The earliest one carried a date.
Four years earlier.
Rachel unfolded it with trembling hands.
As she read the first lines…
Her knees nearly gave way.
I caught her before she fell.
“What is it?”
She couldn’t speak.
Instead, she handed the letter to me.
Dear Rachel,
You don’t know me well, but I am Evan’s mother.
I received your letter before he did.
I am asking you, as one woman to another, to let him go.
He is about to inherit responsibilities that will consume his life.
A child right now would destroy everything he has worked toward.
He believes he loves you.
One day he will thank you for disappearing.
I am enclosing enough money to help you begin again.
Please don’t contact him.
I’ll make sure he believes you’ve chosen another life.
Margaret Hart.
The room stopped breathing.
I looked toward my mother, still connected on speakerphone.
