Chapter 10 - THE THINGS RICHARD CARRIED
I didn’t read the letter in the coffee shop.
I put it back in the envelope and walked out with Ruth.
At her house, I sat at the kitchen table where I had cried two nights earlier.
Richard’s handwriting leaned slightly to the right.
By then, treatment had already made his fingers unsteady.
Daniel,
This is the last debt I will pay for you.
The money will go directly to the people you owe, not into your account.
Your mother believes you are learning to manage the business. You will tell her the truth before you ask her for another dollar.
Do not make my illness an excuse to keep things from her.
I read that paragraph again.
Below it, Richard had written:
Your mother’s security is not your emergency fund.
I pressed the heel of my hand against my mouth.
Ruth sat beside me.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
I remembered that winter.
Richard had been tired all the time.
Daniel visited less often.
Once, I had walked into the study and found them sitting in silence.
Richard told me they were discussing truck repairs.
I had brought them coffee.
Now I wondered how much my husband had carried because he couldn’t bear to see me disappointed in our son.
Then I saw the final lines.
I love you. That is why I am putting this in writing.
Love does not erase what you owe.
Make this the last time.
A copy of a cashier’s check was folded behind the letter.
Thirty-two thousand dollars.
Daniel hadn’t brought me proof that Richard understood.
He had brought me proof that Richard had already tried to stop him.
My phone buzzed.
Did you read it? Dad never would have called the police.
I stared at the message.
Then I typed:
Your father told you not to do this to me.
Daniel called.
I declined.
Arthur received photographs of the letter and a factual summary of our conversation.
He reminded me not to investigate or bargain on my own.
The lender and police needed to do their work.
I agreed.
That evening, Arthur called again.
“They’ve retained a lawyer.”
“Good.”
“There’s also something you should hear directly from me.”
I stood beside Ruth’s sink.
“What?”
“Their lawyer is suggesting you may not have understood the financing arrangement.”
I looked at Richard’s letter on the table.
“How convenient.”
“They’re claiming you agreed and later forgot.”
Outside, a car slowed in front of Ruth’s house.
Daniel’s car.
He didn’t get out.
May you like
My phone lit up.
Mom, please. Don’t make us prove you aren’t thinking clearly.
