Chapter 9
“From him?”
“No.”
She turned the envelope over. On the back was a name. Evelyn Hart. I had never heard it.
“Who was Evelyn?”
Mom's eyes met mine. “His mother.”
Mara frowned. “The mother of the man you dated?”
“Yes.”
“What did she want?”
“I never opened it.”
I stared at her. “You kept an unopened letter for more than thirty years?”
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
“I thought I knew what it said.”
“What did you think it said?”
“That I had hurt her son. That I had misunderstood him. That I should go back.”
Mara leaned back. “And now?”
Mom looked toward me. “Now I'm not sure.”
Something in the way she said it made me realize this wasn't merely curiosity about an old letter.
“Why show us now?”
Mom took a folded sheet from beneath the bundle. “This was with your father's papers.”
It was another note in Dad's handwriting. Only a few lines. Mom slid it toward me.
Helen, if you ever find Evelyn's letter again, perhaps read it. Not for the past. For yourself. You have spent too many years answering words nobody actually said.
I closed my eyes. That sounded so much like Dad that I could almost hear him saying it.
Mom stared at the unopened envelope. “I spent thirty-three years believing I knew what was inside.”
Mara said, “Are you going to read it?”
“I don't know.”
“You brought us here.”
“I know.”
“You put it on the table.”
“I know.”
“That usually suggests opening.”
“Mara.”
“What?”
Mom laughed nervously. I reached across the table.
“You don't have to read it because Dad wanted you to.”
She looked at me. “And you don't have to avoid it because you were afraid of it.”
For several seconds, she said nothing. Then she nodded. She opened the envelope.
The paper inside was thin and yellowed. Mom unfolded it carefully. Her eyes moved across the first lines. Then stopped.
“What?” Mara asked.
May you like
Mom covered her mouth. “What is it?”
She handed me the letter. I began reading.
