Chapter 18 - The elderly man from the elevator died in November.
His name was Arthur.
His daughter, Elise, called me. She had kept my number from the hearing.
"It was his heart," she said, her voice thick with tears. "But it was peaceful. He was in his garden. I just... I wanted you to know. You gave us an extra year with him, Lucy."
"I didn't do anything," I said, my throat tight.
"You kept him calm. You told the firefighters he needed to go first. You gave him time."
She invited me to the memorial.
I went alone. I wore a black dress and stood in the back of the small chapel.
I saw Elise. I saw Arthur's grandchildren, who had gotten an extra year of birthdays and holidays with their grandfather.
I looked at the urn at the front of the room.
The elevator had taken so much from me. But it hadn't just been a place of loss. It had been a place where a teenage boy learned he wanted to be a doctor. Where a grandfather bought enough time to say a proper goodbye to his family.
May you like
I stayed until the end. I signed the guestbook.
Rest in peace, Arthur. We made it.
