Chapter 2 - THE LETTER THAT NEVER REACHED HIM
The drive through Mexico City took twenty-eight minutes.
Victor remembered every one.
Annie sat beside him in the back seat, wrapped in his dinner jacket. Brian drove without speaking.
The unopened envelope rested on Victor's knee.
He was afraid to read it.
Afraid it would confirm that his wife had spent three years believing he didn't love her.
Finally, he broke the seal.
Inside was a three-page letter.
Victor,
I don't know whether you'll ever read this.
Your mother says you have already signed the divorce papers. She says you want Annie and me gone before you return.
I don't believe her.
I have called you every day for two weeks. Every call goes unanswered.
I went to your office, but security refused to let me inside.
Today, Maris told me that if I keep trying to contact you, she will have Annie taken away.
She says she has documents proving I'm an unfit mother.
I don't know what those documents are.
I only know I cannot risk losing our daughter.
Victor, if you really want us gone, please tell me yourself.
I will survive losing our marriage.
I cannot survive Annie believing her father doesn't love her.
Catherine.
Victor stopped reading.
His vision blurred.
He remembered those weeks.
He had been overseeing a development project in Monterrey.
His mother had told him Catherine was refusing his calls.
Then came the divorce documents.
Then the letter claiming Catherine had fallen in love with someone else.
He'd tried calling her afterward.
The number was disconnected.
He'd hired a private investigator, who reported that Catherine had left Mexico with Annie.
Victor had never seen the investigator's original files.
His mother had handled the arrangements.
He looked toward Brian.
“Did she intercept my calls?”
Brian's hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“Yes, sir.”
Victor closed his eyes.
“And the investigator?”
“I believe Mrs. Williams hired him directly.”
Annie touched Victor's arm.
“Dad?”
He looked at her.
“Why are you crying?”
Victor tried to smile.
“Because I missed you.”
She considered that.
Then climbed closer.
“I missed you too.”
He held her carefully.
She felt too light.
He remembered carrying her when she was four.
She'd been sturdy and energetic, always asking questions.
Now her wrists seemed impossibly small.
“Have you been sick?” he asked.
She shrugged.
“Sometimes I get dizzy.”
Victor felt cold.
“Does Mom know?”
“She says I need more breakfast.”
He swallowed.
The car turned into a narrow street lined with old buildings.
Brian stopped outside a laundry.
A flickering fluorescent sign hung above the entrance.
Catherine stood inside, folding white sheets.
Victor recognized her immediately.
She was thinner.
Her hair was pulled into a loose knot.
Her shoulders seemed permanently tired.
But it was Catherine.
His wife.
The woman he'd loved since college.
Victor opened the door.
Annie ran toward the laundry.
“Mom!”
Catherine turned.
Her face softened.
“Annie, sweetheart, where have you—”
Then she saw Victor.
The sheet slipped from her hands.
For a moment, neither moved.
Victor stepped forward.
“Catherine.”
She stared.
Then whispered:
“No.”
He stopped.
“It's me.”
Her eyes filled.
“Please don't do this.”
Victor felt his heart break.
“Catherine—”
She backed away.
“You said you never wanted to see us again.”
He shook his head.
“I never said that.”
She stared at him.
Then looked toward Annie.
“Did Grandma send you?”
Annie shook her head.
“Dad found me.”
Catherine's expression collapsed.
She looked at Victor.
Then whispered:
“Why now?”
Victor couldn't answer.
Not because he didn't have words.
Because no words could explain three stolen years.
He held out the letter.
“Because I finally found out you never left me.”
Catherine stared at it.
May you like
Then covered her mouth.
And began to cry.
