Chapter 5 - Walking The Green Carpet

My boots felt heavy, each step sinking slightly into the manicured grass of the stadium field. Five thousand pairs of eyes tracked every inch of my progress. The walk from the bleachers, down the metal access stairs, and through the chain-link tunnel felt longer than any midnight haul through the Rocky Mountains during a blizzard.
My worn flannel shirt suddenly felt horribly out of place. My knuckles were rough, my face weathered from thousands of sunrises through a bug-splattered windshield. As I stepped onto the track, the battalion commander, a full colonel with a row of ribbons spanning his entire chest, snapped to attention and rendered a crisp salute as I passed. I nodded curtly, keeping my hands at my sides.
Emma stood at the center of the platform, the morning wind catching the loose strands of hair beneath her dress cap. Her eyes were red-rimmed, brimming with unshed tears, but she was holding her chin high with all the discipline the academy had beaten into her over the past four years.
""Dad,"" she whispered as I climbed the wooden stairs.
""Stand straight, Lieutenant,"" I murmured back, though my own throat was so tight it felt like swallowing gravel. ""Don't embarrass your old man.""
General Mercer stepped forward, opening the black velvet box. Inside lay two gold bars, polished until they caught the harsh Tennessee sunlight like mirrors. ""You earned the right to place these, Sergeant,"" Mercer said quietly, handing them to me.
I took the small metal pins between my thick, calloused fingers. My hands, which had maneuvered an eighty-thousand-pound rig through jackknifes on icy bridges without twitching, were trembling violently. I stepped up to Emma, looking directly into her face.
For years, I had worried that she resented the life we lived. I remembered coming home after three weeks on the road, finding her sitting on the front porch with her school books, eating cold cereal because my check hadn't cleared in time. I remembered her missing school dances because I couldn't afford the dress she wanted, and her spending high school summers working part-time at a diner to help cover heating bills during the slow winter freight season.
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""You never told me,"" she choked out under her breath, her eyes searching mine as I carefully pinned the first gold bar to her epaulet.
""You had your own path to make,"" I whispered. ""Didn't want you carrying my ghosts.""