The BoyA far off door opened, and footsteps came down the hall.
Tony looked over his shoulder at the doorway; there stood Gardena and the little boy I’d seen months ago on Market Center.
Gardena said, “Say hello to your daddy.”
Gardena had Jonathan’s dark skin and eyes; as Jonathan came to stand behind his sister, their eyes were both rimmed in red.
Roland Anthony Spadros, a boy of four, held wildflowers, and peered at Tony, hesitant. Then he looked to his mother.
Tony appeared completely astonished. He didn’t rise; he turned round to face the boy, his voice full of emotion. “What a fine boy you are! Oh, my dear, dear son,” he said, “come to me.”
The boy ran to him, black ringlet curls bouncing. The happiness in Roland’s face as he hugged his father for the first time made everything
