Then I saw my grandfather’s name.
Thomas Miller.
Below it.
A parcel description.
Almost forty acres.
The eastern ridge.
Including the hill where I was sitting.
I stared.
The cave.
The land.
It had belonged to my grandfather.
I dug deeper.
There was a handwritten note.
Rebecca.
My name.
I thought I was imagining it.
But there it was.
Written in my grandfather’s handwriting.
My hands started trembling.
I unfolded the paper.
If Rebecca is the one who finds this, then she remembered.
I covered my mouth.
He had left this for me.
Before his death.
Before prison.
Before everything.
I kept reading.
This land is not worth much to people who look only at roads and houses.
But someday it may matter.
I bought it quietly because Elvira wanted me to sell.
I refused.
I did not trust her husband with it.
If something happens to me, the recorded papers are in the county office.
