“What do you mean, Captain?” I asked softly. My voice felt rough as gravel. “Daniel passed away three years ago in Walter Reed. How could his name be on your manifest?”
The captain took a measured breath, his chest rising beneath his immaculate gold-braided uniform. “My name is Captain Thomas Hayes. And my brother never stopped writing to me about the men who kept him alive.”
He touched the edge of my carry-on bag tenderly. “Daniel knew about your wife, Marcus. He kept in touch with your old commanding officer until his very last breath in that hospice ward.”
Maya gazed up at him with her large, dark eyes. She released my sleeve and touched his cuff. “Did you know my mother too, mister? Her name was Elena.”
Captain Hayes knelt down until he was at eye level with my daughter. His face softened, losing its rigid pilot’s demeanor. “I never met her, sweet girl, but I knew of her.”
