New York City, thirty-eight years later
Felicity, start from the beginning. You’ve almost got it down. Just a little more, okay?” The girl rolled her eyes but still smiled.
Mitzi tweaked her cheek. In two weeks her little troop of teenage actors would give a short rendition of Our Town as their final exam to pass ESL. A great way to finish before their Christmas vacation. She couldn’t be prouder of how far the group had come in mastering the English language, both written and spoken.
Felicity finished her lines. “How was that, Mrs. Pendergast?”
“Perfect! Now, let’s jump to the next scene where—”
A knock came from the classroom door. Mitzi recognized Sean’s face peeking through the small window. “Everyone, let’s take a ten-minute break. Go get something to drink from the cafeteria.”
The students filed out the door, giving Sean curious glances. Mitzi studied his face as he waited. Something was troubling him, that much she could see.
Once the last student left, she waved Sean into the classroom. “Now what brings you my way? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine. I’m sorry to interrupt. I thought you usually finished up by three.”
“Normally, yes, but the kids wanted to stay later and practice their play.”
“Impressive. They must have the best teacher.” He flashed her a smile.
Mitzi gave him a quick hug. “You flatterer, you. I’ll take that compliment though.” She walked over to her desk and sat down with a sigh. “They do keep me running, that’s for sure.”
Sean grabbed a chair and spun it around then straddled it, resting his arms on the back. “Aunt Mitzi, I need to talk to you about something.”
“Shoot, kiddo. I’m all yours.”
He pointed at her neck. “I know it upset you the other night when I asked about your pendant, but I need your help.” He pulled out a weathered piece of paper and handed it to her.
She fingered her pendant as she read the letter. She knew Henry Wolfe had given the coin to Alan after Sean’s father had left for Vietnam, but she never knew about Patrick’s letter asking Henry to give Alan the coin. The ache over Patrick’s suicide flooded back. Sean had been so young… had she made the right choices?
That question had dogged her for the last thirty-seven years.
“Sean…” She handed back the letter. “There’s so much you don’t know.”
“Then just tell me.” His knuckles turned white where he gripped the back of the chair.
Tears pricked her eyes. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Some things are better left buried with the dead.” With her sister… If she told Sean about how she got the coin, then he’d know she’d lied to him. But she’d made a choice to honor Troy’s wishes and held to them even after his death.
He rubbed his hand over the scars running down the side of his head. “I almost was one of the dead, Aunt Mitzi. That makes a person look at the truth in a whole new way. You don’t need to protect me from it.”
“I know, but I just can’t help it. You’ve been through so much.” Again, the question plagued her… had she made the right choices? Would choosing to tell him the truth be the right one, too?
He gestured to his head. “After this, I think I can handle just about anything.”
She stood, smiled, then kissed the scar that angled down the side of his head. He may still see himself as less than the man he wanted to be, but she knew he was more and would become even greater than he could see himself at the moment. His scars would make him stronger if he just believed there could be a blessing in it all.
That word still brought back such memories….
She didn’t sit back down, just stood clasping and unclasping her hands. “Sean, first you need to understand that I had to make choices I thought were best at the time. I made sacrifices that I thought would help my marriage and my family. But it meant living a partial truth… a lie. Sometimes I wonder if I did more harm than good to my sister.”
He frowned. “Sister? You never mentioned a sister.”
She sat on the edge of the desk for support and laid her hand over his. No turning back now. Hopefully he wouldn’t hate her. “Your mother was my older sister. When she got really wild, Troy asked me to disassociate myself from her because of his political associations. So I started using my nickname, Mitzi. My first name is actually Gail.”
The tape made a ripping sound as he dragged the dispenser across yet another box destined for storage. Each sealed carton felt like another place in his heart being stored and put away until he knew what to do with his life. New York wasn’t the same city it was when he’d opened the shop. He’d managed to keep the doors open and the property owner had been good to him over the years, but the man couldn’t pass up an offer to sell the building that would make him a millionaire.
Alan didn’t blame him one bit. The store had run its course in the city. And in his life. No point holding on to something for no reason. And Jamie had given up enough for him—for the store and for his recovery. She needed to move on and live her own life, too.
His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Jamie’s name and picture lit up the screen. “Hey there, Jamie-girl.”
“How’s my favorite uncle?”
A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest to the phone. Whenever she said it, she sounded just like her mother, Tara.
“How’s my little brother?”
“Not little…” He never finished the line anymore. He hadn’t felt like a brother since her death.
“Uncle Alan?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m your only uncle so that’s an easy win.”
She giggled. “So how about dinner and some last-minute Christmas shopping?”
“Love to. What time?”
“How about now? You look like you’re about done with that box.”
Alan jerked his attention to the front door. Jamie stood in front of the main window. She smiled and waved her fingers. Snowflakes fell gently around her, and for a split second, he thought he was looking at Tara.
He pocketed his cell and rushed to the door. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming by?”
She glanced up at the door bells, a questioning look on her face. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“Yeah, they’re still not working for some reason.”
“Weird.”
“Telling.”
“Huh?”
He waved his hand. “Never mind. Where do you want to grab a bite? And I’ll treat. I know you’re still looking for a job.”
She gave him a sly look. “I have reserves.”
So like her mother. “Okay, you’re buying. Let’s grab a burger.”
“And onion rings. You still need to gain some weight.”
Alan kissed her forehead. “I’m fine, James. Never better. Doc said so himself last week.”
She bounced on her toes. “He did?”
“Yep.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you had an appointment? I would have gone with you.”
“It was just a checkup. Routine. No reason for you to sit with me in a boring doctor’s office.”
“Still.”
“Jamie, it’s fine. Trust me, okay? The doctor’s pleased with my scans and said I don’t even have to come back for another six months.”
Her mouth became a circle, as did her eyes. She threw her arms around him in a tight hug. “That’s wonderful! I’m so glad.”
He hugged her back then gently pushed her away so he could look at her. “I know you sacrificed a lot for me—”
“I didn’t mind—”
“Let me finish.”
She snapped her lips shut, but the corners upturned in the smile that had melted his heart since she was ten years old.
“You let go of The Juilliard to take care of me and the shop while I underwent chemo. That’s a lot… your dream. Now we need to figure out how to make your dream come true.”
She pulled one side of her mouth between her teeth. “Uncle Alan, do you think I’ve given up on my dream?”
He frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason really. Just something a friend said to me.” She looked distracted as if remembering a lost conversation.
“No, I don’t think you’ve given up on your dream, but I do think you’re scared.”
“What do you mean by that?” She pulled away from him, arms crossed. “That’s not true.”
“Okay, you’re not afraid. But I think you’re hiding from something. Figure that out, and you’ll know what to do next.”
She stared at him through the corner of her eyes. “Speaking of hiding something…” She unfolded her arms. “Remember that coin I asked you about. I think a certain uncle who is near and dear to my heart has a secret.”
He’d tried to avoid telling as much about the wound that still held his mind and heart captive. Maybe it was time to tell Jamie the truth.
He sighed. “Yes, I used to have it, but that was years ago. I gave it to Gail.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because it’s not easy to talk about. I’d hoped I’d find it again.”
Jamie looked around the shop. “Is that why you were always so interested in war memorabilia?”
“Partly…” He rubbed a hand down his face. How could he put in words what he didn’t quite understand himself? “I was so sure, Jamie. So sure Gail would be there and that I’d get the coin back. I’d planned to give it back to Patrick. But then he killed himself, and I didn’t have the heart to find out what happened to her. There didn’t seem to be a reason to get it back anymore, you know?”
Tears sat in her eyes as she nodded.
He put on his coat. A chill ran through him at the memory of waiting for Gail at their favorite spot on New Year’s Eve. Bow Bridge had never looked so glamorous covered in a fine dusting of snow as it had that night. He’d sent her the letter, telling her he’d be there waiting, but she never came….
“Part of the inscription on the coin was ‘Love never fails,’ but I guess in my case, it did.”