“I’m sorry.”
I opened the box.
Inside lay an old brass compass.
I recognized it immediately.
It had belonged to my grandfather, Mom’s father, who served as an Army medic decades before I was born.
He had given me my first book about military history when I was eleven.
He died before I commissioned.
Beneath the compass was another folded note.
This one was much shorter.
I opened it.
Claire,
Your grandfather gave this to me before he died.
He said you should have it when you finally understood that knowing where you are going matters less than knowing why.
I think you understand now.
Love,
Mom
I held the compass in my palm.
The brass was scratched from age.
Dad touched the edge of the desk.
“I didn’t know she kept that.”
“Neither did I.”
Ethan leaned against the doorframe.
Madison wiped beneath one eye and immediately pretended she had not.
