The map led Amy and me to a small cabin beside a lake. When I tried the brass key, the door opened immediately. Inside were photographs and belongings from my childhood, things I had not seen since my father died. I searched the property records and discovered something unbelievable: the cabin had been deeded in my name when I was eight, and the property taxes had remained current all those years. The account was connected to Martha, who was not a stranger at all. She was my father’s cousin.

Martha explained that my father had left the key, photographs, and documents with her. He had asked her to protect the cabin and make sure I received everything if he died before he could explain it himself. She had spent years trying to find me while quietly paying the taxes. The frogs were part of his plan too. He had kept them at the cabin because he remembered how much I loved The Frog Prince. When Martha saw me at her garage sale with Amy, she realized the time had finally come.

The cabin became even more important when Daniel tried using our motel situation against me in a custody dispute. He argued that Amy should spend most school nights with him because I supposedly lacked stable housing. My lawyer presented the cabin’s deed, working utilities, and records showing Daniel had emptied our account and locked us out of our home. The judge allowed Amy to remain with me and ordered Daniel to return some of the money. His attempt to use our hardship against us had failed.

Amy and I moved into the cabin and began rebuilding our lives. We repaired the porch and windows, while she chose frog-green paint for her bedroom. Thirty-one frogs now sit above the fireplace. The broken crowned frog was carefully glued back together, and when Amy was asked whether we should replace it, she smiled and touched its cracked crown. “It still gets to be the king,” she said. For the first time since Daniel left, I understood that losing our old life had not ended our story. My father had left us somewhere to begin again.