I came home to fulfill a commitment I made thirty years ago under a treehouse, as well as to assist my mother in packing up her life. Opening that old time capsule should bring back happy childhood memories, I thought. Rather, I discovered rumors, cautions, and a cause to be cautious.

A part of me was subtly excited as I pulled into the driveway of the house I grew up in, even though I was feeling burned out and disconnected.

It was because today was the day, not because I was at home. Jonah, my boyhood best buddy, and I had buried a time capsule beneath my tree home thirty years prior. I wanted to fulfill the commitment we had made to dig it up together today.

Before I had even killed the engine, my mother came out onto the porch. Her sneer still had the ability to pierce silence like a scalpel through heated butter.

“Ellie!” “You succeeded!” she said.

“Of course, I did.” After grabbing a box from the car, I went to the porch to join her. “Mom, are you certain about this? Is being in an assisted living facility truly what you want?”

“The yoga instructor, according to Bernice, is a thirty-year-old divorcee with movie-star-like forearms.” Mom said, “I may have arthritis, but I’m not dead.” “Besides, I heard the wine flows like tap water and someone’s always got a scandal.”

As usual when she was excited, my mother followed me upstairs and talked nonstop.

She sat on the bed and murmured, “Don’t throw out the red photo album,” “That’s where I keep the good blackmail.”

“But do you want to take it with you?”

Mom gave a headshake. “It should go into storage… just in case.”

As I obediently put away books and decorations, I couldn’t help but stare out the window at the backyard treehouse.

I would finally get an answer tonight to a question that had plagued me for years if Jonah recalled our pledge and kept it.

An hour later, as Mom was making tea, I went outdoors to breathe. I approached and gazed up at the treehouse.

It was worn and twisted. The rope ladder had nearly rotted away, and the wood had fractured and turned gray.

I discovered the flat, gray, and weather-worn rock that marked the location where we had buried the time capsule at the base of the tree, half-buried in dirt and fallen leaves.

“No matter what, Ellie, we come back here in 30 years and dig it up together,” Jonah said, his voice echoing back to me as if he were standing right there next to me. even if we despise one another. even if it’s the world’s worst idea. Promise?

I poked my toe into the rock. A picture of Jonah and I, a toy or two, and possibly some candy were among the items we had buried, but only one of them held true significance. I could only vaguely recall the majority of them.

Jonah put a tiny brass key in the time capsule as his final item. After his mother passed away, he began wearing it around his neck on a chain. I will never forget what he answered when I asked him if he was certain he wanted to put it in the time capsule.

It’s my escape route and the key to my future. The safest place for it is within the time capsule. Dad won’t ever discover it here.

The village was aware of Jonah’s father’s bad character. His remarks haunted me as an adult, even though I hadn’t questioned them at the time.

I returned inside. Mom was just spreading out a platter of cookies when she put the tea on the kitchen table.

“Mom, I was wondering, does Jonah still live in town?”

As if I had flipped a switch and frozen her in place, she became motionless.

“Didn’t you hear?” she asked at last. “Jonah vanished five years ago, after the money went missing from the church.”

“Someone overheard him threatening the treasurer while he was employed there as a groundskeeper. He and the pastor’s daughter also got into a heated confrontation. She vanished shortly after that.”

Mom concluded, “It’s clear that he stole the money, even if you might not want to hear it. It’s unfortunate. I had assumed he had moved past his history, but with a father like that, I suppose it was inevitable that he would eventually turn evil.”

Before my knees buckled, I took a seat.

A thief, Jonah? It was unbelievable to me. He had a dark side, no doubt. I recalled the night he broke a window at the school pool, sending glass flying like ice, yet he apologized and escorted me home after I told him he was frightening me.

Had Jonah really turned into the danger the community had long feared? Or had he changed into the good-hearted boy I had adored?

That night, I didn’t get any sleep. I found myself putting on a jacket and going back into the backyard at two in the morning.

There was a peaceful darkness over the town, the kind that only exists in small spaces where no one is awake to switch on the lights.

In the moonlight, the treehouse rose like a skeleton. Even though Jonah was already gone, I was going to fulfill my pledge.

After putting down my flashlight, I began to dig. A few minutes later, I sensed metal. The hinges shrieked as I pried open the bent and corroded tin box.

I was the first to lift the picture out. God, we were so joyful and young.

After carefully putting it in my pocket, I searched through the old toys and candies until I came across Jonah’s key.

In the beam of my flashlight, I picked it up and turned it over. The enigma that had perplexed me for decades—what did the key unlock—was the most significant piece in here.

“I need you to give that to me, Ellie.”

I almost dropped the key as I whirled around so quickly. A silhouette emerged from the darkness, thin, worn out, but definitely Jonah.

My heart struck my ribs with a thud.

“Is it true?” I inquired. I sounded like I was eight years old again, afraid and young. “They say you stole money from the church…”

He declared, “I’m not here to explain,” His voice was weak and low, like a piece of fabric about to rip.”

I reflexively drew back as he reached for the key.

He took a step toward her. “Ellie, give it to me. I own it. I can leave this place permanently with that key.”

“However?” “What does it unlock?”

I raised it. Jonah sprang forward, grabbed the key from me, and fled into the night.

I didn’t even consider it. I chased him down shortcuts that only the children in this town would know, over fences and across backyards.

My lungs were burning as we sprinted through an open field until we arrived at Jonah’s childhood house.

It was worse than I had recalled.

As he slipped inside, the porch creaked under his weight and the house sagged with rot and stillness.

With my flashlight sweeping across dust-covered furniture and the ghosts of a life no one wanted to remember, I followed him through the darkness.

In the small corridor, he turned to face me, obstructing my way.

“You shouldn’t have followed me, Ellie,” he whispered softly.

I exhaled, “I couldn’t let you go like that,” “What’s happening, Jonah? What took place? It’s unbelievable that you took that money.”

Then he laughed, a sour sound that sounded like a sound effect from a horror film, echoing off the peeling walls.

“Well, everyone else believes it,” he replied. And that’s the important thing. However, it won’t matter in the near future.

He showed me his old room at the back of the home. The carpet had completely rotted away, leaving the walls bare. On his knees, he retracted a distorted floorboard.

He took a canvas bag out of the area underneath.

There was a scuffed wooden jewelry box within.

He displayed the key. I watched as the lid opened and the lock clicked into place.

At first glance, it appeared to be filled with crumpled bills, but Jonah rummaged through them and found a necklace with a deep blue stone that gave off a faint glimmer when illuminated by a flashlight.

When Jonah said, “My mom saved every penny,” “She gave me a future with this package. I’m going to use it today.”

I gasped.

He said, “I didn’t steal anything,” as he looked at me. “But I know who did, and I kept quiet because she needed a way out, too.”

“The pastor’s daughter?” I inquired.

He gave a nod. “She didn’t want anyone to know that she was expecting. The money was taken by her. I made her vanish.”

Then the darkness was broken by the sirens.

Like a strobe light, red and blue lights flickered through the boarded windows’ slats. Quickly, Jonah ran to the window.

“It was good seeing you again, Ellie,” he replied. “But I’ve got to run.”

I extended my arm and took hold of his wrist. “Avoid it! You’ll only exacerbate the situation.”

I grabbed on tight as he attempted to get away.

“You’ve been running for five years, Jonah,” I replied. “And for what purpose? The daughter of the preacher has long since left. The moment has come to be honest.”

When he glanced at me, his face contorted into something I could hardly recognize due to the weight of everything.

“It’s not that simple!” His voice broke. “I assisted her in going. I said a falsehood. I gave them the impression that I was the source of the money. What are they going to do to me now, in your opinion?”

“You might be accused of assisting and abetting. Obstruction, perhaps. However, you would likely receive probation and possibly a fine. In particular, if you voluntarily enter and tell them everything. You will have an opportunity to provide an explanation.”

I moved in closer.

However, it will get worse if you keep fleeing and they catch you, and they will get you. Avoiding police, resisting arrest, etc. All of a sudden, you are the criminal they have always accused you of being.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot like an animal in a cage and shook his head.

“Show them who you really are, Jonah.” That was the only single truth I provided him.

He paused and gave me a glance. I saw the battle evaporating from him like balloon air.

Footsteps crunched over gravel outside. Flashes shone through shattered glass.

“You sure about this?” He hardly raised his voice above a whisper.

When I said, “You trusted me once,” “Trust me now.”

Officers rushed in with their weapons drawn and their voices yelling as the door flew open.

Jonah held up his hands as I took a step back. Be calm. All set.

He didn’t give me another glance. He didn’t have to.

As I saw them take him away, I came to the realization that sometimes honoring a commitment required letting go.

Knowing when to move aside was sometimes necessary to be there for someone.