Prodigal Daughter
Copyright© 2025 by DB86
Chapter 4
Marshall took a deep breath and looked down at the kid. Justin, apparently. His kid.
“Hey,” he said, crouching so he could get a better look. “So, your name’s Justin, huh?”
The boy nodded without looking up. The bill of his cap hid his face. The baseball cap looked filthy and old, with a cracked brim and a ring of dirt around the edge.
“And who’s this?” Marshall asked, pointing at the stuffed lion.
“Milo,” the boy whispered.
“Well, nice to meet you, Milo.” Marshall took the lion’s paw and shook it gently.
Justin’s shoulders were dusty, his white shirt faded to a dingy gray. The denim shorts hugging his tiny waist were too small, which was saying something, considering the boy was as slender as a whisper in the wind.
A sickening lurch gripped Marshall’s stomach.
It was obvious no one had looked after the child in a long time. The boy reminded Marshall of himself, many years ago when he came to the farm to live with his grandparents after Social Services took him away from his alcoholic parents.
“So, Justin ... got a middle name? A last name?”
A long, slim finger pointed to the birth certificate. Right. His name must be on it.
“Justin James Tucker. Now that’s a fine name. Got style.”
The boy shrugged.
Okay. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“My name is Marshall.”
Nothing but a nod.
Marshall softened his voice. “Can you take off your hat, Justin? I’d just like to see you.”
A quick, violent shake of the head. His hands gripped the hat, holding it firmly in place.
His hair seemed to have been cut short—none of it showed beyond the hat.
“All right, that’s fine. You don’t want to take it off. But can we just twist it a little to the side so I can catch sight of you? I never knew I had a son, and I’m anxious to see you.”
Marshall couldn’t stop himself from touching one of the boy’s tiny hands, stroking it lightly. He could hear Justin’s quick breathing and feel the tension in his body.
“I’m probably going to get on your nerves over the next couple of weeks,” he said, “because I’ll be staring at you all the time, thinking how lucky I am that you came into my life.”
As soon as he said it, Marshall knew—despite the DNA results—that he was going to keep the boy and do everything in his power to make him happy.
The boy was thin enough to cause concern, with big, limpid eyes that knew too much and feared everything.
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