Harper woke with a jolt, quickly lifting her head from the pillow at the loud sound of buzzing piercing her ears. Her cell phone was about to vibrate itself right off the edge of the nightstand beside the bed. She quickly grabbed it, not even looking at the caller ID before answering, giving a half-asleep, "Yeah- hello?"

"Hey, it's Steve," the voice on the other end replied. "Everything okay?"

"What? Yeah, why would...oh, I forgot to call, didn't I? I'm sorry. So much was going on and I completely spaced it."

Steve chuckled. "It's fine, I'm glad you're alright."

"Wait a second," Harper nudged the corner of the blanket out of the way, clearing the path to see her alarm clock. It was eight AM. "Isn't only, like, two AM in Hawaii?"

"Yeah, I'm working late on a case," Steve exhaled, tiredly.

Harper sat up, pushing back the blanket, and swung her legs off the side of the bed. "Must be pretty important to keep you up so late."

"I think I'm just procrastinating, really. Well, more like dreading going home. Finding it empty. I haven't slept alone for a long time." His voice sounded empty, and Harper felt a pang of helplessness. And a stab of regret. Something small inside her saying she shouldn't have left. But another part of her was telling her to grow up. To be a big girl. She inhaled, standing. "Who knows? It might be nice," she said, trying to sound optimistic.

"Nice?" Steve inquired, chuckling a little.

"Yeah. You'll have the bed to yourself, you won't have to worry about some crazy lady kicking your brains out in the middle of the night. You know, nice." She smiled at the sound his laughter on the other end as she dug through her suitcase for something to wear. She'd packed enough clothes to last her a few weeks. But, wouldn't you know it, she had nothing to wear. Steve sighed. "Yeah, maybe. So how are things going with your mom?"

"Alright, I guess," Harper tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear, in need of both hands. "We had an...interesting conversation last night. It's just weird, you know? I've waited my whole life for this and, now that I'm here, I have no clue what to say." She laid out a peach colored tank top and denim shorts, then rummaging around in the suitcase for her sandals.

"Just speak from your heart. Say everything you've ever wanted to say," Steve suggested.

"What if some of those things involve curse words?" she asked, mostly teasing.

He huffed a chuckle. "Maybe not those ones. Save those for your pillow."

"Good idea," she smiled, though he couldn't see. A knock on the door behind her caught her attention, and she stood up straight. "I've got to go. But you get some sleep, alright? Eight hours. No exceptions."

"Got it, boss. I love you."

"I love you, too." She ended her side of the call and tossed the phone on the bed, before walking to the door. Opening it revealed June. Sporting a cyan sundress and matching knit cap. Beaming in the color, almost too brightly for this early hour. Harper smiled lightly at the woman. "Morning," she greeted.

"Good morning. I hope I'm not disturbing you," June apologized.

Harper waved it away. "No, not at all."

"Oh, good. I just wanted to let you know breakfast will be ready in about five minutes if you're hungry."

"Okay, thank you. I'm going to take a quick shower and I'll be right down."

June smiled. "Alright, I'll see you then."

Harper nodded in reply and closed the door, exhaling the breath she'd been holding onto once it was firmly shut in between them. It was hard to find her place here. Where to put her foot. How to act and what to say. She had to take it in stride. After showering and getting dressed, she took to the stairs. It was a beautiful morning. Bright sun and a cool breeze blew in through the back windows. Harper ambled to the kitchen, where June was just setting breakfast on the table.

A plate stacked high with golden-brown pancakes. June smiled as she looked up, seeing Harper entering the room. "Good, you're here. Breakfast is ready," she said. "I hope you like pancakes. I didn't put anything special in them. Well, maybe a little vanilla. Are you allergic to anything? I probably should've asked that sooner."

Harper shook her head, approaching the table. "Don't worry, I don't have any food allergies. And pancakes are great."

"Please, take a seat. How did you sleep?" June gestured to a chair, then sat in the one across from it, easing herself down onto the seat. Harper sat in the chair and scooted in. "Alright. The time zone difference is a little hard, though," she answered, calmly. "So...what does your day usually entail?" She'd asked purely out of curiosity. But June lit up none of the less, delighted in the simple interest the question required. She cracked a smile, readjusting her knit cap behind her ear.

"I read most days," June answered. Harper bobbed her head in a nod, loading a couple of pancakes onto her plate while she listened. "But, when I'm feeling skipper, I take a walk. Maybe lounge by the pool. What do you spend your time doing?"

Harper hummed, sitting back. "Work usually keeps me busy. When I have free time I walk Darcy."

"That sounds very entertaining." June gave a small chuckle. The largest laugh the woman could manage, Harper assumed. She scooped up a fork full of pancake squares and devoured them. All the while, she couldn't help thinking. The thought pressing on her. Could this be what it would've been like had she never been given up? Her mother cooking breakfast for her, making small talk around the breakfast table? Had she been given this treat as a child, oh how her life would have been different.

After breakfast, June talked Harper into sitting on the back porch to drink lemonade and talk. So Harper sat in one of the lavender colored lounge chairs. Settling in with a sigh. June was walking through the sliding glass a moment late with a tray of glasses and a full pitcher. It teetered and wobbled. Noticing this, Harper quickly stood. "Here- let me help you with that," she offered, sliding a hand under the tray.

"Oh, thank you," June said. They set the tray on the glass circular table between the chairs. "I guess I still don't quite know my limits yet. I used to have a lot more energy—and strength, for that matter—when I was your age. Speaking of, how old are you now?"

Harper lifted the pitcher to fill the glasses. "Thirty-one."

"Well, you certainly don't look a day over twenty." Harper chuckled a little, under her breath, and handed a glass to June. June had just settled into her chair. She took the glass gratefully and Harper set the pitcher on the tray, sitting back down in her own seat. "So, what did you want to talk about?" Harper asked, lightly. June took a sip of her lemonade and put the glass on the tray, taking in a somewhat ragged breath. "There are some things you should know," June began.

She sat up a little in her chair, then bent to reach under the glass table. And only then did Harper notice the thin shoe box beneath in. Colored ocean blue with rips at every edge, stamps and stickers littering the lid. It had definitely seen better days. June set the box on the table top between them and carefully pried off the lid. "This has been my keepsake box, scrapbook—well, just about anything or everything I've ever done is in here," June continued. "Even a little family history. Some pictures left over from my mother. The family tree I made in fifth grade."

Harper edged onto the end of her chair, her hands in her lap. "That's...definitely a lot. How long have you had this?"

"Oh, since I was about...eight, I think," June replied. She rummaged through various items in the box to the bottom, pulling out a short stack of photos. Her frail fingers sifted the stack until she found one she wanted to show-and-tell. "Ah! Here it is. This is our family Christmas card photo from seventy-seven. I was twelve." She held up the picture and Harper's eyes scrutinized it. The family of four stood in front of a Christmas tree and fireplace.

The father wore glasses and a sweater vest, the mother a nice dress. And the two young girls in front of them wore matching clothes. Harper lifted a finger, aiming it at the two girls. "Who's the other girl?" she asked, curiously.

"That's your Aunt Carol, my sister. We were only twenty-two months apart so your grandmother thought we needed to wear matching clothes in every family photo," June recounted, thinking. "I believe she lives in Chicago now. Married some lawyer...I think by now they must have children. We had a falling out many years ago. I don't get much news from her anymore."

"Does she know about your health?" Harper inquired.

June hummed a moment. "She knows. She's probably just waiting for me to kick the bucket so she can rummage my belongings for any dollar value they might have."

"That's...cold."

"She was never the most caring sister. But she did a good job of making mom think she was, I'll give her that," June sifted through photos as she talked, stopping suddenly on another memory, pulling it from the stack. "Oh! And here's when I was in Grease. This was my theater group." She held up the picture for Harper to see, overly excited. A group of oddly dressed teens stood in front of a red backdrop, striking humorous poses.

It wasn't hard to spot June. She was the only one in a black getup with hoop earrings and puffed up blonde hair, right in front with an obvious male lead. "You were Sandy?" Harper chuckled, finding it hard to believe reality. June's small laugh was warm, comforting. "I wasn't always bald, dear," she smiled. "I used to have hair just like yours. A little curlier, but close."

As they continued to riffle through memories, old photos of family events, Harper found herself questioning it all. June seemed like a nice woman. But this was a little odd. No, not odd. Sudden. They'd gone down memory lane for another twenty minutes before she'd gotten up the courage to ask. "Why are you showing me all this?" Harper questioned. June didn't look offended by the question. More like she'd expected it to come up.

She exhaled, readjusting in her chair as her face became somber. "Well...I won't be here much longer. I would like to pass these things on to you," she explained, calmly. "I want to keep them in the family. But, more importantly, I want them to go to your family—whatever that happens to be."

Harper raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. "What about Layla? Shouldn't she have this?"

"Layla was always her father's daughter. I lover her very much. But this belongs to you. Should you choose to get rid of them after I'm gone, that's alright, too," June nodded slowly. "I just need to know that you have them. Maybe it will...fill in some gaps? Answer some things I can't remember anymore?"

"I..." Harper found herself at a loss for words. It seemed all this woman wanted was to get her affairs in order and die. But that thought only brought sadness to the daughter that only just discovered the mother she'd never had. She dropped her face in her hands with a heavy, indecisive sigh. The second she takes that box. The second she says those forbidden three words. The second those things happen, then Harper is once again without family.

The one family member she's needed for her whole life. Harper lifted her head, swallowing down the lump in her throat. "I just met you, and...and all you want to do is leave me again," she said, bluntly. Letting out some of her anger at the situation. "Don't you want to live? Don't you want to meet your grandson? You could come back to Hawaii with me."

"Oh, honey...I'm much too sick for that. Dear, I- I made my peace with my fate. There's no getting better for me," June said, quietly, apologetically.

Harper sat back in her chair, looking away. "I just met you."

"I know. I wish we had more time to...to get to know each other. But that's why this box is so important. It's got my whole life in it. You can't help but get to know me looking through it," June pressed, a little more urgently. She leaned forward, placing her hand atop the only hand Harper had on the table, gaining her daughter's attention. "Please...take it with you. It's all I have to give."

"Okay. I'll take it," Harper nodded reluctantly.

June gave a small, bittersweet smile, sitting back in her chair. "Thank you."

"I forgive you," Harper blurted. She swiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Though, it was useless, given the others that followed. June was take aback. She hadn't expected to hear it at all, much less right then. Completely genuine. Harper stared at the woman a moment. Trying to regain her speech. She inhaled a shaky breath. "For leaving me, for not coming—for all of it. I forgive you."

"Sweetheart...come here." June stood, outstretching her shaky arms, and Harper practically ran into them. Clinging to the last bit of her mother inside that frail body, for she had no idea how long she'd be able to have it. She'd just released it. Given June the go-ahead to let go. Her life was complete now. Any second could be the end, Harper knew, and she would spend whatever time she had left with her being her daughter.