Chapter 8: The Letter
Grace had the letter in Marcus's hands by Monday afternoon.
Danny's attorney surrendered it without a fight — which Grace said told her something.
She didn't say what.
She said she'd explain later.
Marcus sat at the kitchen table with the envelope in front of him for a long time before he opened it.
I started to get up.
"I can give you some space—"
"Stay," he said.
"Please."
I sat back down.
He opened it carefully, the way you open something you can't un-open.
The paper inside was folded in thirds.
Two pages.
The handwriting was small and slanted slightly to the right.
He read it without speaking.
I watched his face.
Halfway through the first page, his jaw tightened.
At the bottom of the first page, he stopped and set the letter flat on the table and pressed both hands over it like he was holding it down.
"She knew," he said.
"Knew what?"
"She knew he might leave." Marcus looked up.
His eyes were wet but his voice was even.
"She wrote — she said she knew Danny struggled.
That she loved him but she wasn't sure he was built for hard things.
She said if he wasn't there when he should have been, she wanted me to know it wasn't about me.
That it was never about me."
I didn't say anything.
"She wrote your name," Marcus said.
My throat closed.
"She said — she said if Tom Kowalski is in your life, you are loved.
She wrote that.
She knew you.
She trusted you before any of this happened."
I put my hand over my mouth.
I didn't mean to.
It just went there.
Marcus picked the letter back up and kept reading.
I sat across from him and looked at the wall and tried to hold myself together.
When he finished the second page, he folded it carefully and put it back in the envelope.
"She set up the trust herself," he said.
"She wrote that too.
She said she wanted me to have choices.
That she didn't want money to be the reason I stayed anywhere or left anywhere.
She said choices are what love looks like when the person who loves you isn't there anymore."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"She sounds like someone I would have loved," I said.
"Yeah," Marcus said.
"She does."
He slid the envelope across the table to me.
"She also wrote something for you.
Second page, last paragraph."
I looked at the envelope.
"Go ahead," he said.
I took out the letter and turned to the second page.
The last paragraph was separated from the rest by a small space.
It read:
*To Tom, if you are reading this — thank you.
I don't know what form your kindness took, but I know it was real.
Danny told me about you once, late at night when he thought I was asleep.
He said you were the most decent person he'd ever known.
I believe him.
Take care of my boy.
I think you already are.*
I set the letter down.
Marcus reached across the table and put his hand over mine.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't need to.
We sat like that for a while.
Then he said, "What do we do about Danny?"
I folded the letter back carefully and slid it into the envelope.
"That's your call," I said.
"Not mine.
Whatever you decide — I'm with you."
Marcus leaned back in his chair.
He looked at the ceiling.
He was quiet for a long time.
"I don't want his money," he said finally.
"I want to meet with him once.
Not for the trust.
Not for any condition.
I want to look him in the face and ask him one question."
"What question?"
Marcus looked back down at me.
"I want to ask him if he ever thought about me.
In fourteen years.
May you like
Even once.
I want to hear him answer that out loud."
