In it, he was eleven years old, smiling with his whole face, his shirt collar crooked, his eyes full of life.
Sometimes, when a child recovered, or a scholarship student sent a thank-you note, Grace would look at his picture and think, Look at this, Tommy. Look what your life helped begin.
On the first anniversary of the foundation, Grace stood in the clinic hallway in front of the plaque she had ordered that day with Richard’s card.
For those we couldn’t save, and those we still can.
Richard came to stand beside her.
Not in front of her.
Not behind her.
Beside her.
A little girl ran past them, then stopped and looked up at Grace.
“Are you the one who fixed this place?” the child asked.
Grace knelt and smiled.
“A lot of people helped fix it,” she said. “But yes, I was one of them.”
The girl looked around, satisfied.
“It’s nice now,” she said, then ran back to her mother.
Grace stood slowly.
Richard was watching her with quiet gratitude.
“You didn’t just change my life,” he said. “You gave me a reason to deserve it.”
Grace looked back at the plaque.
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