“Gary is my father,” he said. “He told me everything.”
The deputies set the boxes down and opened them.
Inside were winter coats.
Shoes.
School supplies.
Groceries.
Gift cards.
More things than I could count.
“This is for your kids,” the sheriff said. “My father insisted. And I added a few things myself.”
I shook my head.
“I can’t accept this.”
“Yes, you can,” he replied gently. “You did something good. Let us return the favor.”
Behind me, my mother started crying.
One of the deputies clapped my shoulder.
“Your kids are lucky to have you, man.”
After they left, the house was quiet again.
Boxes filled the living room.
My daughter came downstairs in her pajamas and stared at everything.
“Daddy… what’s all this?”
I smiled.
“It’s a gift.”
She picked up a pink winter coat and hugged it.
