But even as she wrote it, she doubted herself. He’d never been sentimental, never one for gestures. Still, she couldn’t shake the thought. Could guilt change a person that much? Ellen stared at the list until the names blurred together. None of them made sense anymore.
Her house carried its usual stillness. Sam’s room remained untouched: model cars on the shelf, an unfinished puzzle on the desk. She stood in the doorway of her son’s room, thinking of how David had insisted on boxing everything up. She’d refused. This was all she had left of her boy.