When Lisa returned to her childhood home, it wasn’t for a nostalgic trip down memory lane. She had one goal: to take her mother, Susan, back with her and leave the past behind.
But one mystery lingered—why had her mother harbored such hatred for their late neighbor, Jeremy? Lisa never got a satisfying answer growing up, but the truth would soon unravel in a way she never expected.
As Lisa parked in front of the weathered old house, memories swept over her. The garden still had the faint scent of lavender, the paint on the walls had faded, but the house stood like a silent witness to her past. Years had passed since Lisa last visited.
Distance had always been her way of managing the strained relationship with her mother, whose sharp temper and strong opinions made closeness difficult. Yet now, Susan’s declining health had brought Lisa back.
Susan had agreed to move in with Lisa, surprisingly only after Jeremy’s death. Jeremy had been their neighbor for as long as Lisa could remember—a kind man who had gifted her a treasured teddy bear, Mr. Peebles.
But Susan had despised him, warning Lisa to stay away and grounding her when she didn’t. Puzzled but resigned, Lisa never pressed for answers. Jeremy’s death had left his house abandoned, a lonely shell across the street. Now, standing in her childhood home, Lisa couldn’t shake the questions she had buried for years.
Inside, Susan was upstairs packing, her voice carrying the same sharpness that had defined Lisa’s childhood. When Lisa offered to help, her mother snapped, “No! Stay downstairs!” Typical, Lisa thought, as she wandered the familiar rooms, stumbling upon old photographs and her beloved Mr. Peebles hidden in a wardrobe.
The bear triggered memories of Jeremy’s warmth and Susan’s anger. Why had her mother hated him so much? Curiosity gnawed at Lisa, pushing her to step outside and cross the street to Jeremy’s vacant house.
To her surprise, the front door was unlocked. The air inside was thick with stillness and the faint smell of old wood. Exploring the dusty rooms, Lisa climbed the stairs and found a box on a bedside table labeled: “For Lisa.” Her heart pounded as she opened it. Inside were faded photographs, letters, and a journal. One photograph stopped her cold—a young Susan, smiling and close to Jeremy, their arms around each other.
Flipping through the journal, Lisa’s world tilted. Jeremy had written about her, about Susan, and the child they had together—a child he had abandoned out of fear. “I hope this letter reaches you, Lisa,” read a note tucked into the box. “Please know I always loved you and regretted not being there.
Don’t blame your mother; she had every right to feel as she did. Everything I own—my savings, my house—is yours, Lisa.” Tears blurred her vision as the pieces fell into place. Jeremy was her biological father, a man she had known only as a neighbor. Her mother’s hatred had been born of betrayal and heartache, not malice. Jeremy’s absence had left wounds Susan carried for years.
Returning home, Lisa found her mother waiting on the porch with packed bags. “Where were you?” Susan asked, eyeing Lisa’s tear-streaked face with concern. “Just clearing my head,” Lisa replied, tucking the letter into her pocket.
“Let’s get going.” As they drove away, Lisa glanced back at the houses—one that held her childhood and another that carried secrets she had finally uncovered. She had the answers now, and though they came late, they offered her a chance to make peace with the past. Some truths are better late than never.
