The Soldier Came Home After Three Years — Then a Black Little Boy Opened His Door and Asked, “Who Are You?”

The Soldier Came Home After Three Years — Then a Black Little Boy Opened His Door and Asked, “Who Are You?”

Chapter 4

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Daniel had heard Emily use that word in dreams about children they never had.

He had imagined her saying it to a daughter.

Or a son.

Their son.

Now he watched her say it to a child he had never seen.

A Black child who claimed his father had been a soldier.

Something inside Daniel cracked.

"I'll come back later."

Emily stood.

"No."

Daniel turned.

She grabbed his sleeve.

"Don't leave."

He pulled free.

Not violently.

Just enough.

"You've had three years to decide what you wanted to tell me."

"Daniel, it's not what you think."

He laughed once.

There was no humor in it.

"People always say that right before explaining exactly what you think."

Marcus started crying.

Quietly.

Emily looked down at him, and Daniel hated himself instantly for being the reason.

He walked back to his truck.

The lilies dropped from his hand halfway down the driveway.

Emily followed him into the rain.

"Daniel!"

He did not stop.

"Please!"

The front door remained open behind her.

Marcus stood there watching.

Daniel reached the truck.

Emily caught up.

"You need to listen to me."

"I needed you to answer a phone call six months ago."

"I know."

"I needed you to tell me there was a child living in my house."

"I know."

"You call yourself his mother."

Emily's face tightened.

"I am his mother."

That stopped Daniel.

He turned slowly.

Rain ran down the collar of his uniform.

"What?"

Emily looked terrified.

Not of him.

Of the sentence she had just spoken.

Daniel stared at her.

"Say that again."

She wiped rain from her face, though by then it was impossible to tell rain from tears.

"I am his mother."

Daniel looked toward the porch.

Marcus had disappeared inside.

He turned back to Emily.

"We couldn't have children."

"I know."

"Then explain it."

"It's complicated."

"Try me."

Emily took a breath.

"Not standing out here."

Daniel laughed bitterly.

"You're worried about the neighbors?"

"I'm worried about Marcus hearing this."

"Why?"

"Because none of this is his fault."

That sentence reached Daniel.

Even through the anger.

He knew she was right.

He looked toward the open door again.

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The Soldier Came Home After Three Years — Then a Black Little Boy Opened His Door and Asked, “Who Are You?”

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