She let out a breath that seemed to release the tension in her shoulders.
“After he told me what happened, I went back to the store. I asked the store manager if we could look at the camera footage. Once I explained why, he agreed immediately. He said your name was Ariel and that you helped his wife after surgery. He recognized you right away.”
My hand tightened on the doorframe.
“He mentioned,” she said gently, “that when you and your daughters were sick a few months ago, he sent groceries over. So he still had your address on file.”
My hand tightened around the edge of the door.
I blinked, heart pounding. Her expression softened, but urgency lingered underneath.
“I know this is a lot,” she said. “But he’s not well. And he was very clear. He wants to see you.”
“Now?” I asked. “You mean, right now?”
“If you’re willing, Ariel. But it’s what he’d like…”
I hesitated—not out of reluctance, but because the weight of the moment felt overwhelming. I glanced down at myself: slippers, an old sweatshirt, yesterday’s fatigue clinging to me.
“Just give me one second,” I said, stepping back inside.
Ara was finishing cereal at the kitchen table. Celia was curled on the couch, flipping through channels without watching anything.
“I need to step out for a bit,” I said, grabbing my coat. “There’s… something I need to do. I won’t be long, okay?”
“There’s… something I need to do.”
“Is everything okay?” Ara asked with a frown.
“I think it will be,” I said, kissing her head. “Lock the door behind me.”
Inside, cedar and worn leather scented the air.
“Lock the door behind me.”
She led me to a room where Dalton rested beneath a pale blanket. His face looked smaller, but when he saw me, his eyes lit with recognition.
“You came,” he whispered.
“Of course I did,” I said, settling beside him.
He studied me for a long moment, as though memorizing the face of the person who had shown him kindness.
“You came,” he whispered.
Continue reading…
