“What if he asks about his mother?”
I sat beside her.
“Tell him what happened.”
Grandma stared at the coat.
“I’ve told myself a thousand times that I should have stayed.”
“Grandma, you saved him.”
“But I left her.”
She looked at me.
“She trusted me with her little boy.”
I took her hand.
“And you saved him.”
Grandma said nothing.
On Wednesday afternoon, we returned to the department store.
The manager had arranged a quiet room upstairs.
Grandma wore her green coat.
Of course she did.
At two o’clock, the door opened.
An elderly man stepped inside.
White hair.
A walking stick.
Eyes already shining.
He stopped when he saw Grandma.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Thomas looked down at her coat.
He walked toward her slowly.
“Seventeen,” he whispered.
Grandma began to cry.
Thomas touched one brass button.
“I remember this.”
He looked into her face.
“I’ve wanted to see you for so long.”
