“I hoped we could have some time together,” he said. “Whatever time I have left. Maybe we can finally have our second chance.”
For one dangerous second, I remembered the boy sharing his coffee.
Then I remembered every birthday I’d spent speaking to an empty memorial.
“No.”
Thomas blinked.
“He knew I believed he was still missing, and he never told me otherwise.”
“Eleanor, please.”
Rebecca looked confused.
“Dad said you two were separated by the war.”
“We were,” I said. “Until he came home.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Peter put down the grocery bags.
“Your father came home in 1973. He knew I believed he was still missing, and he never told me otherwise.”
Peter put down the grocery bags.
“Dad, is that true?”
Thomas whispered, “I was ashamed.”
Rebecca stared at him.
“I loved Margaret. I love all of you. I was trying to do right by my family.”
