Rose was laying in bed reading and Jack was sitting in the velvet chair by the window. His art folder was on the table next to him and on his lap rested the box that he had been given by Anders.

"Jack, aren't you coming to bed?" asked a tired Rose.

"What?" answered Jack, who seemed lost in another world. "Oh, I was thinking of something else. No, I think I'll stay up for awhile. I want to see what's in here."

Jack put the box on the floor and slid out of the chair. He made his way over to the bed and bent over Rose. He put his arms around her and kissed her goodnight.

"I'll come in a few minutes," he promised, as he turned off the lamp and tucked her in.

Jack went back to his chair and picked up the box again. Cautiously he opened it. Soot and ashes blew about as the lid opened wider. He did not know what to expect to find.

The first thing he saw was the picture of a stern middle aged woman. Her dark hair had been pulled back tightly in a bun. The photograph had been taken at a studio in Rockland, Maine. On the back was written, Margaret Dawson, 1885.

"This is my grandmother. Dad's mother," thought Jack.

He wondered why he had never seen this picture before. Jack had always thought it strange that neither one of his parents had talked much about their families. His questions had been put off or the subject had been changed. He figured that there had been some kind of disagreement.

He put the picture aside and pulled out something else. It was a teacher's certificate from the State of Maine, issued to Edith Alice Hawkinson in May, 1889. Digging deeper he found his parent's wedding picture. His mom was dressed in a dark dress, and his dad had looked unusually serious. There was his first report card from school, and a small envelope labeled "Jack's baby teeth." Then he found the yellowed railway tickets from the journey that had brought his parents here.

"I can't believe this," Jack said to himself. "I never knew they saved all these things. Now I really have something to remember them by."

There were several more items in the bottom of the box. One paper was the wedding certificate uniting Edith Alice Hawkinson and Henry James Dawson in marriage on March 24, 1891, in Boston, Massachusetts. Another clue that perhaps they had not had the approval of their families.

"Could Rose and I be following a pattern?" he mused.

Then he discovered a picture of himself at age 2. He had very straight hair, even then, and he was dressed in a miniature sailor suit with a solemn expression on his face.

"Rose will love this one," Jack thought, as he put that also on the table.

The box was almost empty and the pile of treasures was getting higher. He pulled out one last document. The baptismal record of Jack Henry Dawson, August 30, 1892 at the First Presbyterian Church, Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin.

"What a wonderful collection of things. I'll have to show all of this to Rose in the morning."

Jack put his hand in the box and felt the worn velvet lining. He thought it was empty now. But just before he pulled his hand out, he felt the corner of an envelope under the lining. He took it out of the box gently. It was not sealed and felt rather full. Jack pulled back the flap and his mouth fell open.