On an Oak Creek Street, a Retired Navy SEAL Took Off His Flannel Shirt

I used a wooden mallet to drive the stake four inches into the ground beside the lilac roots.

“Is Mr.

Caldwell going to make us give up the yard, Dad?” she asked.

“No, he isn’t,” I said.

“He was yelling so loud on the porch yesterday.”

“A loud voice doesn’t make him right,” I said.

She wiped a smudge of damp dirt off her thumb onto her denim shorts.

“Are we going to have to sell our house?” she asked.