“What did the note say?”
Lucas hesitated.
Then he handed it to me.
I unfolded the paper.
My mother’s handwriting was unmistakable. Strong, precise, slightly slanted.
Dear Margaret,
You do not know me, although I suspect you know my name.
There are things I did many years ago that I convinced myself were necessary.
I was wrong.
I am returning something that should never have belonged to me.
Please do not tell Douglas I contacted you.
I am asking this not because I deserve your kindness, but because some truths arrive too late to repair anything.
The suitcase belongs to Hannah.
The letters belong to Douglas.
Perhaps someday you will decide what should be done with them.
I am sorry.
Evelyn Carter.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
“When was this?”
“June of 1996,” Lucas said.
I looked at Douglas.
“You were married.”
“For ten years.”
“And she gave Margaret my letters.”
