Patricia swallowed.
“That’s what I thought, too. Until I saw what she was doing.”
She placed the box on my dining table.
I slowly lifted the lid.
Inside were several old photographs, a small notebook, a folded envelope, and what appeared to be a collection of handwritten letters.
I picked up the first photograph.
It showed Elora standing outside a house.
My house.
But the photograph looked old. Much older than my marriage to Shane.
I turned it over.
There was a date written on the back.
Twenty-seven years earlier.
I frowned.
“Why would Elora have a photograph of my house from before I even lived here?”
Patricia pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Because she knew the previous owner.”
I looked at her.
“Who?”
“Your father.”
My heart stopped.
My father had died twelve years earlier.
He had been a quiet man who rarely spoke about his past. He had worked hard, raised me alone after my mother passed away, and spent most of his life making sure I never had to worry about anything.
But there was one thing I remembered clearly.
Before he died, he had asked me to promise that I would never sell our family home.
I had assumed it was simply because he loved the place.
After his funeral, I eventually sold that house and bought the smaller property where I lived now.
I had never known there was any connection between my father and Elora.
“Patricia, what are you telling me?”
She took a deep breath.
“Elora visited your father many times before you married Shane. I know because I lived next door to them back then.”
I shook my head.
“That can’t be right. My father never mentioned her.”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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