The days following their quiet conversation on the porch seemed to stretch on in a slow, comfortable rhythm. Eliza and James had found something in each other—something that was both healing and uncertain. Their connection was no longer just about shared moments of grief; it was about the possibility of building something new, something that was uniquely theirs. But as much as they seemed to find solace in one another, Eliza knew that some of the questions she had been carrying for years were still unanswered, lingering in the shadows of her heart.
The letter she had found, the one her mother had written to a man whose name was unfamiliar to her, continued to weigh heavily on her mind. She had thought it would be just another forgotten piece of the past, a mere relic from a life that had faded long ago. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it was a door—one that could unlock a part of her mother's life that Eliza had never even known existed.
That night, after another quiet evening spent with James, Eliza found herself alone in her cottage, the letter spread out in front of her on the kitchen table. She had read it over and over again, each time trying to make sense of the words her mother had written. But the more she read, the more questions bubbled to the surface.
Who was this man? What had he meant to her mother? And why had she never mentioned him, not once, in all the years Eliza had known her?
As the evening wore on, Eliza's thoughts turned to James. He had been patient, kind, and supportive, but she couldn't ignore the feeling that she was keeping something from him. She hadn't told him about the letter's contents—not yet, at least. And as much as she trusted him, as much as she was beginning to care for him, she wasn't sure how to bring it up. The fear of burdening him with her doubts, with the shadows of her past, made her hesitate.
But as she stared down at the letter, she realized something important: she couldn't keep hiding from the truth. Not forever. If she was going to move forward with James, if they were going to build something real, she had to be honest—not just with him, but with herself.
With a deep breath, Eliza stood, folding the letter carefully and tucking it into the pocket of her coat. She needed to talk to James. She needed to share what she had found, even if it meant facing the uncomfortable truths that had been simmering in her heart for so long.
It wasn't long before she found herself walking down the narrow, rain-slicked streets of Windward Bay, her footsteps steady as she made her way toward James's cottage. The air was thick with the scent of salt and earth, the sky above a deep indigo that spoke of the approaching night. It felt like the right time—like the moment she had been waiting for, though she wasn't sure what would come of it.
When she reached his door, she hesitated for a brief moment, her hand hovering just above the doorknob. She wasn't sure how he would react—if he would understand, if he would even be willing to listen to the complexities of her past. But she had come this far, and she wasn't about to turn back now.
She knocked softly, the sound echoing through the quiet evening.
It didn't take long for James to answer. He was dressed in a worn sweater, his hair slightly tousled as though he had just woken up from a nap. His face softened when he saw her standing there, the faintest hint of surprise in his eyes.
"Eliza," he said, his voice warm, though there was a hint of concern as he noticed the serious look on her face. "Is everything okay?"
She nodded, though her heart was pounding in her chest. "I need to talk to you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "About something I found."
James stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Of course. Come in."
As she entered his cottage, the warmth of the space wrapped around her, though it couldn't ease the knot that had formed in her stomach. She had never been good at sharing her personal struggles, at letting someone else see the parts of her that were broken or uncertain. But tonight, she was determined to break down those walls.
James led her to the small, comfortable living room, where the soft glow of a lamp cast a gentle light over the room. He motioned for her to sit, and she did, folding her hands tightly in her lap.
"I found a letter," Eliza began, her voice shaky as she met his gaze. "A letter my mother wrote to a man. I don't know who he is, but it seems like… it seems like they were close. Like they shared something."
James's expression softened, his brow furrowing with curiosity. "What does the letter say?"
Eliza pulled the letter from her pocket and handed it to him. As he unfolded the paper and began reading, Eliza watched him closely, her heart beating faster as he processed the words her mother had written.
"It's clear she cared about him," James said softly, his voice quiet with understanding. "She was saying goodbye, it seems. But why would she have kept this hidden from you?"
"I don't know," Eliza replied, her voice trembling now. "She never spoke of him. Not once. I grew up thinking I knew everything about her, but now… now I'm wondering if I ever really knew her at all."
James set the letter down carefully, his eyes meeting hers with an empathy that made her feel as though she wasn't alone in this. "Eliza, sometimes people have parts of their lives they can't share. It doesn't mean they didn't love you, or that they were hiding something terrible. It just means there's more to their story than what they were able to tell."
Eliza swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in her throat. "But what if I've missed something important? What if this is the key to understanding who she really was?"
James leaned forward, his hand resting gently on hers. "Maybe it is. But maybe it's also just a piece of her story that she couldn't bring herself to tell you. Sometimes, the past is too painful to revisit."
A long silence stretched between them. Eliza's mind was reeling, but James's steady presence kept her grounded. For the first time since finding the letter, she felt like she didn't have to carry this burden alone.
"I don't know what to do with all of this," Eliza confessed, her voice small.
James squeezed her hand reassuringly. "You don't have to have all the answers right now. And you don't have to figure this out alone, either. I'm here. I'll help you, however I can."
His words were simple, but they felt like a lifeline. And in that moment, Eliza realized that, for the first time in a long time, she didn't need to have all the answers. All she needed was someone to stand beside her while she figured it out.