Grace kept reading.
After our parents died, Eleanor had wanted to contact us.
Arthur had been devastated by his wife’s declining health at the time, and Eleanor feared that introducing herself might create more confusion for three children already dealing with too much change.
Instead, she wrote a letter.
She placed it in the cedar box.
And apparently never sent it.
Her final paragraph explained why.
Grace read slowly.
“‘If I send this now, I may be asking you to carry my regret when you already have enough of your own. So I will leave this with the hope that one day, if circumstances permit, you may read it when the past has become something you can examine without letting it decide what comes next.’”
Nobody spoke.
Arthur wiped his eyes with one finger and pretended he hadn’t.
Helen noticed.
She pretended not to notice too.
Grace folded the pages.
