AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I did. My heart pounding, I opened the box. I pulled out the stack of envelopes, there were dozens of them, and I opened each one. I pulled out the little slips of paper and laid them on the table. I didn’t allow myself to look at the words as I laid them out.
But I heard Dean say, “Holy shit!”, as I laid the last one down and I brought my head up slowly, afraid of what I’d see.
Spelled out on small pieces of paper was this message.
* * *
“I'm sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. Had to Leave. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t trust anyone. Keep the girls out of this. I’ll come back when it’s safe. I love you always.”
Then on a final piece of paper, larger than the rest and crumpled was a note not in his handwriting.
“I know who you are and who you are working for. Wire ten million dollars to this account or else I’ll expose you. The Fauquier Bank. Account No: 672348111, Routing No: 7645100000034”
Still staring at the papers on the table I started asking questions.
“What does this mean? He was being blackmailed? Expose him? For what?” These questions are shot off, rapid fire. It was Dean’s hand on my knee which made me pause.
“What?” I snapped at him.
“Give her a minute to answer,” he said and raised an eyebrow meaningfully in her direction.
She had her arms wrapped around her waist and was rocking slightly. I immediately wrapped an arm around her.
“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry. This must be so hard for you.”
“No, Milly, it’s not. I'm so relieved. I wish I’d had the courage to show you sooner. I wanted to do what he said, to not involve you. You and Lilly were gone so soon after we moved and Addie was so angry at me, I just kept quiet.
“But since everything happened last year, I’ve been wondering if we aren’t in danger anyway. I’ve wondered if the FBI knows more than what they are saying. Because I’ve never thought their actions, moving us, hiding us, searching for him so vigorously, was a proportionate response to someone who was accused of stealing money.
“And half of me wants him to come home so we can clear his name and the other half wants him to stay away because I’m sure whatever he was being blackmailed for will make Enron look like child’s play.”
I stared at her, mouth agape. I had to catch my breath, I was reeling from what she had just told us. It was fantastical. My father had been blackmailed. My father had left to protect us.
“What are we going to do?” I asked no one in particular. I didn’t know what to think. My mind was moving a mile a minute.
“Has he been in Syria all this time? And why there? I mean it’s a war zone and has been for a while now,” I wondered.
“I don’t know, honey, I really don’t. He has no family there. I don’t even know how he would have been able to get into the country recently. But, there is one more thing. And I feel crazy even saying it aloud,” she glances up at us furtively, “but I feel like I saw him.”
“What?” Dean and I both shouted at the same time. I jumped off the couch like it was on fire.
“See, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said mournfully.
“No, I’m sorry. Plea
se go on, I mean, it’s just shocking, but if you saw him . . . then tell us,” I stammered.
“Well, it was right after that whole craziness happened with the media being tipped off to where we were. I had just moved in with you. I was in Bethesda a week or so after the madness died down. Just strolling. I went to that cupcake place, you know the one with the stupid lines out the door? They have a TV show? What’s the name?”
She was snapping her fingers, trying to remember, and I had to bite my tongue. “It’s not important. I’ll look it up later.”
“Okay, fine. Anyway, I was in line, like the lemming I am, waiting and someone bumped into me, knocked my purse off my shoulder. I bent down to pick it up. But before I could reach it, someone got it for me. And Milly, the hand that put it in mine, I swear on my life it was your father’s. I thought I was going to faint. But when I looked up, he was gone. I mean, gone. Like a ghost. I didn’t see anyone on the street who looked like him. I got out of line and sat down on one of those benches and cried.
“And this young girl, who had been in line in front of me, came out and handed me a cupcake. She thought I was crying because I lost my place in line. Kwasia!”
I burst out laughing. Dean looked at me, confusion marring his lovely face.
“That word, kwasia, it means ‘idiot,’” I explain. He only nodded, but didn’t seem amused. He looked back at my mother.
