For a brief moment, I was angry that he had never shared this story.
But then I heard Walter’s voice, firm and sincere, and the anger subsided.

The next morning, Toby accompanied me to the cemetery before the visitors arrived.

I placed Walter’s ring and letter in a small velvet bag and placed it gently beside his grave.

For a terrifying moment the day before, I had thought I had lost my husband twice: once to death and once to a secret I didn’t understand.

But now I knew the truth.

After seventy-two years, I still didn’t know every side of Walter.

I only knew the part of him that loved me most.

And in the end, that was more than enough.

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