Chapter 10
The kitchen felt smaller after she said it.
I hadn't moved from the island. The tan envelope was open now, the letter beside it, and the string had left a faint red mark where my mom had pulled it too tight. I could hear the refrigerator humming again, too loud. My mom's hands were still on the edge of the granite, knuckles white.
"You told me he didn't want us," I said. My voice didn't sound angry the way I wanted it to. It sounded small. "You told me he left."
Claire didn't look at me. She looked at Daniel like he was the one who'd made her lie.
"I told you what I thought would keep you safe," she said. "I told you what was easier."
"Easier for who?" I said.
Daniel hadn't moved since he put the letter down. His bomber jacket was still zipped halfway, his watch catching the light over the island. He looked at me, then at my mom, like he was waiting for permission to speak.
"He didn't leave," Daniel said quietly. "Not the way she told you. But he didn't stay either. That's why I'm here."
My mom finally turned her head toward him. "Where is he?"
Daniel exhaled through his nose. He put both hands flat on the island for a second, then pulled them back.
"Michael is alive," he said. "He's at St. Francis. Two counties over. Past Millerton."
I didn't know what I expected him to say, but that wasn't it. I thought he'd say dead. That would have made sense with the way he talked about delivering something when the time was right.
"What?" Claire said. "St. Francis? Since when?"
"Three weeks," Daniel said. "It got worse fast. His lungs. They said it was a matter of time now, then a matter of days." He looked straight at me when he said it. "He asked me to wait. He said if he got better, he'd come himself. If he didn't, I was supposed to bring it to you. That's what he meant by when the time was right."
It clicked for me a half second before my mom said it.
The time wasn't a birthday. It wasn't when I was old enough. It was if he ran out of time.
"Oh god," Claire whispered. She brought one hand to her mouth. Her gold earrings caught the light. "He knew. He knew he was getting worse."
"He didn't want you to open that letter at a funeral," Daniel said. "He wanted a chance to explain it himself. He made me promise not to come until he couldn't wait anymore. Last Tuesday he told me to go."
I looked down at the letter on the island. Michael's handwriting. If you're reading this, it means I couldn't be there to tell you myself. I hadn't understood that line before. Now it felt literal.
"You've known him how long?" Claire asked. Her voice was tight.
"Since we were nineteen," Daniel said. "We worked the same warehouse outside Camden. He was my brother in everything but blood. He asked me because he knew I wouldn't make it about me."
My mom laughed once, sharp and without humor. "He had a brother like you and a son like him and he still waited ten years?"
"He waited because you told him to stay away," Daniel said, not mean, just plain. "He told me you said it would be better if Ethan thought his father was just gone. He listened to you, Claire. Even when it broke him."
That hit her. I saw it in her shoulders. She didn't argue. She just closed her eyes for a second and breathed.
I felt the anger shift. It wasn't just at her anymore. It was at this man named Michael who'd let her decide for me, who was lying in a hospital two counties away while I found out about him from a stranger.
"So why didn't he just call?" I asked Daniel. My throat was dry. "Why an envelope and a wax seal like it's a movie?"
"Because he wanted you to have something real," Daniel said. "Something you could hold. And something you could say no to."
He reached into the inside pocket of his bomber jacket again. I thought he was done retrieving things. My mom tensed when she saw his hand move.
He pulled out a second thing. Smaller than the first envelope. A single sheet, folded in thirds, sealed again with the same dark reddish-brown wax. No string this time, just the seal.
He didn't open it. He slid it forward across the granite, past the first letter, until it stopped halfway between him and me. The stone was cold against it. The wax caught the kitchen light.
"What's that?" Claire asked.
Daniel kept his hand near it, not touching it.
"He said Ethan should read the first letter before he sees this one," Daniel said. "This one is a choice. Not a secret. He wanted your son to decide for himself, with no pressure from me and no pressure from your mom. He said if Ethan wants nothing to do with him, that's an answer too."
My mom stared at the new seal. "A choice about what?"
"About his name," Daniel said. He looked at me. "And about whether you want to meet him while you still can."
May you like
The second paper sat there on the island, exactly in the middle, sealed shut. I could see my reflection warped a little in the polished granite around it. My mom's hand was inches away but she didn't reach. Daniel had pulled his hand back completely, giving me space.
Nobody opened it. The refrigerator kept humming.
