Edward stepped forward, but I gently raised my hand to stop him.
I didn’t want anyone protecting me from reality.
“Do you remember a willow tree?”
Benjamin frowned.
“A yellow dress?”
His fingers began lightly tapping the blanket.
“That’s enough for today.”
In the hallway, I rested against the wall, unable to steady myself.
Wren wrapped both arms around me.
“Oh, Aunt Isobel,” she whispered.
“He came back,” I said quietly, “but the part of him that remembered me never did.”
Edward wiped away tears with the back of his hand.
“Can I come back and see him again?”
He stared at me in surprise.
“You still want to?”
“I don’t even know what I want anymore. But I know I’m not ready to leave.”
I returned two days later.
Then I came back twice more the following week.
Eventually, I stopped bringing out the ring or asking him whether he remembered.
Some visits he listened.
Others he slept through.
One afternoon, he called me by his late wife’s name.
The mistake stung, but I let it pass.
He looked embarrassed.
“I keep losing people,” he said. “In my mind and for real.”
On another visit, I was reading aloud when he interrupted.
“That fellow talks too much.”
I smiled and closed the book.
“You talked all night once.”
“Did I?”
“Under a willow tree, Benjamin.”
“You were.”
“Did it work?”
“For over 60 years.”
He smiled.
Later, Edward caught up with me in the hallway.
“This is hurting you, Isobel. I can see it.”
“Maybe you should come less often.”
I turned to face him.
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