Now, Helen touched the envelope.
“There’s another paper.”
“I’ll read it after I speak to Emily.”
I’d bought Jamie a present.
“Why wait?”
“Because my daughter deserves to hear about these letters from me.”
Helen studied my face.
“Then make sure you hear her side too, Maggie.”
I slipped the papers into my bag.
“Why wait?”
I’d spent years asking Emily to reconsider her father.
I wanted to know what she’d actually been asking of him.
The following afternoon, I visited Emily.
She was 39 now, still happily married to Daniel and raising nine-year-old Jamie.
I visited Emily.
We’d remained close enough for weekly calls, although conversations about Frank rarely ended well.
Emily opened the door.
“Mom, you didn’t say you were coming.”
“I should’ve called, hon. Can I come in?”
“Of course.”
“I should’ve called, hon.”
Jamie appeared behind her.
“Grandma! Did you bring those cookies?”
“I didn’t know I was expected to arrive with supplies.”
“You usually do.” He grinned.
“Then I’ll owe you some for next time.”
“Grandma! Did you bring those cookies?”
He hugged me before going upstairs.
Daniel greeted me from the kitchen. He’d always treated me kindly, even when Frank made that difficult.
Emily poured coffee.
“What’s going on?”
I set my bag beside the chair.
He hugged me.
“I found something in your father’s coat.”
She glanced at it.
“Something important?”
“Did you ever invite him to meet Jamie?”
Her cup stopped halfway to the table.
“Something important?”
“Why?”
“Please tell me.”
“Yes. Twice.”
“Well, Dad told me you didn’t want him visiting.”
Emily stared at me.
“That’s what he told you?”
“Please tell me.”
“He said you’d made your feelings clear.”
“I wrote to him after Jamie was born. When he didn’t answer, I tried again.”
I gripped my cup.
“He never mentioned either letter.”
“He said you’d made your feelings clear.”
“Then he kept more from you than I thought.”
“What happened afterward?”
“He answered my second letter.”
I leaned forward.
“What did he say?”
“What happened afterward?”
Emily pushed her chair back.
“Mom, why are we talking about this now?”
“Because he lied to me.”
“He hurt me too. But I don’t want another conversation about how difficult he could be.”
“Your father was stubborn, Emily.”
“He lied to me.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“And you always found a way to make that sound harmless.”
I wanted to argue. Instead, I opened my bag.
Then I stopped.
Jamie came downstairs looking for his shoes, and Emily went to help him.
I wanted to argue.
By the time she returned, I’d lost my nerve.
“I’ll let you get on with your afternoon,” I said.
She looked disappointed.
“Mom, you came here for a reason. I wish you’d just tell me what it is.”
Helen was waiting when I got home.
She looked disappointed.
“Did you show her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She got upset.”
“Maggie, you expected her to be pleased?”
“I thought she’d want to know he kept her letters.”
“Why?”
“Did you tell her that?”
I shook my head.
Helen pulled out a chair.
“You spent years carrying messages between those two. Maybe it’s time to stop deciding which parts they should hear.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“Frank was my husband.”
“And Emily’s your daughter. She’s still here; he isn’t.”
I looked toward the coat hanging over the kitchen chair.
Helen softened her voice.
“Frank was my husband.”
“You can love him and still admit he was wrong.”
I opened the envelope again.
One folded sheet remained.
It was a handwritten copy of a reply Frank had sent after Emily’s second letter.
“You can love him.”
He’d refused to visit unless Emily apologized for defending Daniel and embarrassing him at the wedding.
Then I reached a sentence that made my hands shake.
“Your mother agrees with me.
Neither of us is willing to pretend everything is fine until you make things right.”
I read it again.
“Your mother agrees with me.”
Frank had told Emily that I agreed with him.
That I expected an apology.
That I didn’t want to visit her family.
None of that was true.
