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“Not sure I should tell you now,” I say, my feet crunching over pine needles. This strip of land is mostly trees and rocks, and up ahead I can already see the Cades’ house and the abandoned log cabin home that used to be Gran’s.
“Here we are,” I say as we approach the small one-bedroom house. It has a big back porch with a slightly obscured view of the lake. I gesture toward the mansion a couple acres over. “That’s Sasha’s house.”
There are no cars in the driveway, but Mrs. Cade parks in the garage, so there’s no telling if she’s home or not. Still, enough trees separate Mrs. Cade’s yard from Gran’s house to make me confident that she won’t see us. I’m pretty sure she likes to pretend this little house no longer exists.
“The gnome is around here,” I say, leading Elijah around an overgrown rosebush at the back of the house. I’d forgotten about the porch swing until I see it looking lonely and faded in the afternoon sun.
Next to the back door, a ceramic gnome sits like a goofy little security guard, its paint flaking off. Elijah puts a hand on the gnome’s head and tilts him backward, revealing a plastic bag with an envelope inside. It contains a handwritten letter on Hello Kitty stationery.
“Who’s reading it?” I ask.
Elijah walks to the end of the wooden porch and sits, putting his feet on the bottom stair. “You read. I’ll listen.”
I sit next to him and unfold the letter.
“‘Hey favorites,’” I begin. “‘This is my gran’s house. My parents had it built for her before I was born, so for as long as I’ve been alive, this little place has been in my life. I only had one grandparent when I was growing up. My dad’s parents both died before I was adopted. Cancer, ironically.
“‘My mom’s dad died in a train wreck when I was a baby. So I only ever had my gran.
“‘Gran was the coolest adult I ever knew. She was into tarot cards in this ironic way that made you sometimes think maybe she was serious, and she was the best cook ever. Her chicken and dumplings were the greatest food on earth, and no matter how many times Mom and I tried, we could never replicate her recipe.’”
I stop to clear my throat, which is really just an excuse to look over at Elijah. I know what’s coming next.
“‘Gran also loved genealogy. She had binders of research on her family tree, and we’d spend summers at libraries and public county buildings going through old birth records and marriage documents while she pieced together the lives of her ancestors.
“‘Gran encouraged me to think about my birth parents. My own parents never talked about them and they didn’t like me bringing it up. Not Gran. Gran said it mattered where you came from, and she encouraged me to find my own roots. Always. Even if we had to keep it from my parents.
“‘Unfortunately, I never found anything about my birth parents back then. There wasn’t much to go on since my parents kept the details of my adoption to themselves.’”
Elijah lets out a sarcastic snort, lacing his fingers together while he stares at the ground between his shoes.
I turn back to the letter. “‘Gran killed herself when I was thirteen.’”
Elijah looks surprised. I give him a sympathetic frown and keep reading. “‘The doctors said she’d been depressed all her life. It was a disease, an error in her brain that she couldn’t overcome. But since I was thirteen and adored my gran, I felt betrayed. See, the week she killed herself was the week we’d been researching my birth parents. At first it was like she had betrayed me, dying before we figured it out. Then I realized I had failed her. An entire section in her genealogy binders would forever remain empty because I couldn’t figure out the names of the people who created me.
“‘I held this secret shame for a long time, even though now I know the binders had nothing to do with Gran’s inability to stay alive. Rocki probably knows even though I never
told her. That summer after Gran’s funeral, I didn’t do anything and we barely saw each other.
“‘I’m sorry, Rocki. Thank you for still being there when I came out of mourning. If Gran were still alive, I know she’d be so psyched to meet you, Elijah. She’d bake you a batch of snickerdoodles and make you a cup of tea and tell you you’re welcome at her home anytime you want.
“‘I know Gran would be so proud of me for finding you. And I guess now she does know, if only in the afterlife, huh?
“‘I wanted you to come here because Gran is the reason I found you, Elijah. Without her love of family trees and history, I probably wouldn’t have thought too much about my birth parents. God knows my own parents didn’t want me to find out where I’m from … but Gran did, and she ignited a fire inside of me that burned brightly until I finally found you. Gran taught me that family matters. You matter, Elijah. I may be gone now, but I know you’ll make something wonderful of yourself.’”
I reach the end of the page and flip it over to the back. Elijah drags in a deep breath, tilting his head toward the sky. His eyes are closed but they’re leaking tears.
I lean over and rest my chin on his shoulder as I read the rest of her note.
“‘Your fifth adventure is related to this one. You’ll get an email soon. I love you and miss you both. Love, Sasha.’”
We sit on the porch for another half hour, both lost in our own thoughts. I think about telling him what I remember of Gran, but the words die on my tongue. Silence feels like the right thing at the moment.
It’s a beautiful September day, the lake sparkling a dark blue in front of us.
“My sister was a really cool person,” Elijah says, breaking the silence. “I can’t believe she put all of this together, while she was fighting cancer, no less.”
“It’s the greatest gift she could have given us,” I agree. I bend down and pluck a long blade of grass, then begin breaking it into bits. “I’m sorry you never got to meet her.”
