them…maybe…maybe my grandfather is why the rule exists,” Lenora whispered, looking at her knees. “I never knew him. He died when I was very young, and my father refused to speak of him. I found the photo albums in an old trunk in our attic. That’s how I knew what he looked like.” She took a shaky breath. “He…my father is…was…so loving, so patient in teaching me his art, I couldn’t, I didn’t understand how he couldn’t speak about his own dad. But I was scared to ask.”
She let out a quiet sob. “I can’t give him any more of me, James. I thought coming here tonight, facing this place, would prove I could go back home and face the worst, be brave for him, take care of him. But it’s just more questions, more pain.” She turned to him, tears streaming down her face. “I’m empty, hungry, just like the woman who lived here. I wake up every day wishing I could stay in my dreams. I feel like…I don’t have a real home anymore.”
For a little while, only her sobs filled the night air as she buried her head in her arms.
James looked up at the moon.
“Me neither,” he said at last.
Lenora lifted her head. “Wh-what?” she stuttered. “What do you mean?”
He pursed his lips and sighed. Then he fished the metal piece out of his pocket and held it out to her. “This is an Air Assault Badge. My mom would have received it had she survived the attack in Ramadi.”
“Your…mother?” Lenora whispered, her eyes wide and red-rimmed as she stared at the badge.
James nodded and slipped it back into his pocket. “My dad carries her pearl earrings, but for some reason, I wanted this. Relatives say she died doing what she loved, but that somehow doesn’t matter…I mean, it doesn’t help.”