She had put on the little ring. It was silver and matched the POW/MIA bracelet she wore. The name of the serviceman was familiar to her only in that she had looked at it every day since it had arrived in the mail. She knew his name and rank. That was all she knew of the man. She wondered if he had a wife or children. She wrote to the people in California that put together the information for the bracelets and asked to have one sent to her with her brother’s name on it. His circumstances seemed to be different than the Lt. Col. who appeared on her wrist. She just knew that he was not dead. She stared at the name and it seemed to leap from the shiny band. “God, wherever this man is...and my brother...help them. Walk with them through the jungles of Vietnam.” Bill appeared with a fresh pot of coffee and topped off her mug without asking if she wanted a refill. He studied her face and said quietly, “Sweetie tells me that you can sing.”
