I looked toward the shelves.
Suddenly, the jars didn’t seem ridiculous anymore.
They seemed sad.
I picked up another jar.
A thin silver band rested at the bottom.
And beside the engraving was a tiny blue stone.
Something about it looked familiar.
I leaned closer.
Then my stomach dropped.
No.
It couldn’t be.
I’d seen that ring hundreds of times.
At family dinners.
At Christmas.
On my little sister’s hand.
Emily.
The sister I hadn’t spoken to in five years.
I turned toward Claire.
“Why do you have Emily’s wedding ring?”
She went completely still.
“Claire?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Archie, I can explain.”
I looked back at the ring.
Then at my wife.
“You’ve seen Emily?”
Claire nodded.
My knees nearly gave out.
Emily had married a man named Ryan when she was 24.
Everyone loved him.
He brought flowers to family dinners.
Helped Dad repair the porch.
Always remembered birthdays.
