The man agrees right away. As I start to think about what to write, easy laughter fills the room. Over my shoulder, I catch Caroline chatting animatedly with a cluster of patients, all of them grinning and leaning in. I bet talking with Caroline will be the best part of their day.

I turn back to my empty paper, and start writing:

Dear Caroline,

I wanted to leave a letter for you to find after I’m gone. I’m so glad I had a chance to meet you, and I wish I could stay longer in Sackets Harbor. I can’t, though.

I know you’re worried about your father, and I can tell you’re frustrated that you can’t get him home. But you may not realize how much you truly are helping your family. You’re helping win the war, too.

This was a really, really, really special day. I have a lot of good memories. I also have a lot of new ideas about some things, so now I must go find my own family. Please don’t ever forget me. I will never forget you.

My feather pen and I were never really friends, so the page ends up freckled with ink spots by the time I finish. But every word should still be readable for Caroline, at least. After signing my name, I blow across the wet ink until it dries.

I fold the letter down small and tuck it into my pocket. I’ll find some quiet place to leave it for her later.