At midnight, Eli came downstairs.

“You can't sleep either?”

“No.”

He sat beside me.

“Are you mad at me?”

I turned toward him.

“What?”

“For giving away Dad's umbrella.”

I reached for his hand.

“No.”

“But we didn't know this would happen.”

“No.”

He stared at the floor.

“I thought maybe you'd hate me.”

I pulled him toward me.

“Eli, listen to me.”

He looked up.

“You didn't give away your father's umbrella.”

He frowned.

“You gave away something your father taught you.”

He didn't understand.

“You gave away kindness.”

His eyes filled with tears.

“And maybe that's exactly what Dad wanted you to do.”

He hugged me.

We stayed there for a long time.

The Storage Unit

The next morning, Detective Harris met us at the storage facility.

The manager recognized Ethan's name immediately.

“Oh,” she said.

“Ethan?”

She smiled sadly.

“He was a good man.”

I stared at her.

“How did you know him?”

“He helped me once.”

Of course he did.

I almost laughed.

She opened the unit.

Dust floated in the air.

Boxes filled the walls.

Old furniture.

Winter clothes.

Books.

Photographs.

A broken lamp.

Things from our old house.

Memories.

I stood frozen.

I didn't want to go in.

Then Eli took my hand.

“We can do it together.”

So we walked inside.

At the back of the unit was a large wooden trunk.

It had my husband's initials carved into it.

E.H.

Detective Harris looked at me.

“Was this here when you last came?”

“I don't remember.”

We opened it.

Inside were dozens of envelopes.

Some were sealed.

Some had names.

Some had dates.