“Hello?”
I closed my eyes.
Even after four decades, I recognized that voice.
“Anna? This is Walter.”
For several seconds, all I heard was breathing.
Then she whispered, “Walter. My God.”
“Anna, could I come see you?”
“After forty years?”
“I know how that sounds. But Carol asked me to find you before she died. I need to understand why.”
Silence.
“When?”
“Whenever you’re comfortable.”
Another pause.
“Saturday.”
—
Saturday morning, I drove four hours to Pittsburgh with Carol’s ring in my pocket.
I sat outside Anna’s house for nearly an hour before finally forcing myself to knock.
Then the door opened.
Her hair was silver now, and soft lines framed her mouth, but her eyes were exactly as I remembered them.
And somehow, they looked familiar in another way too.
I couldn’t understand why.
“Walter.”
“Anna. I’m sorry to appear like this out of nowhere. My wife, Carol… she passed away a few weeks ago. Before she died, she asked me to find you.”
