I was doing a home visit for one of my kindergarten students when he jumped onto my husband’s back and yelled, “Ms. Morgan, meet my superhero dad!”
For a second, I honestly thought I had walked into the wrong house.
Daniel was supposed to be in Singapore.
He had texted me the night before.
I’d asked what time he was flying home because the next day was the anniversary of Lily’s death.
Our daughter.
He replied almost four hours later.
Work emergency. I can’t get back in time. Stay with her a little longer for both of us.
Now he was standing ten feet away from me in a kitchen in Charlotte, wearing an apron and holding a plate of sliced fruit.
A woman I knew as Noah’s mother walked behind him and wiped something from his forehead with her thumb.
“Daniel, you’re sweating again.”
He smiled at her.
Then he looked at me.
The smile disappeared.
Noah tightened his little arms around Daniel’s neck.
“I told you my dad was strong. He can carry me with one hand.”
My student was beaming.
I looked at Daniel.
Three years of “long-term overseas assignment.”
