I stood frozen, his words louder than the organ music rising from the living room.
Check the bottom drawer.
“Who are you?”
I waited until the house was empty that night before going back. I didn’t turn on the lights when I walked through the front door. The dark felt gentler somehow…
The garage door creaked open. The air inside was still, thick with oil and cedar from the workbench cabinets Michael had built years ago. My shoes echoed off the concrete as I walked toward it, every step landing with more weight than the last.
The bottom drawer was deeper than the others, built differently.
It stuck at first, then gave with a soft groan.
I waited until the house was empty that night.
Inside was a sealed envelope, my name printed across it in Michael’s familiar blocky handwriting.
Beneath that was a manila folder containing legal paperwork, letters, and a single journal page.
I sat down on the cold floor and opened the envelope.
“Clover,
If you’re reading this, it means Frank kept his promise. I asked him not to tell you until I was gone. I didn’t want you carrying this while you still had me. Frank used to work with me, and I always said he’d outlive us all…
I never lied to you, kiddo. But I didn’t tell you everything.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
Your mom died in a car accident, yes — but she wasn’t just out running errands. She was driving to meet me. We were going to sign the guardianship paperwork that day. You know… to make it official.
But she panicked.
And your Aunt Sammie had threatened court. She didn’t think that I was fit to raise you. She said that blood mattered more than love.
Your mom didn’t want a battle. She was scared of losing you.
I told her to wait… to let the storm pass. But she got in the car anyway.
