He studied me over his glasses. “Evie requested that it did.”
“She still gave me a chance to tell the truth myself.”
“Then I’m requesting that it doesn’t.”
“You understand that removes the only public honor she left you?”
“I haven’t earned honor.”
The room stayed quiet.
“Put her name on it,” I said. “Mine can wait until it means something.”
***
Six months later, I was unloading canned goods behind the church when Claire walked up with a clipboard.
“You’re early.”
“I haven’t earned honor.”
“Truck started for once.”
I handed her an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“First payment. For the boots, the coat, and the mechanic bill. I can’t pay it all back today.”
Claire opened it slowly. “She didn’t ask for this.”
“I know.”
“Then why do it?”
“Because she’s not here to make me.”
“She didn’t ask for this.”
Claire tucked the check into her folder. “Evie would say Thursdays are a decent start.”
That evening, I visited Evie’s grave with the printed message in my pocket.
I tore it into pieces, then closed my fist around them.
“I won’t leave my shame here,” I said. “You carried enough.”
I had married Evie because I wanted her life.
