🔴 UNCLE FRANK WHISPERED, “SHE KNEW,” RIGHT AFTER THE PRIEST FINISHED SPEAKING
I felt the sweat bead on my forehead and the church pews began to blur.
He squeezed my hand so tight my fingers went numb, and the organ music suddenly seemed too loud, too celebratory for a funeral. The air was thick with lilies and something else…disinfectant? I don’t know. I thought I would pass out.
My dad’s brother, a man I barely know, leaning over to tell me that *now*, when we’re burying my mother, after all these years…what did she know? Did she tell him?
He wouldn’t look at me, just stared at the casket, a waxy imitation of the vibrant, sharp-tongued woman who raised me. “Don’t ask,” he breathed, and the stained glass cast strange shadows on his face.
The priest started reading a verse from Psalms and my phone buzzed in my purse.
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I fumbled for it, nearly dropping the satin-lined prayer book. It was a text from an unknown number: “Meet me at the gazebo. Now.” My pulse hammered against my ribs. The gazebo… in the backyard of the house. The house where Mom… where she…
Uncle Frank’s grip loosened, but he still didn’t meet my gaze. The priest droned on. *The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…* The words swirled around me, meaningless. What was in the backyard? Who sent the message?
Finally, the sermon ended. As the mourners began to file out, I mumbled something about needing air and slipped away. I pushed through the heavy oak doors and into the blinding sunlight, the scent of lilies replaced by the crisp autumn air. The backyard was a labyrinth of memories, a place of laughter and tears. And the gazebo, draped in ivy, stood like a silent sentinel.
My heart pounded as I approached. Inside, I found a woman I’d never seen before. She was holding a small, velvet box.
“She left this for you,” the woman said, her voice soft but firm. “Your mother knew. She knew everything.”
I took the box, my hands trembling. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, was a single key. Engraved on the side were the initials: “J.M.” My mother’s initials.
“Where does this go?” I whispered, my throat suddenly dry.
The woman shook her head. “That, you must discover yourself.” She turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the house.
I clutched the key, a cold weight in my palm. Back inside, Uncle Frank was already talking to a few other relatives. I knew in that moment that whatever was behind that lock, whatever my mother knew, the answer would be more complicated, more buried, than I could have ever imagined. But now, I knew I had to find out. It was the only way to truly say goodbye. My mother, the woman who kept so many secrets, had left me with the most important one of all. And I intended to find the truth.