The next morning, I found an envelope beneath my office door.
My name was written across the front.
Inside were three photocopied letters.
Not the originals.
Clara was still protecting her mother.
I respected that more than I wanted to.
The first was dated thirty years earlier.
Thomas,
I received the check. I am returning it.
Please understand that I am not punishing you. I simply cannot build Clara’s life around a man who belongs to another family.
She asks about her father sometimes. For now I tell her you live far away.
Perhaps someday things will be simpler.
—Miriam
The second came four years later.
Miriam,
Bennett turned ten this week.
He insisted on building his own model airplane and refused help until he glued one wing upside down.
You once accused me of believing competence was a personality. Perhaps you were right.
I think often about Clara.
