Clara
My mother's condition had stabilized somewhat since her collapse weeks earlier, though the doctors were careful never to promise anything beyond weeks or months rather than years, and I found myself visiting Mercy General more regularly now, no longer carrying the weight of secrets between us the way I had for so long.
I brought the ring to show her, unable to resist, and watched her face transform with a joy I hadn't seen from her in longer than I could remember.
"He proposed properly," she said, examining the ring with careful, trembling fingers. "Oh, Clara. I'm so glad. So genuinely glad."
"He built a garden," I said, settling into the chair beside her bed. "On the exact spot where his old garage used to stand. String lights, a bench in the same place his workbench used to be.
