Page 99 of The Facilitator: Part 2
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Three days later,Mackenzie received the call he had been both waiting for and dreading. It came as we were sitting down to dinner with Gabriella and Alex, who had postponed Boston further. His mobile rang and he stared at it before he answered. Dread settled in my stomach just at the tone of his voice when he spoke toSandra.
He laid his mobile on the table and pulled the napkin from his lap. He slowly screwed it into a ball and placed it on thetable.
“My father died,” hesaid.
I reached out and placed my hand on his arm as he pushed his chair back. “I need to go there and helpSandra.”
“I’ll come with you,” Isaid.
We left Gabriella and Alex at the house with instructions to contact whoever they deemed needed to know. Mackenzie held my hand as he drove to the condo. The closer we got, the tighter the hold became. He paused before leaving the car, just looking at the group of elderly people who had settled around a table and chair outside Mack and Sandra’s ground-floor apartment. They each stood as we approached and offered their condolences. Mackenzie comforted them as best he could before taking a deep breath in and walking through the open front door. I held back just alittle.
Sandra was sitting on the couch and crying. Beside her sat a woman she introduced as her friend, Carey. On the other side of her was a white envelope. She picked itup.
“He wrote this for you. It’s something you might find upsetting, but you need to know the reasons he never told you,” she said,cryptically.
Mackenzie didn’t take the envelope. “Whatever it is, I don’t need to know now,” hesaid.
Sandra wasn’t sure what to do. “Is he in there?” Mackenzie asked. Shenodded.
I left Mackenzie to spend time with hisfather.
Sandra held the envelope to me. I took it, not really knowing what to do and folded it inhalf.
“It’s okay if he doesn’t want to read it, but maybe you can. Lauren, Mackenzie has a sister he doesn’t know about. It’s all inthere.”
“Oh, fuck,” I said. That was just about all he needed rightthen.
“I’ve begged Mack to tell him for years. He wouldn’t because he was frightened of what Mackenzie would say, and whether it would drive a wedge even further betweenthem.”
“Okay, maybe I’ll read the letter then decide what to do with it, if you give me permission for that,” Isaid.
It wasn’t my letter to read, it wasn’t my father’s confession, and I had no idea if I was doing right or wrong. Sandra nodded. I turned when I heard a sob and tears immediately pricked at my eyes. My man was hurting and I felt that pain right to mystomach.
I was about to go to him when he returned from the bedroom. I placed my arms aroundhim.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I whispered. He gave me a sad smile and justnodded.
“Have you called anyone?” Mackenzieasked.
“Yes, the doctor is on the way. Your dad planned his funeral; I have a file here. He was very organised about it all,” Sandra broke down as shespoke.
“What do you want me to do? You were effectively his wife, Sandra, I don’t want to takeover if you don’t want meto.”
She handed him the file. “Please, just respect his wishes and help me. I can’t do it on myown.”
The friend left, promising to return with some food or to make coffee if needed. The men outside sat and silently toasted Mack with a bottle of whiskey Mackenzie had taken from a shelf and given to them. He then went through the file as we waited for the doctor and the funeral directors toarrive.
It was two hours later that Mack’s body was removed. Her friend, who had returned, offered to stay over, and it was another hour before she put a broken Sandra to bed. Mackenzie offered his gratitude to her. The condo wasn’t large enough for us all to stay so we drovehome.
The folded envelope hadn’t left my hand and when we arrived back to the house, I was unsure what to do withit.
“What does it say?” heasked.
“I haven’t read it, it’s addressed to you, but I know, roughly what itcontains.”
It occurred to me on the drive home, we’d received that call from a young American woman. I had, wrongly at first, assumed it was Addison. I had also assumed the call had come from within the UK. Maybe it hadn’t, maybe it was whoever was named in the letter, trying to reach out because she knew her father was dying. It begged the question as to why she wasn’t in the U.S. though. A thought hitme.
