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“Everything okay?” Nicole asks.
“Just something I need to talk to Eric about. Would you two mind taking Storm for a bit?”
They do, and Casey leads me up to our room.
“Okay,” I say as I close the door behind us. “What’s so bad that you don’t want even the dog distracting us?”
“Not bad,” she says. “Just...”
She sits on the edge of the bed and pats the spot beside her. I try not to joke that I’ve done something wrong. The look on her face says this isn’t the time.
Casey twists to sit sideways and face me. “I had my weekly video call with Émilie this morning.”
“Right. And you said it went fine.”
“It did. This isn’t about the town. It’s personal.” She takes a deep breath. “Émilie saw the bruise, so I explained. I said a bit about the Mayfair case bringing up memories of your parents. I didn’t go into detail, but I take any chance to prod her memory, in case she’s holding something back.”
Holding something back about my parents or the Daltons. Something about when I was first brought to Rockton. Émilie hadn’t been there, but being on the board of directors, she knew about it. She’s the one who told us the story Gene fed the council.
“And she remembers more?” I say. “Or has decided to share?”
“Not exactly. It seems when we were tearing down Rockton, someone—who she’s not naming—found a couple of letters under the floorboards. That person gave them to Émilie, who realized what they were.” Her gaze rises to mine. “Letters from your mother to Gene.”
I frown. “From Katherine to Gene?”
“No, from your birth mother. Amy. Letters she sent him after she found out where you were. Émilie sent copies. She didn’t want to give them to you while we were busy here, but I think she honestly wasn’t sure when or how to give them to you. This gave her an excuse.”
“Okay.”
“I haven’t read them. Part of me wanted to, so I...” She flails her hands. “I guess so I could protect you if there was something you shouldn’t read, but then I’d just be in the same spot as Émilie, making a judgment call that’s not mine to make. No matter what the letters said, I’d have needed to show you.”
“Okay.”
She passes over her tablet. “I’ll let you read those in private. I’ll be downstairs.”
I touch her leg. “No, stay.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’d rather have you here.”
She nods, and I open the files.
7
Two letters.Handwritten. This morning, if someone had asked whether I’d recognize my mother’s handwriting, I’d have said hell, no. The moment I see it, though, I know it’s hers, and I know these letters are real.
Émilie has sent image copies, and I need to zoom in to see them on the tablet, but when I do, they’re as clear as if they were written days ago, despite the obviously yellowed paper and faded ink.
Mr. Dalton,
I know you have Eric in Rockton, and I’m not going to comment on the lies you told to keep him there. I want to move past that and presume there was a misunderstanding. Maybe Eric was hurt, and you thought we did it. Maybe he was bruised from roughhousing with his brother, and you thought we did it. You could ask him, and he’d tell you the truth—he always tells the truth—but I know children can lie about such things, pretending there is no abuse when there is. Let us begin there then. You believed you were doing the right thing taking him in and giving him a home.
Now, having set that aside, I beg you to return him. Beg you with every ounce of my heart. Whatever you mistakenly believe, we can set the record straight with a conversation. Meet me. Meet Steve. We will answer any questions you might have about our lifestyle. We’ll show you our home. We’ll introduce you to Jacob. I know that our lifestyle may not be one you consider fit for children, but I can assure you that our sons are happy and healthy. Steve and I have been educating them, and as I’m sure you know by now, Eric is intelligent and literate, and while I hate to boast, I would guarantee he outperforms children his own age who have attended formal schooling.
We have chosen an unusual lifestyle, but it is filled with love and joy, and our sons are encouraged to be curious and pursue their interests in addition to academic lessons. They are healthy, and if that changed, we would sooner move back to civilization than see them suffer for a moment. Despite what you might think, we have ensured they have access to proper medical care. Everything they need, they have.
Please give us the opportunity to correct this misunderstanding. We are desperate to be reunited with our son, and we will accept that anything you did was borne of concern and kindness, and we thank you for it, but we need our son back in our lives. Please.
