Chapter 2: The Letter My Father Hid
Eric couldn't finish the letter.
He read the first paragraph twice, then lowered it as if the paper had become too heavy.
"Read it aloud," I said.
He shook his head.
"Eric.""
"Not yet, Sarah.""
Mr. Lawson pulled out a chair.
"Perhaps we should all sit down.""
I remained standing.
"Someone needs to explain what's happening.""
The attorney looked at me with an expression I'd never seen before.
"Your father specifically instructed me not to reveal the contents of that envelope until Eric opened it.""
"That's convenient.""
"Sarah," Eric warned.
"No. I've spent the last year taking care of Dad. I handled his doctors, his bills, his company, and his funeral arrangements. Now I discover there's a secret room in his house and a letter hidden in a suit that apparently only Eric was supposed to find?""
I pointed at my brother.
"And somehow everyone knows what's going on except me.""
Mr. Lawson rubbed his forehead.
"Your father anticipated that you might feel this way.""
I laughed bitterly.
"Of course he did.""
Eric finally looked at me.
"Would you just let me read it?""
I crossed my arms.
He unfolded the letter again.
Then he began.
"Dear Eric,
If you're reading this, you wore the red one. I knew you would.
And it means I can finally tell you the thing I was never brave enough to say out loud while I was alive.
First, I need you to understand something.
I never stopped being proud of you.
Not when you left college. Not when you walked away from the company. Not even when you stopped coming home.
Especially not then.
You thought I was disappointed because you refused to become the man I wanted you to be.
The truth is that I was afraid you'd become exactly like me.
A man who spent so much of his life protecting a secret that he eventually forgot how to live honestly.""
Eric stopped.
His lips parted, but no sound came out.
I looked at Mr. Lawson.
"Did you know about this?""
He nodded slowly.
"Some of it.""
"Some of what?""
Eric continued reading.
"Eleven months ago, when you came to my house and asked me about the old military records, I told you I had nothing worth keeping.
I lied.
There are things in that room that explain why I sent you away. There are things that explain why your sister was allowed to believe you had abandoned this family.
I know what you sacrificed.
And I know what I asked you to carry.
But before you open the envelope, I need you to make one promise.
Do not blame Sarah for what she doesn't know.
She was never supposed to carry this.""
My stomach tightened.
I stepped closer.
"Stop.""
Eric looked up.
"Why?""
"What does that mean? Why wasn't I supposed to know?""
He shook his head.
"Let me finish.""
I wanted to snatch the letter from his hands.
Instead, I watched him continue.
"Inside the envelope are three things.
The first is a photograph.
The second is a document bearing my signature.
The third is the name of a person you believed was dead.
If you still want the truth after seeing them, ask Martin Lawson to tell you what happened on October 14, 1998.
He knows.
I made him promise.
And Eric, whatever happens next, remember this:
The red suit was never a symbol of mourning.
It was a promise.
Your mother understood that.
I should have told you both a long time ago.
I love you, son.
Dad.""
Silence filled the little room.
Outside, I could hear the distant sound of cars leaving the cemetery.
I looked at Eric.
"What person did Dad think was dead?""
He didn't answer.
Mr. Lawson stood and opened his briefcase again.
"Eric, may I?""
My brother handed him the envelope.
The attorney removed its contents and placed them on the small table.
The first item was a photograph.
It showed my father standing beside a younger man in a military uniform. They were outside a building with a brick wall and a faded American flag.
Dad looked about thirty.
The other man was perhaps twenty-five.
I leaned closer.
"Who's that?""
Mr. Lawson turned the photograph toward the light.
"His name was Thomas.""
I frowned.
"Thomas who?""
"Thomas Reed.""
The name meant nothing to me.
Eric, however, suddenly sat down.
"That's him.""
I looked at my brother.
"You know him?""
Eric nodded.
"Yes.""
"From where?""
He stared at the photograph.
"From the veterans' hospital.""
I felt my stomach drop.
"What veterans' hospital?""
"About a year ago, I met an older man at the rehabilitation center in Dayton. He'd lost part of his memory after a stroke. Dad had asked me to look for someone there.""
"Why would Dad ask you to do that?""
Eric rubbed his face.
"Because he knew the man was alive.""
Mr. Lawson closed his eyes.
I turned toward him.
"Wait. Dad said the third document had the name of someone we believed was dead. Was Thomas Reed supposed to be dead?""
The attorney nodded.
"According to the official military records, yes.""
"How?""
He looked at the photograph.
"That's what your father spent decades trying to understand.""
Eric picked up the second document.
It was an old typed statement with a military seal at the top. Dad's signature appeared at the bottom.
The date was October 14, 1998.
My brother stared at the signature.
"What is this?""
Mr. Lawson took a deep breath.
"It's a sworn statement.""
"About what?""
"About the disappearance of Thomas Reed.""
I looked at the attorney.
"You're saying Dad lied about someone disappearing?""
"Not exactly.""
"Then what exactly?""
Mr. Lawson sat down.
"In 1998, your father contacted me after receiving a letter from someone claiming to have information about an incident during his military service. He was terrified. He asked me to help him determine whether the information was genuine.""
"What incident?""
The attorney hesitated.
"An operation that officially never happened.""
Eric's eyes narrowed.
"That's what Thomas told me.""
I turned toward him.
"What did he tell you?""
My brother looked down at the photograph.
"He said Dad wasn't the hero everyone believed he was.""
My chest tightened.
"That's ridiculous.""
"That's what I thought.""
"Then why did you spend eleven months looking for him?""
Eric's voice broke.
"Because he had proof.""
Mr. Lawson picked up the third document.
It was a single sheet of paper with a handwritten name.
Not Thomas Reed.
Another name.
He stared at it for a long moment before turning the page toward us.
My breath caught.
The name was Margaret Mitchell.
Our mother.
I hadn't heard anyone mention her name in that tone for years.
She'd died when I was nine.
At least, that's what Dad had told us.
I looked at the attorney.
"What does Mom have to do with this?""
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said something that made the room feel suddenly smaller.
"Your mother was listed as a witness in the original investigation.""
I shook my head.
"No. She wasn't. She died before any of this happened.""
Mr. Lawson looked at me carefully.
"Sarah, your mother died in 2001.""
"Exactly.""
"The investigation began in 1998.""
I stared at him.
"And?""
He lowered his voice.
"Your father didn't tell the truth about the circumstances of her death.""
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
Eric reached across the table and took my hand.
I pulled away.
"No. Absolutely not.""
"Sarah—"
"Mom died in a car accident. Dad told us what happened. We went to the funeral.
I remember the church. I remember the flowers. I remember Dad holding me.""
Mr. Lawson looked genuinely distressed.
"I know what you remember.""
"Then stop talking like she's part of some conspiracy!""
Eric stood.
"Sarah, I think we need to listen.""
I turned on him.
"You've been hiding things from me for almost a year. Don't tell me what we need to do.""
He flinched.
Then he took the photograph and turned it over.
There was handwriting on the back.
Three names.
Robert Mitchell.
Thomas Reed.
Margaret Mitchell.
And beneath them, one sentence:
If one of us disappears, the other two must protect the children.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Mr. Lawson reached into the envelope again.
"There is something else.""
He unfolded a second sheet.
It was a hospital document.
The date was October 14, 1998.
The patient's name was Margaret Mitchell.
But the hospital wasn't in Ohio.
It was in a small town in Pennsylvania.
And beside the section marked NEXT OF KIN was a name I had never seen before.
Daniel Mitchell.
I stared at the paper.
"Who is Daniel Mitchell?""
Mr. Lawson looked at me.
Then his eyes shifted toward my husband, who had quietly entered the maintenance building several minutes earlier.
Daniel was standing in the doorway.
His face had gone completely white.
May you like
And when he saw the name on the document, he whispered:
"Where did you get that?""
