Chapter 4: A Name He Never Mentioned
I didn't confront Nathan that night.
I made dinner.
I asked about his day.
I listened to him talk about a problem at work, something about a contractor who'd missed a deadline.
I nodded in the right places.
He didn't notice anything different about me.
That told me something.
The next morning, after he left for work, I sat at the kitchen table with my coffee and typed the name into my phone.
*Lena Marsh.*
There were several results.
A dentist in Ohio.
A retired schoolteacher in Vermont.
A LinkedIn profile for a landscape architect in Portland.
The LinkedIn photo stopped me.
Same laugh.
Older now — mid-forties, like Nathan.
But the same tilt of the head, the same easy smile from the photograph.
Lena Marsh.
Landscape architect.
Portland, Oregon.
Formerly of — I scrolled down — Chicago.
Nathan had grown up in Chicago.
I stared at the screen for a while.
Then I put my phone face-down on the table and finished my coffee.
I wasn't ready to do anything with this yet.
I needed to understand what I was actually dealing with before I moved a single piece on the board.
That afternoon, I called Carol.
She picked up on the second ring.
"I thought you might call," she said.
"How long have you known Diane?"
"Twelve years.
Since she moved into that house."
"And how much do you know about what was in that box?"
A pause.
"Enough," Carol said.
"She showed me the letters once.
About four years ago.
She'd had a glass of wine and she was in one of her moods.
She thought it was funny."
My grip tightened on the phone.
"Funny."
"That's the word she used.
She said, 'I protected my son and the girl never even figured out why.' She seemed proud of it."
I set my coffee cup down very carefully.
"Did Nathan ever know she'd done it?"
"That's the part I don't know," Carol said.
"I asked her once.
She changed the subject.
That's the only time I ever saw Diane not want to answer a question."
"So he might not know."
"He might not know," Carol agreed.
"Or he might know exactly what she did and decided it was easier to let it stay buried." She paused.
"Either way, honey — that's not a small thing."
"No," I said.
"It isn't."
After I hung up, I sat with that for a long time.
There were two versions of Nathan in my head now.
The first was a man whose mother had sabotaged a relationship behind his back and who had never found out.
A man who was guilty of spending money without telling his wife, of being too deferential to a controlling mother — but not guilty of this.
The second was a man who had known.
Who had let Lena write seven letters into silence.
Who had built a life on top of that silence and never once mentioned her name.
I needed to know which one I was married to.
That evening, I waited until Nathan had settled on the couch with the TV on.
I sat down next to him.
I kept my voice completely even.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure." He didn't look away from the screen.
"Did you date anyone seriously before me?
Anyone your mother knew well?"
He reached for the remote and turned the volume down slightly.
Still not looking at me.
"Why are you asking?"
"I'm just curious.
We've never really talked about it."
He was quiet for a moment.
"There was someone.
A long time ago.
Before you."
"What happened?"
He glanced at me then.
Just briefly.
"It didn't work out."
"Did she end it or did you?"
"Rebecca." His voice had gone careful.
"Where is this coming from?"
I held his gaze and said nothing.
He looked back at the television.
May you like
"It ended," he said.
"That's all."
