The letter lay untouched on his desk, its creases marked by dust. I couldn’t help myself; I had to invade his privacy. Knowing I was alone, I picked up the yellowed, folded up paper into my hands, making sure not to move anything. Simeon had always been the closed off kind of man, literally. That day was the first day in my twelve years of living with him that he left his library door open.

            I can remember the very first day I had met him, also the very first day I had moved in. I was at the young age of five, barely old enough to be considered a kid but just old enough to understand that my parents couldn’t take care of me anymore. I remember the day the sirens screamed and the red and blue lights soared the neighborhood from the driveway of the dumpy trailer I called home. I gripped onto my teddy bear as I watched my parents get hauled off in handcuffs. It was the talk of the town for months. That night, I was shoved into foster care until Simeon showed up. My caseworker, Ms. Kipfrel, sat me down and explained that I was going to move in with my father’s uncle, Simeon Ellsworth.

            I can’t say I wasn’t mortified to be moving in with someone I had never even heard of, but I didn’t have a choice. My caseworker packed my belongings and buckled me into the car. The drive seemed to last longer than I could ever imagine. She pulled into the mile long driveway and parked the car right in front of the towering front steps. I stepped out of the car, my teddy bear strangled in my embrace as I feared the path ahead of me. I glanced up as I heard a kind voice, “You must be Evelynn; may I call you Eve?”

            I stood next to Ms. Kipfrel, fear fuming out every pore on my body. “Hello, Mr. Ellsworth, I’m Ms. Kipfrel. Honey, this is your great uncle, there’s no need to be frightened.” Yeah, easy for her to say, she wasn’t being thrown into the biting waters without a lifejacket. I never once said a word to him that day, or the next two weeks, yet he still tried to make the best of it.

            I drew myself out of my childhood and back into the moment. I softly blew the dust off the front of the letter to see what appeared to read, “Margaret Williams.” I went through and checked every file cabinet in my brain, but the name didn’t ring even one bell. I moved on and slowly opened the thick paper and a puff of smoke blew into my face. I waved my hand to clear the cloud of dust and began to see a long, handwritten note. My eyes soared from word to word, beginning with “Dearest Simeon,” and ending with “Goodbye my love.”

            Just as the last three words flew through my mind, I heard the gravel grumbling under the tires just outside the window. I glanced out the shades and gasped as I saw Simeon closing the door of his prized Hudson 1949. I folded the paper and laid it back in its place, or I had hoped. Within seconds, I was out the door and halfway up the grand staircase.

            “Eve, can I have a word with you in the common room, please?” Simeon asked without hesitation as he took his first step into the entryway. My heart pounded to the beat of fear itself but I obliged and followed him into the large room. “You look shaken up, is everything alright?” he asked.

            “Everything’s fine, I didn’t think I looked a certain way,” I shrugged as I tried my hardest to contain my shaking hands and the nervous jitter of my left leg.

            “See, Eve, I would argue that the reason you’re so nervous is because you were snooping around in my study, correct?” he stated simply, looking across the room at me.

            “How could you tell?” I asked quickly.

            “The door wasn’t where I had it,” he replied. “What exactly were you looking for?”

            I paused, not knowing what to say. After a few of the longest seconds I had ever experienced, I decided to come clean. “I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but I did find something that I want to ask you about,” I took a deep breath, “Who’s Margaret Williams?”

            He seemed to be at a loss for words, which was definitely saying something for the all-knowing Simeon. Finally, he began to utter out his explanation, “Marge was my wife,” he began and my eyes widened this time. “I’m assuming you saw the letter on my desk?” I nodded and he continued, “We were best friends as children which turned into high school sweethearts. Then we married at a young age, fresh out of school with an education but no knowledge of where we were going. I worked all day but we could barely afford the shack we called home.” He puffed his cigar and paused to form his thoughts, “She decided that the best decision for her was to move on to bigger and better, so she did. I came home after a long day of work and all she left me was that letter.”

            I didn’t even know what to say, but I tried to mumble out something, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

            “It’s nothing to be sorry about, Evelynn. Who knows where I would be if things would have gone differently? I’m glad I have built my- our lives up to where we are now. At least this way, I know that you’ll be safe financially when I’m gone.”

            “Why do you keep the letter if you’re glad things are this way?” I asked.

            “It reminds me that each stone thrown at you only makes you stronger,” he finished, giving me the best piece of advice anyone had ever given.