Harper put the album down gently. They were married. He had never mentioned it.
She wanted to rest. To process. But there was so much more. Another album. A honeymoon, a first home. Luke in his Guard uniform. His first deployment. His homecoming. Job sites, parties, holidays. Luke’s second deployment. And then nothing.
At the very bottom of the box were two wedding rings and a small diamond engagement ring. She gently ran her fingers over the gold before tucking them back in the box. Harper carefully replaced the albums and returned the box to its spot on the shelf.
She continued on. The totes were full of women’s clothing. An entire wardrobe, neatly boxed away.
One box was entirely filled with papers. A marriage certificate. Newspaper clippings of their engagement and wedding announcements. Clips of articles written about Luke’s unit. Letters. Cards. An entire relationship fit neatly in a box.
Harper looked up from the floor and rolled her shoulders. It was dark now. Hours had passed since Harper opened this world of boxes.
She should stop. But she still didn’t have answers. What had happened to Karen? There was only one box left.
At the very top of the box was an opened letter from Karen to Luke while he was stationed in Germany.
Well, my dear,
You’re going to be coming home to a very different life next month. Thanks to your leave two months ago it looks like we’ll be a family of three! I wanted to call and tell you, to hear your reaction. But this is how my mother told my father she was expecting me so I thought it was a worthy family tradition to continue. You, my dear Lucas Garrison, will be a daddy in October. I guess we’d better start working on emptying out the guest-storage-catch-all room to make room for our little boy or girl. I haven’t told anyone yet. It’ll be our little secret until you’re home and we can tell the families together. You’re going to be an amazing father.
Love,
Karen
Harper clutched the letter to her chest. Luke was a father? How could that be? There were no pictures, he never mentioned a son or a daughter.
She slipped the letter back into the envelope and continued digging.
She found two tiny onesies neatly tucked away in flattened gift bags. One proudly proclaimed, “The Spoiling Begins.” The other, “I Have the World’s Best Grandma.” It must have been how Karen planned to tell the families.
They were new, the tags still on them. Never gifted, never worn.
Harper’s heart started to thud. At the bottom of the box, she found a series of newspaper clippings from a few years ago.
Local woman killed in accident on way to meet soldier husband
Her hands shook as she read.
BENEVOLENCE, MD — Local resident Karen Garrison was killed when her vehicle crossed the centerline and was struck head-on. Garrison was on her way to meet her soldier husband, Lucas Garrison, whose Guard unit was returning from a yearlong deployment to Germany.
Harper felt sick to her stomach. No wonder.
No wonder.
She scanned the rest of the article. Karen was killed on impact on her way to meet the rest of the Garrisons to welcome Luke home.
Hot tears streaked their way down her cheeks.
Luke felt responsible, she was sure of it. Karen was going to meet him.
The police weren’t sure why her car crossed the centerline. There was a picture taken by the newspaper of the crash site. A welcome home banner lay crumpled just beyond the wreckage.
She pulled the rest of the articles and read them all, including Karen’s obituary.
But through it all, there was no mention of the baby.
Had Luke kept that from everyone? To protect them from further loss? Had he held it close, holding the guilt, the agonizing loss to his heart? Locked up?
Gently, Harper replaced all the items in the box and put it back on the shelf.
She stood, aching from hours of sitting on the concrete floor. She stepped out and closed the door, but didn’t lock it.
She was sharing her home, her life, with another woman. One who didn’t deserve to be locked away anymore.
Harper climbed the stairs to the first floor, mechanically turning on lights as she made her way back to the kitchen. The dogs, who had been napping in the dining room, thundered after her. Hungry and restless. She let them out first and then fed them their dinner. While they ate, Harper stared out into the darkness.
She reached for her cellphone and, ignoring the handful of texts and voicemails, dialed Sophie’s number.
“Hey, can you come over? I want to talk about Karen.”
***
Sophie wrapped her hands around the glass of iced tea that Harper set in front of her. The condensation worked its way down to form a ring on the picnic table’s surface.
Harper stirred the fire in the fire pit before sitting down on the opposite bench. She watched the dogs take turns chasing each other in the dark with a stick.