As people began to leave, Ruth touched my arm. “Mama, do you want to go outside for air?”
“Not yet.”
That’s when I noticed a stranger lingering near Walter’s photo. He stood still, hands knotted around something I couldn’t see.
Ruth frowned. “Who’s that?”
I noticed a stranger lingering near Walter’s photo.
“I don’t know,” I said.
But the man’s old army jacket caught my eye. He started walking toward us, and the room suddenly felt smaller.
“Edith?” he asked quietly.
I nodded. “That’s me. Did you know my Walter?”
He managed a faint smile. “My name’s Paul. I served with Walter a long time ago.”
I studied him. “He never mentioned a Paul.”
“Did you know my Walter?”
He gave a soft, knowing shrug. “We rarely speak about each other, Edith. After what we’ve seen…”
He held out the box. It was battered and smooth, corners worn to a shine by years in a pocket or a drawer. The way he held it made my throat tighten.
“He made me a promise,” Paul said. “If I couldn’t finish the task, he wanted me to bring this back.”
My fingers shook as I took the box. It felt heavier than it looked. Ruth reached out, but I shook my head.
That was for me.
He held out the box.
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