Page 75 of Nathan

“You want to know, don’t you?”

I meet her gaze. “I thought I didn’t, but yeah. Not that it matters. We don’t even have a name. Only an initial. L. Probably stands for fucking Lothario.”

“That’d be FL,” Dex says with a grin.

I stiffly get to my feet and rummage through several boxes we’ve already searched. Expelling a frustrated huff, I plant my hands on my hips. I can’t believe I’ll never know who fathered me. He might be out there, looking for me, although that’s unlikely. He probably knew what Mom named me, and without sounding like an egotistical dick, I’m pretty well known.

There has to be something we’ve missed.

My attention falls on the sideboard. I stride over and open the top drawer. Apart from a couple pens and some scraps of paper, it’s empty. The next one contains an elastic band and an empty plastic box. One by one, I open the other drawers. Nothing. Incensed when the last one doesn’t have anything useful in it either, I slam it shut.

“Goddammit.”

I scrape a hand through my hair, annoyed at myself for daring to believe I might find some answers. I’m too busy pacing and muttering to myself to notice what Dex is up to. The sound of knuckles rapping on wood gets my attention.

“What are you doing?”

She glances over her shoulder with a frown. “When you slammed this drawer before, it sounded different to the others. At first, I thought it might be because you shut it so forcefully, but now I’m not so sure.”

I walk over to her. Removing the drawer from its runners, I give it a shake. Nothing seems untoward. I set it on top of the sideboard and tap the bottom, but it sounds like a normal drawer to me. I remove another one and repeat the action. Cocking my head to one side, I knock on one and then the other. There is a difference in sound, although it could be something as simple as minute discrepancies in the raw material.

“See?” Dex says. “They sound different.”

I glance around but can’t see any tools I might be able to use to prise the bottom of the drawer away.

“Here,” Dex says, handing me a bobby pin she’s taken from her hair.

I slide it between the side of the drawer and the bottom. It takes several attempts, but eventually, the bottom lifts. I get my fingernail beneath it and pull it up.

Jackpot!

Hidden away from prying eyes are bundles of letters, each one tied with a navy-blue bow. I pick them up, immediately recognizing the writing. Every single letter is from him.

My knees give way, and I sink to the floor. Dex joins me, her presence a comfort I can’t find the words to express.

I drop the letters in my lap and then sit there, unmoving. Now I have potential answers within my grasp, I can’t find the strength to read them. It feels disrespectful to Mom to go through intimate letters from her lover. There’s no doubt she didn’t want them found, otherwise she wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to hide them. And for more than twenty-eight years, her secret had remained just that.

“Do you want me to go through them?” Dex asks tentatively.

I nod. “Do you mind?” I croak.

“Not at all.”

She picks up a bundle, carefully tugs on the ribbon, and sets it to one side. She scans through the first letter, then the next, and the next. When she’s finished, she ties the ribbon around them and moves onto the second bundle. “From the dates, it looks like this is when he started writing to your mom.”

She continues reading, saying nothing. Eventually, my curiosity gets the better of me.

“What do they say?”

Dex lifts her chin and meets my gaze. “Whoever your dad was, Nate, it’s obvious he was deeply in love with your mom.” She passes one over. “Here, see for yourself.”

I clasp the aged paper, yellowed around the edges, and a little torn in places. The ink is faded, too, but the words are clearly visible.

My darling Rebecca,

As I sit here on my sofa all alone, my arms feel empty without being able to hold you. It’s been a long three weeks, and I can’t wait until you find a way to see me again. I know it’s difficult, but I love and miss you.

I do understand and hear what you said in your last letter. I know it is impossible for us to be together. You have your children to think of, and I have mine. But you mean the world to me. My life is so much fuller since we first met. The longer we are apart, the more I yearn for you.

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