Claire’s POV
The picture haunted me down to my bones, but it wasn’t the only thing in the box. While I gawked at it, Gideon peered through the rest. He pulled out a small softcover notebook. Written across the front was the word, Diary.
It could have belonged to my uncle, though he didn’t seem the journaling type. Even if he was, I doubted he would pick a notebook that was covered in pictures of soft lavender flowers.
In my gut, before even having any other confirmation, I was certain this diary belonged to my mother.
Gideon opened it, read the first page, then looked at me.
At once, the picture I held was mostly forgotten, and I needed that diary instead. Gideon saw the urgency in my eyes, he traded the diary with me for the picture and then placed the picture back in the box.
Hold
