He handed me the envelope.
Inside were several old photographs, a folded letter, a small key, and a second envelope bearing my name.
I picked up the first photograph.
It showed a young Eleanor standing beside a handsome man in front of a large brick house.
She looked perhaps twenty-five.
The man wore a dark suit and had one arm around her shoulders.
I knew his face.
I had seen it in family photographs my entire life.
My father.
Joseph Carter.
I looked up so quickly that the photograph nearly slipped from my fingers.
“Why is my father in this picture?”
Mr. Reed didn’t answer immediately.
“Read the letter.”
My hands had begun to shake.
I unfolded the paper.
The handwriting was unmistakably Eleanor’s.
Dear Daniel,
If you’re reading this, I have finally kept a promise I made more than forty years ago.
You may believe our wedding was simply the last wish of a dying old woman. I understand why you would think that. But there was another reason I chose you, and I pray you will hear the whole story before you judge me.
