Georgia was on the beach with her grandchildren when they suddenly pointed to the nearest cafe. Her heart sank as they shouted words that would shatter her world.
The couple in the café looked exactly like her parents who had died two years ago.
Grief changes you in ways you never expect.
Some days it becomes a deafening ache in your chest. On others, it suddenly hits you in the heart.
Anonymous letter
That summer morning, while in my kitchen and looking at the anonymous letter, I felt something very different. I think it was hope mixed with dread.
My hands trembled as I read those five words again:
‘They didn’t really leave.’
The white sheet of paper felt like it was burning my fingers. I thought I was dealing with my pain by trying to create a stable life for my grandchildren, Andy and Peter, after losing my daughter Monica and her husband Stephen. But this note made me realise how wrong I was.
They died in an accident two years ago. I still remember Andy and Peter asking me where their parents were and when they would return.
It took me months to explain to them that their mum and dad were never coming back. It broke my heart when I told them that they now had to learn to live without their parents, but that I would always be there for them.
And now, after all my efforts, I get this anonymous letter claiming that Monica and Steven are alive.
‘They’re… not really gone?’ – I whispered to myself, sitting down on a kitchen chair. ‘What kind of cruel joke is this?’
I crumpled the paper and was about to throw it away when the phone rang.
It was Monica’s credit card company, with a notice of a recent transaction on her old account.
‘How is that possible?’ – I muttered. – ‘That card has been sitting in a drawer for the last two years!’
I immediately called the bank’s customer service line.
Hello, this is Billy speaking. Can I help you?
Yes, hello,’ I said, trying to calm down. – I’d like to check a recent transaction on my daughter’s card.
I dictated the details and explained:
‘I’m her mother. She… she died two years ago, but I continued to manage the remaining accounts.
Billy was silent for a few seconds, then spoke carefully:
I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. However, I don’t see any transactions on her physical card. The transaction you’re talking about was made using a virtual card linked to this account.
A virtual card? – I asked, frowning. – But I never linked such a card to this account!
Virtual cards are separate from physical cards,’ he explained. – They continue to work unless you deactivate them. Would you like me to deactivate it?
No,’ I replied hastily. – Tell me, when was it created?
A week before the date you gave as the day your daughter died.
Goosebumps ran down my spine.
‘Thank you, Billy. That’s all I need for now.’
I immediately called my best friend Ella and told her about the letter and this strange transaction.
That’s impossible! – Ella exhaled. – Could this be a mistake?
Someone clearly wants me to believe that Monica and Steven are alive. But why?
The purchase was insignificant – only $23.50 at the local cafe. Part of me wanted to go there and find out more, but another part of me was afraid to find out what would be better kept secret.
An unexpected encounter
I was going to deal with this over the weekend, but what happened on Saturday turned my whole world upside down.
Andy and Peter wanted to go to the beach, so I took them there. Ella had agreed to meet us to help look after the kids.
A light sea breeze blew as the boys splashed in the water, laughing in a carefree way I hadn’t heard in a long time.
I was showing Ella the letter when suddenly I heard Andy shout.
Grandma, look! – He grabbed Peter’s hand and pointed at the café. – It’s our parents!
My heart stopped.
A few metres away sat a woman with hair coloured like Monica’s, leaning gently towards a man who looked exactly like Stephen.
They were sharing a plate of fruit.
I forced myself to move closer.
The woman tucked her hair behind her ear just like Monica always did. The man limped slightly – just like Steven did after his college football injury.
And that’s when I heard them talking.
It’s risky, but we had no choice, Emily,’ he said.
Emily? Why did he call her that?
They walked down the path that led to a house braided with flowering vines.
I clung to the wooden fence, feeling the blood pounding in my temples.
It was you… but why?
When they disappeared behind the door, I dialled 911.
While I waited for the police, I walked up to the house again and, working up the courage, rang the doorbell.
After a moment, footsteps echoed across the floor.
The door opened and I saw my daughter.
Her face had gone pale.
Mum? – She whispered. – How did you find us?
Before I could answer, Steven was there.
And that’s when the sirens started wailing.
How could you? – my voice shook with anger and pain. – How could you leave your children? Do you realise what we’ve been through?
