Another collection.
Another hidden truth.
Instead, he pointed at the letters.
“I wanted someone to tell me whether they were real.”
“They’re real.”
“Does that mean everything in them is true?”
“Not necessarily. Letters tell us what someone was thinking when they wrote them. That’s why the adults need to read them carefully and decide how to explain them to you.”
Silas nodded.
“Will they let me read them?”
“That is something you should ask them.”
He looked across the kitchen.
“Dad?”
Daniel turned immediately.
“Yeah?”
“Can I read Mom’s letters?”
Daniel glanced at Evelyn. She looked away.
Not long before, that glance would have become another silent agreement made over Silas’s head.
This time, Daniel pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.
“Some of them may contain things that are difficult to understand,” he said. “But they were written to you.”
“So yes?”
“Yes. We’ll read them together.”
“All of them?”
Daniel took a breath.
“All of them.”
Silas set down the pencil.
“Will you tell me if something isn’t true?”
“I’ll tell you what I remember.”
“And Grandma can tell me what she remembers.”
Evelyn came to the table.
“And maybe Mom can tell me what she remembers,” Silas finished.
Daniel’s expression became guarded again.
“That part will take time.”
“Because she’s sick?”
“Because I need to be sure she is ready.”
Silas thought about this.
“Do you mean sure she’s ready, or sure you’re ready?”
No one moved.
Daniel stared at his son, then gave a small, tired laugh that held no amusement.
“Both.”
It was the most honest thing he had said all afternoon.
Denise arranged for Evelyn to stay with Daniel and Silas that night. The house would be inspected for blocked exits, and a local support service would help sort the bills and remove anything creating a safety hazard. Nothing needed to be decided in one evening.
Elena’s place in Silas’s life would require more care.
Daniel agreed to contact the family counselor who had worked with them years earlier. Evelyn promised she would not arrange another secret visit.
“I should have told you,” she said to Daniel as she folded clothes into an overnight bag.
“Yes.”
“I thought you would say no.”
“I might have.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“No.”
Daniel zipped the bag and looked at his mother.
“But it explains it.”
Something softened between them.
