Megan Parker agreed to meet us at a diner the next afternoon.
She was in her early forties now.
When she walked through the door, Lily recognized her immediately.
Megan stopped.
“Oh my God.”
She covered her mouth.
“You look exactly like Emily.”
Lily shook her head.
“No.”
Megan looked confused.
“I'm Lily.”
“I know.”
“Then don't say that.”
Megan nodded.
“You're right.”
She sat down.
Carl remained standing until Megan looked at him.
“I remember you.”
“I remember you too.”
Her eyes moved toward me.
“I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not coming back sooner.”
I sat across from her.
“You sent the photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She folded her hands.
“Because I heard you were talking to Dr. Hall.”
My stomach tightened.
“How did you know?”
“Dr. Mason called me.”
“Why?”
“Because I was the last person outside your family who spoke to Emily that morning.”
Lily leaned forward.
“What did she say?”
Megan looked at her.
“She told me she was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Her heart.”
Carl closed his eyes.
“I thought she said her chest hurt.”
“She did.”
“What else?”
Megan hesitated.
“She asked me not to tell your mother.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because she didn't want you to worry.”
“That sounds like Emily.”
Megan gave a small smile.
“She was trying to be brave.”
“What happened?”
Megan looked down.
“I had been babysitting both girls that morning while you were getting ready for work.”
I frowned.
“I don't remember.”
“You had a doctor's appointment.”
I remembered.
The twins had been staying with Megan while I ran an errand.
“How long were they with you?”
“About an hour.”
“What happened?”
“Emily became tired.”
“Did she fall?”
“No.”
“Did she faint?”
“No.”
“She said her chest hurt?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She asked for water.”
Megan took a breath.
“Then she said something strange.”
“What?”
“She asked whether people could die in their sleep.”
Lily looked at me.
I felt tears rise.
“What did you tell her?”
“That people can get sick, but I didn't think she was going to die.”
“She was five.”
“Yes.”
Megan looked at Carl.
“She knew something was wrong.”
Carl's hands tightened.
“Why didn't you tell us?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“After you came home.”
I looked at her.
“I don't remember.”
“You were rushing.”
“Rushing where?”
“To the hospital.”
That was true.
Memory had compressed the entire morning into one terrible sequence.
Megan reached into her bag.
“I wrote it down that day.”
She handed me a notebook page.
The handwriting was young and hurried.
Emily said her heart was hurting. She asked if she was going to die. She said she didn't want Lily to be scared.
I could barely read the rest.
Megan continued.
“I kept the note because I felt guilty.”
“You shouldn't have.”
“I should have told you again.”
“You tried.”
“Once.”
She looked at me.
“Then everything happened.”
Carl stared at the page.
“Why send it now?”
Megan looked at Lily.
“Because I found the photograph in an old storage box.”
“And?”
“I remembered the note.”
Lily asked, “Do you think Emily knew she was sick?”
Megan shook her head.
“I think she knew she felt wrong.”
Dr. Hall had said the same thing.
A transient event.
An unexplained symptom.
Something we had all remembered differently.
Then Megan said something that changed the conversation.
“There's one more thing.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Emily wasn't the only child who complained that morning.”
Lily frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Another child.”
“Who?”
Megan hesitated.
“Your neighbor's son.”
I searched my memory.
“The Parker boy?”
“No. The Wilson family.”
Carl looked confused.
“Why does that matter?”
“Because they had a carbon monoxide problem.”
The diner seemed suddenly silent.
I stared at her.
“What?”
Megan shook her head quickly.
“I'm not saying that caused Emily's death. I don't know that.”
“Then why tell us?”
“Because the fire department came later that day.”
I felt cold.
“Why?”
“There was a faulty furnace in the neighborhood.”
Carl stood.
“Where was it?”
Megan gave him the address.
It was two houses away.
I looked at Carl.
He looked at me.
Neither of us spoke.
We left the diner immediately.
The old house was only a few minutes away.
The furnace had been replaced years ago.
There was no way to know what the air had been like that morning.
But Dr. Hall had mentioned another possibility.
Megan had remembered Emily feeling strange.
A neighbor's child had also complained.
And there had been a furnace problem.
It was not proof.
But it was a clue.
That evening, Dr. Hall reviewed the information.
She did not make promises.
She simply said, “That possibility should have been considered.”
“Could carbon monoxide have caused Emily's symptoms?”
“Yes.”
“Could it explain the collapse?”
“It could contribute to confusion, weakness, headache, nausea, or worse. But we cannot establish causation from a memory and an old furnace report.”
I understood.
After thirteen years, uncertainty remained.
But uncertainty was different from guilt.
Carl sat beside me.
For the first time since I had known him, his shoulders were not carrying the entire weight of Emily's death.
Lily held the photograph.
She looked at her sister's face.
“I don't want to know exactly what killed her.”
I turned toward her.
She continued.
“I want to know that nobody chose this.”
I reached for her hand.
“No one chose it.”
Carl nodded.
“No one.”
She looked at him.
“Then stay.”
Carl's eyes filled.
“I will.”
“Even when it hurts?”
“Yes.”
“Even when you remember her?”
“Yes.”
Lily nodded.
“Good.”
Later that night, I found Dad sitting alone in his car outside the house.
I walked over.
“Why are you here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“You could have come inside.”
“I didn't know if I should.”
I opened the passenger door.
He looked at me.
“What happened?”
I told him about Megan.
About the photograph.
About the furnace.
Dad listened.
Then he whispered, “I remember that furnace.”
I froze.
“What?”
He looked frightened.
“After Emily died, the fire department mentioned something.”
“What did they say?”
“They said the neighborhood had a ventilation problem.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought the genetic result explained everything.”
I stared at him.
“You never told me.”
“No.”
“You never told Carl.”
“No.”
He covered his face.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
I stepped back.
“Dad.”
“I know.”
“No more secrets.”
He lowered his hands.
“No more.”
I nodded.
“Then tomorrow, you tell Dr. Hall everything you remember.”
“I will.”
I returned inside.
Lily was sitting on the floor with the photograph.
She looked up.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think we'll ever know what really happened?”
I sat beside her.
“Maybe not.”
She looked at the photograph.
“Then what do we do?”
I thought about Carl.
Dad.
Emily.
The thirteen letters.
The years that could not be returned.
“We stop letting the unknown decide who gets blamed.”
Lily leaned against me.
Outside, Carl stood on the porch.
He had not left.
For the first time in thirteen years, he was where he had once promised he would be.
Not because the past had been erased.
Not because everything had been forgiven.
Because when the truth became complicated, he had finally chosen to stay.
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: Dad Finally Told Us What He Remembered About the Furnace, and the Memory Changed the Meaning of Emily’s Last Morning
On Lily’s Eighteenth Birthday, My Father Finally Opened the Box He Had Hidden for Thirteen Years
Part 8 of 20
