I stared at him.
“They believed me. They thought they were respecting your wishes.”
“You told them that?”
He nodded.
“They believed me. They thought they were respecting your wishes.”
“You lied to them, too.”
He didn’t deny it.
“You told us she was an old sweetheart who lost touch.”
Daniel stood near the door, pale.
“You told us she was an old sweetheart who lost touch,” he said.
Thomas whispered, “I didn’t know she was still waiting.”
“Daniel told me you asked whether I still visited the memorial,” I said. “You knew I hadn’t forgotten you.”
Thomas lowered his eyes.
Rebecca saw me and smiled.
A car pulled into the driveway. Daniel’s mother, Rebecca, and his uncle, Peter, came inside carrying groceries. Thomas had apparently invited them for dinner.
Rebecca saw me and smiled.
Thomas reached for my hand.
Then I remembered every birthday I’d spent speaking to an empty memorial.
