did.”
Three weeks later, Sloane and Charlie visited again.
I’d found a photograph of Weston standing beside his half-packed college boxes, holding packing tape between his teeth.
Sloane studied it.
“That’s him.”
I’d found a photograph of Weston standing beside his half-packed college boxes.
I gave her a copy.
She’d brought the old green book.
Charlie climbed onto the couch between us.
“Can we read?”
Sloane opened it.
“Your turn, sweetheart.”
She’d brought the old green book.
He started slowly, following the words with one finger.
Halfway down the page, he stopped.
He tried a difficult word.
Got it wrong.
Tried again.
He tried a difficult word.
Sloane started to give him the word but stopped herself.
She waited.
Charlie frowned at the page.
I remembered Weston sitting at our kitchen table, patiently waiting while I searched for a forgotten name.
Charlie frowned at the page.
Charlie sounded out the
word once more.
This time, he got it.
“Good job,” Sloane whispered.
He looked pleased with himself.
“Next page, Grandma Demi?”
This time, he got it.
The name surprised me.
Sloane glanced over, uncertain.
I smiled and turned the page.
“All right, Charlie. Let’s see what happens next.”
The name surprised me.
