Page 150 of Taken Away

By whoever had made all of this necessary.

Moose crossed to the bed and rested his head against the mattress.

Sniffing. Searching. Waiting.

Aubrey’s chest tightened.

“Oh, buddy.”

Moose looked up.

She crossed the room and buried both hands in his thick white fur.

“I know.”

The dog leaned into her.

“I know you miss her.”

His tail thumped once.

Aubrey scratched behind his ears.

“But I love you.”

The tail thumped again.

A watery smile appeared.

“You’re stuck with me now.”

Moose huffed and settled beside the bed.

Aubrey looked around the room.

Reading glasses sat on the nightstand. A book rested beside the lamp. A half-finished crossword puzzle remained exactly where Mabel had left it.

Life interrupted.

Her gaze drifted back to the cedar chest.

The gray dust on the latch drew her eye.

They’d dusted it. Opened it. Looked for answers.

She hadn’t.

Not once in all the years she’d visited had she opened it.

It had always felt private. Mabel’s.

Now it belonged to her.

Something made her walk toward it.

The lid creaked softly when she opened it.

Inside sat folders. Photographs. Letters. Documents.