Ana left around 10:00 so she could check on her cats before work. Our tentative plan was for her to come back that night after she stopped to check on her kitties again. I felt awful—Wencesclaws, Bean Sprout, Gladys, and Jeremy were being neglected, and it was my fault. But they were cats, and at least this time it wasn't my drama pulling Ana back into my orbit. At least, not directly. It was interest in the diary.

I planned to go through more stuff at the house, although I wasn't looking forward to it. I needed to stay busy so that I could manage my own curiosity until Ana's return. Since it was nice out, I figured it would be a good day to take an inventory of the shed outside, which was probably going to be the dirtiest job.

As I was making myself a sandwich for an early lunch before getting to work, I noticed the old cracker tin Mark had found. I'd put it on the counter by the sink, intending to give it a gentle wash, but had completely forgotten it in the chaos that had followed the discovery.

I stood over the sink, sandwich in one hand and my phone in the other, doing some Google searches of the tin to get a sense of whether it really was something valuable. By searching the brand name and checking Google Images, I found similar tins, one of which was listed on eBay for $250.

"Holy shit." I looked at the tin. "Let's clean you up."

My experience in antiques was limited to this very object, and I had no idea how to clean it without damaging it, but by the time I had eaten the last bite of my sandwich, I had found a couple of helpful YouTube videos.

I ran some warm water into the sink, poured in a generous blurp of dish washing liquid, and retrieved a roll of paper towels. On closer inspection, I found that the tin's lid was actually hinged at the back. I couldn't believe that this was how they used to sell crackers. It seemed so sturdy and fancy. I gently lifted the lid, holding the tin away from myself in case an army of spiders exploded into my face.

Instead, I found that the tin contained several envelopes and folded papers, most of their edges brown with water damage. Excitement knocked me in the chest.

I flicked on the lights over the kitchen counter and then took the items out one by one. All of the envelopes were addressed to Royal. Four were from James Haas, my grandfather, addressed from Pontiac Correctional. Three of them were from Anna Elvers on 260 West Second Street in Myrtle. There were also a couple of folded papers without envelopes, which looked like letters, too.

At the bottom of the tin was a wad of fabric. I took it out and gently unfolded it. It was a dark blue sock, but it was lumpy. I slipped my thumbs into the top of the sock and carefully rolled it down, grimacing as the old elastic stretched and crackled in my fingers. There was something inside, something soft that had once been white.

When I had the objects in my hand, I realized they were two tiny crocheted socks, or booties, small enough for baby feet. They were mostly white with faded trim of soft green. In a couple of spots, it seemed like the dye from the blue sock had stained the booties, and there was a rust-colored spot on one of them from the tin.

"What the hell is going on here?" I whispered. I cradled one bootie in each of my palms. They were so small and so beautiful. Somebody had made them with love and care and skill.

They could have been my mother's, or my grandmother's or great uncle's—they had all been babies on this property. Even Tim and I had been babies here. But I'd found them in a cracker tin, secreted away with a bundle of letters meant for my great uncle.

I knew who had made these booties.

It had been Anna Elvers.

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To Royal Haas, 1612 Red Oak Road, Myrtle, Iowa

From Anna Elvers, 260 West 2nd Street, Myrtle, Iowa

July 5th, 1951

Dear, dear Royal,

I wish I could talk to you to tell you this, but my mother will not let me leave the house. My only choice is to write to you.

We are going to have a baby. I do not know when for certain but Mother says it will come around January of next year. I am scared. She has spoken to my aunt, and I am afraid they may send me to live with her—or they will send me to a maternity home. I couldn't bear that. Girls who go into those places do not keep their children. They will make me give the baby up.

I haven't even told Mother who you are—I mean who the father is—and she is furious with me but there is still time to make all of this right, isn't there?

I know you have promised to marry Mary Ellen and I understand why. You want to be a preacher and she is the perfect preacher's wife.

But I could be a good wife to you, too, and I don't believe you love her like you love me.

You promised you would love me forever. R + A, remember?

If that was true, why did you you ever promise to marry her?

Love me. Marry me and we will build a life together.

I will do everything I can to keep our baby. Even if I have to run away. It may mean that I can't come back here to live because I don't want to shame my mother and father and I know what people say about girls like me.

Even though I'm scared and I feel so alone, I can't help but be happy thinking about the life we might have. We are already starting a family. Your little family.

With all my love,

Your Sweet Annie

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To Royal Haas, 1612 Red Oak Road, Myrtle, Iowa

From Anna Elvers, 260 West 2nd Street, Myrtle, Iowa

July 19th, 1951

Dear Royal,

I don't understand why you have not at least answered my letters. I cannot come to see you because my mother will not let me out of her sight, and you have not come to see me.

I tell myself you must be busy with your work and your studies. It's the only explanation that makes any sense, because you are not a cruel person.

Answer me. Please.

Annie

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To Royal Haas, 1612 Red Oak Road, Myrtle, Iowa

From Anna Elvers, 260 West 2nd Street, Myrtle, Iowa

July 30th, 1951

Royal,

I'm dying of the pain you have caused me. I thought that you loved me. For you to have held my hand, kissed me, made love to me, and said such sweet things to me, talking about the place you had for me in your heart, and all of it must have been lies.

I truly believed you. I feel so stupid now.

Girls talk. There are so many stories of girls who are taken in by boys and the romantic things they say, and our mothers warn us: be careful. Don't be fast. Don't kiss, don't let them touch you, or you'll end up in a bad way.

Tell me I'm wrong. I'm begging you to tell me I'm wrong, because even more painful than having a baby without a father is the knowledge that you lied to me.

You lied to me to get what you wanted out of me and now you have left me behind.

I see now why they say that love and hate are two sides of the same coin.

Annie

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No envelope

DEC 25 1949

Royal,

Sorry I havent been good about writing you. These past few years took it out of me. Now Im sitting in my cell on Chrismas day thinking how much Id rather be at home with you and your mother and sister.

Your letters sent with your moms never fail to bring a bright spot into my day. I miss you bad son. Worse than you can know. And your sister too. Though she hasnt wrote me at all. I suppose she dont know what to say to her old dad now hes stuck in jail.

Anyway come the new year Ill be thinking of you and wishing you all the good things in a new decade.

Behave yourself and help your mother. Ill write to you soon.

Dad

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No envelope

JUL 4 1950

Royal,

I read your last letter about you deciding you might want to be a preacher and I been thinking about that pretty much nonstop since then. I was surprised at first but then I wasnt surprised at all once I thought about it. You always were a booksmart boy. Reading and studying. We never went to church much when I was at home I know that but I was raised by good Christian parents and it would make them proud to know you were thinking about being a minister.

I told my cellmate this morning you was going to do that and all and he was quite impressed. Said how could a boy like that come from a man like me.

I dont know to be honest but I could not be more proud. Theres something good working in your heart Royal and I hope you will follow where it leads and not in my footsteps.

I love you. Thats the the truth.

Dad

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To Royal Haas, 1612 Red Oak Road, Myrtle, Iowa

From James Haas, Pontiac Correctional, Pontiac, Nebraska

NOV 17 1950

Royal,

I know Im not the best at writing regular but every letter you send me goes into a big old stack I keep under my bed and when Im feeling real low about being here and real lonely I will pull out one of them letters and read it and it always lifts me up.

Most recently the one you wrote about this girl you met who is the preachers daghter in town. Mary Ellen Johnson. From the way you write about her I bet she is Mary Ellen Haas before long. But dont rush things son. Your plenty young and want to make sure you pick the right woman before you settle down. A woman like your mother who will stand by you. One of the greatest regrets in my life is how I done her so much wrong and when I get out of here I will do my best to make it up to her.

Send me a picture if you can because I would like to see this young lady.

Dad

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To Royal Haas, 1612 Red Oak Road, Myrtle, Iowa

From James Haas, Pontiac Correctional, Pontiac, Nebraska

FEB 2 1951

Royal,

I hear tell from your mothers letters that you been hanging around with a girl only her name was Anna. Did you have a falling out with your preachers daughter? You better give me the news so I know whats the latest.

I suppose Id get a little more up to date if I was better about writing you.

I hope your studying is going well. Its about time for you to be done and graduated which I cant hardly believe. Last time I saw you you was still barely more than a snot nosed boy riding his bike down the gravel road and here you are getting ready to move on out into the world on your own.

Makes me proud.

Dad

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To Royal Haas, 1612 Red Oak Road, Myrtle, Iowa

From James Haas, Pontiac Correctional, Pontiac, Nebraska

JUL 11 1951

Royal,

I got your letter about your situation and I was shocked to hear it and sorely disappointed. I have not been known to be particularly sharp which explains why I thought that you were above these fool games.

Your going to be Reverand Royal J. Haas. You cant have a child out of wedlock and you cant marry some slut from under a mossy rock.

Talk to this girl and knock some sense into her head before she ruins everything you have ahead of you.

Dad

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To Royal Haas, 1612 Red Oak Road, Myrtle, Iowa

From James Haas, Pontiac Correctional, Pontiac, Nebraska

AUG 1 1951

Royal,

Shes going to stick you with a family you wasnt prepared for sooner than you can handle it and there isnt much that you can do. It sounds like she wont listen to reason, not from you and not from her mother. If she wont listen then what you gonna do?

You had everything laid out before you. You arent the first boy who made a dumb mistake. God knows I made plenty of them in my time. But it sounds like you chose a particular difficult girl.

I dont know what to tell you son other than you got to do whatever you can think to do to keep one fool decision from ruining your future. Make her see it straight before its too late.

Dad