“Zoe saw the envelope,” he said. “She didn’t read it. I recognized his writing when I passed your door.”
I sat on the bed.
“I found it while I was cleaning out the desk last month.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from him.”
Marcus stood by the dresser, looking at the handbag where I’d tucked it.
Samuel and Marcus had argued a week before Samuel died. Our son had accepted a position that meant moving across the country. Samuel wanted him closer while he was ill, though he wouldn’t admit how frightened he was. Marcus thought his father was asking him to give up flying.
They said things neither of them meant.
Then there was no chance to say anything else.
“I’ve wanted to hear from him every day,” Marcus said.
“I know that now.”
He sat beside me. I took out the envelope but held it a moment longer.
“I opened it,” I said. “He asked me to give it to you when you were ready. I kept waiting for the right time.”
“You can give it to me.”
I placed it in his hand.
Marcus looked at his name. His thumb moved over the ink. He didn’t open it in front of me.
“I’ll read it tonight,” he said.
I nodded. I was relieved and sorry I had waited.
At Zoe’s graduation, I sat between Dana and Marcus. When Zoe’s name was called, we all stood. She looked straight at us from the stage and smiled so wide I forgot everything else for a moment.
Afterward, she ran into my arms.
“You came.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it.”
“I know. I just wanted to say it.”
We took photographs under a tree outside the auditorium. In one, Marcus stood beside me with his arm around my shoulders. In another, he and Zoe held her diploma together while Dana laughed.
My phone stayed in my handbag.
That night, after the guests left, Marcus found me on the porch. He had opened Samuel’s letter.
“He said he was scared,” Marcus told me. “He didn’t want me to stop flying. He wanted me to know he’d miss me.”
I took his hand.
“He was proud of you.”
“I wish he’d said it while I could answer.”
“So do I.”
Marcus looked out at the dark yard. “He wrote that he hoped one day I’d take you on my plane.”
“He did.”
“He would have loved today with Zoe.”
We sat together until Dana called us inside.
Before bed, Lila sent a message. The airline had identified the person who contacted me as Imani. Her account described another passenger Rachel had challenged in first class months earlier, even after seeing a valid boarding pass.
I read the message twice.
For the first time, I understood why Imani had reached out.
She had been waiting for someone to believe what she saw.
I called Lila the next morning.
“Can I speak with Imani?” I asked.
“She agreed to provide her account to the investigation. I can ask whether she’s comfortable speaking with you separately.”
“I don’t want to interfere. I want to thank her.”
Lila promised to pass that on.
At breakfast, I told Marcus about the message. He put down his coffee.