The little girl didn’t answer.

Not at first.

She just stared at the bride like she was suddenly afraid of saying the wrong thing.

The groom moved closer.

“What’s inside?”

The bride snapped the locket shut.

Too fast.

Her hands were trembling now.

“Nothing.”

The groom stared at her.

“That didn’t look like nothing.”

The flower girl wiped her face with both hands.

“She told me you’d be angry.”

The bride’s breath caught.

“Who told you?”

The girl looked toward the hallway behind them.

The wedding guests had gone quiet.

“She said not to tell anyone until you opened it.”

The bride took one slow step toward her.

“Where did you see her?”

The girl’s eyes filled again.

“At the bus station.”

The bride shook her head.

“No.”

The groom touched her arm.

“What is happening?”

She pulled away from him.

“My mother was buried eleven years ago.”

The little girl looked confused.

Then frightened.

“But she knew your name.”

The bride froze.

The girl reached into the pocket of her flower dress.

“I have something else.”

Her tiny hand closed around an unseen object.

The bride whispered,

“What?”

The girl looked up at her.

“Proof she’s still alive.”