Chapter 8 - THE CEDAR BOX
My father denied the letters existed.
He called Mercer a liar, my mother confused, and me ungrateful.
Then Melanie spoke.
“There is a cedar box in Dad’s study.”
Everyone turned toward her.
She swallowed.
“I found it when I was sixteen.”
Dad’s face changed.
“You had no business going through my things.”
“It was locked.”
“Then how did you see inside?”
“You left the key in your desk.”
She looked at me.
“There were envelopes with your name on them.”
I waited for the rest.
She began twisting our grandmother’s pearl bracelet around her wrist.
“Dad caught me before I could read one.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That they were reports about things you had done overseas.”
Her voice broke.
“He said opening them could ruin your career and put the family in danger.”
The lie was ridiculous to an adult.
To a frightened sixteen-year-old, it had been enough.
My mother reached into her purse and removed a small brass key.
“I took this from his ring last night.”
Dad stared at her.
“Eleanor.”
“I knew this day was coming.”
She placed the key in my palm.
It was warm from her hand.
“The box is in the trunk of my car.”
For several seconds, no one moved.
Then Dad lunged for the key.
Luis caught his wrist before he reached me.
The movement was controlled and almost gentle.
“Sir,” Luis said, “that would be a very poor decision.”
Dad pulled away, humiliated.
“This is theft.”
“The box belonged to my mother,” Mom said.
“You used it to hide another man’s letters to his daughter.”
I wanted to run to the parking garage.
I also wanted never to see what was inside.
Command had taught me that some doors could not be closed once opened.
It had also taught me that refusing intelligence did not make the threat disappear.
“Bring it here,” I told Luis.
My father moved toward the door.
Ethan blocked him.
May you like
“You should stay,” he said.
“For once, you should be present for what you did.”
