Elora arrived the next afternoon.
She walked slowly from the car.
Her leg was improving, but she still used her walking aid.
I opened the door before she reached the steps.
"Come inside."
She smiled faintly.
"Thank you."
I helped her into the living room.
She looked at the coffee table.
The shoebox was still there.
Beside it sat the photograph and the key.
Her eyes moved from one object to another.
Then she lowered herself into the chair.
I sat opposite her.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Finally, she looked at me.
"I know you're upset."
I folded my hands.
"I am."
She nodded.
"You have every right to be."
I waited.
She looked toward the window.
"I never wanted you to feel used."
"But I do."
Her eyes filled with tears.
I felt uncomfortable seeing her cry.
But I didn't reach for her hand.
Not yet.
"Elora, you asked me to take you into my home. I did that because I cared about you. I thought you needed help."
"I did need help."
"Then why didn't you tell me the rest?"
She looked down.
"Because I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of losing the only person I felt I could trust."
That answer hurt.
I wanted to believe her.
But I also wanted to understand why she had kept so much from me.
She explained that several months earlier, she had begun noticing changes in her children's behavior.
They were asking more questions about her belongings.
They wanted to know where she kept certain documents.
They had also become interested in her personal arrangements.
At first, she thought they were simply being responsible.
But then the questions became more frequent.
I listened.
"What kind of documents?"
"Private papers. Financial records. Family documents."
I glanced at the shoebox.
"Are those the papers in the storage unit?"
"Some of them."
I asked whether her children had tried to take anything.
She hesitated.
"They hadn't taken everything. But I became concerned about what might happen."
I sat forward.
"Did you confront them?"
"Yes."
"What did they say?"
"They told me I was imagining things."
She gave a tired smile.
"They said I was getting older and becoming suspicious."
I didn't like hearing that.
Elora had always been independent.
She was not someone who confused ordinary things easily.
But I also knew I was hearing only one side of the situation.
I asked whether Shane had been involved.
She looked at me.
"Yes."
I felt my shoulders tighten.
"What did he do?"
"He asked me several times about some documents."
"What documents?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Then she said they were papers connected to her personal property and family affairs.
I asked why she hadn't simply kept them at home.
"Because I no longer felt comfortable leaving everything there."
I looked at the key.
"So you put them in storage."
She nodded.
I pointed toward the notebook.
"And you started keeping track of my schedule."
Her face changed.
"I'm sorry."
"Why?"
She rubbed her hands together.
"I needed to know when I could make private phone calls and organize things without disturbing you."
I looked at her.
"That doesn't explain why you wanted Patricia watching my house."
Elora closed her eyes briefly.
"I know."
I waited.
She explained that she had been worried someone might come looking for her while she was away.
She wanted to know whether anyone approached the house.
She said Patricia had agreed to keep an eye out.
I didn't know whether to be relieved or more upset.
"Did you think someone would come to my house?"
"I didn't know."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
She looked down.
"I was afraid you would refuse to let me stay."
I leaned back.
There it was again.
She had made a decision for me.
She had assumed that if I knew the truth, I would say no.
And instead of giving me the choice, she had arranged everything herself.
I told her that was unfair.
She nodded.
"I know."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked about the photograph of her children.
She picked it up.
"This was taken outside my house."
"When?"
"Shortly before I came to stay with you."
"Why?"
She looked at the picture.
"They had all come over that afternoon."
I waited.
She explained that they wanted to discuss something concerning her personal arrangements.
The conversation had become uncomfortable.
She had felt pressured.
So she had taken the photograph afterward.
I asked whether the children knew about the storage unit.
"Not that I know."
"Do they know you moved your papers?"
"Some of them know I moved certain things. They don't know where everything is."
I looked at the shoebox.
"Then why leave all this with Patricia?"
"Because I didn't want it in my house."
I asked why she didn't keep it with the documents.
She shook her head.
"I wanted the key and the information somewhere separate."
I considered that.
Then I asked the question I had been avoiding.
"Is Shane trying to get something from you?"
Elora looked at me for a long time.
Finally, she nodded.
"He has been asking questions."
"What kind?"
"About the future. About what I intend to do with my belongings."
I felt a familiar sadness.
I remembered how Shane had behaved during our marriage.
He had always wanted things arranged according to his wishes.
He had been charming when it suited him.
But when he didn't get what he wanted, he could become difficult.
I had hoped he had changed.
I didn't say that aloud.
Instead, I asked Elora why she had never told me any of this before.
She gave a small, tired smile.
"Because I knew you would ask about him."
I looked away.
She was right.
I had made it clear that I didn't want to hear about Shane.
She had respected that boundary for five years.
Perhaps she had been trying to protect our relationship.
But keeping the truth from me had created another problem.
I told her I couldn't promise to help unless I understood everything.
She nodded.
"I don't expect you to."
I picked up the key.
"Then let's go to the storage facility."
Elora looked surprised.
"Today?"
"If you're ready."
She studied my face.
Then she nodded.
"Yes."
I asked whether she needed anything before we left.
She said no.
I put the shoebox lid back on.
Then I slipped the key into my handbag.
For the first time, Elora seemed relieved.
But I wasn't.
I was still trying to understand how a woman I had known for years could have planned so much without telling me.
And I had a feeling the documents behind that key would explain why.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Inside the Storage Unit Was a Collection of Documents That Changed How I Understood Elora’s Fear of Her Own Children
I Thought I Was Simply Helping a Woman Who Had Never Stopped Treating Me Like Family, But Something About Her Request Stayed With Me
Part 10 of 20
