We Moved in to Care for My Husband’s Grandmother

For a long moment, I hesitated.

Then I began to dig.

The soil was packed tightly, and it took nearly an hour before my arms began to ache and sweat soaked through my shirt.

Just when I started to think Carla might have imagined the whole thing, the shovel struck something solid.

A metallic clang echoed through the quiet yard.

My heart began pounding.

I knelt down and brushed away the dirt until a small rusted chest appeared.

“What did you leave here, Carla?” I murmured.

The latch creaked when I opened it.

Inside were folders and envelopes, all yellowed with age.

The first document I pulled out was a birth certificate.

Karl’s birth certificate.

But the last name printed beside his first name was not the one he used now.