Page 20 of Save the Drama for your Mama
Who was this man?
Obviously, someone before my father had come along.
Had it been a forbidden love?
A college sweetheart?
Maybe the one who had gotten away?
It had me curious, there was no doubt about that.
I handed the letters back to Melody. “What else is there?”
She pulled a small, weathered diary from the chest. Its leather cover was worn, and I recognized it immediately.
“That’s my mom’s diary,” I said. “Don’t be surprised if you find a few of those in there.”
“I’m sure this would make for some interesting reading.” Melody blew the dust off it.
“Not now.” I sighed long-sufferingly. “Moving on . . .”
Melody set the diary aside, then reached the bottom of the chest. Nestled among a bundle of papers was a single photograph, its edges frayed with time. She held up the photograph, her eyes widening in astonishment.
“Wait—is this you?” she asked.
I leaned closer to look. “No.”
It was a picture of my mom with a man in front of an old building that I didn’t recognize. The man in the picture bore a slight resemblance to me, but not enough to think we were related.
I tapped the date printed on the front of the picture. “I wasn’t even born yet. I have no idea who that is, and I have no uncles.”
“Your mom was quite the beauty back in her day.” She flipped the photo over, and her eyes widened even more. “Oh, wow, the plot thickens.”
There was a name written on the back in black ink.
James.
The same man who’d written the letters.
And there was a heart drawn next to his name.
I was more confused than ever.
Melody handed me the photo, and I glanced at it again. One thing was for sure, I couldn’t let this distract me from the most important thing I had to focus on. Finishing my book.
I tossed the photo back in the chest and latched the top closed. “Time’s up.”
Melody just stared at me. “That wasn’t even ten minutes.”
“I’m on East Coast time.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Welcome to my world, where nothing makes sense.”
“You’re no fun,” she said. “Please tell me I can come up here again on my breaks.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
