Page 104 of Final Approach
Andrew frowned at her. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, sure.” She waved her phone at him. “Just need to look at something.”
“Okay.”
She stepped out of the room and debated whether this was the best place to read the letter but honestly didn’t want to wait any longer. Reading it in the privacy of her home wasn’t an option if she wanted to do it anytime soon. She made her way to the waiting room on Emily’s floor and found a seat in the corner. She opened the letter and started reading.
Dear Greg,
The fight last night was the last straw. We can’t keep on this way. We’re a terrible example to the kids of what marriage should be and we need to get help. Or we need to go our separate ways. Like I told you last month, I’ve already talked to a divorce attorney, but don’t want to take that route if you’ll agree to counseling. I’m still waiting for you to agree. I won’t wait much longer. Please be prepared to talk when I get back from today’s flight.
Kristine said some really ugly things to me and I know she will regret them once she calms down. Please tell her that I understand. I forgive her. All is well. Tell her that I didn’t take this flight because of what she said. I’m taking it because you and I need the distance. That being said, please let her know I expect her to apologize when I get back. And give her the letter I left her. I couldn’t leave without at least reaching out to her.
Kristine gasped. Why had her father never told her about this last message from her mother? And what letter had her mother left? A slow rage started to build and she sucked it back. Not yet. She had to finish reading.
I’m so concerned about this continued controlling behavior you’re exhibiting.
Right,Mom?
We’ve talked about this. It was there when we got married, but over the past few years, it’s really gotten, ironically enough, out of control. No one can live up to your expectations and you’re suffocating the life out of me and our kids. It’s got to stop. Either get help—and I’ll go with you—or we’re done. I hate to leave town on this note. Part of me thinks it’s not fair, but talking to your face isn’t getting results, so I’m trying this way.
Please, let’s figure out a plan to work on this together.
You have three days to think about it. Tell your kids you love them and mean it. Tell them I love them too. I do love you, Greg, I just can’t live this way any longer. And won’t.
Xoxo,
Rachel
Tears dripped off her chin and she read the message again. Over and over. Especially the part about her mother not taking that flight because of what Kristine had said. All these years, she’d blamed herself for her mother going on that flight she hadn’t been scheduled to take, the one she’d volunteered for. Because her parents needed distance. And her father knew how she blamed herself and said nothing.He knew!
Because it was easier to control someone who blamed themself for killing your loved one.
“Unbelievable.” Rage washed over her like a tsunami.
After the sixth read through, she tucked the phone into her back pocket, swiped her hands across her face, and gathered her composure. Her aunt was with Emily. She had no idea where her father was, and she had to calm down before she confronted him with this.
And she had her mother’s boxes to go through. She needed to do that ASAP because there was no telling what else she might find in one of them. Hopefully the missing letter. She texted the group and let them know she was headed home and bolted from the hospital.
Once she had the boxes in front of her, she started going through the first one. It held her father’s old cases. She counted. Only thirty-five total. “There’s no way these are all of his cases,” she murmured aloud. So what were they? She started going through them one by one and stopped when she came across some familiar names. “Oh, Dad, what have you done?” She read through each one, her heart dropping with every word. Then she pushed the files aside and dug more, coming up with another folder—this one a map with coordinates and blueprints of a home. But whose home? And why did her dad have this? She kept on, looking for the one thing she really wanted. The letter from her mother. And came up empty. But now she had so many suspicions that she didn’t know which one to chase first.
ANDREW WAS TIRED.After everything he’d been through, he was just plain exhausted. But he wanted to see Kristine. Thankfully,someone had managed to retrieve his phone and watch so he was able to get her text saying she was fine but had some personal things to attend to. He hoped she didn’t mind him barging in, but he had some personal things to attend to as well. Like asking her if there was any way she’d consider going out with him. He’d shared the whole sordid story of his role in an innocent man’s death and she hadn’t run away screaming. Maybe there was hope.
He made his way to her townhome and knocked.
It took her a minute, but she opened the door and he took in her ragged appearance. Dark circles under her eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He frowned, stepped inside, shut the door, and pulled her into a hug. His side and shoulder protested, but he ignored them. “Did you sleep at all?”
“Off and on in between boxes. Oh, Andrew, I just...”
“Tell me,” he said.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“I told you my past,” he said, “terrified you’d think less of me.” Scared to death she’d walk away. But she hadn’t. “Tell me.”
She sniffed and led him to the couch. “I’ve been carrying a burden ever since my mother died. The day before she left for her final flight, I told her I hated her, that she was a horrible mother and that I wished she’d just stay gone. Later I learned she’d taken a flight—one she hadn’t planned to be on—and I assumed it was because of what I said to her.”
“Oh man, Kristine, how awful for you. I’m so sorry.”
