952
1991
“David, it’s Jake. I’m calling again, about …”
“Hi Jake, I remember,” David said in his animated voice. “You used to work at The Augusta Chronicle. You moved to North Carolina. Your wife’s name is Fiona. How is Fiona?”
Jake closed his eyes, biting his lip at the mere sound of his wife’s name.
“Fine, David,” he said. “She’s fine.” Jake would have loved to confide in David – or anyone – where she was at that very moment, but he couldn’t.
“I’m calling about the tapes … when I interviewed your mother about the internment camp. Did you find them yet?”