Pearl was standing at the coffee bar, digging through a stack of papers with a look I didn’t like.
Anchor stood beside her, brow tight.
“What’s going on?”I asked, guiding Shay to my side.
Pearl didn’t look up.“Late last night, I was going through the last box of Bernice’s things, and I found something.”
Shay stiffened beside me instantly.
Anchor scrubbed a hand across his jaw.“I would like one day where we aren’t dealing with shit.”
Pearl finally turned around, holding a small envelope between her fingers.“I hid it in the pile because I didn’t want to wake you up in the middle of the night, and then I was worried it would suddenly disappear.I’m apparently paranoid in the middle of the night.”
It was cream-colored.Old.Edges yellowed.Sealed with a thin strip of something that looked like wax and tape.
And on the front, written in a shaky but precise hand, was one word:
SHAY.
Shay’s breath hitched so hard I felt it in my bones.
Pearl crossed the room and held it out.“It was in a metal tin with some receipts and old newspaper clippings.”
Shay stared at the envelope like it might explode.
I slipped my arm around her waist.“You don’t have to open it if you’re not ready.”
Her fingers trembled as she reached for it.“If Bernice left this… then I want to know why.”
Pearl squeezed her shoulder gently.“We’re right here.”
Shay slid her thumb under the flap, tore it carefully, and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
The room went silent.
Every man stopped talking.Every noise faded.Even the damn wind outside felt like it paused.
Shay’s eyes moved over the page.Her lips parted.Her breath caught.
“Shay?”Pearl whispered.
She didn’t answer.
She handed me the paper with a slow, shaking motion.
I took it and unfolded the page fully.
The handwriting was Bernice’s.I’d seen enough of her notes the past few days with Pearl and Shay rummaging through them all.Sharp, looping cursive with flourishes she must’ve learned before handwriting became a dying skill.
The letter was short.
Shay,
If you’ve found this, then the past is waking back up.
There are things your mother never told you, things she ran from, things she tried to forget.
