For twenty years, my mother made sure the homeless boy living behind our house never went hungry. After her funeral, he took both my hands in his and told me, “Before she d:ie:d, she BEGGED ME TO KEEP HER SECRET FROM YOU.”

I studied his refined features until I recognized the younger version of him beneath the polished hair and tired facial lines.

“Gabriel?” I asked in complete disbelief.

His smile looked uncertain as he glanced toward the dark windows of the house.

“You brought dinner,” Gabriel noted quietly.

I nodded slowly, suddenly embarrassed by the cheap plastic container balanced between my hands.But what happened to you?” I asked, looking at his car. “How is any of this possible when Mom spoke as if you were still living nearby and desperately needed help?”

Gabriel looked toward the dark house and let out a long sigh.

“Your mother hid something very important from you,” Gabriel said. “Before she died, she begged me to keep her secret until the right moment.”
PART 2

A cold chill moved through my body as I stared at Gabriel in the dim evening light.

“What on earth did she hide from me?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.