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It was a dull Monday morning in the quiet suburbs of Shelbyville, Illinois. Fathers flitted off to work, while mothers tended to crying children and began simple breakfasts. Old couples took off to the park and young boys bolted out to play baseball before their mothers could catch them.
Just a simple day.
At the end of the road, lived a young family. A woman of only 25 years, a wife of eight, and a mother of five scrambled up some eggs, biscuits, and bacon for her three children and herself. Her eldest child was an excitable boy of five years. He kept her running all day and it was only getting harder and harder as she had to take care of her year and a half old little boy, Lester, and her new baby on the way.
Her girl was three years old and as sneaky as they come. She's been following her forever-moving brother, "Bucky" ever since she could walk. His name was James, but when Rebecca was a baby, her first word ended up being "Bucky". And that's what she called James for her entire life. And it's stuck for everyone. Now nearly everyone calls him Bucky. He even introduced himself as such.
And her baby, Les, was as sweet and innocent as any baby would be. He was nearly walking already and the words "ma" and "ball" rolled off the tongue like natural. She was her only blonde-haired baby. Bucky and Rebecca had hair that was so brown it was nearly black. Just like their father's. This mother's hair was a brownish blonde that she hoped her newest son would grow into. Maybe she'd have another daughter that would favor her.
As she dished out three plates of breakfast, there was a knock on the door.
"Bucky!" she called, wanting her son to get the door for her so she could finish dishing up the eggs. He didn't respond. She figured he must already be outside with the older boys that he couldn't seem to get enough of. And that means Rebecca was gone with him. She huffed and sat down on the bowl on the table to go get the door.
The mother opened the door to the hot summer heat and thought to herself that she better make a batch of lemonade. The sweating boys and the following girl would be here soon no doubt.
She wasn't worried about Rebecca being around all those older boys. Bucky protected her shamelessly. But the man she had opened her door to was a bit frightening to her.
See, the thing is, her husband, William, had joined the army. He was training in Texas right now. And this uniformed man standing before her was not William.
He had a sad look on his face. "I'm so sorry ma'am," he said as he held out a condolence letter. Her hand dropped numbly against her shirt
---
"Rebecca, you have to run!" Bucky pleaded to the little brown-eyed three-year-old as he drugs her across the street, his hand wrapped around her wrist. "Ma's probably made breakfast and she'll be wanting us home."
"Too fast, Bucky!" the toddler squealed as her chubby little legs did their best to keep up with her brother's long and lean ones.
"Okay, Becky," he said, stopping in the middle of the road in front of their house and picking her up with much difficulty.
"You can't hold me," Rebecca giggled as she wrapped her arms around Bucky's sweaty neck.
His face grew redder from strain, but he carried her the rest of the way across the street. "Yes... I... can—" he grunted, letting her down at the sidewalk.
"There's a car, Bucky," Rebecca said when he put her down.
Bucky looked up to see the green army car. His eyes lit up as he looked over to his sister, who seemed to have the same idea. "Daddy's home!" she squealed, running to the front door where a man in uniform was talking to their mother. With a smile on his face, Bucky followed after her, pausing halfway.
"Hey!" she cried. "I'm just a little!"
But when Bucky was near the door, he skidded to a halt. All the happiness left him. He caught Rebecca before she could go any farther.
"Daddy!" she screamed happily. "Let me go!"
"Shh!" he told her. "It's not Daddy."
He watched in fear as his mother buried her face in her hands and began to sob.
Tears began to well in his clear blue eyes. Even at five, he could tell what had happened. Ma had told him it could happen. And how it would if it did.
"Who is it? Why's Ma crying?" asked Rebecca. Bucky sniffled. His little body almost could handle the sadness that washed over him.
"Daddy's not coming home."
A/N: so this a new series. I have a marvel hole rn an i need to fill it. Bucky just so happens to be my comfort character but i am going to go ham on this book. Happy endings for EVERYONE.
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