Coming Home

The lone late-night train was the same one Warner had boarded before. But today, he wasn’t leaving, he was coming back. It had been eight months, and Warner didn’t know if this day would ever come. Hours later, he took off his hat and nervously ran his hand over his shorn head. He had been dreaming of this day for ages, but now it was actually happening. Dawn crept in and embraced the town in its sable dusky light.

His worries rattled and ricocheted around his brain. What if they looked different? What if she didn’t remember him? How much had changed since he had been gone? What if they weren’t even there in time? What if Anna spoiled it?

He almost didn’t hear the elderly couple thank him over the trenches of thoughts he was in as he grabbed his bags. He took a deep breath and exited the train. The salty air that surrounded him was so familiar yet so foreign. Was that how things were going to be? His smile drooped slightly as he scanned the platform.

He first spotted her sister, Anna, and then there they were, Freya and Harlow – his girls. Freya looked as perfect as she had when he left, with her ash brown windblown wispy hair flowing around her. And Harlow, she was getting so big already, but she still clung to the tattered tangerine-colored stuffed bear he had picked out when she was born. As he got closer, he noticed that the leg had fallen off but that Freya must have sewn it back on with the blue thread that peeked out. They both looked around curiously, suspicious of why they were there. Warner wasn’t sure how long it would take them to notice, and he stood there awkwardly.

Freya let out a scream and almost dropped Harlow as she covered her mouth in disbelief. She set Harlow down as she crouched to the ground in a crumbling ball of tears. He tentatively kept walking to her and when he got closer, she got up and closed the distance between them. She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but a couple of tears slid down his cheek.

“Warner,” she whispered, her velvety voice with a ragged lilt. Even crushed, hearing her voice again was more enchanting than he remembered. He had to hold onto her to believe she was really in his arms. He knew people were staring at them, he could feel their gazes on them like ants crawling on his neck, but he didn’t mind.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered back as he looked down into her eyes.

“It’s not Christmas, it’s only November,” she laughed as she wiped her smoky gray eyes on the back of her hand.

“A good early Christmas present, huh?”

“I couldn’t think of anything better,” Freya said, squeezing his hand.

He gazed adoringly at the smooth elegant hand that he had crowned with a ring five years ago. Would she regret her decision with him being gone? Would she still love him? Would she be able to forgive him if she knew all the things he’d done? He cleared his throat and shook his head.

“I wanted to get you something special this year,” he said, his voice coming out more husky than he intended.

“I had no idea!”

“That was the point,” he said.

“But I just talked to you a few days ago!” Freya protested.

“Just a little before I left.”

“I missed you so much,” she said, cupping her hand gently on his cheek.

“I missed you more,” he said.

“If I knew you were coming back today, I would have dressed nicer, cleaned the house–”

“And that’s precisely why I didn’t let you know. You focused on taking care of Harlow, and I got to surprise you – that’s all I could ask for. Besides, you look perfect.”

He tried to look at Freya as she would, but all he saw was perfection. Her jeans which had become slightly frayed over the years clung to her hips, and her olive tee shirt that matched his uniform only made her look adorably rumpled.

Harlow stood by her aunt with her tiny thumb in her mouth. Warner’s heart fell as her hazel eyes sunk into him blankly. Did she not remember him? But then Anna bent down and whispered something in her ear, and Harlow’s eyes lit up with recognition brighter than a jewel-toned supernova. That grin made the sky drizzled in slate blue turn golden – it was more beautiful than Warner remembered. Harlow let out a squeal of glee as she pattered over and Warner scooped her up into his arms.

He breathed in her scent of maple syrup and warm linen as he held her as close to his chest without crushing her. Now that he had her he never wanted to let her go. She was heavier than he remembered, but she melted into his arms like the puzzle piece that he didn’t realize how much he had been missing until he held her.

“Daddy!” She hollered as he looked her over.

He stroked her soft tufts of toffee hair and marveled at how perfect she was with her porcelain skin and dimples like little smiley faces on her round, rosy cheeks. Her hazel eyes glanced at him curiously and intently. Were they always that green? They were the moss green they saw in the woods when they took Harlow on her first camping trip last year. Had they changed or had he?

Then suddenly, as if she sensed his doubts, Harlow grabbed the prickly stubble of his chin with her little clammy hands and giggled. Warner couldn’t help chuckling, and he saw the passengers on the platform smile at them. One older lady turned away, and Warner could see she was tearing up. Sheepishly, he turned back to his daughter – his bundle of joy.

He turned to Anna, who had been watching them from a distance with a soft smile on her face, and mouthed thank you.

“Hi, darling. Daddy’s back.”

“Where you go? Miss you, Daddy.” Her voice was so tiny, but her speech was so clear. Seemingly clearer than it had been eight months ago. She was getting older every day, and he may not be there for all of them, but she would always be his little girl.

“I had to go serve the country, but I’m back now, and I missed you too, princess.”

“Daddy’s a hero!” Freya said. Hearing that coming from her lips made his body flush.

“So, what’s the first thing you want to do tonight, soldier?” Freya asked.

“Inside Out!” Harlow shrieked. However wholesome and comedic Inside Out could be, Warner wasn’t ready for a movie so heavily dealing with emotions. He hesitated and tried to think of what movie she had loved when he had been home last.

“How about Moana?” Warner suggested.

“Oh, Harlow! You love Moana,” Anna exclaimed. Harlow nodded her head eagerly.

“Besides, I have my own Joy right here,” Warner said as he tickled Harlow. Her laughter was like a wind chime. He turned to Freya. “Joy and my angel,” he added in a whisper. A blush bloomed across her face and those glossy rosebud lips stretched into a bashful grin.

“Alright, squad, let’s go,” Warner called. “Onward!”

Harlow ran after him skipping and humming. Freya and Anna lingered behind them, talking in giddy and hushed tones as if they were teenage girls again. Anna said something that made Freya laugh, and Warner turned around mid-laugh when she had her head thrown back, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Anna offered him the passenger’s seat, but he declined, saying he would rather sit in the back with Harlow, much to her excitement. She babbled all the way home, swinging her feet in her car seat until they reached the neighborhood he had turned into hundreds of times before, but now it was a wistful sight. He had dreamed about this day over and over, and now here they were.

Placing Harlow on his hip and Freya tucked under his arm on the other side, they waved goodbye to Anna as she drove off, and all he could think was that he was finally home.