Allison sighed and whipped the beads of sweat off her brow. The heat in the garage was as unpleasant as the dust rising from the disturbed boxes. Her nose itched and from what seemed like the thousandth time, she rubbed it with annoyance, wishing she wasn’t allergic to everything.

“Damn dust,” she muttered as she tore open yet another box, one that she forced out of a dark, very dusty corner.

She plunged her hand in, now not fearing what she would find. There had been several questionable objects that made her think ‘why did you keep this, Dad?’ A lot of it was old hospital things. She knew her father spent a lot of time in the hospital but she also knew he hated it—so why keep that stuff?

“I’ll never know,” she muttered again, this time with sadness.

Her hands shifted through everything in the box. It was mostly paper and she dreaded going through them. Normally she loved it. Going through papers—especially her childhood papers—and reading things from the past was great fun. But not now. She was by herself, her brother having gone out to get lunch, and she knew it would take a while, especially when going through her dad’s things; he kept everything.

She picked up a yellowed paper that was folded neatly and turned it over before unfolding it. It was very official looking and she brought it closer, trying to read what it said. From the numbers and columns, she could tell it was a bill of some sort and her eyes wandered to top corners to find out it was a hospital bill. Her eyes scanned the middle of the top but stopped herself, thinking it was just one of his many hospital bills. From the way he collected everything else from his hospital stays, it wouldn’t surprise her that he kept his bills.

Putting the paper to the side, she continued shifting through the other papers. They were all the same mostly and she moved them aside. As she did, something in the box caught her eye. A corner of a photograph. The bills forgotten, she picked it up and looked at it. Staring back at her was her dad. This wasn’t unusual since it was his house and they were everywhere. But what kept her looking was the girl next to him. In all the pictures scattered around the house, she had never seen her in any of them. From the way the picture was saturated and judging from the clothes and the car they were leaning on, she knew the picture was old.

She turned the picture over, wondering if there was a date and saw it was from June 1979; her dad was 17 when it was taken. Turning it back over, she gazed at the two again. They both looked happy, the girl seemed to be absolutely glowing. Her dad was also smiling, that lazy smile he always had and Allison sighed with sadness wishing that he had always been that happy.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. No need to think about that now. She put the picture aside with the hospital bills and looked in the box again. There wasn’t much there left but she pulled out another paper and unfolded it. She narrowed her eyes as she looked over it. It was a photo copy of a birth certificate. She almost brushed it off, thinking it was hers or her brothers but something caught her eye. It was dated March 20, 1980. Confused, she wondered who’s it was. Her brother had been born in 1986 and she, three years later.

Her eyes sought out a name and what she saw confused her even more. Samuel Eller. She blinked. Her grandfather had been Samuel Eller but this was clearly not her grandfather’s certificate. She roamed down the paper at the mother’s name. Amber Hollin. She didn’t recognize the name. But bellow that, she saw another name and she paled as she read it. Paul Eller, her father’s name.

She blinked and re-read it. Paul Eller. She turned the paper over, wondering if it some joke but the back was blank and she turned it back. The name was still there. Paul Eller.

She shook her head and still holding the paper, looked back in the box for something else. There were a few more papers and she pulled one out and unfolded it, finally dropping the birth certificate. The paper she now held was in her father’s writing, a letter. It was dated 1986, the same year as when her brother had been born. She quickly scanned it, her chest thumping with alarm. It was a letter to Samuel Eller. She started at the beginning, eyes widened as she read the words, ‘I am your father’.

Allison let out cry of surprise and scanned the rest of the letter, trying to find more meaning but saw that it was half finished. She snatched another paper from the box and saw it was the same. She pulled out two more papers, the last two, and but they were the same. Her father had written at least four unfinished letters to Samuel Eller. His son. His first son.

A name caught her eye in one of the letters. Amber Hollin. She grabbed the birth certificate. It was the same Amber. Amber Hollin, not her mother but someone else. Her father had a child with someone other than her mother.

Her throat started closing in and her eyes burned. There was a cold chill running through her and she sat back, trying to hold in the tears that were building up. She had another brother and her father had not told her. She wondered if her brother knew but shook her head, knowing that he didn’t. How could he when her father tucked away this part of his past in a musty old corner?

Sniffing, she picked up the picture she had discarded earlier. There was her father again, smiling and looking happy with the girl. She turned the picture over and saw the date again. June 1979. Her interest piquing again, she remembered the date from the birth certificate and quickly did the math, tracing the two nine months apart. Turning the picture over again, she looked at the girl. Amber Hollin, the mother of Samuel Eller. She looked so happy. Allison saw again that she had that glow to her. It must have been either when they found out about the pregnancy or before.

A door slamming brought her to look around the garage. Her brother was back. She looked down at the paper littered around her and stared at them before quickly throwing everything back in with the exception of the picture and taking care to shove the birth certificate in the bottom. She didn’t want her brother knowing, not now. Too much had already happened and she didn’t want her brother to have something else on his plate.

The garage door opened and her brother strolled in, arms laden with paper bags and papers from McDonalds. He set them on the work table opposite from her and gave out a great sigh before turning and walking toward her.

“Find anything?” He asked, kicking some other boxes that had yet to be looked through.

She swallowed and shook her head. “Nothing really. Just his hospital bills from when he was younger.” Her brother shook his head, also knowing how their father kept everything. Then she remembered the picture in her hand. “Oh and this.”

Her brother took it, looked at it, and smiled. “He looked happy. Wish he could have been happier through his life.”

She nodded, taking the picture back and looking at it. “Yea…” What happened to them?