Page 106 of The Addendum

Forgetting Luc’s box, I carried the frame downstairs. Luckily, the glass remained inside the frame, but the wooden edge was damaged. I held it over the garbage can, removing the back and the inner pictures, letting the broken glass fall into the garbage. I inspected the frame, deciding I would have to replace it, then picked up the matted picture, surprised to see a manila envelope tucked between the mounting and the pictures. I set aside the frame, staring at the envelope. My name was written on the front in my mother’s careful, precise script.

I sat down, staring at the envelope. I felt the same odd sensation as the first time I had met Richard. That bubbling, nervous anticipation that what was about to happen would once again change my life. With shaking fingers, I opened the envelope. Inside were two smaller ones. Yellowed with age, one was older than the other, and it had my father’s name written on it. The other was addressed to me and was thicker.

I opened the flap and unfolded the pages, scanning the words. Time stopped around me as I read the contents.

My darling daughter Ashley,

If you are reading this, then I am gone. I had planned to tell you in person, but always seemed to lose my nerve. I am sorry for my cowardice.

When I discovered I was pregnant with you, I was in shock. We were careful, your father always protected, but apparently the universe had another plan for me, and I was chosen to be your mother.

I was overjoyed at the thought. Excited.

I was also deeply in love with a man I knew would never love me back. Your father was a businessman—cold, ruthless, and selfish. He was also charismatic, charming, and fascinating. Smart. Droll, although at times his humor was cutting. There was something about him that drew me to him. An unexpected caring side that he hid so deeply, most people would never see it. It was rare for me to witness it, but on occasion, it broke through. I had hoped that side would take over when I told him about you.

That is where I perpetrated the lie.

Because I never told him.

The pages fluttered from my hand, falling to the floor as I gasped, the meaning of her words sinking in.

She never told him?

My hand shook harder as I picked up the paper and began to read again.

I meant to. I went to his office to do so, but he was away on a business trip. I left a note with his assistant, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew in my heart he wouldn’t have anything to do with us, even if I told him. And by telling him, I would become the thing he despised the most—someone after him for the one thing he had to give freely—his money. I didn’t want his money. I wanted his love and affection, something I knew I would never get. When I was honest with myself, I realized that he was rarely with me, even when he was in the same room. His gaze was vacant, his mind a thousand miles away. He went through the motions, but he was never fully present in the moment. I was a distraction to him, and that was all. I would never be more, because he simply wasn’t capable. He had been up front and honest about that our entire relationship. I simply chose not to listen. The glimpses I had of the man deep inside were only that—glimpses. He would never be that man—at least, not for me.

So, I left, taking my secret with me, and I started a new life, leaving that part of my past behind me.

I loved being your mother. It was the greatest gift of my life. Never doubt that. Never doubt my love for you. And I pray your love doesn’t change after you read the next part.

I had to stop and draw in a deep breath. A small voice in my head kept repeating the same phrase. He didn’t know. Richard didn’t know.

I returned to the letter.

I saw your father when you were about four. I assume he was in Toronto on a business trip. I was shocked when I realized he had his wife with him. The way he acted with her showed me he was a man deeply in love. I barely recognized him or the way he behaved. I was close enough to hear him talking about their newborn daughter, but he never noticed me. The only person he saw in that entire room was her.

I should have approached him. Spoken with him and told him about you. I’m sure you’re wondering why I didn’t. The simple and complex answer is that I was frightened. Richard was wealthy. Powerful. The man I had known was capable of being ruthless.

I was terrified if I told him about you, he would decide to step in. Take you from me. I couldn’t take that chance. If he chose to fight me, I would lose. I had nothing to fight with.

So, I said nothing. Once again, I disappeared.

And when you asked about him, my terror resurfaced, and I lied. I told you he didn’t want you. The truth was, he didn’t want me.

I dropped the letter, unable to contain my sobs anymore.

My father never knew about me. My mother, in her terror thinking she could lose me, never told him. He had been telling the truth.

Strangely, I had no anger toward my mother. I felt only a deep, abiding sadness for her fear. For the pain she carried all those years, loving a man who didn’t love her back. The worry she must have felt, wondering if somehow Richard would find out and come after her. Me.

Richard.

The man I had been so furious at, I could scarcely move past it. I thought of the angry, hateful words I threw at him. My refusal to listen to his insistence that he hadn’t known about me.

I bent, my eyes catching the last paragraphs of the letter.

Your father’s name is Richard VanRyan. You have his eyes, his hands, his brilliant mind. Somehow you also have that hidden part of him—that caring thoughtfulness he himself never knew he had. I followed him the past years, and he is a changed man. One who deserves to know you. Find him, Ashley, and get to know him. I want that for you. He can’t hurt me anymore, but I fear I have hurt you with my decision. I’m sorry I kept you away from him. Please forgive me.