He turned his face, staring at the trunk across the room. “How can I when I’ve taken over what was meant to be his life?”

She touched his chin and drew his gaze back to hers. “But it’s not his life, Jasper.” When he jolted and tried to look away again, she held firm. “No, please don’t. Look at me. It is not his life anymore. It’s your life. If you don’t make it what you desire for yourself, you will be as lost as you think he was.”

He let out his breath in a long, shaky sigh. She released him then and turned, walking toward the trunk. She paused there. “Let him go, Jasper.”

She bent to pick up the bear, to return it to him in the hopes that the act of holding this thing that represented his loss would help. But as she lifted it, she gasped.

He had been staring at her as she moved, watching her every move, but now his brow wrinkled in confusion. “Thomasina?”

“It’s…it’s heavy,” she explained, switching to hold the old toy with both hands.

She moved toward him as she turned the bear, examining it to try to determine why it was as weighty as it was. It had to be more than half a stone, far too much for a child’s bedtime toy.

She paused as she turned the item upside down. There, hidden amongst the matted fur of the toy, was a strange seam, something that had been hastily sewn by a not particularly skilled hand.

“Look,” she said, holding it out toward him. “Was this always there?”

“I-I don’t know,” he murmured. “It could have been.”

She bit her lip and examined the scar along the base of the toy. “I’m going to tear it,” she said, looking to him for approval.

He hesitated a moment, then nodded.

She balanced the toy with one hand and tugged with the other. After a few tries, the seam began to give way. She wedged her hand inside the space, rending it further. Her fingers brushed something hard in the old fabric and she jerked her hand out as she brought her gaze back to Jasper.

“There’s something inside,” she whispered.

He nodded and held out his hands. “Let me steady it as you tear.”

She gave him the bear and his eyes widened at the weight she had described but he clearly hadn’t pictured. He held the toy in his palms, and now she used two hands to rip the seam the rest of the way open. Inside, where the toy’s stuffing should have been, was hard marble. She pulled it out and gasped.

“A statue,” she whispered.

Jasper stared at the beautiful bust perched in his wife’s hands. On the base was marble, with a terracotta sculpture of a woman perched on top. It wasn’t particularly large, but the detail was lovely.

“Is it a family heirloom?” she asked as she handed it over to Jasper.