The Believer's Daugher - [A Treadwell Academy - 02] by Caitlyn Duffy

Author:Caitlyn Duffy [Unknown]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-08-07T12:51:58+00:00

Chapter 11

Dear Mr. Michaels,

You don’t know me, but I read your article in last month’s issue of Time about Reverend Chuck Mathison. I am Chuck’s daughter, Grace, and you may not believe me about that, but that’s you’re going to have to take my word for it. You had some of your facts wrong in your article and I wanted to set you straight on them. First of all, my brother would never encourage any girl to get an abortion. His girlfriend made that decision on her own without his involvement, and blamed the choice on him after her parents found out about it. Our parents raised us to be conscientious Christians and my brother is too kind of a man to defend himself in this situation and tell the world the truth. But I’m not too kind to point out the truth now that my entire family is suffering because of someone else’s stubborn pride.

If you would like to know my perspective on this entire situation, you can get in touch with me by placing an ad on the back of the Village Voice. I don’t feel like writing letters to any other journalists, so a conversation with me could be your exclusive scoop. I would also appreciate it if you could let the staff at Lenox Hill hospital know that they treated my brother’s broken leg last week and they can contact my father’s staff in Arizona to obtain information about his medical insurance. I would hate for those nice people to not get paid for their work.

Kind Regards,

Grace

I waited in line at the post office for what felt like fifty years on my lunch break to buy a stamp. A week had passed since Aaron had broken his leg. I had spent the weekend walking from store to store, filling out job applications to try to get a gig as holiday retail help, that is, when I wasn’t working the register or restocking shelves at Prekin. I was willing to work two shifts per day, seven days a week, if that was what it was going to take to pay our rent on my own while my brother recovered.

Dianne asked me to fill in for her on Saturday so that she could appear in one of her department’s performances at NYU, and Jim seemed surprised to see me when I arrived for work on the sixth day in a row.

“Aren’t you sick of this place yet?” Jim asked me.

“No, sir,” I replied earnestly.

The city was preparing itself for Christmas. Lights had been wrapped around every standing tree in the city, and holiday music blared from the doorway of every store I passed. If I hadn’t been so worried about my brother, I probably would have enjoyed the holiday sentiment in the city more; people seemed like they were genuinely making an effort to be nicer. But instead of filling me with cheer, the city’s holiday spirit was making me nostalgic and gloomy. I couldn’t help but wonder

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