A year later, Charlotte spent Thanksgiving with us, carrying sweet potato casserole just like Marla used to make. Sarah teased her about the cranberry sauce; Charlotte laughed, calling it “jelly’s eccentric cousin.”
That brown jacket now sits in a wooden box in our hallway. It holds more than warmth—it holds a moment that saved two lives at once.
It finds its way back, carrying a name, a story, and a future you never expected.
