"It's Jamal," Elliott said as he picked up the phone he'd had sitting next to him on the table.

"Put him on speaker again," his mother said, clearly keyed up as she sat forward, elbows on the table.

Elliott hit the speaker button. "Hello."

"Smallcox, it's me. How is everything over there?" The deep resonant timbre of Jamal's voice came clearly through the phone.

Elliott looked over at his mother, who he thought seemed a little fired up at just hearing the young black man's voice. "Everything's fine here. We just finished breakfast, actually."

"Good. That's perfect timing then. We'll be there in ten minutes."

As his mother sat back,...