A Woman’s Son Passed Away Saving a Little Girl from a River – 18 Years Later, That Girl Appeared at Her Door with a Little Boy and Said, ‘Your Son Wasn’t at That River by Accident. I Need to Tell You the Truth’

Inside the front cover was Weston’s handwriting.

For Sloane. Save the last page for me.

I reached for my glasses.

I knew that handwriting.

The uneven letters.

    I knew that handwriting.

The way he always made his capital S too large.

I touched the page.

    “He wrote this?”

She nodded.

“I brought it to the funeral. I wanted to show you, but I couldn’t talk.”

    I touched the page.

I remembered the little girl in the blue dress.

The book pressed against her chest.

    “Oh, Sloane.”

“I kept it all these years,” she whispered.

“Did you ever finish reading it?”

    I remembered the little girl in the blue dress.

“Yes.”

    “When?”

“Much later.” She looked down. “For a long time, I couldn’t open it. Then one day, I wanted to know how it ended.”

I nodded.

That seemed like a perfectly good reason.