PART 3 – I Reached for the Brass Latch While Russell’s Family Watched, Knowing Whatever He Had Left Was Meant for My Hands

My hands were shaking.

I noticed it when I reached toward the fastening.

I tried to steady my fingers.

It was only a latch.

A small brass piece that I could lift with almost no effort.

Yet I hesitated.

The lawyer had already said everything Russell had instructed him to say.

Victoria had already dismissed the arrangement as one of her father's dramatic gestures.

Nothing more was required before I opened it.

Except for me to do it.

I looked at the fastening again.

Russell had chosen this.

He had arranged for the object to be kept closed until I was present.

He had made his children part of the moment.

And he had given me the responsibility of discovering what lay inside.

I thought about asking the lawyer another question.

Then I stopped myself.

He had made it clear that Russell wanted me to open it personally.

I doubted he would tell me anything more.

For a moment, I felt irritated.

It was an uncomfortable feeling to have after my husband's funeral.

I knew that.

But Russell had left me facing a question only he could have answered.

Why this way?

Why not simply tell me?

Why leave his lawyer to supervise something that concerned his own wife?

I could not make sense of it.

I remembered that his children were present because he had requested it.

Not because I had invited them.

Not because the lawyer had decided it was necessary.

Because Russell had wanted them there.

That knowledge made the act of opening the object feel strangely public.

I was not simply receiving something.

I was about to reveal something in front of people who had their own relationship with the man I had married.

I wondered what Victoria expected to see.

Her laughter had sounded certain.

But I did not know whether she knew anything about the contents.

I could not tell.

I returned my attention to the latch.

My thumb touched the brass.

I could feel how small the mechanism was beneath my unsteady fingers.

I had spent too long staring at it.

There was no reason to keep delaying.

Russell had left instructions.

His lawyer had followed them.

Now the next part depended on me.

I lifted the fastening.

It released.

I opened what Russell had left for me.

And there, inside, was an envelope.

White.

Ordinary.

For a moment, I simply stared at it.

I had expected something hidden.

I had not known what.

Now I was looking at a sealed piece of correspondence, and I still had no idea what it meant.

Click here to continue reading: PART 4: Beneath the Brass Latch Was a Plain White Envelope Bearing My Name, Written by the Husband Whose Intentions I Still Couldn’t Understand