With my name written in a letter that I hadn’t seen in fifteen years and yet recognized immediately.
Emily.
My hand trembled.
I didn’t take it at first.
I didn’t want to.
He wanted to throw it on the road.
I wanted to yell at a letter because I couldn’t yell at the man who wrote it.
Jonathan waited.
Finally I took it.
I didn’t open it.
Not yet.
“My father asked you to marry me.
“Not exactly.
“That’s what you said.
“Your father asked me to offer you the strongest legal protection possible if he found you in danger. He said you’d probably hate me for phrasing it that way.
“He was a perceptive man for someone who didn’t show up in fifteen years.
Jonathan accepted the cruelty of the phrase as if he deserved it.
Maybe he deserved it.
Not him.
But someone had to receive it.
We got into the foundation’s van at sunset.
Noah fell asleep before he left the road.
Sofia followed, breadcrumbs still on her cheek.
I was sitting across from Jonathan, with my father’s envelope in my hands.
The landscape of Colorado passed through the window like a life of others.
Distant mountains.
Huge sky.
Dry fields.
All too beautiful for the mess I had inside.
The foundation’s residence was a large stone house, surrounded by pine trees.
It didn’t look like a mansion.
It seemed like a refuge
