An unexpected gift from a secret Santa arrived.

Harper Hayes stared at the package on her doorstep, her breath clouding in the crisp December air. She hadn’t signed up for any Secret Santa exchanges, not at work, not with her friends. Yet, there it was: a neatly wrapped parcel with her name scrawled across the label. The handwriting was unmistakable—her mother’s.

Her chest tightened. Impossible.

Eleanor Hayes had died two years ago, leaving a gaping hole in Harper’s world. Her death wasn’t sudden; cancer had gnawed at her body for years, leaving Harper and her father to watch helplessly as her once-bright spirit dimmed. Yet Eleanor had always been deliberate, even in her final days, organizing photo albums, labeling keepsakes, and writing letters to her children for birthdays and milestones she knew she wouldn’t live to see.

But she’d never mentioned this.

Harper carried the package inside, setting it on the kitchen counter. She stared at it for a long time, running her fingers over the paper. Her name looked bold, certain—alive. Swallowing hard, she ripped the paper open. Inside was an antique locket she hadn’t seen in years, tarnished but familiar.

Her mother had worn it constantly when Harper was a child, saying it brought her comfort. It vanished during the chaos of her treatments. Seeing it now felt like finding a piece of her mother’s soul.

Inside the locket was a note, folded small. Harper unfolded it, her pulse quickening.

"Happy birthday, Harper. There’s more to time than you know. When the cardinal sings, you’ll understand."

She read it three times, each word sinking into her like a stone into deep water. Her birthday wasn’t for two more weeks. Who had sent this? And what did the message mean?

She called her father, Luke, gripping the phone tightly.

“Hey, Dad. Did you send me something?” Harper asked, trying to sound calm but failing to hide the tremor in her tone.

“Harper, it’s good to hear your voice, but… no. What kind of something?” Luke’s voice was cautious, laced with curiosity and concern.

She explained the package, the locket, the note in her mother’s handwriting. There was a long pause on the other end, and Harper could hear the faint sound of her father clearing his throat.

“Are you sure it’s her writing?” Luke finally asked, his voice low and careful, as if he were afraid to hope.

“I’d recognize it anywhere.” Harper said, her grip tightening on the phone.

Luke sighed, a sound heavy with grief and confusion. “Your mother planned for so much, Harper. Maybe… maybe this is one of those things. But I didn’t know anything about it.”

“I don’t think I can stay here tonight,” Harper admitted, her voice breaking. “This… it doesn’t feel real.”

“Why don’t you come home?” Luke suggested. “You can spend the night here, clear your head.”

Harper nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “Yeah, okay. I’ll pack a bag and head over soon.”

“I’ll leave the porch light on for you,” Luke said, his voice softening with a father’s instinctive care. “Drive safe.”

The drive to her childhood home in rural Nevada was quiet, the landscape barren under a starless sky. Harper felt the locket heavy against her chest, its presence both comforting and unnerving.

Her family’s home stood at the edge of a desert plain, its silhouette dark and familiar. As she stepped out of the car, a chill prickled her skin. She half-expected her mother to open the door, her warm smile welcoming Harper inside.

Instead, there was only her father, his face lined with worry. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, embracing her.

“I feel like I have.” Harper replied as her gaze dropped to the locket.

Inside, everything was as it had been—except for the overwhelming silence. Harper wandered through the house, memories clinging to every corner. In the living room, the old clock ticked softly, a sound that had once been a background hum but now felt deafening.

---

Unable to sleep, Harper found herself drawn to the backyard garden. Her mother had spent countless hours there, tending to the flowers, humming her favorite songs. But now, the garden was wild and overgrown, the flowers long dead.

As Harper stood in the moonlight, a soft fluttering sound caught her attention. She turned and froze.

Perched on the rusted garden bench was a bird—a red cardinal.

It was out of place, impossible. Red cardinals didn’t live in Nevada. She’d only seen them in pictures or on holiday cards. Yet here it was, its bright feathers glowing faintly in the darkness.

“Mom?” Harper whispered, her voice trembling.

The bird tilted its head, chirping a familiar tune. Harper’s breath caught. It was the lullaby her mother had sung to her as a child, the melody unmistakable. Tears spilled down her cheeks as the cardinal watched her, its small body radiating warmth.

The cardinal fluttered away moments later, leaving Harper shaken but determined. The cryptic note, the bird, the locket—it all felt connected, as if her mother were trying to tell her something.

She searched the attic for any clue, opening old trunks and rifling through boxes of forgotten treasures. Near the back of the attic, she found a small, locked chest she didn’t recognize. The lock was rusted shut, but the shape of it looked oddly familiar.

Harper touched the locket around her neck. With trembling fingers, she opened it and found a hidden compartment she hadn’t noticed before. Inside was a tiny, rusted key.

Her heart raced as she fit the key into the chest’s lock. It clicked open, revealing a collection of letters, photographs, and an old cassette tape labeled For Harper.

Harper found a tape recorder and played the cassette. Her mother’s voice filled the room, clear and vibrant despite the years.

“Hi, Harper. If you’re hearing this, it means I’m not with you anymore. But it also means I found a way to reach you.”

Harper sat down, clutching the recorder as her mother’s words wrapped around her like a hug.

“Time isn’t as linear as we think,” Eleanor continued. “I’ve always believed love can bend it, stretch it, and send pieces of itself into the future. This locket, this cardinal, they’re my way of showing you that I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”

Eleanor’s voice cracked, but her tone remained hopeful. “When the cardinal  sings, it means I’m watching over you. And Harper… I need you to live. Fully. Fearlessly. Know that I love you, no matter where—or when—you are.”

By the time the tape ended, the first light of dawn was breaking through the windows. Harper felt a peace she hadn’t known in years. She stepped outside, clutching the locket, and looked up at the sky.

The red cardinal was perched on the garden fence, its eyes bright and knowing. It chirped once before flying off into the horizon, its song echoing in the still morning air.

Harper smiled through her tears. She wasn’t alone. Her mother’s love was woven into every moment, every breath, and every song the cardinal sang.

And she would carry that love with her—always.