The last ten days were amazing. Since the fight that led to the best sex of my life, we hadn’t left bed much. Brody and I decided we’d follow doctor’s orders and let my ankle heal. Staying in bed with him was the best medicine I’d ever had.

I liked to think it was healing for him, too. He was opening up more and more about his mom and his addiction. It made me feel guilty that I hadn’t told him about my mom yet, but I wanted to hear what he had to say before he shut down again. He hadn’t discussed the kidnapping Walt told me about, but I felt it was a matter of time.

He was doing so much to open up to me that when I could bear weight on my ankle, he talked me into going through my father’s things. I didn’t want to, but I knew I had to. It needed to be done while I had him to help me through it.

I looked around, nervous at what the boxes might have held in front of me. My father wasn’t a sentimental man, but he was a man with secrets. I wasn’t happy about the few I’d already learned since his death. My fiancé was one of them. I took a deep breath and exhaled. There was no use putting off the inevitable. It needed to be done.

“Let’s just do this.” I took another deep breath and looked around. “I want to rip it off like a Band-Aid and get it over with.”

“Okay, so what room do you want to start with?”

“His bedroom. If there are any kinky sex toys, I need it over with early or I won’t be able to touch you later.”

Brody’s eyes got big before they squinted and a shiver went through him. “I don’t want to know about it.” He walked over to the box of garbage bags and tossed one to me. “If you find anything, don’t show me. I don’t want to know.”

I laughed as I tucked the bag he tossed under my leg. “My dad was as straight as they came. I don’t think he had any kinky stuff going on. He probably could’ve held on to wife number three if he had been.”

Brody shook his head as he set a box on the floor in front of me. “That’s heavy as fuck. I think there’s a big dildo in there.”

“Well, if there is, it’s all yours, big boy.”

“Nope. I’m out.” He bent over and kissed me. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to run a load upstairs.”

“Okay.” I kissed him back.

I picked up the knife and sliced through the tape. It was probably the contents of his desk. I had most of his clothes donated, and the breakable items were packed in totes. I opened the box and blew out a breath. There was so much paper. I shook my head. How could all of it fit in that tiny desk he had?

I took out a handful of papers and went through each one of them. Some were notes scribbled for a project at work. Others were reminders of appointments or dates he had set up to play golf. I smiled and touched his handwriting. It was silly, but it was something tangible I could have of him. It was hard to think of tossing it out.

It was what I needed to do, though. I could keep something if I found it meaningful, but I didn’t need notes of tee times or scribbles for telling his team how to approach a client. That was still the man I knew as my father, but I wanted to find something to remember my dad. It had to be more personal than that.

Halfway into the box was where I found the more personal items, only they weren’t from my father. Some were love notes from his ex-wives. I had no problem tossing those. I’d skim for anything that seemed important, but if it was just coming on to him or a desperate plea to stay, I threw it out.

It wasn’t until I saw more familiar handwriting that I paid closer attention. Whether it was on a card addressed to me or the notepad at the diner, it was unmistakably my mother’s handwriting. It wasn’t opened, so I slid my finger inside and tore the envelope. Why hadn’t he opened them?

“Find any dildos yet?” Brody sat down on the floor next to me and looked inside the box.

It was getting harder to read as my hand shook, but she loved and missed me. I covered my mouth with one hand and searched through the box with the other. I wanted to find more.

“Maggie?” Brody got on his knees and held my shoulders to make me look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Please, help me find more cards. I need more cards!”

He looked at the card I held up and then back to the box. “Okay, I’ll find them. You just sit back and read.”

He dug through a couple of layers and placed five more cards on my lap. I couldn’t open them fast enough, but I didn’t want to ruin them. Brody held my hand to stop me and placed a letter opener he found in the box in my palm.

I couldn’t say anything, but he nodded his understanding that I was grateful. I sliced through the envelopes and pulled each card out. There were cards for birthdays and holidays, but the cards that meant the most were the ones that were thinking of you cards.

As the time passed, the messages inside changed. When I was younger, they were simple messages that said she loved and missed me. When I would’ve been older, I heard stories about her new diner and the nice people she hoped to introduce me to.

When I was a senior in high school, her messages had changed. She was defeated and broken. She thought I didn’t want her. The words were never written, but the tone was there. “If I ever came to visit” or “she’d love to hear from me some day.” Gone were the certainties that we would be together again like the older cards. She thought I didn’t want her.

“I never got them!” I sobbed as I held the cards and letters to my chest. “I never got them.” My heart broke all over again, but it didn’t break just for me. It broke for my mom and the loneliness she had to feel without me, too.

“What’s going on?” Brody was on his knees still, but he moved next to me and held me. “What didn’t you get?”

“Letters and notes from my mom. She sent me cards every year. A lot of them! He never gave them to me.” I held them up and shoved them at him. “Read them. She loved me.”

I pulled the box to me and dug for more, but I found a different letter. A letter I never expected to find. It was sealed and had a stamp as if it were meant to be mailed. My father died before he could.

Beverly,

You have heard correctly about Margaret’s upcoming wedding, but you will not be getting an invitation. I had assumed my last letter to you was the end of this silly hope, but I can see you are still desperate for something that will never be.

I allowed the cards and letters when she was younger because our divorce order compelled me to keep the lines of communications open for you. However, as you know, she has not wanted anything to do with you since she’s been old enough to understand what you have done.

Out of respect for you being her mother, I have taken the uncomfortable task to ask Margaret if she would be willing to invite you to her wedding. She is adamant that you not be in attendance. The same goes for the reception.

If you’d like to give her a gift, she’s shared with me she only wants you to let her go. Please, move on with your life and allow our daughter to move on with hers. Your constant presence is disruptive and cruel.

I truly hope you’ve found what you were looking for so many years ago, but understand now that my daughter is happy as she is.

Good day,

Margaret’s Dad

“That asshole!” I struggled to get to my feet. The crying had stopped and was replaced by anger. “That man.” I grabbed Brody’s shoulder and pushed myself to my feet. “If he wasn’t dead, I’d kill the motherfucker.”

I walked out of the room as quickly as my sore foot would let me and had Brody on my heels. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t expect me to stop and turn around, and he grabbed my arms to keep me from falling over when he ran into me. He steadied both of us and took a deep breath as he looked at me. “You’re going to have to catch me up here.”

I had a lot to fill him in on. “I can only say that everything I thought was backwards. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I have the most important ones.” I smiled as the tears started again. “I have my mom. She never left me.” I threw my arms around him and kissed him. “Please, I’ll explain it later. I need to see my mom.”

He called out after me, “But where is she?”

I didn’t answer. I just ran out the door as best I could with a limp and rushed to the diner. I opened the door and looked around. I couldn’t find her. I was breathing hard, nervous about what to say. I was horrible to her, and she accepted it. She accepted everything I ever said or did to her. My father never did. He shut me up before I got two words out if I ever dared to question or to go against him, especially about my mom.

Bev came out of the kitchen with a new pie to place on display. She smiled when she noticed I was there, but she stopped walking when she really saw me. I was sure I looked a mess with tear streaks down my face and the stench of my desperation of forgiveness.

“Maggie?” She set the pie down and walked around the counter. “What is it?”

I heard the bell of the door behind me. When she looked to the person and shook her head as if she was clueless about what was going on, I knew it was Brody.

I walked toward her and held up the letter my father never got the chance to send. “It’s all right here. It was all in his box.”

“What was, baby?” She took a step and started to reach out to me, but seemed afraid to set me off, so she stepped back to where she was.

The diner was quiet. The regulars knew what the deal was, and they were glued to the scene in front of them, but we were probably scaring anyone who was just passing through or hadn’t tried the diner yet. I was scared, too.

I swallowed and took a step forward. “I never got them.” I looked into her eyes to make her believe me. She had to see I wasn’t lying. My father had played us both.

“You never got what, sweetie?”

“You. I never got you.” I handed her the letter I held tight in my fist. It was wrinkled, so she smoothed it out on the counter before she read it. I watched her eyes as they followed the words and her expressions changed from sadness to anger.

She handed the letter back to me with tears filling her eyes. She sniffed and looked away for a moment to regain her composure. “I wouldn’t have ruined your day.” She looked back to me. “I would’ve stayed away if that’s what you wanted.”

My chin quivered, and I looked down. “I don’t want you to stay away, Mom. I wanted you at my wedding, but until he died, I didn’t know where you were. I never got your letters. He told me you didn’t want me anymore.”

She wrapped her arms around me and allowed me to cry into her shoulder. “That’s never been further from the truth, baby.” I heard her sniff again. “I wanted you more than anything. He just had more money. I think we have a lot to talk about. Do you want to talk?”

I nodded and tried to wipe my eyes. “I do, but it’s Saturday night. You’re about to get slammed.”

I heard a deep breath behind me followed by that same air being blown out in a heavy sigh. “I’ll help.” Brody walked up and took Bev’s notepad from her apron and her pencil from her bun. “You two go talk.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist and looked up. “You know this gives you big brownie points, right?”

“Yeah? How big?”

“Big, big.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” He bent down and kissed me.

Bev walked by and shielded her eyes. “Okay, your mother is in the room.”

I pulled back and looked at Brody. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“You owe me no explanation. I have some questions I’ll ask later, but it makes sense.” He leaned down and kissed me before whispering, “My mother was protective of me, too.”