He paused.
“I asked her to tell you several times before she couldn’t visit anymore. But she said she’d handle it when the time was right.”
My chest tightened.
“I guess she was afraid.”
“And then she ran out of time.”
He nodded.
I looked toward the wooden box.
“Can I finally see what’s inside?”
Arthur opened it and turned it toward me.
There was an old photo, a folded letter, and a small silver key.
“She ran out of time.”
The picture showed me sitting on my father’s shoulders.
On the back, Emma had written:
“Mom deserves this memory back.”
Arthur touched the key.
“I gave Emma a key to this house. She said one day she’d bring you here herself.”
The picture showed me.
His voice broke.
“When I saw she’d returned it, I knew what she’d done.”
“What?”
“She promised she’d introduce us. But she also promised she wouldn’t tell you my identity without giving me a chance to explain.”
