Chapter 10: Unraveling the Past

The following days felt like a slow unraveling of emotions for Eliza. Since sharing the letter with James, she had tried to push the questions surrounding her mother's past to the back of her mind, but they clung to her like a second skin. Every corner of Windward Bay seemed to whisper of untold stories, and every quiet moment she spent with James was filled with the undercurrent of secrets—her own, her mother's, and even, in some way, his.

James, ever patient, had given her space. He didn't press her for answers, but the bond between them had deepened, and she could feel the silent understanding between them grow. He was there when she needed him, offering a quiet presence that didn't demand anything, yet spoke volumes. But Eliza couldn't ignore the gnawing feeling that she was being weighed down by something she didn't fully understand.

One evening, just as the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with shades of amber and lavender, Eliza found herself standing outside the small house her mother had lived in before her death. The house was old and weathered, with ivy creeping along its stone walls, but it still felt like home to Eliza. It was a place filled with memories—some sweet, others bittersweet—and yet, there was so much she didn't know about her mother's life within these walls.

The letter she had found that day weighed heavily in her pocket. She hadn't told James everything—she hadn't told him about the one line that had struck her most deeply. "I wish I had told you sooner," her mother had written, "but I never had the courage to say goodbye."

The words echoed in Eliza's mind as she stood there, her hand resting on the cold metal of the wrought-iron gate. It was as if the letter had opened a door to a part of her mother's life that Eliza had never been allowed to see, and she couldn't shake the feeling that there were more unanswered questions hidden in the dark corners of this place.

As she pushed open the gate and made her way toward the front door, a sudden wave of sadness swept over her. She had never been able to confront the full scope of her mother's life—had never allowed herself to wonder about the things she had kept secret. And now, standing at the threshold, Eliza realized she couldn't move forward without understanding the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

With a steadying breath, Eliza knocked on the door.

It took a few moments before the door creaked open, revealing the familiar figure of Margaret, the elderly woman who had been a close friend of her mother's. Margaret had always been a quiet presence in Eliza's life, a kind woman who had spent countless hours helping her mother with the house and garden. But today, there was something different about her. Her eyes seemed older, more tired, and as she looked at Eliza, there was an emotion there that Eliza couldn't quite place.

"Margaret," Eliza said softly, offering a tentative smile. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Margaret returned the smile, though it was faint. "I knew you'd come one day," she said, her voice low. "I've been waiting."

Eliza's heart skipped a beat. "Waiting?"

Margaret nodded, stepping aside to let Eliza in. "There's something I need to tell you, something I've kept from you for far too long."

As Eliza stepped inside the house, the familiar scent of lavender and old wood filled her senses. It was as if nothing had changed, as if time had stood still within these walls. Margaret led her to the living room, where the flickering light from the fireplace cast dancing shadows on the walls.

"Sit down, child," Margaret said, her voice soft but urgent. "You need to hear this."

Eliza obeyed, her pulse quickening with anticipation. She had been waiting for this moment—waiting for the truth. But now, sitting before Margaret, she wasn't sure if she was ready for the answers. Still, she couldn't turn away. She needed to know what her mother had kept hidden.

Margaret took a seat across from her, her hands folded tightly in her lap. "Your mother," she began slowly, her voice thick with emotion, "was a woman of great strength, but she carried a burden that she never shared with you. She loved you more than anything in this world, but there was a part of her life… a part she couldn't let you see."

Eliza's breath caught in her throat. "What do you mean? What part of her life?"

Margaret hesitated, as though weighing the decision to speak. Finally, she let out a long breath, her eyes meeting Eliza's. "Your mother was in love with someone else—someone you don't know, someone who was a part of her life long before you were born. His name was Thomas, and he was the one who wrote the letters."

Eliza's mind spun. She had known, in some vague, half-formed way, that her mother's past held secrets. But to hear it spoken aloud—to hear Margaret confirm it—felt like a punch to the gut.

"Why didn't she tell me?" Eliza whispered, her voice barely audible.

Margaret's eyes softened. "Your mother had her reasons, Eliza. When she became pregnant with you, things changed. She made a choice—she chose to give you a stable life, a life free from the complications of her past. She didn't want you to carry the burden of her mistakes."

"But she kept it all hidden," Eliza said, her voice shaking. "She never told me anything. Why didn't she trust me enough to share this with me?"

Margaret shook her head gently. "She didn't want you to feel abandoned, Eliza. She didn't want you to think that her love for you was anything less than absolute. But she carried the guilt of her past with her every day, and it weighed on her. She thought if she kept it hidden, it wouldn't hurt you."

Eliza felt a wave of anger and confusion rise in her chest. She had never asked for her mother's secrets. She had never asked for the burdens that had been placed on her shoulders. But now, everything felt different. The weight of the past—her mother's past—was pressing down on her in ways she hadn't anticipated.

"She should have told me," Eliza murmured, almost to herself. "I should have known the truth."

Margaret reached out, placing a gentle hand on Eliza's. "I'm sorry, Eliza. I truly am. But the truth has a way of coming out when it's meant to. And you are strong enough to face it now."

Eliza sat in stunned silence, trying to process the flood of emotions that had just been unleashed. Her mother's love had been real, but it had also been complicated. There was a man, a love from her past, and now Eliza was left to figure out what that meant for her own life.

The room felt smaller, the air heavier, as Eliza tried to make sense of everything. But one thing was clear—she couldn't carry the weight of her mother's secrets any longer. The past had been buried for too long, and now it was time to face it, to unravel the mysteries that had kept her in the dark for so many years.