Chapter 7
My mom's hands were shaking so bad she had to set the envelope down again.
Daniel had stepped back from the island, just one step, his hands at his sides now. He wasn't touching anything. The kitchen felt too quiet after all the talking. The fridge hummed. Somewhere outside a car went by on the street and its headlights swept across the window over the sink.
Mom stared at the envelope like she was trying to decide if it would bite her.
"Can you—" she started, then stopped. She looked at me. "Ethan, you don't have to watch this."
"I want to," I said.
She nodded once, quick. Her throat moved when she swallowed.
She picked it up again. Up close I could see what the seal actually was. It wasn't just a blob of wax. It had a shape pressed into it, a little crest with letters I couldn't read from where I stood. The wax was that dark reddish-brown color, almost like dried blood, and it caught the light from the pendants over the island.
Mom tried to untie the string. Her fingers slipped. The thin twine was wrapped around the envelope twice, looped through the wax. She tugged at the knot with her nails. I could hear her breathing, short and through her nose.
"Here," Daniel said softly. He didn't move forward. "Take your time."
She didn't answer him. She finally got the string loose. It made a faint whisper as it slid free from under the seal. She pulled it away and laid it in a little coil on the granite, careful, like it mattered where she put it.
Then she looked at the seal itself.
For a second I thought she wasn't going to break it. Her thumb rested right on the edge of the wax. She pressed down, not hard, and the wax held. Then she pressed harder and it cracked.
It was a small sound. A dry snap, like a thin cookie breaking. A piece of the wax chipped off and landed on the counter. The envelope's flap came free.
She didn't open it right away. She just held it, the flap half up, and stared inside. Her shoulders rose and fell.
"Mom?" I said.
She slid her finger under the flap and pulled out what was inside.
There were two things. The first was a letter, folded in thirds on thick cream paper. The second was smaller, folded tighter, and tucked behind it was something else — a stiff paper, maybe a photo, and under that a single sheet that looked like it had printing and a seal on it, official somehow. Legal paper, the kind you see in an office.
She set the smaller bundle down without opening it. It landed face down. I saw the back of a photograph, white border, and the corner of a document with a blue notary stamp.
She unfolded the letter. Just the first fold.
The kitchen lights were bright on the island, and I could see the handwriting from where I stood. Black ink, slanted, a man's handwriting. The top line was short.
Mom made a sound that wasn't really a word. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. All the color went out of her face. I mean it literally drained. Her cheeks went pale and her lips stayed parted.
"Claire?" Daniel said. It was the first time he'd said her name.
She didn't look up. Her eyes were fixed on that first line. Her hand holding the paper started to tremble again, worse than before, so the paper shook.
I leaned in. I could only read the first few words upside down before she tilted it away.
Claire — If you're reading this—
And then a name. I didn't catch it fully. Three syllables. It started with an M.
"Mom, what does it say?" I asked.
She folded the letter back up, fast, too fast, and creased it wrong. She pressed it against her chest with both hands like she was trying to hold it closed.
Daniel watched her. His face didn't change much but his jaw tightened.
"Who wrote it?" I asked. My voice sounded louder than I wanted it to. "You said you knew that seal. Whose name is that?"
Mom finally looked at me. Her eyes were wet but she wasn't crying. She looked scared in a way I'd never seen her look before. Not mad, not annoyed like when she tells me to pick up my shoes. Scared.
"Ethan," she whispered. "I haven't heard that name in ten years."
May you like
She set the letter back down on the granite, flat, her palm over it. The smaller photo and the legal sheet were still there, untouched, next to the broken wax and the coil of string. The envelope lay open and empty beside them.
Daniel didn't reach for anything. He just stood at the end of the island, his hands still at his sides, and looked at the two things on the counter that we hadn't opened yet.
