”Rehan?”

The voice was distant, far away, like stones splashing into a very deep well. When I opened my eyes, there were merely colors, all mashed together like the runny paintings on the drying rack during art. Something was wet. My temples were pulsing, throbbing so much like a drum that it was difficult to see. A steady hand pressed against my shoulder. I found that I was coated in sweat, my heart still thudding from the nightmare.

“Darling, can you hear me?”

Another arm supported my back as I struggled to sit up. My glasses were on lopsided, and when I adjusted them I recognized the peeling walls of the storage room around me. Miss Kim’s face came into view, and I could see the relief slowly building up into her eyes. A few out of the many cardboard boxes around me were lopsided, covered in a thick layer of dust. I sneezed.

“Oh, darling, we’ve been looking for you for over fifteen minutes.” Miss Kim gave a nervous chuckle and pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “You must’ve fallen asleep.”

I stared at her.

She then frowned. “I ought to have a word with the custodian making sure that this room is locked. This is the fourth time this month that one of our students accidentally got lost here. It’s not safe. There’s too many tools around.”

Her words made no sense at all, but I was more than thankful that she was with me. The floor still had puddles all around it, and as she helped me to my feet and walked me down the hall towards the classroom, I made sure to not look back at the shadows behind me.

* * * * * * * * *

When Stephanie came to pick me up, I ran directly into her arms, sprinting from the colored rug. A broad smile crossed her face as she picked me up in her arms and spun me around. Her smell was familiar, comforting to me, one that consisted of spices, which told me that she had likely been cooking. I tightly threw my own arms around her, and she placed a kiss across my cheek.

“How’s my sweet boy?” she asked. Raising one eyebrow, a smile crept across her face. “Did you behave like you were supposed to?”

I nodded, grateful that this day was over. Once I grabbed my backpack, I made sure to kiss the building behind me goodbye. Stephanie exchanged a bunch of words with Miss Kim, before finally letting me pull her away by her coat sleeve. Although it was still rainy outside, and puddles still seeped into my boots, I skipped the entire way back to our apartment, making sure to not step on any line on the sidewalk. I waved at the man at the front desk as we made our way to the elevator, holding onto Stephanie’s hand.

Finally, I could see Flanders.

* * * * * * *

Mary set a plate of steaming carrots and baked chicken in front of me with a thump. “Tell me what the first day of school was like.”

I wrinkled my nose at the smell.

My sister sat down across from me at our new plastic table, her plate piled high. Stephanie was busy gnawing on a chicken bone, engrossed in a magazine that she had found in the lobby downstairs. Her fingers were covered in grease, and she wiped them with the paper towel she had crumpled up in her hands. She loudly cleared her throat.

”Yucky,” I mumbled. “Can we have pizza?”

”No.”

”But why?”

Mary glared at me. “How was your first day?”

I sighed. Using my fork, I poked at the soggy carrot at the corner of my paper plate. It became mush underneath the tines, slimy and thick, like the acrylic paints that Miss Kim allowed us to use for our pictures. “Nothing really happened. I spent a whole day at school. It was very boring, and I don’t need anymore. It takes too long.”

My sister rolled her eyes. “Of course you spent a whole day there. You’re supposed to.”

I placed down my fork. “Well, I’m glad it’s all over. Can we go around the city tomorrow?”

”No,” Mary replied, taking a bite of chicken.

“Why not?” My heart sank. “You promised.”

She leaned forward, still chewing. “Because you have school. And I have to work. There’s no time to do any of that during the week.”

“I can make time!”

”Rehan,” Stephanie sharply said.

“But I already went to school,” I said. “I already finished it. I even drew a picture.” The chair squeaked as I began to rock back and forth in it. “The teacher already saw me.”

“Rehan, school is in session every day. You can’t just be done with your education in a span of twenty four hours. It’s only your first day.” Mary rested her chin on her hand. “You’ll go five days a week. Monday through Friday. And you’ll start having homework. I’ve talked to Miss Kim, and we’re going to practice writing all the letters of the alphabet.”

A lump rose in my throat as I slammed my fists against the table, causing the plates and cups to rattle. “You mean I have to go back?”

Stephanie glanced at me. “Manners.”

“But I want to explore the city!”

”Oh, we’ll have plenty of time for that,” my sister said, drumming her fingertips on the tablecloth. She cut a large piece of chicken. “That’s what the weekends are for. We’ll still plan many fun things together. Of course, we’ll have to earn them. And that depends on how well you behave yourself at school.”

”But you promised.”

“And I intend to carry it out. We will do those things.” She tilted her head to the side. “Or do we have to wait a week or so until you can prove to me that you can handle yourself?”

“That’s not fair! You said—”

”You were homeschooled plenty in the village. I expect you to behave yourself here as well.”

I planted my face into the table mat.

“Eat your dinner,” Stephanie said, flipping through a shopping catalogue. “Before it gets cold.”

”I hate carrots,” I mumbled, turning my head to the side. “And I hate school. It sucks.”

“Carrots are supposed to be good for your eyesight,” Mary replied. She was chewing between large bites. “I read that in a magazine once. You might not need to wear glasses anymore if you have them on a regular basis. Think about it.”

“How come you don’t have to go to school?”

“Because I have to work to send you there.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I wish I could go to school. I’ve been homeschooled for as long as I could remember. I’d switch places with you so fast if I could. Honest.”

I raised my head. “Well, stop working.”

”You watch your tone,” Stephanie snapped.

With one swift motion, I pushed my chair away from the table. “I’m not going back. And I hate carrots. Your cooking tastes like ass.” The words fell out of my mouth. “School is ass, too. You can’t make me go there. And I don’t want to learn the stupid alphabet.”

Stephanie immediately got to her feet. My heart skipped a beat as she went to the front door and picked up one of her slippers lying on the ground.

“Rehan Elias Templin, go to your room. I’ll be there with you in a few minutes.”

Mary silently sipped her steaming mug of tea.

Shivers ran down my spine. Middle name.

Stephanie narrowed her dark brown eyes. Her hand tightened around the slipper. “Since you want to use that language under my roof, I’m sure you’re big enough to handle the consequences.” Her hand rested on her hip, and she tapped her foot against the carpet. “Go.”

I helplessly looked at Mary. She didn’t make eye contact with me, still eating.

”I said go to your room.”

In my mind, I counted the steps I took.

* * * * * * * *

My nose was stuffed, but my star printed pajamas smelled like soap and detergent. I carried my mostly empty plate to Mary’s bedroom and knocked on the door.

She stood in the threshold, combing her wet hair with a wooden comb and stared at the three remaining carrots on the plate. I loudly sniffed and wiped my nose again, before holding it up to her to see.

“I’m done. It’s bad to waste food.”

Mary folded her arms.

”The ass whooping didn’t even hurt.”

She gave me a stern look.

“I…I mean, that’s a bad word. Ass. Bad.”

“Then stop saying it, unless you want Stephanie to come out here again.”

“I will! I want to say I’m sorry.” Stephanie’s furious voice that had shocked me the most, even more than the lingering soreness on my behind. A deep heaviness settled on me—I hadn’t known why I had spoken those words. “I didn’t mean to be dis…dis—”

”Disrespectful.”

”Uh huh,” I nodded. “And un…un…grateful, because a lot of kids like…like me don’t get to eat carrots or go to school.” I hiccuped, fighting back tears. “Or sleep in warm beds.”

Mary knelt down to my level and set the plate down on the ground. She held out her arms. As she scooped me into an embrace and rubbed circles of comfort on my back, I wiped my eyes with my hands and rested my head against her shoulder. She kissed my cheek.

“It’s alright, baby,” she murmured. “I hope that you had a lot to think about while you were in your room. You don’t talk to folk like that, understand? People are working very hard to sacrifice and provide for you. It’s important to treat them with respect. Even when things make you really mad, or get confusing. You know why?”

“Bad words hurt people.” I blinked the water forming in my eyes. “That’s what Stephanie told me. She says it makes them sad. I’ll be as res…respectful as I can.”

“Yes.”

”Mary.” My voice shook. “I don’t like school. I don’t want to go. It’s scary.”

“Why?” she whispered. “Is there something you want to talk to me about?”

I see the monster there. “The kids are bigger than me.”

”That’s why you have to eat, so you can grow to be big and strong one day. Just like Dad.”

“What if I don’t grow?” I sank to my knees. “What if I stay like this forever?”

Mary scoffed. “Now, I doubt that.”

“I don’t want to go.”

”I know, but in life, there are many things that we have to do that we don’t want to. It’s only going to get harder from here on out. We just have to make best with the opportunities we’re given. Besides, how do you know you don’t like school? You need to give it some time. Don’t you like your new teacher?”

“I wish you were my teacher,” I wailed.

Mary sighed. “You wouldn’t last five minutes.” She gave my hand a warm squeeze. “I get it. It’s new and scary, but…you have to be brave. It’s okay to be scared. I’ve been nervous about starting this new job all week.”

“I didn’t mean to say those things.”

“I know. But you can’t unsay something. Once it’s out there, it’s out there for good.” Mary caressed the side of my face. “So you must be careful with what you say, understand? That’s something we all need to work on, including myself. I don’t want to ever hear you speak that way again. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.” I paused. “I want to say sorry to Stephanie, too. She’s probably hurt.”

* * * * * * *

For three weeks straight, it continued to rain.

Thousands of people passed by, huddled under mostly black and gray umbrellas. They moved quickly beneath the downpour, puddles splashing around their feet. To me, they looked like clear mirrors in the surface, twisted and distorted by the falling raindrops.

I only saw Aiden come in after story time in the mornings. He often arrived late with a thin, sickly looking man who had very sparse hair on top of his head and a thick set of glasses. He had cigarette stains on his jacket and hardly said a word to Miss Kim and left his son at the door. Sometimes Aiden would step in without a coat, other times just in a sweater, all which was sopping wet from the rain. He had no socks on, and his shoes were scuffed up with knotted laces. His backpack was ripped at the bottom, and at lunch time, he often placed his head on his desk. I noticed how his wrists were fused awkwardly at the joints, but he could handle a basketball or baseball bat very well during recess. People laughed and pointed at his too short pants and the dried snot beneath his nose.

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At first, I hesitated to approach him. None of the kids usually did, and I hadn’t spoken to him ever since he saw my painting, which I still had yet to finish. It was a big classroom, and, with three teachers to manage all of us, they didn’t notice things easy. But I wasn’t very good at talking to people, and the same snotty faced girl at recess kept bugging me by throwing paper balls at my head. I couldn’t help but snicker when she had spilled a carton of chocolate milk over her favorite skirt and had to be led out of the room in hysterics during lunchtime.

Aiden’s scuffed up shoes tapped against the leg of the chair. His head was turned away from me. I picked up my paper bag and dragged my chair across the peeling carpet. He glanced up at me as I sat next to him.

“Hi,” I said.

His dark brown eyes settled on me. I tried not to look at the jagged scar on his face, and opened my paper bag. When I pulled out my ham and cheese sandwich, he sat up.

“I’m not hungry,” I said. “My sister always packs too much for me. You want some?”

”Don’t wanna steal,” he murmured. “Won’t she get mad?”

”It ain’t stealing. I want to give it to you.”

Aiden shrugged, but he continued to watch as I unwrapped it from the foil and set it on the table. I dug into my bag, removing an apple, a bag of carrot sticks, potato chips, and, to my surprise, a large chocolate chip cookie the size of my head. A grin spread across his face, the first time I had ever seen him smile.

He began to wolf down the sandwich.

“Grilled cheese is my favorite,” I said. “What’s yours?”

”Peanut butter and jelly,” he mumbled through the giant bites he took. He even finished the crusts, and opened my bag of potato chips. “Thank you.”

”Want to come over to my house?”

He licked the crumbs off his fingers, then shrugged again. “I have to ask my ma.”

* * * * * * *

It was in the middle of the night when Mary stepped into my room. Groggy with sleep, I yawned as she scooped me up into her arms. Her face was covered in sweat. She was still in her work clothes, and she wrapped me in a blanket. I could hear her footsteps coming down each step in the stairway, and I tried to ask her a couple of questions, but her words were muffled. The scent of diesel filled air, and I heard her softly crying, in the drizzling rain, out in the cold, dark, evening. Orange and red headlights illuminated the buildings around us. Her breaths were shaky, and she squeezed me tight—so tight that it was hard to breathe. I wondered where Stephanie was.

”Rehan,” my sister said in a hushed tone. “I need you to put your shoes on. And your coat. Quickly, now.” She patted my back, and I realized that we were in the downstairs lobby—on the first floor of the apartment building. The lights were still on, and she was wrapped in a shawl.

“Whosse?” My words were jumbled.

”Shhh.” Her eyes were glistening wet, and she handed me my glasses. “Here. You remember which foot goes where, don’t you?”

I nodded. “My right foot goes there.”

She kissed my forehead. “Good.”

It was hard for me to fight back another yawn, and she helped me tie my laces, since I got them all knotted up around my fingers. “It’s too early for school. I don’t think Miss Kim is out there yet.” I stretched my arms. “Can I please have another chocolate chip cookie for lunch? Aiden likes them. And snickerdoodles, too. He also likes my apple slices.”

My sister’s shaky breaths filled the air. Wet beads dripped from the ends of her hair. Her fingers trembled around the knot she was struggling to form around my left boot.

“Mary?”

She didn’t look up.

“Are you crying?” I whispered. “I’m really sorry about saying mean things about your cooking. I know I hurt your feelings. But I like your cooking. I really do. And your cookies.”

A slight chuckle gathered on her lips, and she placed both hands on my shoulders. Her expression suddenly crumbled, and she looked down for a moment, before taking a deep breath. I stared at her red, puffy eyes.

“Rehan, I need you to promise me this.”

I nodded.

Mary released a weak sigh and glanced at the window. It was pouring so hard outside that it was impossible to make anything. “You need to do whatever Dad says. If he tells you to stay put somewhere, you do it. Whatever he asks of you, you must follow it exactly.”

”But—”

”Please,” she quickly said, then took a deep breath. “Please. You’re the only sibling I have in this world. I know he makes you angry. I know he’s hurt you. But he’s looking out for you. If he tells you stay somewhere, you do it.”

“Why am I going back to Papa?” I asked, shivering in my coat. “Have I been bad?”

“You mustn’t ask so many questions,” Mary murmured.

”I don’t want to go back to Papa. I want to stay in the city with Stephanie and you.”

“And you will come back,” Mary said. She suddenly gave my hand a squeeze. “That is a given promise. You will see us again. But right now, you must go home. And you will pick up school right where you’ve left off.”

”But I promised Aiden a sugar cookie.”

She said nothing, just held me in her arms. I wanted to ask her more questions, but the pattering of the rain caused a new wave of drowsiness to fall over me. I could feel her heartbeat. It was strong and steady, similar to the rhythm of a beating drum.

* * * * * *

I awoke to the sound of a bird singing.

Sunlight streamed through the bamboo walls of a thatched hut, and the fresh smell of soil met my nostrils. As I flung aside the patterned quilt that had been tucked around me, I wandered to the window, but it was too high for me to see, despite me going up on my tippy toes. After pushing a stool across the ground, I climbed up on top, the wooden surface leaving splinters against my bare feet.

“Mary?” I called.

Only the wind answered me. Her sleeping pallet wasn’t there. I glanced around, wondering how we were back home so soon. Despite the warm air, I shivered as I hopped down from the stool. It didn’t take me long to realize that I was in my own hut, although a few items that I did not recognize were present in the room.

”Mary! Stephanie!”

My voice was lost in the trees that blew around us. I pushed aside the tapestry and ran out into the grass, slapping away mosquitos that came to nibble at my flesh. In the tall grass, I struggled to stand upright. I had only taken a few steps when I bumped straight into Papa. He was carrying an armload of firewood in one hand, my battered suitcase in another.

”Was just coming in to wake you.”

I hadn’t seen him in so long that I hardly recognized him. His blond hair was disheveled, and he wore his uniform. His boots were worn, but neatly polished. And yet his face was as white as a sheet of paper; eyes were red and wet. He swallowed hard, before kneeling down on the grass and setting down the bundle of wood in front of me.

”Come now, son. I have your things.”

I stared at him. “Where’s Mary and Stephanie?”

It took him a while to look at me.

”Where are they?” I asked again.

“They are in the city.”

“Why didn’t they come here?” My heart sank. “It was the bad words I said, wasn’t it? I didn’t mean them, I promise! I didn’t mean to—”

Papa placed his hands on my shoulders. His sleeves were stained with sweat. “Listen to me.” He exhaled. “I…I am indebted to a man. He works on a farm, and he needs a helping hand. He…” He struggled to speak. “You’re going to be with him for about three months.”

I blinked. “A farm?”

”Yes,” he hoarsely said. “I’m in debt.”

This made no sense to me. We had plenty of farms in the village, gardens included. And Papa was many things, but he was not a swindler. “Why can’t Mary and Stephanie come? Can’t they help?”

“Because…I….” Papa clenched his teeth. “They cannot. I’ve given this man my word. You will return to them in Flanders once the three months are up, attend school as you were before. It’s only going to be for a while.”

”How long?”

He did not answer.

My mouth went dry. I did not know what man he was talking about. He suddenly pulled me into an embrace, rocking me in his arms.

“I haven’t been the best to you,” he continued. “I only want to let you know that I love you.”

”You don't want me anymore?” I asked. Then I lowered my head. “Because I’ve been bad.”

Papa pulled back. Water was visible in his eyes, but he held his composure. “That’s not true, and you know it. Don’t ever think that.”

I studied him. He swallowed heavily and held out his hand. I hesitated for a while, before slowly reaching out and taking it. His warm fingers briefly brought me a sense of comfort, and he gave my palm a deep squeeze. We walked side by side in the red dirt, past the oak tree, where I had played hide and seek so many times, the neighbor’s chicken pen, and Stephanie’s garden, overgrown with weeds. The ocean beat against the rocks below, raging against the cliff side.

”Papa,” I asked, “what is a debt?”

He avoided eye contact with me. “You be on your very best behavior. You do what he tells you. Mind yourself. That is what will make these months fly by. The sooner you act proper, the sooner I get to see you. Do you understand?”

”Yes, sir.”

”Good,” he quietly said.

”When can I go back to school?” I asked. “I’m supposed to see Aiden today. It’s Tuesday. Mary always makes macaroni and cheese on Tuesdays, and he hasn’t tried it yet.”

He did not respond.

Clinging to Papa’s side, I glanced up as we made our way through a group of people hanging out around the entrance of our camp, past the row of thatched huts. Most were staring and pointing at something in the distance, even though dust rose in the air due to the sweltering heat. My stomach turned.

Papa’s breaths were shaky, but he drew me close to him. My heart was thumping hard against my chest, and as we made our way through the small crowd of villagers, his hand tightened around mine. I squinted to see properly in the dense heat, but I could make out a thin, very tall figure several feet away. Papa gripped the handle of my suitcase.

“Milo,” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

The shadow remained standing.

“I’ve got the boy. Now get the hell off my land.”

Milo? Is he one of Papa’s men?

The figure began to walk over to us.

It was hard for me to tell at first, but their steps were strange, hinting at some sort of limp. As they came closer in the distance, I could see that it was a man. A very tall one. Despite how hot it was he wore a faded jacket, an old plaid button down shirt with several of the buttons missing, and baggy pants. To my surprise, he was barefooted, yet he carried a large satchel over his shoulder attached to some sort of long leather sling. A rifle was secured to his back as well, and he put out the cigarette he was smoking onto the ground. He had a black eye, and his nose was covered in blood.

His shadow stretched out across the grass.

I shrank behind Papa, peeking behind his left leg. But Papa’s face was crimson, and I saw how his blue eyes burned with fury. I had never seen him look so disgusted in someone’s presence before. The villagers around us were shaking their heads, swearing. A lot of eyes fell on me, and I did not know why. Stephanie had always told me that it was rude to stare, so I tried my very best not to. But I couldn’t help it.

Despite how filthy the man was, his features puzzled me a great deal. He looked rather young, much younger than Papa, but definitely older than Mary. Yet there was something that I knew I would never forget when I saw him. His hair was the brightest shade of red I had ever seen, similar like mine, almost orange in the sun. His eyes were the color of the coffee beans that Stephanie used to grind to make a full pot out of for Papa’s men in the morning. Strange marks dotted his face. I wondered if he had freckles all over his arms and legs, like I did.

Suddenly, his eyes fell upon me.

I moved behind Papa again, realizing that I had been staring at this strange man far too long. My hands were shaking, but when I peeked out again, he had slowly knelt down in the dust, down to my level. To my surprise, his dark brown eyes appeared wet. I stared at him. He was observing me—and I was startled by how gentle his gaze was.

“You need to reconsider.”

Milo didn’t look at him.

“He’s a child,” my father exploded. “He is only five years old. He needs his sister.” His voice cracked. “He needs me.”

Silence. I kept staring at Milo. His black eye was so puffy it looked like he was struggling to see out of it.

”Do you hear me?” Papa roared. “You can’t do this. You’re insane. You deserve to be locked away, and by God, I hope they do. I swear.”

A lopsided smirk gathered on Milo’s bloodied lips.

Papa gritted his teeth. “I’ll bust your other eye open.”

The other man did not respond, still studying me. An overwhelmed look fell upon his face, like he was trying to make sense of my existence. When he finally stood to his feet, dirt clinging to the knees of his ragged pants, a strange calmness gathered in those large brown eyes of his. He then gave Papa a cold look, his own expression changing immediately. Blood escaped from his nose, but he wiped it with his sleeve.

“Give me his suitcase.” Milo hoarsely whispered. He winced in pain. “I’ll take it.”

Silence.

His voice was tinged in a strong, foreign accent, one that I had never heard from before, not even in the city. Mary had told me that different people all over Plod had come over there to find work, to receive other opportunities. I expected him to yell at Papa.

But his tone was quiet.

”Hand it over, please,” Milo said.

Perspiration was gathering around Papa’s face. I only realized at the moment that his upper lip was kind of split, and his clothes were streaked with dirt. Most likely they had been in some sort of tussle. I saw how his hands were balled up into tight fists, before he flexed and uncurled his fingers, the knuckles still ripe and raw from the moment they had collided with Milo’s nose. Papa’s jaw was clenched so tightly I could make out the blood draining from his face.

With one swift motion, Papa threw my suitcase, causing it to land on the ground with a loud thud. A murmur rose from the crowd, but Milo did not even flinch. He continued to stare at him with such defiance it left a deep silence in the air. When Papa picked me up, I clung to his arms. A dark look crossed Milo’s brown eyes when he noticed me tightly clinging to Papa.

He stepped towards us, slowly holding his dirty hands out for me.

”Give us a minute,” Papa snapped.

I immediately shrank back from his touch. To my surprise, a deeply devastated look fell upon Milo’s bloodied face, and he seemed to slightly crumble, but managed to hold himself up, stiffening his shoulders. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

In the background, the villagers were yelling at him, chucking all sorts of items and saying words that Stephanie didn’t like. He remained still, seemingly not responding to a single one of their insults, not even after being spat on multiple times. He kept himself composed, despite someone throwing a rotten tomato in his direction. Only the wind blew his bright red hair. It confused me how the others seemed to keep their distance away from him, even though he was greatly outnumbered. I wondered where he had come from, and I didn’t like that he was still observing me, like I had come from a different planet.

I tried not to look back at him.

”Rehan, you need to remember that….you’re my son,” Papa said, holding me in a tight embrace. “I am very, very proud of you. No matter what happens. I’ll always look out for you. In three month’s time, you will see me again. And some day, you will bring honor to the Templin name. You will end this war.”

Why is he proud of me?

”But I don’t want to go with the scary man,” I whispered in his ear. “Please, can’t you come with me? Then we can work on the farm together.” Despite how hard I was attempting to hold back the tears in my eyes, they were threatening to come.

”Enough of that,” Papa said, blinking back his own. He fumbled into his uniform pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing my wet cheeks. “Enough. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay, because we’ll see each other. I’ve missed you terribly these past few weeks. I know how upset you’ve been with me.” His voice cracked. “I want to tell you that I’m sorry, Rehan. I’m so, so very sorry.”

I suddenly remembered Mary’s words, the urgency visible in her own blue eyes, which I could see in Papa’s. The odd thing about grownups was how hard they tried to hide things from kids. A hiccup came from me.

”Don’t send me away,” I pleaded. “I’ll go to school every day of the week and practice my letters. And I’ll eat as many carrots as you want.” I grabbed his sleeve. “I’ll be good.”

“Blow,” Papa murmured.

I did. He crumpled up the handkerchief in his hand, despite it being a snot glued ball. Strands of his blonde hair fell over his face. I reached out to touch the whiskers growing on his face with my fingertips, even though he smelled like shaving cream. He faintly smiled, although his own eyes were wet.

”This is no fault of your own. It’s not about that. This is something that I need to own up to. You’re just helping him on the farm, okay? It’s the same as doing chores with Stephanie in her kitchen. No one is sending you away. He’ll bring you right back here as soon as the three months are up, and you will return to Flanders with your sister. Now I don’t want to hear such talk again. Do you understand?”

I weakly nodded.

”Crying never helped anyone,” Papa said. “It does not change anything. Look. It certainly isn’t doing much for me, is it, now?”

I shook my head, still unable to speak.

”So no more of this. I need you to be a big boy.”

For a brief moment, I still held onto him, my bare feet dangling from the sides of his waist. His arms were strong, powerful, and silently, he rocked me back and forth, like he used to when I was really little and had nightmares. I tried to remember his scent and squeezed my eyes shut. His heartbeat was slower than Mary’s, and to my delight, he took off the dark blue cap he usually had on with his uniform placed it on my head. He chuckled as it suddenly slipped down over my forehead.

I slowly smiled. “A present?”

“Sort of. It’s a hot day.” He gave me an interesting look. “Can I trust you not to lose this one? I’d hope you’ll eventually return my straw one. It’s very useful for gardening.”

”Yes, sir,” I said.

“It’s pretty big on you, but you’ll grow into it.” Papa sighed and gave me a warm squeeze. “But make sure you don’t grow up too fast.”

I turned my head to the side, only realizing that Milo had been listening to every word we said. He shoved his sunburned hands into his pockets and looked away, his hair covering his eyes. Papa’s smile faded away, and my body stiffened as he gently set me down on the ground. I immediately grabbed his hand.

He patted the top of my new hat, brushed off the dirt that clung to my T-shirt and overalls. With his left hand on my shoulder, he guided me to the strange red haired man that had picked up my battered suitcase from the dirt.