. Carter. We can arrange for your things later."General Sinclair sat in the seat opposite them. He was not unkind, but he was all business. He had not spoken since they got in the car. The other five officers were in two other black cars, one in front of them and one behind. It felt like they were in a parade, but a secret, scary one."Where are we going?" Mary finally asked, her voice trembling. "If this is about a bill... I promise Mr. Porter never wanted for anything, but we—""Mrs. Carter," the general said, his voice calm and low. "This is not about a bill. Please, relax. Henry... Mr. Porter was a very specific man. He made very specific, and some might say unusual, final arrangements."He looked at Emma. "He told me about you, you know."Emma looked up, surprised. "He did?"