The garage door groaned upward.
Dust drifted through a band of sunlight.
***
At first, I saw only large shapes beneath pale covers.
A handmade crib stood beside a changing table, a chest of drawers, and a rocking chair.
Moons curved along the crib rails. Stars covered the drawers. Small wooden clouds rested beneath the chair arms.
Aunt Sandy covered her mouth.
“Oh, Byron.”
I stepped inside while everyone else stayed behind the threshold.
I pulled the cover from the rocking chair.
Not across the front, where everyone could see it.
Underneath, where only someone holding the chair would find it.
“He made this for me.”
Joshua spoke from the doorway.
“He knew we wanted children someday.”
I turned. “You told him?”
I looked at the crib.
Dad had built it for a child who didn’t exist. He’d built it for a future he might never see.
Greg spoke behind Joshua.
“That’s what he hid for five years? Baby furniture?”
His voice sounded too light.
Sadie pointed past me.
“What’s behind the crib, Chloe?”
An old television stood beside rows of tapes. I crossed the garage and read the first two labels: “FOR CHLOE – WITH EVERYONE PRESENT” and “GREG’S PROMISES.”
Greg’s phone had fallen from his hand.
The screen shattered.
All the color drained from his face.
“Greg?” Aunt Sandy said.
He stared at the tapes.
“I don’t know why Dad used my name.”
Ms. Richards entered. “Byron instructed me to play the first recording.”
“Why are you frightened?” I asked.
“I’m not. But Dad died, Chloe. We’re standing in his garage, looking at baby furniture. I’m allowed to react.”
Greg had always been good at sounding reasonable.
I stepped aside.
“Play it.”
The television flickered.
***
