and smiled.
Hey, Ruthie.”
I cried before I could stop myself.
“Hey, idiot.”
Then I saw the chair beside his bed.
There was a wooden box I knew.
It had belonged to my father, Thomas.
I cried before I could stop myself.
Publicidad
He used to keep important papers in it. But after he died, I searched the house for it and never found it.
I looked at Jeffrey.
“Why do you have my father’s box?”
“Open it.”
My hands shook as I lifted the lid.
Inside were letters. My father’s letters. Years of them.
“Open it.”
Beneath the letters was a small ring box. I opened it.
Inside was a simple diamond ring. I looked at Jeffrey.
“You bought this?”
Publicidad
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you give it to me?”
He nodded toward another envelope. That one had his name on it.
The handwriting belonged to my father.
“You
