Chapter 9: The Letters She Hid
Jordan couldn't move.
The stack of letters rested on the podium beside his graduation speech. Each envelope carried a date marking a moment of his childhood he would never get back.
His tenth birthday.
His first day of middle school.
His first high school award.
His college acceptance.
His twentieth birthday.
There were so many that the blue ribbon barely held them together.
He turned toward Marcus.
“You knew she was sending letters?””
Marcus looked stricken.
“I knew some had arrived.””
“Some?””
“At first, I thought Camille was returning them because she believed contact would cause problems. Later, I stopped asking.””
Jordan stared at him.
“You stopped asking?””
Marcus's voice cracked.
“I told myself you were doing well. I told myself reopening things would hurt you.””
Jordan picked up one envelope.
The paper was soft at the edges, as if it had been handled repeatedly. A faint crease ran diagonally across the front.
He carefully opened it.
Inside was a handwritten birthday message.
My sweet Jordan,
I hope you are laughing today. I hope someone makes your favorite cake, and I hope you know how proud I am of you. I wish I could be there to see your face when you open your presents. I wish I could hug you until you complain that I'm squeezing too hard.
Jordan stopped reading.
His vision blurred.
He pressed the letter against his chest.
Teresa covered her mouth.
“I wrote that the year you turned ten,” she whispered.
“I remember sitting at the kitchen table for hours because I wanted every word to be right.””
Jordan looked at her.
“I never saw it.””
“I know.””
“Did you think I didn't answer because I didn't care?””
Teresa shook her head.
“No. I thought you were too young to understand why I wasn't there. I told myself that one day, when you were older, you would ask me.””
Jordan lowered his head.
“I should have asked.””
Teresa reached for his hand.
“You were a child. You trusted the people who raised you. That wasn't a crime.””
He looked at the remaining letters.
“Did you send one every year?””
“Every birthday. Christmas, too. And whenever something important happened.””
Jordan picked up another envelope.
The return address was different from the first. This one had been sent to his middle school, addressed to the attention of a guidance counselor.
“Why did you send letters to my school?””
Teresa looked surprised.
“Because I was told letters sent to your father's house weren't reaching you. I hoped someone at school might give them to you.””
Jordan examined the envelope.
A red stamp marked the front: *RETURN TO SENDER*.
Below it was a handwritten note.
Recipient contact restricted by parent.
Jordan stared at the words.
“Who wrote this?””
Denise Carter, still standing nearby, leaned closer without touching the letter.
“That appears to be a postal or administrative notation, but I can't identify the person who wrote it.””
Jordan looked at his father.
Marcus's face had gone gray.
“Did you tell my school not to give me these letters?””
Marcus swallowed.
“I asked the school to contact me before releasing anything from your mother. I didn't want you caught in the middle.””
“And when they contacted you?””
“I discussed it with Camille.””
Jordan's voice became dangerously quiet.
“What did you do with the letters?””
Marcus closed his eyes.
“I let her handle them.””
Jordan looked down at the envelope again.
He remembered being thirteen and waiting for a letter from his mother after winning a school science competition. He had imagined she might have heard about it somehow, perhaps through a relative.
When nothing arrived, he had decided she must not have cared.
Now he understood that someone had made sure he never received the chance to find out.
Teresa sat beside him, her shoulders trembling.
“I used to wonder whether you threw my cards away,” she said.
“I wondered whether you read them and didn't want to answer. Sometimes I thought maybe you had forgotten me.””
Jordan turned toward her.
“I didn't forget you.””
His voice broke.
“I just believed what they told me.””
She pulled him into an embrace.
He held her while the auditorium watched, his graduation gown rustling as he buried his face against her shoulder.
For a few moments, neither spoke.
Then Marcus approached the podium.
“I need to tell you something else.””
Jordan released his mother but kept hold of her hand.
“I'm listening.””
Marcus looked at the letters.
“After Camille and I married, she became increasingly worried that Teresa would try to reenter your life. She said it would undermine the family we were building.””
“So you let her hide the letters.””
“Yes.””
“And you never thought to ask me what I wanted?””
Marcus shook his head.
“I was afraid of losing control of the situation.””
Jordan stared at him.
“You weren't afraid of losing me. You were afraid of being exposed.””
Marcus's eyes filled.
“That's probably true.””
The honesty didn't comfort Jordan. It only confirmed how long his father had known that something was wrong.
“Where are the rest of the letters?”” Jordan asked.
Marcus looked confused.
“These are the ones Camille kept in the house.””
“Are there more?””
“I don't know.””
Teresa straightened.
“There were more than these. I sent letters to the house for years. I also sent photographs.””
Jordan looked at her.
“Photographs?””
She nodded.
“Pictures of you when you were little. Pictures of your cousins. I wanted you to know you were part of a bigger family.””
Marcus's expression tightened.
“I remember the photographs.””
“Where are they?”” Jordan demanded.
“I don't know.””
“You don't know where the pictures of your own son are?””
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“Camille kept a storage cabinet in her office. She said she was organizing old family papers.””
Jordan turned toward Denise.
“Can the university preserve copies of these documents as part of my student records?””
Denise considered the request.
“We can preserve records relevant to your education and tuition history through the appropriate process. Personal family letters would be yours to keep, but I recommend making secure copies.””
Jordan nodded.
He began stacking the letters carefully.
Then he noticed one envelope that was different from the others.
It was thicker, sealed with clear tape, and addressed to Marcus rather than Jordan.
The handwriting was Teresa's, but the date was from several months before Marcus's wedding to Camille.
Jordan looked at his mother.
“What's this one?””
Teresa stared at the envelope.
Her face lost its color.
“I don't remember sending that.””
Marcus took a step backward.
Jordan held it up.
“Dad, this is addressed to you.””
Marcus's voice came out as a whisper.
“I've never seen that letter.””
“Then why do you look like you've seen a ghost?””
Marcus looked at Teresa.
She shook her head, confused and frightened.
Jordan carefully opened the envelope.
Inside was a single page, folded in half.
He read the first line.
Then he looked at his father.
“Mom wrote that she had evidence the divorce settlement was incomplete.””
Marcus gripped the edge of the podium.
Jordan continued reading.
The letter stated that Teresa had requested a full accounting of the money transferred after the sale of their house. She had also asked Marcus to correct the financial records before he married Camille.
At the bottom, Teresa had written a final sentence.
If you don't resolve this before the wedding, I will have to show Jordan the documents when he is old enough to understand.
Jordan lifted his eyes.
“Dad, did you ever receive this?””
Marcus shook his head, but his expression betrayed him.
Teresa stared at him.
“Marcus, I sent that because I was afraid the money was being hidden. I wanted you to fix it before our son got caught in the middle.””
Marcus's lips trembled.
“I never saw it.””
“Then who opened it?”” Jordan asked.
No one answered.
Jordan turned the page over.
A faint handwritten notation appeared near the bottom edge.
It was a date, followed by two initials.
C.B.
Camille Bennett.
Jordan's heart pounded.
He looked toward the auditorium doors.
Camille had left, but her name was now written on the evidence that could explain everything.
Marcus sank into the nearest chair.
“Oh, God,” he whispered.
Jordan held the letter tightly.
“What?””
Marcus stared at the initials.
Then he said something that made Teresa step back.
“Camille wasn't just hiding your mother's letters.””
He swallowed.
“She knew about the missing settlement money before I married her.””
Jordan's expression hardened.
“Then we're going to find out exactly what she knew.””
He gathered the documents, placed the letters inside the university folder, and took his mother's hand.
For the first time that afternoon, he wasn't asking his father for permission to discover the truth.
He was going to pursue it himself.
And as they walked toward the auditorium doors together, Jordan's phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent him a message.
If you want to know what really happened before your parents divorced, don't let Camille destroy the blue folder.
Beneath the message was a photograph.
A blue folder sat on a desk beside a wedding invitation addressed to Marcus and Camille.
Jordan zoomed in on the image.
May you like
On the folder's label, he could make out three words.
*BENNETT SETTLEMENT — ORIGINALS.*
