Chapter 2 - THE LETTERS SHE NEVER WANTED ME TO SEE
I closed the gate behind Patrick before anyone outside could follow.
The metal latch clicked into place.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Patrick stood in my grandmother’s driveway holding the old canvas tool bag in one hand and the bundle of returned letters in the other.
He looked at the house.
Then at me.
“I used to imagine this moment differently,” he said quietly.
I swallowed.
“So did I.”
Behind the gate, my mother slammed both hands against the iron bars.
“Alyssa! You cannot shut me out of my own family!”
Patrick looked toward her.
“She used to say that about me.”
I turned to him.
“What?”
He lowered his eyes.
“Nothing.”
“No. You said she used to say that about you.”
Patrick sighed.
“That is a conversation we need to have carefully.”
I looked at the envelopes.
“Then let’s start with those.”
We went inside.
I didn't offer coffee.
I didn't offer a seat.
I simply placed the bundle on Grandma’s old kitchen table and stared at it.
There were dozens of envelopes.
Some were addressed to me.
Some to Chloe.
A few were addressed to both of us.
Every one had the same faded red marking.
RETURN TO SENDER.
My fingers trembled when I picked up the first envelope.
The handwriting was mine.
Or rather, the name was mine.
Alyssa Miller.
I was seven years old when that letter had been sent.
“Why did you keep them?” I asked.
Patrick looked uncomfortable.
“Because they were proof that I had tried.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
“I thought someday you might want to know.”
“Why didn't you come yourself?”
His eyes met mine.
“I did.”
I froze.
“When?”
“Several times.”
“Mom said you never came back.”
“She didn't want me near you.”
My chair scraped against the floor.
“Why?”
Patrick looked toward the window.
“Because when I left, she told everyone I had chosen to abandon my daughters.”
“And you didn't?”
“No.”
He said it without hesitation.
“I left your mother.”
He paused.
“I never left you.”
That sentence hit harder than I expected.
I opened the first envelope.
Inside was a birthday card.
The front showed a cartoon horse.
Inside, in uneven handwriting, Patrick had written:
Happy birthday, Alyssa. Daddy loves you. I hope you are having a wonderful day.
My eyes burned.
I turned the card over.
There was a date.
My seventh birthday.
Then I saw something written on the back in blue ink.
Returned at sender's request.
My heart stopped.
“Whose handwriting is this?”
Patrick leaned closer.
“I don't know.”
I opened another.
Christmas.
Another.
My eighth birthday.
Another.
Chloe's sixth birthday.
Then another.
A letter with a photograph.
I pulled it out.
The picture showed Patrick sitting on a wooden bench beside a small Christmas tree.
He looked younger.
In his arms was a tiny stuffed rabbit.
On the back he had written:
For Alyssa and Chloe. I bought this because Alyssa once told me rabbits were lucky.
I stared at the photograph.
I remembered that rabbit.
It had been in my room when I was eight.
I had always believed Grandma bought it.
My voice came out barely above a whisper.
“Where did this go?”
Patrick's face tightened.
“I sent it.”
A cold realization moved through me.
“Then who gave me the rabbit?”
“I don't know.”
I turned toward the hallway.
For the first time, the house felt unfamiliar.
Not because anything had changed.
Because suddenly everything I remembered had another possible explanation.
Patrick touched the photograph.
“There was something else.”
He opened his tool bag.
From the bottom, he removed a small silver pocket watch.
The glass was scratched.
The chain was broken.
I recognized it instantly.
“That was Dad's.”
Patrick nodded.
“My father gave it to me when I was eighteen.”
“Grandma said it disappeared after you left.”
“It didn't.”
He opened the back.
Inside was a tiny photograph.
Two young girls.
Me and Chloe.
Standing between us was Patrick.
I couldn't remember the picture being taken.
“Where was this?”
“Your fifth birthday.”
I stared at him.
“Mom said you weren't there.”
“I was.”
My hands shook.
Then Patrick looked at the clock.
“There is something you need to know before you decide what to believe.”
I waited.
“I didn't come here only because you called me.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
He reached into the pocket of his work shirt.
Instead of another letter, he pulled out a small folded piece of paper.
“I received this three months ago.”
I opened it.
It was a photocopy of a property record.
Grandma Evelyn's name appeared at the top.
My name appeared beneath it.
But at the bottom was a handwritten note.
Ask Alyssa why Evelyn changed the deed.
I looked up.
“Who sent this?”
Patrick shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Then why bring it to me?”
“Because your grandmother told me something before she died.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He hesitated.
“She said if anything ever happened to her, I should make sure you knew the truth about your mother.”
My chest tightened.
Outside, something hit the gate.
Mom's voice followed.
“Alyssa!”
Patrick looked toward the window.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“Your grandmother wasn't afraid of me.”
He looked back at me.
“She was afraid of what your mother would do if you found out why I left.”
Before I could answer, a shadow appeared beneath the kitchen door.
Chloe.
She had somehow gotten around to the side entrance.
She stood there holding a small box.
Her face was pale.
“I heard what he said.”
I stared at her.
“Where did you get that?”
Chloe looked down at the box.
“It was in Mom's car.”
Patrick stood.
“What is it?”
Chloe opened the lid.
Inside was a faded pink bracelet.
My bracelet.
The one I had worn when I was nine.
And underneath it was a folded piece of paper with Grandma Evelyn's handwriting.
Chloe whispered,
“I think Mom has been lying to both of us.”
May you like
Then she unfolded the paper.
And the first sentence made Patrick sit down.
