Daniel wanted to stay angry.
Part of him succeeded.
Another part was beginning to understand the shape of the tragedy without yet being willing to forgive it.
He opened the envelope slowly and unfolded the letter inside.
Nora turned away to give him privacy.
Daniel recognized the date immediately. Five days before Emma died.
He read.
Nora,
If this reaches you, then the world has done one kind thing for us at last.
I don’t know what your life looks like now. I don’t know if you are happy. I don’t know if you hate me for not fighting harder, or if you think I hate you for leaving. I hope neither is true.
I used to rehearse angry speeches for you when I was younger. By thirty-eight, I’ve realized anger takes too much energy to keep alive for decades. I’d rather tell the truth.
The truth is that I missed you all my life.
The truth is that I kept the red scarf you left at Miller’s Pond when I was thirteen.
The truth is that Daniel is the best man I know, and Lily is so bright she startles me.
The truth is that something is wrong with my health, and I’m trying not to scare anyone until I know more.
If you ever read this, and if I am gone, please do not stay away out of shame. Shame has stolen enough years already.
Go next door. You’ll understand that sentence if you ever stand on my street.
If Daniel lets you in, tell Lily I would have wanted her to know you.
Tell Daniel I’m sorry for leaving him too much to carry.
And if you still remember, tell him what you used to call me when we were small. He’ll know then that I never stopped loving you either.
Birdie forever,
Emma
Daniel read the last line twice.
Then once more.
When he looked up, Nora had her back to him and one hand pressed hard over her mouth.
He folded the letter carefully and slid it back into the envelope.
For a long moment, he didn’t trust himself to speak.
Finally he said, “She got sick fast.”
Nora turned. Tears had spilled, but she made no move to wipe them. “What happened?”