Page 2

Closing my eyes, I breathe out a breathy laugh. “I’m sorry. I think you have the wrong house. I just spoke to my husband yesterday.”

The younger officer takes a step toward me. “Ma’am, I know this news is difficult to hear. I’m so sorry. What can we do to help? Can we call someone for you?”

Something in my brain snaps. “No! You need to leave. You have the wrong house.”

The other man steps forward this time. “Mrs. Miller, I had the honor of working alongside your husband. Sam was a truly amazing man and soldier.” He pulls his beret off of his head and twists it between his hands. “He spoke of you often. His love for you was always apparent. And for your baby too.”

My baby. Our baby. “No, no, no …”

I can’t do this alone. I can’t do this without Sam. He was supposed to be here with me, by my side, helping to raise our daughter.

My legs give out from underneath me, and I faintly recall the two men helping me inside and onto the sofa.

The older officer—I can’t remember either of their names—asks me if there’s a friend they can call for me.

I hand him my phone and the word “Sarah” comes out of my mouth.

I barely recognize my own voice. Sarah is my closest friend here at Fort Bragg and lives just a few houses down from me. He takes my phone and starts looking through my contacts. After finding Sarah's name, he taps on the screen to call her. I can hear her voice answer on the other end and he steps back outside to talk with her.

The younger one asks if Sam and I had talked about what to do in this scenario. I remember the folder in our top kitchen drawer that had Sam’s will, my power of attorney, and his contingency plan inside. I tell him about the contingency folder in the kitchen drawer by the microwave. He walks from the living room to the kitchen to retrieve it.

A moment later, he strides back into the living room, folder in hand, and tries to hand it to me.

I push it away and tell him, “No, I don’t want to look at it. Can you just read through the papers?”

He nods curtly. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever I can do to help.”

Leaning forward from my seat on the couch, I put my face in my hands, trying to calm myself.

“Your friend is on her way,” the older man says in a sympathetic voice.

I feel movement next to me. He must’ve sat on the couch. I keep my head in my hands and focus on breathing.

“Do you have anyone else you’d like us to call?” One of them asks.

My mind has become too fuzzy to distinguish one from the other now. I can’t find my voice to answer him. My husband is gone. I can't believe it. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and realize this was just a nightmare.

I'm in a fog of complete shock.

Not knowing how much time has passed, I hear the front door open. I lift my head and see Sarah rushing towards me. Once she reaches me, she pulls me into her arms. Tears are streaming down her face.

Now that she’s here with me, the officers stand and announce they're heading out but that they'll contact me tomorrow. I can barely register anything they’re saying to me.

Now that Sarah is here, this all feels too real. She's sobbing and holding me, but I'm just numb.

"Sarah, I need to call my family."

She pulls back and nods. "Would you like me to call them for you?" She barely splutters the words out as her chin quivers.

I shake my head. Pulling out my phone, I dial my mom.

"Hey, sweetie!" she answers cheerfully.

I take a deep, shuddering breath. Telling my mom Sam was killed makes it seem concrete. Like it's not a horrible dream, but actually real life.

"Mom," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "Sam was killed in action. I don't want to do this alone ... please, can you come?"

She gasps in shock. "No, Sophie. What? I think I heard you wrong."

I gulp. "Sam is gone, Mom."

I hear a strangled sob over the phone. "Sophie, no." A few seconds pass. "I'll be there as soon as I can. I need to get a hold of your father, but he's in surgery."

"Okay. Just come as soon as you can."