“Oh, Amanda!” Julie’s voice was a mix of awe and disbelief as she held up a dusty photograph. “Look at this—the Lovely Lady and her son. He must have been about twelve here. Just look at those old-fashioned clothes! But isn’t he striking? And see how proud she looks of him. It’s hard to believe he would have left this behind!”

Amanda peered at the photograph, her brow furrowing in thought. “He probably left in such a rush that he couldn’t think of everything, or maybe he had another copy,” she offered, her practical side kicking in.

The room was a jumble of forgotten history. Clothes of various styles, all outdated, were tossed haphazardly over the bed. An open suitcase lay on the floor, half-packed with books and personal items.

“He must have left this in such a hurry,” Julie mused. “Or maybe he planned to come back for it later. It’s possible he didn’t realize his mother was going to shut up the house and leave it for good.” She gestured to a large, imposing desk. “Look at this desk. It’s still in decent shape, but it seems he didn’t use it much. Probably because he was rarely home.” Julie dusted off the surface, revealing a row of schoolbooks and a neglected writing tablet. As she was about to polish the tablet, she noticed something unusual and paused. She squinted at the paper, rubbing at a smudge with her duster. Leaning closer, she stared intently.

“Amanda, come over here!” Julie’s voice was urgent but subdued.

Amanda, who had been examining the old trophies on the mantel, hurried to Julie’s side. “What’s up? What did you find?”

Julie pointed silently to a large sheet of paper on the desk. It was yellowed with age and covered in faded handwriting—clearly a letter written in a boyish hand. It began:

“My dearest Mother—”

Amanda instinctively stepped back, her sense of propriety kicking in. “Should we be reading this? It’s a personal letter!”

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“I already did,” Julie admitted quietly. “I didn’t realize what it was at first. I don’t think it will hurt if you read it. It’s important.” Reluctantly, Amanda picked up the letter and began to read aloud:

My dearest Mother, the greatest joy and love of my life,

I leave this letter in the hope that you will find it, read it, and forgive me. We have had our share of bitter arguments, but I am leaving with nothing but love in my heart for you. I am certain we will not see each other again in this life. I want you to know that until my last breath, I will love you deeply and truly. I have pledged my word, and I cannot retract my promise. I never anticipated you would feel so strongly against this cause. Forgive me, my mother, and may God keep you safe.

Yours always,

Fairfax

As Amanda finished reading, a lump formed in Julie’s throat. Amanda, too, was visibly moved, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“I think this letter proves she must have had a heart of stone to be so unforgiving,” Julie said with a shaky voice. “After reading something like this, how could she not have made an effort to reach out to her son?”

“She never saw it!” Julie’s assertion was so definite it made Amanda blink in surprise.

“What do you mean, she never saw it?” Amanda’s voice was tinged with confusion. “It was right there for her to see!”

“Think about it,” Julie countered. “The room was locked when we got here. If Fairfax had locked it and taken the key, he wouldn’t have left behind such an emotional letter hoping his mother would find it. It doesn’t add up.”

“So if not Fairfax, then who?” Amanda asked, trying to piece together the puzzle.

“The only one left is his mother,” Julie concluded. “She must have locked the door and hidden or taken the key. But why?”

“But how do you know she did it before she read the letter?” Amanda questioned.

“There are two reasons,” Julie explained. “Firstly, any mother who read that letter would have done everything in her power to reach her son. Secondly, look at the windows in this room.”

Amanda glanced around, her eyes finally catching the difference. “The curtains aren’t drawn, and the shutters aren’t closed. It’s dark because the outside is boarded up.”

“Exactly!” Julie affirmed. “She must have shut all the other shutters tight but left these alone. She never came into this room. The desk is right by the window—she would have seen the letter if she had been here. So she must have locked the door without ever reading it.”

“And she never, ever will know,” Amanda whispered, her voice heavy with sorrow. “That’s the saddest part.”