“But Margaret also knew there was a part of me that never understood what had happened.”
I lowered my eyes to the photograph.
“So she found this.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Lucas leaned forward.
“She recognized your mother’s face from another photograph Dad had kept.”
I glanced toward the blue suitcase.
My old suitcase.
The one I had believed lost decades ago.
Douglas followed my gaze.
“Your mother gave it to Margaret.”
I turned sharply.
“What?”
“In 1996.”
The room seemed to tilt again.
“My mother met your wife?”
Douglas nodded.
“I didn’t know until years later.”
Lucas reached inside the suitcase and removed a thick cream-colored envelope.
The paper had yellowed around the edges.
On the front was my mother’s handwriting.
For Margaret Ellis.
“My mother’s last name was Ellis,” Lucas explained.
I stared at the envelope.
“When Margaret opened it,” Douglas said, “she found the suitcase key, your letters, and a note.”
