Chapter 6: What the Letters Said
Daniel found two chairs near the window at the far end of the ballroom.
The guests had finally begun to leave — slowly, in small groups, speaking in low voices.
DS Okafor had guided Eleanor to a private room off the main hall with Robert and the Fitch document.
Mr.
Howell had been brought a glass of water by one of the younger staff members, a woman who had pressed his hand briefly before walking away.
Daniel set one chair in front of the other and sat down.
Mei sat across from him.
She held the bundle of letters in her lap.
**"You don't have to read them now,"** he said.
**"I know."**
**"We could—"**
**"Daniel."** She looked up at him.
**"I've been looking for something my whole life and I didn't know what it was.
I thought it was a place.
Then I thought it was a person.
Then I thought—"** She stopped.
**"I need to read them."**
He nodded.
He didn't move away.
She untied the ribbon.
It came apart easily — it had been tied and untied many times, she realized.
Mr.
Howell had read them.
He had read them and retied them and carried them and never said a word.
The first letter was dated March 1995.
*Dear Mrs.
Whitmore,*
*I am writing because I do not believe my daughter d*ed.
I know what I was told.
I know what the doctor said.
But I held her.
She was alive.
I heard her.
Please.
If there is anything you know, anything at all, I am asking you as one woman to another.
Please tell me where she is.*
*Lena Marsh*
Mei read it once.
Then again.
**"She knew,"** she said.
**"Yes."**
**"From the very beginning, she knew."**
She set the first letter aside and opened the second.
1996.
Then 1997.
Each one a little longer.
Each one a little more desperate, then a little more measured, as though Lena had learned over the years that desperation did not open closed doors.
By 2001, the letters had changed tone entirely.
*I have hired someone to help me look.
I don't have much money but I have been saving.
I know her name was recorded somewhere.
I know there are documents.
I will find them.
I am not writing to ask your permission or your help anymore.
I am writing so that you know I have not stopped.
I will never stop.*
Mei lowered the letter.
**"She was fighting,"** she said.
**"The whole time,"** Daniel said quietly.
**"While I was growing up thinking I had no one—"** Her voice caught.
She pressed her lips together.
**"I had someone.
She was fighting for me the entire time."**
Daniel leaned forward.
His elbows on his knees.
He didn't reach for her hand — he waited.
**"I grew up in three different foster homes,"** Mei said.
**"The last one was kind.
The first two were not."** She looked at the window.
**"I used to make up a story about my mother.
That she was looking for me.
That she hadn't chosen to leave.
I told myself that story so many times I stopped believing it."**
**"It was true,"** Daniel said.
**"It was true,"** she repeated.
As though hearing it said aloud by someone else was the only way to make it real.
She opened the last letter in the bundle.
2006.
*I am not well.
The doctors have told me things I don't want to repeat here.
I am writing this letter because I want you to know that I have not given up.
I have a name — a street, a city.
I believe she is there.
I believe she is alive and that she is someone worth knowing.
I hope she has been loved.
I hope, wherever she is, that someone has told her she was wanted.
Because she was.
From the first moment.
She was the most wanted thing in my life.*
*I am leaving everything I have found with a man I trust.
If I cannot finish this, he will.*
*Her name is Mei.
I named her before they t00k her.
I don't know if she still has that name.
But that is who she is to me.*
*Lena*
Mei sat with the letter in her hands for a long time.
Daniel did not speak.
Outside the window, the afternoon light had shifted.
The cars in the drive were fewer now.
Somewhere in the building, voices moved through corridors — DS Okafor's, Robert's, Eleanor's, though Eleanor's had gone very quiet.
**"She knew my name,"** Mei said finally.
**"Yes."**
**"She gave it to me before—"** She stopped.
Started again.
**"I always thought my name came from the foster system.
A file somewhere.
Someone who needed to put something on a form."**
**"It came from her,"** Daniel said.
Mei folded the letter carefully along its original creases.
She placed it back with the others and retied the ribbon.
Then she looked at Daniel — really looked at him, in the way she hadn't been able to since the pendant fell, since the world had rearranged itself around them both.
**"What happens to us?"** she asked.
He held her gaze.
**"What do you want to happen?"**
**"I want to get married,"** she said.
**"I want to finish what we started today.
But I need to know that you—"** She stopped.
**"Mei."** His voice was steady.
**"I turned away from my mother today in front of three hundred people.
I think that answers your question."**
She almost smiled.
It wasn't quite there yet, but it was close.
**"Mr.
Howell,"** she said.
**"I want to talk to him.
Properly.
Tonight, if he's willing."**
**"I'll ask him."**
**"And the investigator.
Tom Farley."**
**"Yes."**
**"And I want to find out where my mother is buried."**
Daniel's hand moved across the space between them and covered hers.
**"We'll find her,"** he said.
**"Together."**
From across the room, Mr.
Howell watched them without expression.
He finished his glass of water.
Set it down on the seat beside him.
Then he reached into his jacket one more time and produced one final item he had not yet shown anyone.
A small key.
Old brass.
A paper tag tied to it with string, the tag yellowed and soft.
He turned it over in his fingers.
The tag read: *Lena — Manchester — 14 Croft Lane.*
May you like
He looked at it for a moment.
Then he stood up, slowly, and walked toward the two of them.
