I Held My Mother's Picture While My Father Gave Us Away...

The morning after we stayed with Grandpa Charles, I woke up before Lily and Grace. The house was quiet in a way our house never was. No furnace clicking on and off, no Dad's phone alarm. Just the clock in the kitchen and Charles breathing in the other room. I sat on the edge of the pull-out couch and stared at my black dress hanging over the chair. It still had a little dried mud on the hem from the cemetery.

I didn't want to wait. Mom had hidden that box for a reason, and if Dad went back to the house before we did, he would throw everything out. He'd done that before when Mom was sick. He'd filled three trash bags with her scarves and books while she was at the hospital and said he was decluttering.

Charles was at the kitchen table with his coffee. He hadn't slept much, I could tell. His eyes were red around the edges and his stubble looked heavier.

"Grandpa," I said. My voice was small. "We need to go back today. To get the things Mom left."

He looked up at me and didn't answer right away. He set his mug down carefully.

"Are you sure you want to do that now, Sophie?" he asked.

I nodded. "If we don't, he will. Dad doesn't know where it is, but he could find it. She hid it under the floor in my closet."

He studied my face for a second, then pushed his chair back. "Alright. We'll go this morning. We'll bring your sisters. We're not leaving them here alone."

He called Dad's cell and left a voicemail saying he needed to pick up the girls' clothes and school things. His voice was even. He didn't mention the notebook or the phone. Dad didn't pick up. That meant he was probably at his apartment downtown with his fiancée. The house would be empty.

The house looked different when we pulled into the driveway. Charles parked his old truck at the curb instead of in the driveway. The curtains were all drawn. Lily held Grace's hand tight while we walked up the front sidewalk. I had the key Mom had given me on a pink lanyard. It still worked.

Inside it smelled like cleaning spray and something else, like Dad had already aired the place out. The living room was neat in a way it never was when Mom was alive. Her throw blanket was gone from the couch.

"Stay close to me," Charles whispered.

We went down the hall to the bedroom I shared with Lily and Grace. Three twin beds, still unmade from the morning Mom went to the hospital last time. My closet door was half open. I knelt down and pushed our shoes aside. The carpet in there was older, a faded beige color.

I pressed on the corner near the back wall. The board had always been a little loose. Mom had shown me one night when Dad was working late. She'd lifted it with her fingernails and slipped a shoebox underneath, then told me not to tell anyone until she said it was time.

My hands were shaking. Charles knelt beside me and put his hand lightly on my shoulder.

"Take your time," he said.

I worked my fingers under the edge. The wood came up with a soft creak and a puff of dust. Underneath, in the dark space between the joists, was a white shoebox with a rubber band around it. The lid was dented on one side where Lily had once stepped on it.

I pulled it out. It was heavier than I expected.

Charles helped me carry it to the middle of the room. Lily and Grace sat on the bed and watched. I slid the rubber band off and lifted the lid just enough to see.

Inside was exactly what I'd told him about at the cemetery. A small black notebook with a bent cover, an old iPhone with a cracked screen protector and a little black USB stick taped to it with clear tape, and a white envelope sealed with two pieces of tape. In blue ink, in Mom's handwriting, it said CHARLES on the front.

I didn't open anything. I just made sure they were all there, then put the lid back on. My chest felt tight, like I couldn't get a full breath.

"That's everything," I whispered.

Charles nodded. His jaw was tight. He didn't touch the envelope. "Good girl. Let's close this up and get your clothes."

We put the floorboard back. It clicked into place. I stood up and grabbed three backpacks from the closet and started shoving in socks and shirts and Grace's stuffed rabbit.

That's when we heard it. A car door outside, then a woman's voice in the driveway. Not Dad's voice.

Charles went still. He looked toward the window. Through the blinds I could see a silver SUV pulling up behind his truck. A woman with blonde hair in a nice coat got out and walked toward our front porch carrying a cardboard box. It was Dad's fiancée. I'd only met her once at a restaurant.

"She's here," I said, and my stomach dropped.

Charles picked up the shoebox quickly and tucked it under his arm, covering it with Grace's pink blanket from the bed. "We need to go out the back," he said quietly to us. "Now. No running, just quick and quiet."

Lily grabbed Grace's hand. I zipped the backpacks and pulled them on. We slipped out through the laundry room and the back door that led to the small yard. The gate squeaked a little when Charles pushed it open, and we walked fast down the side street to where his truck was parked at the corner.

Behind us, I heard the front door open and the woman calling out, "Hello? Arthur?" But we were already at the truck.

Charles put the shoebox on the floor of the backseat between my feet and covered it again. He didn't say anything until we were two blocks away, driving toward his house.

At his kitchen table, he set the shoebox down and left it closed. He rested his hand on top of the lid for a moment, right over where Mom had written his name. He didn't open the notebook. He didn't try to turn on the phone. He just looked at me.