He looked at me and smiled.
“Hey, Ruthie.”
I started crying before I could stop myself.
“Hey, idiot.”
Then I noticed the wooden box beside him.
I recognized it immediately.
It had belonged to my father, Thomas.
He kept important papers inside it when I was growing up.
After Dad died, I searched everywhere for that box and never found it.
I looked at Jeffrey.
“Why do you have my father’s box?”
“Open it.”
My hands trembled as I lifted the lid.
Inside were letters.
Dozens of them.
Some were written by my father.
Beneath them sat a small ring box.
I opened it.
Inside was a simple diamond ring.
I stared at Jeffrey.
“You bought this?”
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you give it to me?”
He pointed toward another envelope.
Jeffrey’s name was written across the front.
The handwriting belonged to my father.
I unfolded the letter.
