38
Federal Identification
There was something about the voice. Bits and flashes of long-lost memories popped into Jana’s vision. The aroma of sizzling bacon, sunlight glistening on the tips of dew-covered stalks of corn, and the smell of aftershave.
Jana rolled the man onto his back. She stared into his eyes and her mouth dropped open. It was her father. She hadn’t seen him since she was a toddler. Yet here he was, in the flesh. His skin was wrinkled and red with sunburn. But the eyes. The eyes were weary and haggard, yet they removed all doubt. He was her father.
Jana stood. She looked like someone who had seen a ghost. Her voice became guttural. “I can’t . . . what are you . . . I don’t understand.”
“Jana?” the man said. “Is that really you? My God . . .”
Jana’s breathing deepened.
