Chapter 25 - THE WATCH
I repaired the cracked watch when Evelyn turned sixteen.
Not the crystal.
Only the mechanism.
The jeweler asked:
“Do you want the face replaced?”
“No.”
“Why keep broken glass?”
“It reminds me something.”
“What?”
“Timing.”
He wisely did not ask.
I wore it rarely.
At Evelyn’s high-school graduation, she noticed.
“That’s the two-o’clock watch.”
“Yes.”
“You really waited for the FBI while Grandpa and Dad were screaming?”
“I was on the floor.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I knew they were coming.”
“Were you scared?”
“Yes.”
“Then why smile?”
I thought.
“Because for eight months I had been told to keep quiet and let evidence move at its own pace.”
“And?”
“At two o’clock, I knew I didn’t have to pretend anymore.”
She nodded.
Then:
“Still dramatic.”
“Absolutely.”
She laughed.
May you like
My daughter was allowed to find parts of the story ridiculous.
That meant the story no longer owned her.
