“He loved you so much,” she said.

“I know.”

I could finally say it without needing someone else to confirm it.

That evening, after she left, a storm approached from the west.

I stood on the porch watching clouds pile above the dark trees and thought of all the places I’d called home: temporary quarters overseas, hospital rooms where I learned to walk again, my small house near Annapolis, and this farmhouse with its stubborn bones.

My phone buzzed.