I nodded.
She hugged the backpack tighter. “You were looking for this, weren’t you?”
“Where did you get that, honey?”
“Randy told me to guard it. He was my friend.”
“Are you Randy’s mom?”
My chest tightened. “When?”
“That day.”
I reached for the bag, but she stepped back.
“No,” she whispered. “I have to say it first, or I’ll get scared and run.”
I swallowed hard. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Sarah.”
“Come in, Sarah. Would you like some juice?”
She looked behind her like someone might stop her.
“I didn’t steal it.”
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“I know.”
“I was guarding it.”
That nearly broke me.
I opened the door wider. “Then let’s see what Randy has inside.”
Sarah placed the backpack on my kitchen table like it was something holy.
“Tell me,” I said.
She shook her head. “Open it.”
My fingers shook as I unzipped the bag.
“I was guarding it.”
Inside were knitting needles, lavender and white yarn, a paper pattern, and something lumpy wrapped in tissue.
I pulled it out.
It was supposed to be a unicorn. One leg was unfinished, the body leaned sideways, and the little white tail stuck out crooked.
“Craft class,” Sarah said quickly. “Ms. Bell said handmade gifts were better because they took time and love. Most kids made bookmarks, but Randy wanted a unicorn.”
“Why a unicorn? He liked dinosaurs.”
She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “He said you liked them.”
“Randy wanted a unicorn.”
I pressed the unfinished toy against my chest.
I had said that once months earlier, over an ugly unicorn mug with a chipped handle.
“He remembered that?” I whispered.
Sarah nodded. “I think he remembered everything.”
Under the yarn was a card.
“He remembered that?”
