After Forty-Five Years Apart, a Pastor Married His High School Sweetheart

“He told the elders I was manipulating a hospice patient for money,” I said.

She reached into her bedside drawer and took out a little black velvet box.

“Let me have your left hand, Tommy,” she said.

I held out my hand, my thumb going automatically to my old brass wedding band.

Margaret opened the velvet box, lifted out a plain gold band, and slid it onto my ring finger next to the brass one.

“That was my grandfather’s,” she said.