Page 100 of Thunder with a Chance of Lovestruck

Astria rushed to the closet and flung open the doors. She gasped again and bent, coming up with a wooden box. It was open. She spun around. “Thisis Demi’s keepsake box.”

Drest stiffened.

Astria reached in and pulled out a small piece of paper with a pen-and-ink sketch on it. The drawing was detailed and looked a great deal like him.

“My daughter drew this?” he asked, doing his best to avoid breaking down in tears.

Astria nodded. “Look at the year.”

In the corner was the name Demi, along with the year it was drawn. Drest did the math in his head and cocked his head to the side. “She drew this when she was only twelve?”

“Yes,” said Astria, all smiles. “She was always gifted as an artist.”

Stratton grinned as he glanced at the sketch. “That looks just like you. And she did this from what Rachael said Drest looked like?”

Astria nodded and began pulling out other items in the box. She handed some photos to Stratton to hold and then lifted a bunch of letters, all bound with a purple ribbon. Written on the envelope on the very top of the pile was one word.

Dad.

Drest felt his knees go weak and was thankful his cousin knew him as well as he did because Stratton reached out fast, helping to steady him.

“Look,” said Stratton, holding up a picture from the pile of photos. It was of Demi and Astria as teens. They were laughing, standing in a kitchen, baking.

Astria laughed. “I remember that. It was the day Demi decided was your birthday. Rachael didn’t actually know your real birthday so she couldn’t tell Demi. So Demi picked a day. That year, Rachael had to be gone from the house because of work and Demi was feeling down—thinking about you, Uncle Drest. Torid suggested we bake you a cake. So we did. Rachael came home and insisted on taking pictures of us doing it.”

Stratton lifted another picture. It was of Demi as a baby.

Drest was about to take it from his cousin when Stratton narrowed his gaze and looked at the back of the picture. “Dad, here I am at around six months old. Some of the other pictures Mom has of me at that age got ruined in one of our many moves, but I thought you might like to have this one. Sorry that Mom isn’t in it. She was the one taking it.”

Astria pulled out a set of index cards. Her brow furrowed before she stared at Drest with wide eyes. “Uncle Drest, I think Demi took her keepsake box and turned it into a time capsule, so to speak, for you. The letters, the pictures with information written on the back. The sketch. The doll. And these.” She held up the index cards.

“What are they?” asked Drest, stunned he could form words with as emotional as he was.

“Addresses and phone numbers from over the years,” said Astria. “But not addresses and numbers that I shared with her and Rachael or ever lived at. That means these came after. Uncle Drest, I think your daughter put that box here, in this room, after everything happened here eighteen years ago, and I think she’s been keeping it up to date ever since then.”

“What?” asked Drest, unable to believe what he was hearing. “You’re saying there is a current address for her in there? That she’s still visiting here?”

Astria was pretty much all tears at this point as she nodded.

Stratton held up another of the pictures. “I know her!”

“Who?” asked Drest.

Stratton pushed the photo at him, and Drest realized it was of Demi but not as a teen. As a grown woman. “I know Demi. I mean, I don’t likeknowher, know her, but I’ve seen her before—here in Grimm Cove.”

“Guys!” shouted Astria.

They looked at her.

She paled. “The most recent address on these cards is here in Grimm Cove.”

Drest’s breath caught.

Stratton plucked the card from her and looked at the address. “This can’t be right.”

“Why can’t it?” demanded Drest, afraid his cousin was about to dash his hopes of finding his daughter.

“Because I know this address,” said Stratton. “It’s the Goodfellow estate.”

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