I read the next sentence twice. “Your mother didn’t abandon us, son. She left because she believed she was protecting you.” My knees weakened. Mom had supposedly died when I was six, and Dad had always refused to discuss her. The letter explained that she had discovered a serious illness and secretly traveled away for treatment. Dad had told me she was gone because he couldn’t bear watching me wait for someone who might never return. I looked at Walter. He nodded slowly. “Your father wanted to tell you everything, but he never found the courage.”
I turned the page. There was an address, a date, and one final sentence: “If you want to know what happened, open the blue towel.
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