Any Time, Any Place
Page 77
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They worked for the next few hours with the occasional ribbing until Tristan yelled out both their names.
“Another stack of photos?” Cal teased. “Your senior prom, perhaps?”
“Guys, come over here.”
They peered around his shoulder. Tristan held a letter in his shaking hand, along with a yellowed, crumpled envelope. Dalton caught the elegant lines of his mother’s script. His breath stopped at the first words.
My darling boys. Caleb, Tristan, Dalton . . .
“Holy shit,” Cal breathed out.
Tristan turned white. “I found it stuck in the back of Dad’s drawer, under the Bible.”
They sat down together and read the letter.
My darling boys. Caleb, Tristan, Dalton . . .
This is a difficult letter to write, but I need to have faith you will somehow understand. To do that, you will need to think of me not only as your mother, but as a woman who has to make choices in her life.
I loved your father. I always will. But there has been something broken between us for a long, long time. I have lived with this emptiness for so long, I began to stop questioning it, until I met someone else. Someone who not only recognized my lonely heart but healed it.
His name is Matthew Hawthorne. He’s an artist. I met him when I took an art class at the community center where he taught. At first, we recognized the connection between us but fought it. I was married, and he was respectful of your father. But as time went on, we became friends. I was able to tell him things and open up in a way that made me discover I still had time left—time to be happy again and enjoy life. He opened me up to possibilities of the woman I wanted to be, worthy of not only love but respect and kindness. Of acceptance.
I know this is hard for you to hear, my precious boys. No son wants to learn that his mother is more than a parent, or that she needs to leave in order to find herself again. But you are grown men now, with choices of your own to make. Your father and I have been unhappy for too long, and it’s time to let go before we end up hating who we once loved.
I will be going away for a while. When I told your father about Matthew and our need to be together, he said he would destroy not only Pierce Brothers, but also your feelings for me. He convinced me you would never forgive me for my betrayal. For a long time, I stayed to protect you, thinking it was worth the sacrifice. But what would I have really taught you, my beautiful boys? To follow your head and not your heart? To survive rather than truly live? To be a coward rather than face your greatest fears? To search for perfection rather than what is real?
Pierce Brothers will always belong to you. My great-great-grandfather built a company based on family and blood, and changed the name to Pierce Brothers after you boys were born. You will run it together one day, strong in each other, and hopefully respecting each of your individual talents that will make it whole.
As for forgiveness, I must believe you will find it in your hearts to give me such a gift. When I return, I will be moving out and trying to build my own center of happiness. It will be hard for all of us, but you must understand one thing will never change. You are the loves of my life. I will never leave you, but you are old enough to make your own happiness, separate from both my and your father’s expectations. Matthew has a teenage daughter, Bella, who will be going through her own struggles. She is his world, as you are mine, but it’s time for us to take a leap together and hope that, one day, you all will understand.
We’re flying to Paris tonight. We need the space to breathe, to be, to savor each other for a little while before we return. I decided writing this letter will not only give me the time to explain, but give you time to process.
I love you all.
Mom
The world Dalton always knew shattered around him, for the second time in his life. All the questions and accusations . . . the fear and the pain . . . faded away with each word he read.
She’d been planning to come back.
He looked at his brothers and automatically reached out to hold their hands. They squeezed back.
“How? How did we never see this?” Tristan asked.
“Dad hid it from us.” Cal’s voice turned hard. “It makes sense. She left this letter for us, but he never wanted us to know. It was his own form of revenge.”
The cruelty of the man his father had become shredded his insides, but once again, Diane Pierce healed him. Yes, she had been going to get a divorce, but hadn’t they all known for years how miserable she’d been? If they had read this letter, wouldn’t they have understood and encouraged her to be happy? She’d never intended to leave them behind. She’d only wanted to grab some time away to set her own intentions and prepare for a new future.
There was no blame there. There was nothing for him to forgive.
Head spinning, tears threatening, Dalton looked at his brothers and smiled.
“Now we know.”
They nodded, hands still clasped together.
“Now we know,” Cal repeated.
They sat together on the floor for a long, long time.
Raven pulled up to the mansion. Dalton was on the front porch. When he’d first called her, she’d ignored the message, but after he’d tried to contact her numerous times, she’d finally picked up. He’d gotten straight to the point: A letter had been found. It had something to do with her father.
She’d told him she’d be right over.
Hardening her heart, she got out of the car and walked over, trying not to greedily devour his appearance. He looked the same, but different. Tired. Yet . . . stronger. Hair twisted up in a man bun, and his eyes burned clear and bright, with more focus. She swallowed the pain, realizing he was doing better without her. He’d gotten past her final rejection and moved on.
“Thanks for coming,” he said. His deep voice stroked her everywhere, licking every hidden place on her body. “It’s important.”
She stiffened her muscles. “You said something about a letter?”
He nodded, motioning for her to sit down next to him. She lowered herself onto the rocker, curling herself up tight. “My brothers and I were cleaning out my father’s room. He died over a year ago, but we never got around to really sorting and boxing his belongings. We found this letter hidden in the back of his drawer. It’s from my mother.”
A strange premonition swept over her. With hands that slightly trembled, she took the outstretched letter, shivering at the brush of his fingers against the back of her hand. Raven didn’t question why he wanted her to read it. She sensed a piece of the big puzzle was about to slide into place.
“Another stack of photos?” Cal teased. “Your senior prom, perhaps?”
“Guys, come over here.”
They peered around his shoulder. Tristan held a letter in his shaking hand, along with a yellowed, crumpled envelope. Dalton caught the elegant lines of his mother’s script. His breath stopped at the first words.
My darling boys. Caleb, Tristan, Dalton . . .
“Holy shit,” Cal breathed out.
Tristan turned white. “I found it stuck in the back of Dad’s drawer, under the Bible.”
They sat down together and read the letter.
My darling boys. Caleb, Tristan, Dalton . . .
This is a difficult letter to write, but I need to have faith you will somehow understand. To do that, you will need to think of me not only as your mother, but as a woman who has to make choices in her life.
I loved your father. I always will. But there has been something broken between us for a long, long time. I have lived with this emptiness for so long, I began to stop questioning it, until I met someone else. Someone who not only recognized my lonely heart but healed it.
His name is Matthew Hawthorne. He’s an artist. I met him when I took an art class at the community center where he taught. At first, we recognized the connection between us but fought it. I was married, and he was respectful of your father. But as time went on, we became friends. I was able to tell him things and open up in a way that made me discover I still had time left—time to be happy again and enjoy life. He opened me up to possibilities of the woman I wanted to be, worthy of not only love but respect and kindness. Of acceptance.
I know this is hard for you to hear, my precious boys. No son wants to learn that his mother is more than a parent, or that she needs to leave in order to find herself again. But you are grown men now, with choices of your own to make. Your father and I have been unhappy for too long, and it’s time to let go before we end up hating who we once loved.
I will be going away for a while. When I told your father about Matthew and our need to be together, he said he would destroy not only Pierce Brothers, but also your feelings for me. He convinced me you would never forgive me for my betrayal. For a long time, I stayed to protect you, thinking it was worth the sacrifice. But what would I have really taught you, my beautiful boys? To follow your head and not your heart? To survive rather than truly live? To be a coward rather than face your greatest fears? To search for perfection rather than what is real?
Pierce Brothers will always belong to you. My great-great-grandfather built a company based on family and blood, and changed the name to Pierce Brothers after you boys were born. You will run it together one day, strong in each other, and hopefully respecting each of your individual talents that will make it whole.
As for forgiveness, I must believe you will find it in your hearts to give me such a gift. When I return, I will be moving out and trying to build my own center of happiness. It will be hard for all of us, but you must understand one thing will never change. You are the loves of my life. I will never leave you, but you are old enough to make your own happiness, separate from both my and your father’s expectations. Matthew has a teenage daughter, Bella, who will be going through her own struggles. She is his world, as you are mine, but it’s time for us to take a leap together and hope that, one day, you all will understand.
We’re flying to Paris tonight. We need the space to breathe, to be, to savor each other for a little while before we return. I decided writing this letter will not only give me the time to explain, but give you time to process.
I love you all.
Mom
The world Dalton always knew shattered around him, for the second time in his life. All the questions and accusations . . . the fear and the pain . . . faded away with each word he read.
She’d been planning to come back.
He looked at his brothers and automatically reached out to hold their hands. They squeezed back.
“How? How did we never see this?” Tristan asked.
“Dad hid it from us.” Cal’s voice turned hard. “It makes sense. She left this letter for us, but he never wanted us to know. It was his own form of revenge.”
The cruelty of the man his father had become shredded his insides, but once again, Diane Pierce healed him. Yes, she had been going to get a divorce, but hadn’t they all known for years how miserable she’d been? If they had read this letter, wouldn’t they have understood and encouraged her to be happy? She’d never intended to leave them behind. She’d only wanted to grab some time away to set her own intentions and prepare for a new future.
There was no blame there. There was nothing for him to forgive.
Head spinning, tears threatening, Dalton looked at his brothers and smiled.
“Now we know.”
They nodded, hands still clasped together.
“Now we know,” Cal repeated.
They sat together on the floor for a long, long time.
Raven pulled up to the mansion. Dalton was on the front porch. When he’d first called her, she’d ignored the message, but after he’d tried to contact her numerous times, she’d finally picked up. He’d gotten straight to the point: A letter had been found. It had something to do with her father.
She’d told him she’d be right over.
Hardening her heart, she got out of the car and walked over, trying not to greedily devour his appearance. He looked the same, but different. Tired. Yet . . . stronger. Hair twisted up in a man bun, and his eyes burned clear and bright, with more focus. She swallowed the pain, realizing he was doing better without her. He’d gotten past her final rejection and moved on.
“Thanks for coming,” he said. His deep voice stroked her everywhere, licking every hidden place on her body. “It’s important.”
She stiffened her muscles. “You said something about a letter?”
He nodded, motioning for her to sit down next to him. She lowered herself onto the rocker, curling herself up tight. “My brothers and I were cleaning out my father’s room. He died over a year ago, but we never got around to really sorting and boxing his belongings. We found this letter hidden in the back of his drawer. It’s from my mother.”
A strange premonition swept over her. With hands that slightly trembled, she took the outstretched letter, shivering at the brush of his fingers against the back of her hand. Raven didn’t question why he wanted her to read it. She sensed a piece of the big puzzle was about to slide into place.
