Free What Matters Most by Reana Malori

Chapter One
     
     
    February…
     
    Dear Major Knight,
    I’m glad you liked the picture I sent. My mom said she wanted to frame it, but I told her that you needed it more to help you smile. I can draw her one later. I tried to look for you on the television when they talk about the war, but my mom won’t let me watch the news anymore because she says it makes me upset. It doesn’t, but she’s just a girl and doesn’t understand how tough boys are.
    Your email said how busy things were and how excited you were to come home in a few months. Are you still busy? Do you have time to play games or anything when you’re not working? My mom signed me up for baseball again this year. I’m not very good, but she says it will help me build character. Whatever that is. My mom said she’ll send you the dates of my games. Promise you’ll come see me play, okay? Okay, I have to go now.
    Bye.
    Your friend, Dusty Walker
    *****
    Dear Dusty,
    Hey there buddy. The picture you sent is displayed proudly on my wall. All the guys say you must be a junior Picasso. I’m staying very busy keeping all my Marines out of trouble and sometimes I get to play games, but I prefer reading a good book instead.
    Don’t worry about watching the news. Sometimes the things they talk about aren’t very good, so I can understand why your mother wouldn’t want you to watch that stuff. Baseball is a great sport and I played all through school and college until I joined the Marines. While I can’t make any promises, I’ll do my best to come and see one of your games.
    All right, I’m going to go now. I hope you’re keeping up good grades in school and being good for your mother. See ya, buddy.
    Your friend, Major Evan Knight
    *****
    Dusty signed off of his email account, closed the computer, and scampered into the kitchen where his mother was cooking dinner. Excitement coursed through his nine-year-old body as he hollered, “Mom! Major Knight sent me another email! He says he’s gonna try to come see me play a baseball game. Can you believe it?”
    Pouring more pancake mix onto the griddle, Sierra Walker tilted her head to one side and chuckled at the glee she heard in her son’s voice. The social studies project at his school had been a blessing in disguise. When his teacher had initially given the assignment to write to a military serviceperson in Afghanistan or Iraq, worry had filled her. There were so many concerns parading through her mind that she decided to have a discussion with the teacher before approving his participation. Some would call her a worrywart or overprotective, but she didn’t care; she did not want her baby hurt by something he couldn’t control.
    She knew if Dusty started this project and something happened to the person Dusty was writing to, he would be devastated. Her meeting with his teacher alleviated most of her concerns. But it was her own commitment to allowing Dusty the opportunity to grow up and have new experiences that gave her hope and peace of mind that this project might be good for him. Hoping this letter-writing project would help him break out of his shell, she gave permission for him to participate.
    Sierra turned away from the stove and fixed her motherly gaze on her only child. Love, like nothing else she had known before, filled her heart whenever she looked at him. How anyone could deny this beautiful child was simply beyond her, and she would never understand why his father continued to do so. Child support payments arrived every month, but that was only a means to an end. The payments were made simply because his biological father never wanted to bother with court appearances or have the stigma of being labeled a “deadbeat dad.” Joe was a great businessman and could handle himself quite well in a room full of his colleagues, but he seemed to become paralyzed at the thought of being a father. If only she had realized this when they had been seeing each other for more than a year and before she