He left the cemetery and continued downtown. There on the corner was the store his parents used to own, only someone else was running it. His parents had been in the clothing business, selling men's and women's clothes. His mother would do alterations when needed. Just out of
curiosity he entered the store. It had changed having been modernized. A soft voice spoke.
"May I help you?"
He turned to look. The face was familiar but he couldn't place it then and there.
"I'm just looking."
"Call if you need help."
He was still trying to place where he had seen her. He thought to himself she was pretty, with those big eyes. He had never thought too much about being with a woman, his career occupying his time. He turned and left.
There was something familiar about the stranger, she thought to herself, as if from her childhood. Those eyes, she had seen them before. There were customers to tend to, she would think about it later.
He now was in front of the newspaper office, still with the same furniture from the time he delivered papers to earn money. He wondered if Mr. Patterson was still editor. Not stopping to find out, he crossed the street. Just as he reached the other side he stiffened. A familiar name
was staring him in the face. His eyes narrowed to slits. His fists clinched. The name brought back bitter memories. Memories of rumors of what was said about his mother. He calmed himself. He had vowed to show no emotion.
By this time, evening was setting in. He started back toward the hotel. He walked by the clothing store. It was closing time and she was just finishing clearing the stock room. She saw him as he went past. She looked at him again. Then recognition came. It couldn't be, not after all these years. Her heart started beating faster.
She had secretly had a crush on him when they were teens. Then he had disappeared. She always wondered what had happened to him. When he first entered the store, she was not afraid of him as everyone else had been. She had been through her own hell the past few years.
He was now in front of the cemetery. He went to his parents' grave again. She was on her way home and had to go past the cemetery. Seeing him standing there she stopped to see what he was doing. She entered quietly so as not to disturb him.
His eyes were closed, as if drawing strength from an unknown source. He felt her presence, but did not acknowledge it. She stepped closer, being only a few feet from him. Before she could move, he turned and grabbed her arms, holding them in a vise-like grip. She tried to twist free, but the more she moved, the tighter became his grip.