The Truth She Protected
Finally, after I’d composed myself somewhat, I asked the question that had been forming: “Did her husband know about her condition?”
“No. She hadn’t told him anything. She was actually planning to divorce him when they returned from that trip. He didn’t know any of it. The crash ended everything before she could say a single word.”
I drove home in a complete daze, my mind spinning. Why had Darla wanted me to have the package and know the truth instead of her husband, even when he was still alive at the time?
At the very bottom of her original letter, in small handwriting I’d initially missed, was one more carefully written line:
“It’s better for some truths to remain buried forever. Take care of the children, Mom. Protect them.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep at all. Something important was still missing from this story.
Later that week, while tucking Molly into bed, her drawing book slipped from her small hands. A page fell open randomly. It showed four stick-figure children, two adults clearly labeled “Mommy” and “Daddy,” and another figure labeled “Mommy 2.”
The next morning, I asked as casually as I could manage, “Sweetheart, who’s Mommy 2 in your drawing?”
“That’s the lady who used to come over to our house when Mommy was at work,” Molly said innocently.
“What lady are you talking about?”
“The one Daddy would hug and hold.”
“Did Mommy know about this lady?”
“I don’t know for sure. But one day Mommy yelled really loud, and then the lady didn’t come back to our house anymore.”
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