Mr. Harrison lowered his eyes.
“Thomas knew.”
“Then why would he do this?”
My voice echoed through the little kitchen.
“Why would he let me believe we were alone?”
Mr. Harrison didn't defend him.
That somehow made it worse.
He simply said:
“Thomas made choices he regretted. But there's more to this than the birth certificate.”
I laughed bitterly.
“There's always more, isn't there?”
He reached into the box.
“Thomas left another letter. He asked me to give it to you after you learned about Julian.”
I stared at the envelope.
My husband's handwriting.
For my Margaret.
I wanted to tear it apart.
I wanted to press it against my heart.
I wanted Thomas alive for five minutes so I could scream at him.
Instead, I opened it.
My darling Margaret,
If you've reached this letter, you've met the truth I was too frightened to tell you while I was alive.
