He was eight again.
Holding tightly to the people he had left because he had already lost too much.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
His voice was muffled against my shoulder.
“I was trying to protect you.”
I pulled back.
“Me?”
“You never kept anything for yourself, Aunt Elena.”
He looked toward his brothers and sisters.
“You always picked us.”
Then he looked back at me.
“I wanted there to be one thing nobody could make you give away.”
I could not stop crying.
Behind him, his grandmother stepped forward.
“Noah.”
She stared at the ring.
“That ring has been in our family for generations.”
Noah nodded.
“I know.”
For a second, she started to reach toward it.
Then stopped.
Noah gave her a sad smile.
“So has love.”
No one spoke.
He looked at both grandparents.
“You remembered the jewelry.”
