Chapter 1
I counted every coin in my hand before asking for the cheapest meal in the diner. The owner looked at my dirty clothes, laughed, and shoved me toward the door—but then someone behind her said my father’s name.
I was nine years old when I walked into a small diner outside Nashville with seventy-three cents in my fist.
I hadn’t eaten since the day before.
The smell of burgers and fried potatoes made my stomach hurt even more.
I waited near the counter until the woman behind the register finally noticed me.
“What do you want?”
“My name is Caleb,” I whispered. “Can I buy some rice or bread?”
I opened my hand and showed her the coins.
She stared at them.
Then she stared at my worn sneakers and oversized jacket.
“You think this is a charity?”
A few customers turned around.
“I can work for it,” I said quickly. “I can clean tables.”
The woman laughed.
“You can barely clean yourself.”
My face burned.
Someone at a nearby table whispered, “Come on, Vanessa. He’s just a kid.”
But Vanessa grabbed my coins from the counter.
“This doesn’t even pay for a soda.”
“Please give them back.”
“They’re all I have.”
She dropped the coins onto the floor.
They rolled underneath the tables while people watched.
“Pick them up and get out.”
I dropped to my knees.
My hands were shaking as I crawled after the coins.
Then Vanessa grabbed the back of my jacket.
“I said out.”
She pushed me toward the entrance.
I lost my balance and hit the floor.
A few people gasped.
I tried not to cry.
“I just wanted something to eat.”
“You kids come in here begging every week,” she snapped. “Go find your parents.”
I looked up at her.
“My mom died.”
The room became quiet.
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Then where’s your father?”
I reached underneath my shirt and pulled out the old metal tag my mother had made me wear before she died.
“My mom said if I ever got lost, I should find him.”
A man sitting alone in the back suddenly stood up.
His coffee cup fell from his hand.
He walked toward me slowly, staring at the name engraved on the tag.
“Where did you get that?”
“My mom gave it to me.”
His face drained of color.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
“That name belongs to my son.”
Vanessa stopped breathing.
The man knelt in front of me and whispered, “Caleb… what was your mother’s name?”
When I answered, Vanessa took one step backward and knocked over a chair.
Because the man staring at me wasn’t just another customer.
May you like
He was Vanessa’s husband.
And he had just realized I might be the grandson his family had been told died eight years ago.
