At 73 I married my high school sweetheart to grant his final wish—then his lawyer told me after the funeral, ‘You walked right into his trap’
Shortly afterward, Thomas took a turn for the worse. Holding my hand one afternoon, he told me he had very little time left, but before he died, he had one last request, that we marry.
Shocked by the suddenness of it all, yet suddenly feeling like the seventeen-year-old girl I was when we first fell in love, I couldn’t help but say yes.
Three days later, we were married at his hospital bedside. A nurse served as our witness, alongside Thomas’s lawyer, an unobtrusive man named Walter who carried a briefcase stuffed with papers. Trusting Thomas implicitly, I simply signed everywhere Walter pointed.
That same night, when I told Raymond, he flew into a rage. He screamed at me through the phone, calling me a fool and claiming Thomas was just tricking an old nurse to get her pension. He ordered me to get an annulment immediately, but I hung up on him.
The next day, Walter met with me privately and handed me a small, polished wooden box Thomas had left behind. Inside was the deed to Thomas’s family home, the trust documents, and a thick bundle of fifty-five letters—one for every single year we had been apart.
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