I understood exactly how they appeared.
But it was Clara’s handwriting on the first page that stole my breath.
“Andrew, if you’re reading this, something has happened to me. Read everything carefully. Don’t trust Gwen. There’s something you never knew.”
The note stopped there.
Beneath it lay another page written in purple crayon.
“Daddy, I hid Mommy’s letter because I didn’t want you to be mad. I’m sorry. Please don’t let her leave.”
I read those words three times.
Jackson sat beside me.
“Aria hid the box.”
“She thought Clara was leaving me.”
He picked up the photographs.
“Who is this woman?”
“Someone I worked with.”
“Was there an affair?”
“I never touched her.”
“I didn’t accuse you, Uncle Andrew.”
“Your face did.”
“Then explain.”
Sarah feared losing her job after being treated unfairly, so she’d asked to meet me in private.
“Did Clara know?” Jackson asked.
“No. It wasn’t my story to tell.”
“You could’ve told her enough.”
I looked away.
Years earlier, Clara had asked why I kept coming home late.
“Is there something you need to tell me?” she’d asked.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” I’d said.
At the time, I believed staying silent was the honorable thing to do.
Now it felt like I had closed a door between us.
Jackson unfolded Gwen’s letter.
