Then her eyes went wide.
“Evelyn?” she whispered.
“It’s me.”
Ruth’s hand came out from under the blankets. It was so thin I could see every bone. It was shaking. Grandma took it in both of hers.
“You came,” Ruth said. “You came back.”
“I should have come a long time ago,” Grandma said. “I’m so sorry, Ruth.”
“You put me in the window,” Ruth whispered. “Do you remember? You let me hold him. Nobody else would. You let me hold him.”
“I remember.”
Ruth started to cry. Not loud. She didn’t have the strength for loud. Just tears, running down the sides of her face into her thin gray hair.
“Is he…” She swallowed. “Thomas told me. Years ago. About the accident. Is it true? Is my boy really gone?”
Grandma’s face crumpled.
“Yes, honey,” she said. “He’s gone. I’m so sorry.”
