He took the locket from my grandmother gently and opened it. Inside were tiny engraved initials.
“These were my first real lead,” he said. “Later, with help from someone who knew how to search old records, I found Clara’s birth record. That connected her to this town. After that, it took a long time, but I found your name. Then your address.”
My grandmother covered her mouth.
My grandmother just stared at him in amazement.
I asked quietly, “What happened to Clara?”
George sat back on his heels. “I only know parts of it. She died not long before I was taken to the orphanage. I was too young to understand much. I remember moving around. I remember her being scared. I remember she still talked about her mother.”
My grandmother covered her mouth.
George looked at her and said, “I didn’t know who you were when you gave me the bear. I just remembered you. I remembered your face. I remembered that you spoke to me with real care.”
My grandmother took his hand.
That did it.
My grandmother reached for the teddy bear and held it against her chest.
George’s voice shook then. “You gave me this when I had no family. But it turns out you were my family all along.”
My grandmother took his hand.
“You should have been with us,” she said. “You should have been home.”
He squeezed her hand back. “I’m here now.”
My grandmother held Clara’s locket in one hand and George’s hand in the other
Nobody spoke for a while after that.
The room was full of crying and silence and the strange feeling of a life rearranging itself in real time. My grandmother held Clara’s locket in one hand and George’s hand in the other, tightly squeezing each to be sure she won’t lose either.
After a long time, she looked at him carefully and said, “You have Clara’s chin.”
George let out a shaky laugh. “Do I?”
“You do.”
He looked down. “I don’t know what happens next.”
That was the first time he smiled, tentatively.
My grandmother answered right away. “You come back tomorrow.”
He blinked. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes. And the day after, if you want. We’ve already lost enough time.”
That was the first time he smiled, tentatively.
“Okay,” he said. “Tomorrow.”
After he left, my grandmother sat in silence with the bear in her lap.
Then she touched the locket and smiled through tears.
She looked wrecked. Drained. But not empty.
I sat beside her and took her hand.
She stared down at the worn teddy bear and whispered, “All these years, I thought Clara had gone away from me.”
Then she touched the locket and smiled through tears.
“But she still found a way to send him home.”
