Well, I suppose it’s less of a memory, and more of a…feeling.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “An instinct. Your heart never forgets your mother.”
I blinked back a tear, watching his eyes search the wall by the stairs. He walked closer, operating on instinct, patting his hand along the base of the trim.
I approached the wall. “What is it?”
He stepped back and sighed. “It’s nothing,” he said. “I thought I remembered something, but…”
“It must be difficult,” I said, “to be here again.”
His eyes glimmered. “It must have destroyed her, losing me the way she did. It would have destroyed my wife to lose one of our children. She would have never been the same.”
“To have searched for you the way she did, she must have loved you very much,” I said.
Warren nodded, before starting his descent down the stairs. I followed, keeping my hand near his elbow to help steady him.
“I’ll take you back now,” I said. “You must be tired.”
He didn’t seem to hear me. He looked right, then left, as if he could sense something, feel something.
“Warren?” I asked. “Are you OK?”
He walked back to the stairs in silence, then stopped in front of a few boxes nestled against the wall. He knelt down and pushed them aside, exposing the paneling along the crumbling lath and plaster. Dominic and I watched as he traced the grooves in the wall, as if operating on muscle memory. Moments later, we heard the creak of a hinge, and Warren pried open a tiny door. A secret compartment. My heart beat faster.
He pushed his hand inside the little space in the wall. I knelt beside him and watched as he pulled out a feather caked in dust. He twisted it between his fingers and smiled to himself before setting it on the hardwood floor. Beside it, he set an apricot-colored pebble, a penny, three white shells, and a tattered ace of hearts. “I found it downstairs,” he said, marveling at the card. “Mama let me keep it.”
Mama.
I watched as he reached inside the wall again, this time pulling out an envelope. He held it up to me with a trembling hand. In faded ink were the words “To Daniel.” He turned to me. “Claire, could you please read it to me?”
I nodded, lifting the edge of the yellowed envelope. I pulled out the delicate page inside and unfolded it, looking at Warren before casting my gaze on the first line:
My dearest Daniel,
My world ended the day you disappeared, my sweet son. Whoever took you away also stole my heart, my life. I lived to see you smile, to hear you laugh, to share your joy. And the world seems less beautiful without you. I know you are near. I feel it in my heart; I believe you will come back to this place. Our special place. And when you do, I want you to know how much I love you, even though I may not be here to tell you so.
One day we will be reunited, my child. One day I will sing to you again and hold you in my arms. Until then, I will be loving you, and dreaming of you.
Your loving mother,
Vera
Here was little Daniel before me. I could see him as Vera once had. Soft, plump cheeks where wrinkles were. Blond curls instead of white wisps. Bright blue eyes unclouded by age.
Warren looked up to me. “The café,” he said. “It’s being destroyed?”
I nodded. “I’m so sorry, Warren. Dominic is selling. He has to—”
“How much is the offer?”
“I’m sorry?”
“The developer who wants to buy it, how much have they offered?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Dominic didn’t say.”
“I’ll double it.”
I couldn’t contain my smile. “Really, Warren? You’d do that?”
He smiled. “I can’t let them tear down my childhood home, now, can I? And didn’t he say that his family needed the funds? Might as well put this old Kensington money to good use.” He looked around the little room. “Yes, that fine young man can keep things just as they are. I won’t change anything.” His eyes looked misty. “Well, except one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“The name,” he said. “I will change it to Vera’s Café.”
“Oh, Warren!” I exclaimed, hugging him tightly. “She’d be so proud.”
I glanced at Vera’s letter a final time, and a sentence at the bottom of the page caught my eye. A postscript. I’d overlooked it somehow.