Once the plane reached cruising altitude, Stella exhaled slowly and tried to relax. The clouds outside her window looked like soft hills of cotton, glowing in the afternoon sun.
In her surprise at the view, her hand slipped, and her purse fell into the narrow space between her seat and Franklin’s. A few small items rolled across the carpet.
To her surprise, Franklin bent down and helped her gather them. Among the things she dropped was a small ruby locket, gleaming red against the pale blue floor.
He picked it up gently, almost respectfully, and held it close to his eyes. A quiet whistle escaped his lips. “My goodness,” he said. “This is something special.”
Stella looked at him, puzzled. “I am not sure what you mean.”
“I happen to be an antique jeweler,” Franklin explained, his tone different now, softer. “I have been in the business for thirty years. This locket is genuinely valuable. These rubies are real. May I ask where you got it?”
Stella took the locket from his hand and held it carefully against her chest. For a moment she did not speak. Then she smiled, and her eyes grew bright with old memories.
“My father gave it to my mother many years ago,” she said. “Before he left. He told her to wear it until he came home, and that it would always remind her of him.”
“And did he come home?” Franklin asked quietly.
Stella shook her head softly. “He did not. He was a young pilot during the Second World War. When America joined the effort, he kissed my mother goodbye, gave her this locket, and promised to return one day.”
She paused, looking down at the small piece of jewelry. “I was only four years old. I remember sitting on the porch swing with my mother, watching him walk away. That image has stayed with me my whole life.”
Franklin’s expression had changed completely now. The hardness in his face had melted, replaced by a quiet, almost embarrassed gentleness.
“I am very sorry,” he said. “I should not have spoken to you the way I did earlier. I have had a difficult few months in my personal life, but that is no excuse for how I treated you. Please forgive me.”
Stella turned to him and offered a small smile. “There is nothing to forgive. We all carry our burdens. I am only glad you helped me with my purse.”
Franklin nodded slowly. He looked once again at the locket. “Your mother must have been a remarkable woman to keep something this valuable her entire life.”
“She was,” Stella answered. “She loved my father with her whole heart. Even after we knew he would not be coming back, she would not part with this locket. We were poor for many years, and a piece like this could have changed our lives.”
Two Faces Inside a Family Heirloom
