Instead, Marcus dropped to his knees beside them.
He wrapped one arm around our daughter and the other around the stranger.
The three of them stayed that way in the middle of the terminal.
Marcus pressed his face against the soldier’s shoulder.
“You’re here,” he whispered.
The stranger finally placed his hand on Lily’s back.
“So are you,” he answered.
His voice was rough and low.
I stood frozen, unable to understand what I was seeing.
Marcus looked up at me.
“Michelle,” he said softly, “come here.”
I stepped forward, though my legs felt unsteady. The crowd around us began to shift, but no one spoke. The judgment I had felt moments earlier seemed to fade into confusion.
I crouched beside Marcus.
He reached for my hand.
“This is Julian,” he said.
The name meant nothing to me at first.
Then I noticed how Marcus was looking at him.
