For almost a year after her death, Adrian could barely enter the attic because he knew Hannah’s clothes, sketchbooks, holiday decorations, and boxes from twenty years of life remained stacked behind the door.
Eventually he organized some of it.
Not all.
Emma loved going through her mother’s old belongings.
Adrian allowed it when an adult was nearby.
Lauren disliked it.
She said the attic dust aggravated Emma’s allergies.
That had sounded reasonable.
Now Adrian wondered.
“What box?”
Emma held her hands apart.
“Blue. With stars.”
Something moved inside Adrian’s memory.
A small blue archival box.
He had seen it years ago.
Hannah kept correspondence in boxes like that.
“Where is it?”
Emma looked toward Lauren.
“I hid it.”
Lauren’s jaw tightened.
Adrian saw it.
“Why did you hide it?”
“Because she wanted it.”
Adrian looked at Lauren.
She shook her head.
“This has become ridiculous.”
Emma continued.
“She said I wasn’t supposed to see it.”
“What did you see?”
“A picture.”
“Of what?”
Emma pointed toward Lauren.
“Her.”
Silence.
Jonathan looked at Lauren.
Adrian felt Emma’s fingers tighten against his jacket.
“What picture of Lauren?”
“She was with Mommy.”
Adrian turned fully toward his wife.
Lauren said nothing.
“Hannah knew you?”
Lauren laughed nervously.
“No.”
Emma insisted, “Yes.”
Adrian waited.
Lauren’s eyes moved toward Jonathan.
Then back.
“It could have been anyone.”
Emma shook her head hard.
“It was her!”
“Emma, enough!”
Adrian’s voice cut through the room.
“Do not raise your voice at her.”
Lauren stared at him.
He lowered Emma carefully.
“Stay with Uncle Jonathan for a minute.”
Jonathan extended one hand.
Emma immediately grabbed Adrian’s sleeve.
“No.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Jonathan crouched.
“I’m right here too.”
Emma looked at him.
Jonathan had been part of her life since birth.
He attended birthday parties.
Brought absurdly expensive Christmas gifts no child needed.
Allowed Emma to draw on the legal pads in his office.
She trusted him.
Slowly, she released Adrian.
Jonathan took her hand.
Adrian faced Lauren.
“When did you meet Hannah?”
“I didn’t.”
“Emma says she saw a photograph.”
“Emma is six.”
“She recognizes your face.”
“Children make mistakes.”
“Then why did you want the box?”
“I didn’t.”
Emma began crying again.
“She did!”