Chapter 20 - THE LETTER CLAIRE LEFT BEHIND
A year after Richard’s conviction, Michael found a sealed envelope inside one of Claire’s archived boxes.
FOR WILLOW.
He did not open it.
He carried it to the garage.
Willow was there reviewing plans for a foundation.
“What is that?”
Michael handed it to her.
Her mother’s handwriting.
Willow’s hands began trembling.
“When did you find it?”
“Yesterday.”
“You waited?”
“I thought maybe you should read it here.”
“Why?”
Michael looked around the garage.
“Because this is where she wrote it.”
Willow sat at the old metal desk.
The same desk where she had once done homework.
She opened the envelope.
My beautiful Willow,
If you are reading this, then either I became unnecessarily dramatic, which your father will enjoy reminding me of, or something happened before I could finish what I started.
Willow laughed softly.
Michael looked away.
The letter continued.
Do not let money become the most interesting thing about you.
People with very little can be cruel.
People with enormous wealth can be kind.
Money does not create character.
It only makes existing character louder.
Willow stopped.
That sounded like Michael.
Or perhaps Michael sounded like Claire.
She continued.
Your father believes tools are more honest than people because a broken wrench never pretends it is not broken.
I think he is wrong about people.
People can repair themselves too.
But only when they admit where they broke.
Willow thought about Lucas.
She kept reading.
If anyone ever makes you choose between belonging and respecting yourself, choose yourself.
A room that requires your humiliation was never offering belonging.
Tears fell onto the page.
At the bottom:
And please stop drawing behind your dresser.
I know.
Love always,
Mom.
Willow laughed through tears.
Michael laughed too.
“She really knew?”
“She knew everything.”
“I blamed you for telling her.”
“I never did.”
Willow folded the letter.
Then looked at her father.
“Why did you never remarry?”
Michael shrugged.
“That’s personal.”
“Dad.”
“I loved your mother.”
“So?”
“So nothing.”
He looked toward the open garage door.
“There are loves you move beyond.”
“There are loves you carry.”
“Claire was the second kind.”
Willow rested her head against his shoulder.
May you like
Neither spoke.
For once, silence did not hide anything.
