Jared Martin needed to know he wasn’t playing a game. The way he’d suffered disgrace at the hands of that man was unacceptable. He wanted his honor back.
Everybody has to grieve, or remember, or honor . . . hell, I don’t know. We all have our own ways to cope with losing a loved one.
Whenever I had visited, she waved me to the head of the table, an honor in an Italian household.
Hair mattered for nothing, and if hers stayed white it would be a badge of honor.
Her mother’s chocolate sheet cake, banana pudding, and apple pie honored her children even though only one would be present for the 4th of July celebrations.
Nate had no money or job or honor. His courtesy was the only thing he could offer Sarah, and he prayed it’d be enough.
“Nevertheless, we have to go back. It’s all about honor and integrity. You can pay with your dollar, exactly what you should’ve done in the first place.”