Even encumbered by the extra fabric in his Afghan clothing, he was on his feet before Yancy and didn’t even remember covering the distance through the darkened courtyard to the women’s quarters. Pausing outside the door, he could hear her—his child, his little girl—whimpering. Hear the words she said. “Ammi... Ammi...” In the few seconds he waited there, Yancy was beside him. He glanced down at her and saw her looking back at him, her gaze fierce, its message unmistakable. He hardened his jaw and, without a word, stood back to allow her to go before him. He followed her into the room, and his heart gave a queer little kick when he saw Laila kneeling on her pallet, her arms lifted to Yancy, the tears on her cheeks shining golden in the soft light of the sconce high on the wall. He wasn’t used to being the fifth wheel, the odd man out, and as he watched the scene from a distance that seemed farther than the few yards it was, he realized that the unaccustomed hollowness he felt inside was loneliness.
What do You think about Guarding The Soldier's Secret?
