Finally, Adrian stopped.
There it was.
A simple stone.
James’s name carved into it.
After fifty-six years.
Adrian remained several steps behind me.
“Mary—”
“Go back to the car.”
He nodded.
“I need to be alone.”
He walked away.
And finally, for the first time since James disappeared, nobody stood between my husband and me.
No government paperwork.
No explosion story.
No friend deciding what truth I could survive.
Just James.
And me.
I lowered myself onto my knees and placed all fifty-six yellow roses beneath his name.
The enormous bouquet he had promised me.
Late by more than half a century.
But finally delivered.
Then I removed the crooked paper flower from my pocket.
“You idiot,” I whispered.
Tears blurred my vision as a small laugh escaped me.
“You beautiful idiot. This really is the worst flower I’ve ever seen.”
I pressed my hand against the cold stone.
“I would have wanted to know.”
My voice trembled.
“There was nothing I could have done to save you. I know that. I couldn’t have crossed the world and rescued you.”
I swallowed.
“But I could have known.”
I traced his name with my finger.
“I could have carried the fear with you instead of carrying a lie.”
Tears slipped down my face.
“It would have terrified me. Knowing you were alive somewhere and suffering would have been unbearable.”
I leaned closer to the stone.
“But I would have chosen the truth.”
I stayed there a long time.
I told James everything.
About my parents.
About the little house.
About my job.
About the decades.
About how I never remarried.
About how the yellow dress had remained folded inside a cedar chest all those years.
Eventually, it was time to leave.
I left the fifty-six fresh roses resting across his grave.
But I kept the paper one.
That belonged with me.
It was the only object James had made for me during those final weeks.
Back at the car, Adrian sat waiting with my yellow dress folded across his lap.
When I climbed inside, he asked quietly,
“Do you hate me?”
I thought carefully before answering.
“Today?”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Today, I hate you quite a lot.”
He accepted that without protest.
“But you also brought James back to me today.”
Adrian looked at me.
“The real James.”
I held the paper flower gently.
