a velvet box on my dresser, a hea

of sacrifice, of honor, o

ther wracking sound that tore through o

, and my job as a part-time libra

nor Thorn

boy of the Thornton d

t, they said.

t waste time o

, a true hero. Our families have kno

and tightening

l. "Someone respectable. Stable. To manage his affairs, his ca

ion hung hea

" Eleanor continued, her tone softening, but only just. "A marria

s cough e

sked, my voice

ughter of a Medal of Honor recipient. It lend

e a piece of furnitu

was left, mostly aunts an

my aunt Mary said, tears in h

e room: your mother is dying

I ag

ld to a comatose man from a powerful

an' s hospital room, a mockery of vows whispe

led, a vict

ht of the ring on my finger, hea