yours to help me figure all this out. And I’m very grateful to her.” He smiled. “Who knows—maybe one day I’ll learn what happened when you returned from Vietnam.”
Travis’s eyes moved behind his closed lids while his mind drifted back in time…
Chicago, May 18, 1972
Travis glanced at his watch and exhaled in frustration. Maybe Val had gotten lost, he reasoned. In the back of his mind, he doubted it. For some time, he couldn’t shake this sense of impending doom. He didn’t know where this feeling came from—all he knew was that it grew stronger by the minute.
In his duffel bag, he carried every letter, picture and gift she had sent during the war. They were items he would always treasure. But right now, he was anxious to see his family, to compare his memory with the real thing.
Travis turned to the sound of an approaching car, then shielded his eyes from the glaring sun. Once again, he was disappointed with the make and model.
He looked at his watch again, his anxiety slowly turning into fear.
“Hey, buddy. Are you just going to stand there all day or are you going to get in?”
Travis’s head jerked up at the familiar voice and an instant grin covered his face. “Smokey! I’ll be damned. What the hell are you doing here?” He grabbed his belongings and headed to the car.
“Doing you a favor. If you didn’t buy Val that jalopy, she would have been here to pick you up.”
Relief swelled in Travis’s chest as he jerked the door open and tossed his things into the backseat. “If you think that this junker of yours is more reliable,then you need to get your head examined.” He climbed into the passenger seat.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Great. Now let’s see if we can make it back.”
The men slapped each other’s backs and laughed. During the drive home, Travis gazed out the window, admiring his hometown and the welcoming landscape. “I miss this place,” he whispered.
Smokey chuckled. “Spoken like a man coming back from a war. I’d imagine anything would look good to you right now.”
“You don’t know how right you are, my friend,” Travis agreed. “But I have to admit, I’ve learned a lot about myself—about the world.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. Especially after all you’ve been through.” Smokey glanced in his direction. “Val told me you took one in the gut a while back.”
“Man, I took a lot of things. I’ve got scars in places I’d be ashamed to show my own mother.”
“Then definitely don’t show me. I’ll just take your word for it.”
“Deal.”
For a while, the men rode in silence before Smokey added, “I’m glad you’ve made it back.”
Travis turned and met his direct gaze. “Thanks. That’s good to hear.”
A few minutes later, Smokey passed his neighborhood. “Where are we going?”
“To your apartment.”
“Apartment? What happened to the house?”
Their astonished gazes locked.
“She didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“With all due respect, buddy, I think I need to let her tell you.”
That nagging feeling returned, and this time Travis knew better than to shrug it off.
The apartment was small—too small. Travis forced a brave face. Maybe Val fell on hard times and had to sell the house. Yet he wondered why she hadn’t mentioned it in her letters. None of that mattered, he told himself. He was back home and would fix everything.
The moment he opened the door, six-year-old Nathan sprinted toward him. “Daddy, Daddy.”
Travis dropped his bags and swept his son high into the air. “Hey! Did ya miss me?”
“Yeah!” Nathan laughed as his father spun him around in a circle.
“Welcome home.” Val’s soft voice somehow penetrated the father and son reunion. All eyes turned toward her.
Travis drew in a sharp breath. “My God.”
“Mommy, you look pretty,” Nathan exclaimed when his father lowered him to the floor.
She stood in the entranceway with her tightly coiled hair in a neat Afro. Her clear
Travis’s eyes moved behind his closed lids while his mind drifted back in time…
Chicago, May 18, 1972
Travis glanced at his watch and exhaled in frustration. Maybe Val had gotten lost, he reasoned. In the back of his mind, he doubted it. For some time, he couldn’t shake this sense of impending doom. He didn’t know where this feeling came from—all he knew was that it grew stronger by the minute.
In his duffel bag, he carried every letter, picture and gift she had sent during the war. They were items he would always treasure. But right now, he was anxious to see his family, to compare his memory with the real thing.
Travis turned to the sound of an approaching car, then shielded his eyes from the glaring sun. Once again, he was disappointed with the make and model.
He looked at his watch again, his anxiety slowly turning into fear.
“Hey, buddy. Are you just going to stand there all day or are you going to get in?”
Travis’s head jerked up at the familiar voice and an instant grin covered his face. “Smokey! I’ll be damned. What the hell are you doing here?” He grabbed his belongings and headed to the car.
“Doing you a favor. If you didn’t buy Val that jalopy, she would have been here to pick you up.”
Relief swelled in Travis’s chest as he jerked the door open and tossed his things into the backseat. “If you think that this junker of yours is more reliable,then you need to get your head examined.” He climbed into the passenger seat.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Great. Now let’s see if we can make it back.”
The men slapped each other’s backs and laughed. During the drive home, Travis gazed out the window, admiring his hometown and the welcoming landscape. “I miss this place,” he whispered.
Smokey chuckled. “Spoken like a man coming back from a war. I’d imagine anything would look good to you right now.”
“You don’t know how right you are, my friend,” Travis agreed. “But I have to admit, I’ve learned a lot about myself—about the world.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. Especially after all you’ve been through.” Smokey glanced in his direction. “Val told me you took one in the gut a while back.”
“Man, I took a lot of things. I’ve got scars in places I’d be ashamed to show my own mother.”
“Then definitely don’t show me. I’ll just take your word for it.”
“Deal.”
For a while, the men rode in silence before Smokey added, “I’m glad you’ve made it back.”
Travis turned and met his direct gaze. “Thanks. That’s good to hear.”
A few minutes later, Smokey passed his neighborhood. “Where are we going?”
“To your apartment.”
“Apartment? What happened to the house?”
Their astonished gazes locked.
“She didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“With all due respect, buddy, I think I need to let her tell you.”
That nagging feeling returned, and this time Travis knew better than to shrug it off.
The apartment was small—too small. Travis forced a brave face. Maybe Val fell on hard times and had to sell the house. Yet he wondered why she hadn’t mentioned it in her letters. None of that mattered, he told himself. He was back home and would fix everything.
The moment he opened the door, six-year-old Nathan sprinted toward him. “Daddy, Daddy.”
Travis dropped his bags and swept his son high into the air. “Hey! Did ya miss me?”
“Yeah!” Nathan laughed as his father spun him around in a circle.
“Welcome home.” Val’s soft voice somehow penetrated the father and son reunion. All eyes turned toward her.
Travis drew in a sharp breath. “My God.”
“Mommy, you look pretty,” Nathan exclaimed when his father lowered him to the floor.
She stood in the entranceway with her tightly coiled hair in a neat Afro. Her clear
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