I looked down at the diced carrots and thick parsley floating in the broth.

For one short minute, the hard knot in my chest eased.

“He liked the thyme you put in it,” I said.

“He asked for it every time he got back from training.”

“He was a good boy,” Martha said.

She reached across the laminate table and rested her fingers lightly on the back of my hand.

“We only want to be sure you’re looked after, sweetheart, without all this stress.”

Her palm was soft and warm.