“Because there’s something about your husband you were never supposed to discover until now…”
I looked down at the worn backpack in my lap.
“What do you mean?”
Instead of answering, he pointed toward the zipper.
“Thomas was very specific. He wanted you to open it yourself.”
Then he walked away.
For several seconds, I just sat there staring at the door.
Thomas had been dead less than twelve hours.
I could still hear his weak voice in my head.
I could still feel the pressure of his fingers around mine.
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And now a stranger was telling me the man I had married wasn’t who I thought he was.
I slowly unzipped the backpack.
Inside were several envelopes, an old leather notebook, a small wooden box, and a photograph turned facedown.
The first envelope had my name on it.
SARAH — OPEN THIS FIRST.[]
My hands trembled as I tore it open.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
Dear Sarah,
If you are reading this, then I finally ran out of tomorrows.
I swallowed hard.
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That sounded exactly like him.
You probably have questions.
The first one is probably why an old man who barely knew you asked you to become his wife.
The truth is, Sarah… I knew more about you than you realized.
My heart stopped.
I read the sentence again.
Then I grabbed the photograph.
When I turned it over, I nearly dropped it.
It showed Thomas standing beside a woman approximately twenty years younger than him.
The woman was smiling into the camera.
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I knew that smile.
I had seen it every morning growing up.
It was my mother.
“No…”
I covered my mouth.
The photograph had been taken years before I was born.
On the back, Thomas had written:
Eleanor and me — June 1984.
Eleanor.
My mother.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
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