Chapter 56

Chapter 56
ELENA

For a long moment, I simply stare into the box.

It feels wrong somehow. As though opening it has disturbed something that had finally settled after all these years. The smell reaches me first.

Dust.

Old paper.

And something faintly floral.

My mother's perfume.

My chest tightens.

"It's okay," Theo says quietly beside me.

I hadn't even heard him come upstairs.

I glance over my shoulder.

He's standing in the doorway, one hand resting against the frame. His expression is gentle, almost hesitant, as though he isn't sure whether he should stay or leave.

"I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You didn't."

He waits another second.

"Do you want some company?"

I look back down at the box. For years, I imagined opening it alone. Now that the moment has finally come... I'm not sure I can.

I nod.

Theo crosses the room without another word and sits beside me on the floor.

Not too close.

Just close enough that I don't feel alone.

Neither of us speaks.

I appreciate that about him.

He never seems afraid of silence.

He lets people breathe.

Carefully, I reach inside the box.

The first thing I pull out is a small leather watch.

Dad's.

The strap is cracked from years of use, and the glass covering the dial is scratched.

I run my thumb over it.

"I used to steal it."

Theo smiles. "You stole your father's watch?"

"I was five."

I laugh softly.

"I wanted to be like him."

I can still picture mya dad pretending not to notice while I struggled to fasten it around my tiny wrist.

"It reached all the way to my elbow."

Theo chuckles.

"I remember."

"You do?"

"I remember him carrying you around after pack meetings."

I look at him in surprise.

"You were there?"

"We all were."

His smile grows warmer. "You were always trying to copy your dad."

The memory makes my heart ache.

I place the watch carefully beside the box before reaching inside again.

This time, my fingers close around a tiny glass bottle.

The label has faded almost completely.

I don't need to read it. I already know. Mom's perfume.

I remove the cap.

The scent is barely there after all these years.

Still...

It instantly takes me back.

A warm summer afternoon. Mom laughing as she chased me through the garden. Dad pretending to complain because she had sprayed perfume on him by accident. Arthur teasing both of them.

For one impossible second...

They're alive again.

A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it.

Theo doesn't say anything.

He simply hands me a tissue from the bedside table. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me."

"I know."

Another silence settles between us.

This one feels comforting.

I keep searching through the box.

There are birthday cards.

A tiny knitted sweater I apparently refused to wear.

One of my old coloring books with Arthur's terrible attempt at drawing a wolf on the last page.

I burst out laughing.

"Oh Godess..."

Theo leans closer. "What?"

I turn the page toward him.

Arthur's wolf looks more like an oversized sheep with sharp teeth.

Theo laughs.

"I've seen toddlers draw better."

"I told him that."

"You did?"

"He didn't speak to me for an entire afternoon."

Theo shakes his head.

"He was dramatic."

"The most dramatic man I've ever met."

"He really was."

The laughter fades into a comfortable smile.

I miss him.

I reach back into the box.

This time my fingers brush against a thick bundle of photographs tied together with a faded blue ribbon.

I hesitate before untying it.

The first picture shows my parents standing outside the old packhouse.

Dad has one arm around Mom's waist.

They're both laughing at whoever is behind the camera.

"They look so happy," Theo murmurs.

"They were."

At least... That's how I remember them.

We go through the pictures one by one.

Pack barbecues.

Birthdays.

Christmas mornings.

Arthur making ridiculous faces behind my parents' backs.

Me covered in birthday cake.

Another photograph makes me laugh.

Arthur couldn't have been older than twenty.

His hair reaches almost to his shoulders.

I stare at it in disbelief.

"What was he thinking?"

Theo bursts out laughing.

"He looked like a rock star who lost his band."

I place the picture aside.

The next photograph is different.

It isn't posed.

It looks as though someone captured a random moment during one of the Spring Festivals.

My parents stand near the center.

Dad is talking to Arthur while Mom laughs at something neither of them would remember now.

People fill the background.

Children running.

Pack members chatting.

Music.

Life.

My eyes drift across the crowd.

Then stop.

A familiar face.

Dark auburn hair.

Blue eyes.

Margaret.

Caleb's mother.

I blink.

For a second, I think I'm mistaken.

I bring the photograph closer.

No.

It's definitely her.

She's standing several feet behind my parents.

Not looking at the camera.

Looking at my mother.

A strange feeling settles in my stomach.

Theo goes completely still beside me.

"You remember her?" he asks carefully.

"Of course."

I continue studying the picture.

Something about the photograph bothers me.

Not Margaret herself.

The way she's looking at Mom.

It's difficult to explain.

It doesn't look like hatred. Or love. Or jealousy.

Just...

Something. Something heavy.

"My mom never talked about her."

Theo says nothing.

"Arthur didn't either."

Still nothing.

"Do you think that they were friends?"

Theo hesitates.

"I... think they knew each other."

"I know they knew each other."

I smile faintly.

"They're standing in the same photograph."

He smiles politely.

"I meant..."

He stops himself.

I frown.

"You meant what?"

He looks down at the picture.

"I don't know."

He's lying.

Not completely.

But enough.

I turn the photograph over.

My breath catches.

Written in Arthur's familiar handwriting are four names.

James.

Moira.

Arthur.

Margaret.

Nothing else.

No date.

No explanation.

Just the four names.

I trace my mother's name with my fingertip.

Then Margaret's.

A strange thought crosses my mind.

Why had Arthur kept this photograph?

I look up at Theo.

He's watching me far too carefully.

My heartbeat quickens.

"Theo..."

He meets my eyes.

"What happened while you were gone today?"

For a split second...

Something flashes across his face.

Guilt.

Then it's gone.

He forces a small smile.

"We'll tell you."

"When?"

He doesn't answer.

I look back down at the photograph.

The names.

The faces.

The secrets hidden inside a single frozen moment.

Somehow...

I know this picture is trying to tell me something.

I just don't know what yet.