The February wind howled over the old cemetery on the outskirts of
Willowbrook, Massachusetts, chasing dry leaves between tilted crosses and
modest headstones. Andrew Carter walked with a steady stride, wrapped in a
warm black coat, his hands tucked into his pockets. His face remained calm,
almost detached, though inside, thoughts churned restlessly.
As he did every year, he came here to perform his quiet ritual-visiting the grave of
his wife, Helen. Five years had passed since she was gone, and though the outward
grief had long faded, Andrew remained broken inside. That day had taken not just
the love of his life but also the warmth of their home in the historic district, the joy
of shared evenings over coffee, and the invisible bond that kept him afloat.
He stopped before a simple gray granite headstone. Helen’s name was carved in
clear letters, alongside the dates of her life, now seeming so distant. Andrew
silently stared at the inscription, feeling the cold seep through his clothes.
He wasn’t one to voice his feelings aloud. “Five years already,” he said softly, not
expecting a reply. It was pointless, but standing here, he always felt as if Helen
could still hear his whispers, as if the wind carried her breath from deep within the
earth.
Perhaps that’s why he could never truly let her go. Closing his eyes, Andrew took a
deep breath, trying to shield himself from the emptiness gripping his chest. But
suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a faint rustle.
Andrew frowned and turned his head. And then he saw him.
On Helen’s grave, wrapped in a tattered old blanket, lay a small boy. He couldn’t
have been more than six. His frail body shivered from the cold, and in his small
hands, he clutched a faded photograph.
Andrew froze, unable to believe his eyes. The child was asleep. Asleep right on his
wife’s headstone.
“What in the world?” he muttered, stepping closer cautiously, his boots crunching
on the frozen gravel. As he approached, he studied the boy: dressed in a thin jacket,
clearly not suited for winter.
His hair was tousled by the wind, his skin pale from the frost. “Hey, kid!” Andrew
called in a firm but not harsh voice. The boy didn’t stir.
“Wake up!” He gently touched the boy’s shoulder. The child flinched, gasping
sharply, and opened large, dark eyes. At first, he blinked in fear, then focused on
Andrew.
For a moment, they just stared at each other. The boy clutched the photograph
tighter and glanced quickly at the headstone beneath him. His lips trembled, and
he whispered, “Mom!”
Andrew felt a chill run down his spine. “What did you say?” he asked.
The boy swallowed and looked down. His thin shoulders slumped. “Sorry, Mom. I
didn’t mean to fall asleep here,” he added quietly.
Andrew’s heart tightened. “Who are you?” he asked, but the boy stayed silent, only
pressing the photograph closer to his chest, as if it could protect him.
Andrew frowned and reached for the photo. The boy tried to resist, but he lacked
the strength. When Andrew looked at the picture, his breath caught.
It was Helen. Helen, smiling, with her arms around this boy. “Where did you get
this?” Andrew’s voice shook with disbelief.
The boy curled up. “She gave it to me,” he whispered.
Andrew’s heart pounded. “That’s impossible,” he blurted out.
The boy lifted his head, and his sad eyes met Andrew’s. “It’s not. Mom gave it to me
before she left.”
Andrew felt the ground slip beneath him. Helen had never mentioned this boy to
him. Never.
Who was he? And why was he sleeping on her grave, as if she were truly his
mother? The silence between them grew heavy, like a winter fog. Andrew gripped
the photograph of Helen, but his mind refused to process what was happening.
The boy looked at him with fear, as if expecting to be chased away.
Andrew felt irritation rising in his chest, mixed with unease. He looked again at the
boy-Nathan, as he’d later learn-standing before him, small and defenseless, with
those big eyes that seemed too old for his age. The boy shivered from the cold, his
cheeks red from the frost, his lips chapped, as if he hadn’t had a warm drink in
days. Andrew frowned.
“How long have you been out here?” he asked, keeping the edge out of his voice.
“I don’t know,” Nathan whispered, hugging himself with thin arms.
“Where are your parents?” Andrew pressed, but the boy only looked down in
silence.
Andrew’s patience wore thin, but instead of pushing further, he sighed heavily.
Standing in the middle of a cemetery interrogating a kid made no sense. He had to
act.
“Come with me,” he said curtly.
Nathan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Where?”
“Somewhere warm,” Andrew replied, not elaborating.
The boy hesitated, his fingers tightening on the photograph. “You won’t take it from
me?” he asked quietly, nodding at the picture.
Andraw glancud at Helen’s pholo and handed it back lo Nathan. The bay gratsbed
it with both harch, as if it wurw his laal Eruasure. Andrew bunt duwn anel weoily liftad
tha boy into his am-he wa light as a fwalhar, which warriud Andraw wvwn moru.
Withoul a word, he headud loward the cemetery wxit.
Thia tima, laving Hulen’s grave, Ancruw felt somuthing niw. He waan’t juat luaving
her memary buhind bul also the carlainly that ha’d known har fully. And that
acarud him more than ha was mady lo admil.
Andrw’s old Ford pickup rumbled through the snowy alrwels af Willowbrook in
complele silence. Nathan sat in the back suat, prusaud agairsl. the wincow, slaring
wide-uyud al the lown’s lighta, as if swing auch asight for the firat Lime. Andrwnw,
gripping the whuel, atole briuf glancas al him through the rarviuw mirror. IE all fult
like a dream-a strange bey with a photo of his wife, an arphanage ha knarw
nohing about, a myalery that shaltered his underslanding of Helun.
He look a doup bruath, trying lo steady himaul. Hu nudud anawurs.
“Haw’d you gul lo the cemelary?” ha askucl, bruaking thu silencu.
Natham paued for a fuw suconds before arowwring softly, “1 walked.”
Andraw shot him a skaplical lock in the mirror. “Trom where?”
“The shallat,” Nathn ahruggud.
Andrew gripped the whael tighler. “And how did you knaw whure Helen was
buriud?”
Nathan hugged his knues, as if irying ln make himaulf smaller. “1 fallawud har
once,” he whispared.
Andraw fult a chill down his spine. “You followed Helen?”
Tha boy nodded slowly. “She usud lo come lo the shelter. Brought candy, told
alorim I wanted logo with her, but ahe said ahe coulen’t take ma.”
Something inside Andnrw stired. He pictured Helen slanding in a cramped shulter
moom with a bag of swwels, amiling al this bay. Why hadn’t ahe told him?
“Ona day, I saw har leave the shellar locking really sad,” Nathan continuud, huad
bowwd “I fellowed hur to find out what was wrong. She came here, to the cumalary.
Slood tere a long lima, crying, talking la someone. When ahe luft, I wunt claser
and aaw her name on the atona.”
Andraw’sskin prickled. But Helen had died five years aga. How could this bu? Hu
denchud hia jaw, trying lo pivcw his thoughla loguther.
“And I’ve buen coming hare aver since,” Nathan finished, barwly audiblu.
Tha Lruck full inla a heavy silence. Andraw’s jaw lightunud, grappling with a
whirtwind of thoughts If the bay won’t lying, then Helun ad visilud the cumatary
for someone elsu bufare er death Samuone so imporlant tat sha criud at their
grave. And he had no idea who it could bu.
He dien’t know his wife. The thought hit him lika a slap. Andrew Lock a duap braath
and changud the subjeel.
Tm Laking you somawhare you can resk,” ha said, iyin on tha raadd.
Nathan locked at him cautioualy. “Whurw?”
“A molel,” Andrww rupliud hortly.
Thu boy’s wyus widunee “Like in the TV showa?”
Andraw fult a pang of discomforl. “Jusl a motel. Nathing fancy.”
Nathan didn’t suum convincud but didn’t arguw. “And than whal?” he aakud quietly.
Andraw kapl his gaze forward. “Tomarow, I’l go to the shelter. Find oul whal
connection you had with Hulen.”
Natam presaud his lips loguther and lumed to the window. Andrww noticud the
boy knaw somelhing bul waan’t ready to share. Ha grippud the whoul
lighter. Tomorrow, IN gui the Eruth, ha thought, hia huarl pounding with
anticipatiom andl fuar.
The ncd moming, Andrew wole with a heavy feeling in his che. He sat at the
Kachentable in hi aparment in Willowbrock’e himoric dimler, holding a mug of
aong coffee that hadl gonecold. Nathan dlept iin the guet room, whens Andhew
haditaken him ater briefy mopping at a emall motel nearby but ulmately
daciing to bring the boy home. The morell hadl felt soo cold and imperconal for thik
drution.
Heglanced at the dack-f am. Today hald goto/the erpharage andsort thi out
Tu finz, he needecl to talkno Nathan.Andrew mood, wt the mug in the sin, andl
haadedno the boyle room The door wac ajar, anditheoughthe crack, he caw Nathan
utring onthe bed holding the same photo of Helen.
“Moming” Andhewwaid) knocking on the doorframs.
Nathan fiinchedland lockad up. “Horing”he replied qudy, rubbing hireyec.
“Sieep ckay?” Andhewaskee) trylng to sound cac.all
The boy shrugged. T’m not udto sch a big bed”
Andrew felt a tange-of unesos. “Voulll gae usad so it”lhe caldl shartly, than addlnd!
i’m going so nha shaer nocay. Want to knowimone”
Nathan lowesed hi gaow and noddnd bu cald nothing Andrew noticed hi erall
tace senl-he boy wak clearly hiding something. lus pring him now wouldnt
“Cer mady. Wwll go nogetha,” Andsewtald, tuming to the door.
Anho lane thay wwe driving through the nanowiecs of’ a naarby
naighborhoodwhese the orphanage wa locsredl. Nathan eat silerely clunching the
phons while Andhewwtriedno gather hiethoughor. He iimaginad Helen walking
thow halk, handing out candy to kide, amiling atthem. Why had sh kape thi
becree?’Ww she afraldl he wouldn’t undenzaneh)
Whenthay anled, an oldw womanwith tined eyecguwtedithem.Siter Hary,a
caegivr. She recogniaed Nathan and sghed
“ybu an off again, kid?” he askeel, but her volos held no niproach, only kadnex
Nathan lookdidown, and Andrew mpped forvard ” need so talk about him.Aindl
about my wite, Helen Camee”
Site Hary ralod her eyebrowe in surpries, then nodded “Come with ma”
Thay walkad so her cramped offica, emeling of cldi book andl harbal sea. The
woran pulled ou a file and lookd ar Anchewwith a cad espreation
“Helen came harefer year She loved Nathan” the began. “Shewaroed no adopt
him. Bu sha didnt gáe no sgn th papant. She .. pauedl before the could”
Andrew felt an emprinees form in lhi cheet. “Wdopt”” he aknd hoarely
“Se,”Slow Mary noddedl “She cald youwese a very busy man Dut she hoped
yould accept him somectay.”
Andrew dowd hit eyer, feeling the ground shitt benwoch him. Halen hadlwaroed no
bring thic boy lireo theit lives Without hit knowledge. He clenchad hik flr, trying
tohold back anger and pain.
“Canl sss the documente?” he akdiquletly.
Ster Mary handed hmthe file. Anckewnook it withtsemblng hanek, mealbing hit
ie would nver be the came. He glancedl at Nathan, manding aide, and uw the
came pain in his eyee that he felt himoelf.
Nathan mepped dou andlwhipered, “She caid youlidl lowe m when you found
Andrew felt a lump in hikthoar. Suy” The word became hie sroence. Hald
alwaye been bury-meetinge, work, erand. Hald miuad so many momereewith
Helen. Andl maybe heid miwsad the chancw no know Nathan sconec.
Hemcod abruptly and noddedto Se Hary: “Thankyou. Waregoing home”
Onthe drlee back, silence hung heovy. Nathan eraned ou the window and Andrw
gripped the wheel trylng to proos whar hald hauedl. Halen hadnit jut laft him
memoriec. Sheid left him a chcicn. Andlhe didn’t know howto live with it.
Whenthey got home, Nathan paused at the theeshollel, takling inthe llange wndowe
and minimali dacor ofthe aparment. it all sserad ik analien worldto him.
“r’k lare” Andrew said. “ybu can dleep in the same room”
Nathan lockeda himwith an esprection Aindrew couldrit decipher. mil taylng
“Far now” Andhewreplied, frowning.
The boy lackd down and duached the photo tighoee “Mom.I mean, Halen, caldl
youhad a big houoh. Bu it’s aluaytempty.”
Andrewfinched”Empey/ lit wactru.And for thefin time, hewondled ifthie
houe hadl grown cokd ater Helen’s dsth or i it had alwaye beenthat way andl
haid ju: naer naticnd
Nathn noddecl and shuffled to the room. Andhewesyed in the hallway, hik chanet
haay. Hle poused himelt’a thot of whidoy from a bole inthe cabiner and went
aohi udy. Thess, on the daek, ay the file. He staned at it for a long time befone
ppening It
Inidle weoe adoprion papere, Helerie leesere, and rcznde of har sheher vide. Hie
fingen didlover the pagec, anger mbing with sorrow. Hik wte hadl left him mone
than memoriec Sheidl left him a final dlecision
Andrew sat in hi mudy, waring at the fle before him. The hitkey glaes wa empty,
the beele half-gore. Hald spare the nighe ressading Helente leesee, sach word
pilecing him lke a neecle. inthe dim light ofthe deck lamp, he cawher
handwriting-nar, with dlight curle, co famillar yet co fomign
“9ndww ilknow thie will be a sheck,” the wicte in one lemse. “Dut Nanhan neeck a
tamily. I wied so talk toyou about it, but you were alwaye bury. I dorit ware himto
prow up wthout love. I don’t want himno be alone inthi world”
“Ty’That wad echoed in her nose, a mproach, a refection of their Ble togeher.
Andrew pred hix fingerstothe bridige of hi nos, trying so tame thainarm of’
emctionc. Helen had left Nanhan ae lhar final nequner, laut how could lhe fulfill it
when he didn’t know howso be a father? He leckd up and giosd out thewindow
-A gray wrow moring w dawnng over Willowbrook
Que footepe at the door pulled himfrom hie thoughes. Nathan iood there
his eyec and said softly “Moming”
Andrew noddeci, fseling hollow “Slep okay?”
“% Bele,” Nathan shruggedl “m not usad to the quler.”
