“There are things you never knew about me.”
I thought about all the conversations we’d had in the months before she died.
She seemed tired and distracted. I’d chalked it up to work stress. Now I wondered what I’d missed.
Carefully, I pulled back the flaps. Inside were smaller boxes. Dozens of them.
Each box was carefully labeled in Darla’s handwriting: one for Lily’s 10th birthday, one for Ben’s first day of middle school, one for the day Molly learned to ride a bike, and one for Rosie’s fifth birthday.
There were more gifts for every milestone and every special moment until they turned 18.
She seemed tired and distracted.
Darla had planned for everything. She’d known she wouldn’t be there. The thought sent a chill through me—
how had she known, and when?
At the bottom of the box was another envelope.
I opened it with shaking hands. Inside was another letter.
“Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wanted to protect something. Please visit this address. He’ll explain everything.”
Below it was an address in the city, two hours away.
She’d known she wouldn’t be there.
I looked at the clock. It was 9:30 a.m. I had to be at work at 10.
But I couldn’t go to work. Not now.
I made a decision right then. Whatever Darla had hidden, I needed to know. I owed her that much. And I owed it to her children.
I called my boss and told him it was an emergency. He wasn’t happy, but he agreed. Then I grabbed my keys, locked the house, and got in my car.
Whatever I was about to discover, I’d face it head-on.
Whatever Darla had hidden, I needed to know.
***
The address led me to a small house on the edge of the city. I knocked on the door, my heart pounding.
A man in his late 30s answered.
“Can I help you?”
“My name is Carolyn. I’m Darla’s mother. I received a package this morning. With this address.”
His face changed immediately.
“Carolyn? Yes. Please come in. I’ve been expecting you.”
I followed him inside.
The address led me to a small house.
“I’m William,” he said. “I was your daughter’s doctor.”
“Doctor?”
He gestured to the couch. “Please. Sit down.”
William sat across from me and pulled out a folder. “Your daughter was diagnosed with stage four cancer a year ago.”
Everything inside me went very still. “What?”
“She came to me after she started experiencing symptoms. We ran tests. It was aggressive. She had less than a year.”
I couldn’t speak.
“She started experiencing symptoms.”
“She bought those gifts for her children over the course of several months. She wanted them to have something from her for every important moment in their lives.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?” I whispered.
“She wanted to. But she said you’d already survived too much—losing your husband, raising her alone. She couldn’t make you watch her fade too.”
A tight ache spread through my chest, stealing my breath.
“She asked me to send the package a week before Lily’s birthday. So you’d have time to prepare,” William added.
“She couldn’t make you watch her fade too.”
I looked up at him. “Lily’s birthday is next week.”
“I know. That’s why I sent it to you.”
He then handed me a small box.
“She wanted you to have this.”
I opened it. Inside was a locket. Gold. Delicate. I opened it. Inside was a photo.
The kids hugging me. Taken last summer at the lake. All of us smiling. Darla had been behind the camera.
I broke down completely.
He then handed me a small box.
William sat quietly while I cried.
Finally, I wiped my eyes. “Did her husband know?”
William shook his head. “No. She hadn’t told him. She planned to divorce him when they got back. He didn’t know any of it. And the crash ended everything before she could say a word.”
***
