My thoughts whirled back to all those little gifts I had received over the years.
Those surprise notes of encouragement, the small, thoughtful items that had arrived at my door or been delivered anonymously, like a scarf on a cold winter morning or a stack of my favorite books during particularly tough times.
I had assumed they were gestures from friends or faraway family, the kind you don’t scrutinize too closely. But all along, they had originated with him.
I had unwittingly been part of a narrative I didn’t know existed.
Taking a shaky breath, I finally spoke. “This is… it’s all too overwhelming,” I whispered.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?
Why… why all of this?”
“Perhaps,” he replied softly, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. “But now that you know, perhaps things can change.”
Mr. Blake regarded me with a hint of regret.
“I never intended to frighten you, Evelyn.
I understand if you wish to have nothing to do with us.”
He nodded, a sad smile on his lips. “Just know that whatever decision you make, we’re thankful.
He’s thankful.”
I couldn’t process any more. Turning away, my heart ached with a peculiar, bittersweet sensation as I moved toward the door, leaving Mr.
Blake and the strange tale behind me.
But as I reached the door, I turned back one last time.
“Your son…” I began, swallowing hard, “Maybe someday, we can meet. Just… let’s keep it simple. No strings attached.
No secrets.”
Mr.
Blake’s expression warmed, his gaze hopeful. “Of course, Evelyn,” he said, his voice gentle.
“Thank you.”
