The Wedding Letters by Jason F. Wright

Author:Jason F. Wright [Wright, Jason F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Deseret Book Company
Published: 2011-12-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

The Inn was quiet.

Rachel sat back against the couch and covered her face a moment. “You’ve been lying to me.”

Stephanie considered the answer, though she knew there was only one. “Yes.”

Rachel took a deep breath and sat up. She rubbed the disbelief from her eyes. “When?”

“Long ago.”

“How long? How long have you known?”

Stephanie took her daughter’s hands and squeezed them tight. “A long time, Rachel, dear. I’ve known for years.”

Rachel shook free of her mother’s hands and rose to her feet. “When?”

Stephanie remained seated and studied the washcloth she clutched in her lap. “You were seven.”

Rachel felt her fists and jaw clench. “Seven? I was seven? You’ve known since I was seven?”

Stephanie nodded but could not look up.

“Seven?” Rachel began fiddling with a charm on her necklace. “We left when I was seven.”

“I know.”

Rachel sat again. “What about the cards, Mother? The postcards? I have a dozen of them.”

“Daniel.”

Rachel heard her heart pounding out of her chest. “No.” She hammered the word again. “No!”

“Daniel. He . . . He wanted you to keep believing.”

“Daniel? Why? When did he care enough about me to keep me believing in anything? When?”

Stephanie repeated the word aloud that she’d been running through her head on a constant loop for almost twenty years. “Believe.” Stephanie hiccupped in a gulp of air and composed herself. “He wanted you to believe, and he wanted you to be happy.”

“Believe? Believe in what? Believe a lie? Why? Why not just tell me, Mother? You didn’t think this day would come? You didn’t think I’d want to see him when I was older?”

Stephanie averted her eyes again. “No. No, I didn’t.”

“So why?”

Stephanie hadn’t wiped her eyes and she tasted a bitter mixture of mascara and foundation on her lips. “Daniel and I wanted you to believe better about him.”

“Believe better?”

“About him.”

“Why? I knew who he was. I saw the fights, Mother. I saw the anger.”

Her voice turned more resolute. “You didn’t see it all.”

Rachel was back on her feet, but again Stephanie remained still.

“So the cards were from Daniel. My stepfather sent them to . . . what, to repair something? To make me believe my real father was turning his life around, becoming something better? You and that stupid saying. We recited it over and over and over again. We’re different; he’s different.” Disdain seeped into her voice. “We’re better; he’s better . . . Just words, Mother?”

Rachel didn’t wait for a response. She left the room and entered the bathroom in the main hallway.

Stephanie began to weep again.

When Rachel returned to the living room, her hair was pulled back and her face glistening from a thorough washing. She sat down next to her mother, imagined the word carefully, and said, “How?”

Stephanie looked into her eyes and her expression answered, How what?

“How did he die?”

Stephanie fought the urge to break away, to ask for more water, to escape the Inn and to run into the night. Her leg muscles twitched and her fists clenched around the cloth.

“Your father was not a good man, Rachel.

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