Every night my neighbor’s son flashed SOS from his window—until one message forced me to run across the street and uncover a terrifying truth.

“That’s not the same thing,” David muttered, though most of the anger had left his voice.

“No,” I agreed. “It isn’t war. But it is service. You raised a boy who wants to be the one people look for when everything goes wrong. Most fathers would find a way to be proud of that.”

David looked around the room.

At the overturned table.

At me.

And finally at his continue reading …