Page 47 of Oliver

We walked inside, and it was like stepping back in history. The furniture was the same as if it were in the 1930s. There was even a piano in the corner. It was spotless.”

“How is there no dust?”

“I hire a couple to take care of the yard and the house. I considered selling this home, but my grandparents loved it. I feel like they would be hurt if I sold it.”

“It’s your choice. Are the property taxes high?"

“Yes, I hate paying it, every six months.”

I noticed her walking around, touching everything, lost in thought. We decided to stay there for the night, so I ordered pizza for dinner, and Olly and I went to pick it up. When we returned, there was a pile of things on the table and scattered throughout the house.

“What are you doing?” I asked Emery as I set the pizza down. She arranged plates on the table, and we took our seats. I poured some sweet tea that I had gotten at the pizza place.

I’m going to put the house up for sale. I’m also going to keep some of my grandparents’ things. I’ll put some of the furniture in the room you are building for me. How big will it be?”

It’s eight hundred square feet. You can use some of the furniture and any other items you'd like to keep. We have plenty of space in our home for you to store your belongings, or display them, whatever you want to do.”

“Thank you. I’ll get some things while we're here, and then I’ll let Kristi and Tom, my helpers, take what they want. I feel like a ton of weight is off my shoulders for making this choice,” I hurriedly blinked my eyes, so Oliver wouldn’t see how emotional I was about letting this home go.

I remember coming here when I was little, when my parents showed how much they loved each other. I will always display my love for Oliver, so our children will know how we feel.

28

Emery

It was just after midnight when I woke up.

Not because of a nightmare.

Because of the silence.

Oliver’s arm was wrapped around me, his breathing steady. Olly was curled up on the bed in the next room, still clutching the new stuffed animal he picked out at the zoo. Everything was calm. Safe. Still.

So why was my skin crawling?

I slid out of bed carefully and tiptoed into the hallway. The house was dark, moonlight slanting in through the windows. I didn’t hear anything. Didn’t see anything.

But I felt something.

I moved toward the front door and froze.

The mailbox was open.

I hadn’t left it that way.

I stepped outside barefoot, the wooden porch creaking beneath me, and peeked inside. A single envelope sat there. No address. No stamp.

Just my name.

Handwritten. In red ink.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared.

“Emery?”

I jumped. Oliver was behind me, shirtless and barefoot, sleep still clinging to him. His hand went to my lower back immediately. “What’s going on?”

I pointed to the mailbox.

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