Chapter 17 - The Whispers in the Wind
Three months passed.
Summer arrived with a golden burst of heat, transforming Oak Street into a sun-drenched sanctuary. The treehouse was fully completed, boasting not only a reinforced ladder but a rope swing, waterproof shingles, and a small wooden plaque nailed beside the door that read: *VANCE HEADQUARTERS.*
The legal battles were completely won. The state court had officially renamed the regional transit hub after David, cementing his legacy as a brilliant, selfless pioneer. Sarah’s firm was flourishing, flooded with municipal contracts from cities eager to work with an ethical, visionary team.
On a warm Saturday afternoon, the smell of barbecue smoke drifted across the backyard.
My brother-in-arms, Miller and Torres, had brought their families over. The yard was alive with the sound of splashing water as the twins ran through the sprinkler, screaming with delight, while Emma and Torres’s teenage daughter sat under the shade of the patio, laughing over fashion magazines.
"You're flipping those burgers with military precision, Colonel," Miller called out from a lawn chair, holding a cold soda.
"That's because civilian cooking lacks tactical discipline," I quipped back, flipping a row of burgers with a grin.
Sophie came running up to the grill, holding a dandelion puffed full of white seeds. "Dad! Dad, look! Make a wish!"
Hearing the word *Dad* fall so naturally from her lips still sent a shiver of profound joy down my spine. I squatted down, resting my hands on my knees so I was eye-level with her.
"What should we wish for, Sophie?" I asked.
She looked around the yard, her bright eyes taking in the laughter, the sunshine, her sisters playing, and Sarah walking toward us carrying a bowl of fresh potato salad.
"I wish that we stay like this forever," Sophie declared solemnly. Then, puffing out her cheeks, she blew with all her might, scattering the white seeds into the summer breeze.
"That's a good wish," I whispered, kissing her cheek. "I think that one might come true."
Sarah arrived beside us, setting the bowl on the picnic table. She looked radiant, her skin sun-kissed, wearing a simple sundress that fluttered against her knees. As Sophie ran off to chase the floating seeds, Sarah leaned against my arm.
"Penny for your thoughts, James Vance?"
I looked at her, then reached into my pocket, my fingers brushing against a small velvet box I had been carrying for three weeks.
"I was thinking," I said, my voice dropping to a tender, private register, "that I've spent enough time as a temporary recruit in this family."
Sarah stopped. Her eyes widened slightly, her breath hitching in her throat as she saw the sudden, serious devotion in my expression.
"James...?"
Before I could reach for the box, the sharp ring of a landline phone inside the house cut through the afternoon laughter.
May you like
Normally, we let the machine take it. But Sarah frowned. "That's the private study line. Only the Department of Defense liaison has that number."
***
