Lost Letter
By Sylvia Melvin
Ruth Moyer
struggled to balance a stack of old books she carried in her arms on the way to
her car. The church rummage sale was a good excuse to get rid of thirty years
of packing and unpacking them each time she and Tim moved. Why on earth her
husband held on to such relics she could never understand. As she shifted her
load to open the car door, a dog-eared college history book fell off the top
and landed at her feet. After arranging the other books on the back seat, she
bent down to retrieve it and noticed a sheet of folded yellowing paper sticking
out from the text. Since it was not part of the book, her curiosity grew. Hmm…now I wonder what this could be?
The first
three words of a letter sent her pulse racing.
My dearest Tim,
Please forgive me. So many
times I’ve picked up a pen to write you but the words in my heart never seemed
adequate so they didn’t make it onto the paper. This time I was determined to
express my feelings.
Over and over I’ve wondered how to
make you understand how much I loved you. I never wanted it to end the way it
did. Please believe that. I still have your picture and each time I look into
your eyes my heart aches .The day I lost you I thought I’d lose my mind and I
swore I’d not rest until you heard the truth. Please keep reading and hear my
side of the story.
Ruth’s eyes
scrutinized every word and as she read down to the end of the page she flipped
over the paper, anxious to read the explanation. A disappointed gasp leaped from
her throat—the page was void of words. Blank.
“No,” her
voice trembled, “I’ve got to know.” She grabbed the book and held it upside down
shaking it furiously. Nothing fluttered from within and soon she heard the
cover start to break away from the binding. Slamming the two ends together, she
stood staring at the letter.
How long has Tim held this secret affair
from me? It must be dated. I’ve missed it.
Once more Ruth unfolded the
letter and her eyes searched the upper right-hand side. 1979. Math calculations
buzzed around in her brain and she didn’t like the results.
Tears
moistened her eyes and memories of 1977 freshman college days clouded her
thinking. We were the inseparable couple .Was
he two-timing me? Who was this woman? Did Tim truly love her? Was I second best
and did he marry me on the rebound?
Anger
reddened her cheeks and in her distraught state she kicked the car door so hard
the slam echoed in her eardrums. No
rummage sale today .I’m not in the mood to smile and listen to a bunch of
middle-age women pretend ‘all is well with the world.’My world’s turning upside
down and only one man can set it right. And as soon as he gets home from work
he has some explaining to do.
By five-fifteen, Ruth had
checked the roast for doneness, poked the potatoes and carrots for firmness,
and tossed the salad. Though the letter had taken away her hunger, she knew Tim
would be famished. The squeaking of the screen door announced his arrival. It
never varied. He was as predictable as summer following spring. That part of
his personality simply didn’t fit with the letter. She’d known him all of her
adult life. At least I thought I knew
him.
-2-
“Honey, I’m
home,” was a familiar refrain but Ruth’s response was silence. She placed the
history book with the letter inside the front cover in the middle of his place
mat and waited for Tim to enter the dining room.
He walked
to her, grazed her lips with a kiss and sat down. “Guess you didn’t hear me
come in. Well, how was your day? You mentioned this morning you were going to
clean out a cupboard for the rummage sale.”
“The
cupboard’s clean. I believe one of your books was in the pile.” Her eyes
beckoned to the textbook in front of her husband.
“You don’t
say!” A half-chuckle followed as Tim picked up the book. “World History. I
struggled with that one. Too many dates. What’s this?” The letter slipped onto
his lap as he opened the cover.
Ruth
struggled to keep her composure. “Why don’t you read it?”
Something
in her tone puzzled Tim and he wasted no time in fulfilling her request.
Suddenly,
Tim’s demeanor became agitated. “Did you read this?”
“Yes.”
Ruth’s breath came in shorter pants. “Why couldn’t you tell me you were in love
with someone else while we were dating? I believed I was your sweetheart. You
certainly fooled me. Second best must have been a let-down.”
Tim pounded
the table with his fist. “I never wanted to hear from her. It’s not what you
think, Ruth. The rest of the letter would have explained the situation. Yes,
there was another woman in my life.” Tim took a deep breath as tears filled his
wife’s eyes. “But she wasn’t a lover. She was my mother.”
Ruth wiped
away the wetness that blurred her vision. “But your mother died when you were
born and your father was killed in an accident. You told me an aunt raised
you.”
“My mother
gave birth to an illegitimate child then gave me away. Guilt caught up to her
and when I was in college she tried to make amends by sending this letter. I
never believed her tale of woe and her sister passed away when I was five. No
one else wanted this stray child so the county paid foster homes to feed and
shelter me.”
By now
steam no longer sent a delicious aroma of beef into their nostrils and the
vegetables were cold. Ruth reached over and placed her hand on Tim’s wrist. “Sweetheart, forgive me, I was
jealous. But why have you held the truth to yourself all these years? Surely
you know my love for you could have handled it.”
Tim’s head
hung low and his voice faltered. “Ashamed, I guess. Your family was so normal—everything I always
visualized. When I met you all I wanted was to put the past behind me and finally
make my dream come true.” Tim squeezed Ruth’s hand. “And it has, darlin’. I’m
so sorry this letter upset you. Let’s just forget it, okay?”
“But Tim,
the missing page. What was the explanation?”
“Oh, she
tried to convince me that she had no choice but to give me up. Told me her
father threatened to disown his daughter since she’d disgraced the family.
Apparently my heritage had some ‘blue blood’ running through it. A real sob
story but I wasn’t buying it. Women, in my opinion, who love their children
keep them no matter what. She was more interested in saving her reputation. I never answered her letter.”
-3-
Ruth looked
into her husband’s eyes and saw the hurt but she had to ask, “Then why did you
keep it?”
It was a
few seconds before Tim answered her. “I guess it was the only thing I had that
came from my real mother. I used it as a book mark.”
Ruth’s
response came in a veiled question. “You could try and find her. She may still
be living. How old would she be? Seventy, seventy-five maybe?
“And what
would I say to her, Ruth? Gee, mom, thanks for leaving me to grow up with
strangers. It did a lot to develop my independent character and sense of
responsibility. No, I think I’ll take some time-honored sage advice and ‘let
sleeping dogs lie.’ Now, would you pass the biscuits, please?”
The end
