Chapter 11 - MARK’S FIRST LETTER
Dana gave me one letter.
Not all.
Mark had separated them.
Laura.
Children.
Trust.
Business.
He had apparently become organized when dying.
The first began:
I’m sorry you are learning this after the funeral.
Bad opening.
I nearly tore it.
Then:
I should have told you sooner. I kept saying I would tell you after the next test, after the next hospital stay, after I had enough proof, after Dad calmed down. There was always another after.
I cried.
Not because he apologized.
Because I recognized the habit.
Mark hated conflict with Richard.
He had spent his childhood managing his father’s temper.
I had spent our marriage asking:
“Why don’t you just tell him no?”
Mark would say:
“You don’t know him.”
Maybe I hadn’t.
The letter continued:
The house is protected as best as I could make it. Dana will explain. The Chevy matters only because Dad thinks I put the original records there. I didn’t. The three flashes are for Frank because I needed one person nearby whom Dad could not pressure through family.
Then:
Do not turn Frank into a hero. He agreed to hold a case. That’s all.
Very Mark.
Then:
I did not tell you because I was afraid Dad would use your anger against you and because I wanted the last months with you to be about us.
I stopped.
There.
A loving motive.
A controlling choice.
He decided what I could handle.
I whispered:
“Damn you.”
Sophie stood in the doorway.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She looked at the letter.
“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Are you mad at him?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
May you like
“Me too.”
That helped more than forgiveness.
