❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
“You would be upset too if you ever lost your wedding ring or something.” Delia was quick to remind Teddy that her feelings were valid and she wasn’t just freaking out for attention. Now completely out of places to search, she reluctantly gave up, finally conceding to the fact that she wasn’t going to get a lot of sleep that night. Scooting up to the head of the bed, she laid down and snuggled underneath the covers. “I don’t think I want you to read me a bedtime story tonight. Goodnight, Mommy.”
Even the thought of losing something so precious left Teddy drowning in its wake. One of the last and only things she had left of Henry, her ring — her hand flew to where it was hanging around her neck involuntarily. She couldn’t imagine ever losing this part of her; it made her rethink her previous words to Delia. “Oh, sweetie,” Teddy sighed, her voice softening. “I’m sorry. I’m sure he’ll turn up soon. I’ll help you look in the morning, how about that? But for now, will you at least try to go to sleep?”