Chapter 20 - Victoria’s Visit
Victoria Hayes appeared at clinic four years after Michael’s conviction.
I almost had Sandra call police.
She stood in waiting room.
Seventy four.
Smaller.
No pearls.
No entourage.
“I want five minutes.”
“No.”
She nodded.
“I expected.”
Then she held envelope.
“For Ethan.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Walter kept things.”
My hands tightened.
“What things?”
“Birthday cards.”
I almost laughed.
“From me?”
“Yes.”
The returned letters.
Michael had told me Ethan refused them.
Some had been intercepted.
Walter kept copies? Wait how had Victoria gotten them? She said Walter kept things in safe, maybe original cards Michael had returned? Better.
“Michael sent them back unopened to you sometimes. Others he gave Walter to destroy. Walter kept them.”
My chest hurt.
Envelope contained twelve cards.
My handwriting.
Ages six through nine.
I thought lost.
One had been opened.
Maybe Walter.
Not Ethan.
I looked at Victoria.
“Why now?”
“I found them after moving.”
“Why didn’t you give earlier?”
“Because I was angry.”
“At me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You took Michael from me.”
I laughed.
Even now.
She corrected:
“No. That’s what I told myself.”
I waited.
“I helped him believe mothers should protect sons from consequences.”
There.
Pattern.
“Did you know Ethan died?”
“No.”
“Did you know Noah wasn’t Ethan?”
“Not until arrest.”
“Do you expect me to believe you?”
“No.”
Good.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“Then leave.”
She nodded.
At door:
“I am sorry I helped push you out of Ethan’s life.”
I did not answer.
She left.
I never saw her again.
She died two years later of stroke.
No dramatic will.
No hidden confession.
She left most estate to foundation and some to relatives.
Nothing to me.
Fine.
The cards mattered.
I opened one.
Dear Ethan, today you would be seven.
Except he was already dead when I wrote.
That truth hurt.
I kept cards.
Not as evidence.
As proof I never stopped reaching.
May you like
Maybe that was selfish.
Okay.
