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Articles: Moral Stories | My Father's Gift
- Mr. Kiran Ravuri
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“You ...” Janet faltered, “you walked across Europe?”
“We didn’t have enough money for the railroad; we had no choice. Then there was the ship across the English Channel, and another from Liverpool to New York City.”
“To Ellis Island?” she asked.
“Yes. Past the Statue of Liberty.”
A passenger three rows back held up an empty coffee cup.
“Excuse me,” Janet said, tilting her head toward the other passenger, “but may I come back and talk to you?”
“Yes,” he smiled, “I would like that.”
Janet filled the other passenger’s cup then returned the tray and coffee pot to the galley. Donna looked at her. “He didn’t have a story to tell?”
“Would you cover for me for a while?”
Donna grinned. “Sure.”
Janet returned to Row 22 and sat down. The old man was looking at what seemed to be a watch; then he handed it to her. There were no numbers on its face, just four letters, and instead of hands, a slender, metal arm wobbled but stayed on true north. She suddenly realized its significance.
“Turn it over,” he said.
Carefully scratched into the bottom were “Jan Glodek,” “Józef Glodek,” and “1920.”
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