Chapter 4 - The Son Who Never Came Home
Arthur woke the following afternoon.
His first words to Bennett were:
“You look terrible.”
Bennett laughed.
“Good to have you back too.”
His second question was about me.
“Where’s the kid?”
I stepped around the doorway.
“Right here.”
Arthur smiled.
“Cookie?”
I held up the preserved half.
“Disgusting.”
“You told me to keep it.”
“I meant metaphorically.”
“You should've said that.”
Three days later, Arthur was sitting up.
A week later, doctors were talking about rehabilitation.
But something else had changed.
People started coming.
Old soldiers.
Former officers.
Men and women who had served under him.
One afternoon, a gray-haired man entered, saw Arthur, and immediately stood straighter.
“Colonel.”
Arthur groaned.
“Don't.”
“Sir, you pulled twelve of us out that night.”
“That was my job.”
“You came back twice.”
Arthur looked toward the window.
The man placed an old photograph on the table.
“We never forgot you.”
After he left, I picked up the picture.
Arthur was much younger.
So was Bennett.
There was another young man standing beside Arthur.
They looked alike.
“Is that David?”
Arthur went still.
“Yes.”
“Your son?”
“Yes.”
“General Bennett told me.”
“Bennett talks too much.”
I sat beside him.
“You miss him.”
“Every day.”
“Did he like cookies?”
Arthur looked at me.
Then laughed quietly.
“He hated raisins.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Finally, something we agree on.”
He picked up the photograph.
“I spent seventeen years believing I had failed him.”
“Did he tell you that?”
Arthur frowned.
“What?”
“That you failed him.”
“No.”
“Then maybe you're putting words in his mouth.”
Arthur stared at me.
“That’s annoyingly intelligent.”
“I’m ten.”
“Exactly.”
He looked down at David’s photograph.
“He wanted to be like me.”
“Maybe he just wanted to be himself.”
Arthur's eyes filled.
He didn't hide it this time.
“He was better than me.”
“Then you must've done something right.”
Arthur turned away.
I pretended not to notice him wiping his eyes.
Two weeks later, Mom received a telephone call while we were eating dinner.
“Yes?”
Her expression changed.
“Major General Bennett?”
I immediately looked up.
She listened.
Then stared at me.
“What?”
Mom covered the phone.
“He wants us at Fort Belvoir Saturday.”
“Why?”
“He won't say.”
I grabbed the phone.
“General Bennett?”
“Hello, Chloe.”
“Is Mr. Arthur okay?”
“He's fine.”
“Then what's happening?”
“You'll see.”
“I hate surprises.”
“Arthur said you'd say that.”
Saturday morning, we arrived at a military hall filled with soldiers and families.
Mom wore the nicest dress she owned.
I wore the same pink blouse I had worn the day room 214 was empty.
Then Arthur entered.
Not in a hospital gown.
In a dark suit.
Walking slowly with a cane.
Everyone stood.
I froze.
Arthur looked across the room.
At me.
He smiled.
Then General Bennett stepped to the podium.
“Colonel Arthur Hayes spent much of his life serving people who knew his rank.”
He paused.
“But the person he credits with saving him never knew it.”
People turned toward me.
I wanted to disappear.
Bennett continued.
“For sixty-one consecutive days, a ten-year-old girl walked into the room of a lonely old man and asked for nothing.”
Arthur looked at me.
“She simply kept coming back.”
Applause began.
I shook my head.
I hadn't done anything heroic.
I had brought cookies.
But Arthur understood.
He walked toward me.
And held out his hand.
“Come on, kid.”
May you like
“Why?”
“Because apparently we're both being embarrassed today.”
