Harry and Jack set the trunk down in the middle of the front room. John held up his hands. “I’ll tell you all now—I think the Howards will want to hear, too.” He cleared his throat. “Wilma, you said you thought I ought to do what I thought best with Chase’s things. And the more I thought about it, the more it came clear to me. We’d open them here, together, his family and our closest friends, in this place he loved.”

A silence. Then: “John? Do you mean—?”

“I haven’t opened a thing. The box they sent from France is here in my trunk.”

Harry saw Wilma’s lip start to tremble; John stood there like he was waiting to be thanked. Harry began kicking the trunk with gentle rhythm: thump-thump-thump.

“Well, can we open it now?” Jinny said, excited. She knelt in front of the trunk and started to fumble at the latch.

John slid his hand into his pants pocket. Keys jingled. “I don’t see why not,” he said. “If it’s all right with your mother—”

“Is it all right, Mom?”

Wilma pursed her lips, silent, gray-eyed.

So they went ahead and opened the trunk, and Jinny took out the small cardboard box that sat on top. When she opened it, the smell of dust filled the room.

There was a small piece of fabric—from a uniform—right on top.

Jinny smoothed the fabric across her lap and reached in again, everyone watching.

“Look, Mom, it’s a letter for you,” Jinny said, taking out a flimsy Red Cross envelope and holding it in her mother’s direction. Wilma was standing straight and stiff, gripping the back of a chair with both hands, pale as a cloud.

“Oh, I—I couldn’t—” Then her eyes changed, and her gaze on the letter was hungry. She looked at Jack, but Jack was looking at the floor. Then she looked at Harry. “Harry? Would you?”

Harry felt his teeth clench, but he reached out his hand and took the envelope when Jinny gave it to him. He extracted the thin sheet of paper and unfolded it. “June tenth, 1918. Dear Mrs. Mickelson,” he read. “Here is the best part of your boy’s uniform that we could send. I cut this out of his sleeve before he was buried to send to you, as we didn’t have much time. You don’t know me, but Chase was in my company and even though he was a quiet sort of a fellow, I know you know like I do that he was a real fine fellow. Ma’am, I want to tell you, you can sure be proud of your boy. We were in this company together for some time and he never showed any fear. He was just in a hurry to give ’em some heck—if you’ll pardon the expression—and get home as quick as he could.”