July
2007

Through the cracked window into a bedroom at Kentucky. 

A small night light projected a constellation of stars across the ceiling, their hues shifting between shades of deep blue and gold. 

The stars rotated slowly, creating a dreamy dance above the tiny bed where six-year-old Charlie lay curled beneath a soft, pastel-colored comforter. Her room was a vibrant collage of childhood treasures—a well-loved stuffed animal of a plush lamb, its fur white worn with a black line of a smile, sat near her like a silent guardian.

A bookshelf boasted a colorful array of spines, some stacked haphazardly sideways, while a playful mat lay sprawled on the carpeted floor, dotted with an assortment of toys (dollhouse, kitchen toy set, and many others that Charlie loved were Hello Kitty toys). 

Above, glow-in-the-dark stickers scattered unevenly across her bed was the wall, creating a private universe that sparkled gently, capturing the innocent wonder of a child's world.

Her big eyes, still round, doe eyes with innocence as she lifted her eyes toward the ceiling as her small fingers toyed with the hems on top of her comforter. She was all covered, with long and sunny blond hair and her cheeks still held the softness. All the while, she stared at the ceiling, silently praying and right on cue, she heard the sound she'd been listening for: the gentle creak of the hallway floorboard and then the door cracked open.

"Hey, baby lamb," her father said gently, stepping inside.

Charlie sat up instantly, blankets sliding off her small frame. "Daddy!"

Jameson Daniels was tall, broad-shouldered, with laugh lines around his tired brown eyes and a kind presence that made rooms go still—crossed the space with gentle steps. He was still dressed in his uniform pants and a dark gray T-shirt, boots left at the door. He smelled faintly of pine soap and the hot Kentucky air.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked gently, brushing some stray curls from her face after dropping to one knee by the side of her bed.

"You said you're leaving tomorrow."

His face faltered almost.

"Yeah," he said softly. "For a little while."

"Where do you go?" she asked, eyes wide. "Mum says it's the desert. Is it like the beach?"

He gave a small smile. "Sort of. Not as fun."

Charlie wrinkled her nose. "There's no water?"

"Not where I'm headed."

"Do you fight the mean people?"

Jameson hesitated. He hated that the war touched even the edges of a child's world. He looked at her small hands clutching the comforter and swallowed hard.

"I keep people safe," he said carefully. "That's my job."

Charlie tilted her head. "But who keeps you safe?"

Staring at her, he pressed his lips thin and licked it wet quickly before he gave her a quick smile.

"I've got people, too," he continued. "Friends who watch my back. Just like I'll always be watching yours."

"But I don't want you to go," she pouted, her voice almost cracked as she laid back on her bed. "What if you don't come back on time?"

Jameson didn't speak right away. He reached for her hand, so small that it covered most of his large calloused palm, he lifted it and pressed it against his cheek.

"I know it's hard," he said gently. "But listen to me, okay? One day, when you grow up, you'll understand that some people leave not because they want to but because someone has to protect what matters."

Charlie blinked at him, eyes glassy. "But I don't care about the world, Daddy. I want you and Mama."

He leaned in and kissed her head.

"I know, baby girl. You're everything to me. Your Mum loves you too," Jameson said and moved her small hand from his cheek and kissed it before letting go. "You're gonna grow up strong, you hear me? Even when things feel unfair, or scary, or like nobody understands."

Charlie looked at him, her lips quivered and her eyes became almost glassy.

"And one day someone will come into your life. He'll be tough and he might carry a lot of weight like I do. But you'll see him. Really see him."

"What do you mean?" she asked, curious.

"I mean," Jameson hesitated, searching for the right words to offer his daughter the advice he had always intended to give. He was aware that time might one day take him away, and he might not get another chance, if he's lucky. He sighed hard and continued, "when you find someone special, like your Mum did with me. You'll see past whatever walls they put up. You'll see the goodness in their heart, even if they try to hide it."

"Will he love me?" she asked in a whisper.

In silence, his eyes brimmed and he quickly blinked away.

"If he's the right one, bug," he said solemnly. "He won't just love you. He'll choose you even when it's hard. I can only hope that he'll step down from a life of war to be with you."

"War?" she repeated.

Jameson nodded. "Hopefully if he's not a soldier like I am."

"Do you think I'll meet a soldier like you?"

"I hope not," Jameson said, more to himself than her. "But, if you do. Don't settle for less than someone who cares for you, okay?"

Then, he tapped his index finger on her chest, right where her heart was located. "When you find that kind of love, don't run from it. Don't let fear stop you. You hold on. No matter what."

Charlie wiped her nose, sat up, and wrapped her arms tightly around him, pressing her face into his neck.

"I don't want to forget you," she said, her tiny voice muffled against him.

"You won't," he said while trying to keep his tone natural. Inside his heart, they were tearing up slowly, piece by piece. Jameson pressed his lips and he lifted his strong arms and hugged her. "You're my heart, little lamb."

Charlie blinked back tears as his words echoed in her mind. She held him tight.

"When will I see you again?" she asked in a small voice, her voice muffled against his neck still.

Jameson moved back and looked at her. Lifting his large hand, he brushed a tear from her cheek. "Soon. But I'll write as much as I can, and I expect some letters back from you too, if you can. Draw me some pictures so I can put them up in my tent and show off to my friends how great of an artist you are."

Her lips quivered while rubbing her eyes with both of her hands. "Okay, I will Daddy."

"Atta girl," he said, now smiling as he pinched her cheek. "It's getting late. Get some sleep or your Mum won't be happy if we don't stick to her bedtime rule."

She groaned and laid back on the bed, "I hate rules."

"Me too, kiddo. But they exist for a reason."

"Do you have too?"

Jameson chuckled. "I do."

Then, she pouted.

"Can you read me a bedtime story?"

"Not tonight, little lamb," Jameson said, giving her a sad smile. "I have to sleep so I can be ready for a big day."

Her face fell, but she nodded bravely. "Okay."

Jameson tucked the blanket around her and leaned down to kiss her forehead again. "I love you to the moon and back."

"I love you more," Charlie replied sleepily.

Jameson smiled and stood up. As he walked to the door, her voice made him pause.

"Daddy?"

He turned. "Yes?"

"Will you sing me the song about the lambs?"

Jameson hesitated. He knew he should say goodnight, but the pleading look in his daughter's eyes crumbled his resolve.

"Alright," he conceded, coming back to sit on the edge of her bed. Charlie snuggled into her pillow as he began to sing softly:

Little lamb, little lamb,

Time to say goodnight,

The stars are out, the moon shines bright,

The world is still, the world is right,

Little lamb, little lamb,

Time to say goodnight little lamb,

Sleep without a fright,

Because a wolf who guards the dark,

With teeth and heart and the bark,

He watches you from shadowed trees,

He keeps the nightmares on their knees...

So sleep, my lamb, while brave hearts roam,

Someday you'll find your wolf to call home.

By the time he finished, her eyes were closed. Jameson watched her for a moment, committing this image to memory.

Then he rose and crossed silently to the door.

With one last look at his sleeping child, he stepped into the hall and gently pulled the door closed behind him.