Chapter 2: The Number
Nobody spoke.
The phone continued vibrating in Sarah’s hand.
Emily.
The name glowed against the black screen.
My wife had been dead for four years.
I knew that number.
I had deleted it from my contacts twice and restored it twice because some part of me couldn't bear the finality of deleting her.
The number had belonged to Emily.
It shouldn't have existed anymore.
“Give me the phone,” I said.
Sarah stepped backward.
“No.””
“Give it to me.””
“Marcus, don't.””
I held out my hand.
“Now.””
She pressed the phone against her chest.
Jordan looked confused.
“Mom, why is Emily calling you?””
Sarah snapped, “She's not.””
I stared at the screen.
The phone stopped ringing.
Then a message appeared.
*UNKNOWN: We need to talk before Marcus finds out.*
My stomach dropped.
I looked at Sarah.
“Who sent that?””
“I don't know.””
“Your phone says otherwise.””
She tried to lock the screen.
I stopped her.
“Who is it?””
“I said I don't know.””
Michael was staring at her.
“That's Mom's number.””
“I know.””
“Why are you getting messages from it?””
Sarah's eyes flicked toward him.
“Someone is using an old number.””
I took a step closer.
“Someone who knows what?””
Silence.
Then another message arrived.
*UNKNOWN: You promised me the boy would never see the letter.*
Michael inhaled sharply.
I read it twice.
Sarah's face had lost all color.
“Where is the letter?”” I asked.
She shook her head.
“I don't know.””
“You just got a message about it.””
“I don't know who sent that.””
“Then call the number.””
She didn't move.
“Call it.””
“I can't.””
“Why?””
She stared at me.
Then the phone rang again.
This time, Sarah answered.
“Hello?””
A man's voice came through.
I couldn't hear the words clearly.
Sarah turned away.
“Yes,” she whispered.
A pause.
“No. He doesn't know.””
My jaw tightened.
Sarah looked at me.
The color disappeared from her face.
Then she said quietly, “You weren't supposed to call me here.””
She ended the call.
I stared at her.
“Who was that?””
“Nobody.””
I laughed once.
There was nothing funny about it.
“Nobody knows about a letter my dead wife supposedly wrote to our son?””
She looked down.
“I can explain.””
“Then explain.””
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Michael suddenly pushed his chair back.
“Dad, I want to go to Grandma's.””
I looked at him.
“Why?””
“Because she told me there was a letter.””
“Michael, Grandma is gone.””
“I know.””
His eyes filled.
“But her house isn't.””
I understood.
He wanted the truth.
So did I.
Twenty minutes later, we were driving through the rain.
Sarah stayed behind.
Jordan refused to come.
The windshield wipers dragged across the glass in slow, steady arcs.
Michael sat beside me.
He hadn't spoken for ten minutes.
Finally, he said, “Dad?””
“Yeah?””
“Did Mom love me?””
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
“She loved you more than anything.””
“How do you know?””
“Because I watched her.””
He looked out the window.
“She used to tell me I was her brave boy.””
“She meant it.””
“I don't feel brave.””
I glanced at him.
“You don't have to.””
He looked down at his hands.
“Then why did Sarah hate everything that reminded her of Mom?””
I didn't have an answer.
Maybe I'd been too busy trying to build a new family to notice that the old one was being erased.
We reached Emily's mother's house shortly after nine.
The place had been empty since the funeral.
I unlocked the door.
Dust covered the entryway.
Michael walked inside slowly.
“Grandma's room is upstairs.””
“I know.””
He stopped at the bottom step.
“Dad?””
“Yeah?””
“If we find the letter…”
He swallowed.
“Can I read it first?””
I nodded.
“It belongs to you.””
We searched the bedroom.
Drawers.
Closets.
Old handbags.
Nothing.
Then Michael opened the nightstand.
Inside was a stack of photographs and a small envelope.
His name was written on it.
*MICHAEL*
He froze.
“Dad.””
I walked over.
The handwriting was Emily's.
I knew it instantly.
Michael touched the envelope with trembling fingers.
“She wrote this.””
I nodded.
“Open it.””
He did.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
He read the first line.
His lips parted.
Then he handed it to me.
I read it.
Michael, if you're reading this, something has happened that I prayed never would.
I felt the room tilt.
The next line was worse.
Your father believes he knows the whole truth about why I left him.
I stared at Michael.
“Left him?””
My wife hadn't left me.
She had died.
I kept reading.
If Sarah is still in your life, do not trust what she tells you about the night I went to the hospital.
My hands started shaking.
Michael whispered, “Dad?””
I couldn't answer.
The letter continued.
There is something your father must know. The person who caused the accident wasn't a stranger.
I stopped.
A memory slammed into me.
Four years earlier.
A rainy night.
A phone call.
Emily's car wrecked at an intersection less than a mile from our house.
The police had called it an accident.
I had accepted that.
Because I had needed to.
Michael was watching my face.
“What does it say?””
Before I could answer, headlights swept across the bedroom curtains.
A car had pulled into the driveway.
I moved toward the window.
Michael followed.
A black SUV stopped outside.
The driver's door opened.
A man stepped into the rain.
I knew him.
He was standing in the photograph on Emily's letter.
And then my phone rang.
May you like
The caller ID said:
*SARAH.*
