The mayor tried to ruin me at the altar—until the pastor spoke a single name that brought the entire ceremony to a halt

had worn the day he left for Kandahar. I had given it to the Pastor the day before, asking him to hold onto it during the ceremony, needing something of my husband close to me when I finally faced his killer.

“You did well, Clara,” Pastor Thomas said gently, placing the rough fabric into my hand and closing my fingers around it. “He would be so incredibly continue reading …