My father threw me out on my eighteenth birthday, stole the $3,000 I’d saved from working after school, and used it for my stepbrother. Nine days later, while I was digging through a restaurant dumpster for something to eat, a stranger in an expensive suit called my name and told me my supposedly dead grandfather had left me everything. But there was one condition nobody had warned me about.

Later, I learned that my father had offered help and that Thomas had refused it. By then, I was too ashamed to admit how much I had misunderstood.

If I do not recover, please know this: your grandfather loved you before he knew your name. He made mistakes, but he never stopped trying to protect a future for you.

And your father loves you too, though love does not excuse dishonesty. If he has told you that he acted for your sake, ask him whether he was protecting you or protecting himself from the consequences of his decisions.

I wish I had been brave enough to ask that question sooner.

Love,
Mom

The paper trembled in my hands.

Richard waited.

“She knew,” I said. “She knew he lied.”

“She came to understand some of it.”

“Did she forgive him?”

“I cannot answer that.”

The door opened before I could say more.