Maybe another lecture about how young and ungrateful she was.
She had not expected her father to confess.
Garrett pressed his palms together.
“We knew about the land.”
“Since March.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Emmett left it to me.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about the timber offer.”
Garrett nodded.
“Yes.”
Ren felt her eyes burning.
“Then why?”
He looked at her.
Really looked.
For once he did not turn away.
“You look like your mother.”
Ren said nothing.
Garrett’s mouth twisted.
“You always have.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“When you were born, I thought it was wonderful. After Sylvia died, I couldn’t stand it.”
Ren’s anger went very still.
“You couldn’t stand looking at me.”
“No.”
Garrett shook his head quickly.
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
“It’s exactly what you mean.”
He looked down.
“Maybe it is.”
Sandra moved toward him.
“This is not the time.”
Garrett ignored her.
“Your mother used to hum when she cooked. Never knew the whole song. Just pieces. After the accident, the house went silent.”
Ren had not heard him speak this much about Sylvia in eight years.
“You were eleven,” Garrett continued. “You had her eyes. Same expression when you were angry. Same way of standing with your hands on your hips.”
His voice lowered.
“You needed a father. And every time you looked at me, all I could think was that I couldn’t save her.”
Ren’s throat tightened.
“So you stopped looking.”
“Yes.”
There was no defense in the answer.
That somehow made it worse.
“Sandra came along when I was barely functioning. She paid bills. Made appointments. Made decisions. I let her make all of them.”
“Including Emmett.”
Garrett’s eyes closed.
“Yes.”
“The letters.”
He opened them again.
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“I saw some of them.”
Ren stepped backward.
Garrett’s face crumpled.
“I knew he was writing. Sandra said letting him into your life would confuse you. She said he hated me. That he’d poison you against us.”
“So you let her send them back.”
“Yes.”
“For eight years.”
Garrett nodded.
Ren went to the open hatch.
She climbed into the cellar.
When she returned, she carried the tin box of letters.
She set it on the table.
The sound made Garrett flinch.
“He kept every one.”
Ren untied the bundle.
Returned envelopes spread across the wood.
Garrett picked one up.
His hand began to shake.
“He wrote again after every one you sent back.”
Garrett stared at the red stamp.
RETURN TO SENDER.
Ren looked at Sandra.
“You told me he never asked about me.”
Sandra said nothing.
“You told me he didn’t care whether I existed.”
“I thought keeping distance was better.”
“For who?”
Sandra’s face hardened.
“For this family.”
“What family?”
“Ours.”
“You mean yours.”
Sandra pushed away from the table.
“You want the truth?”
“I already found it.”
“No. You found one old man’s version.”
Ren almost laughed.
“The letters are his version?”
“You think Emmett Voss was some saint because he left you property?”
“I don’t think that.”
“You don’t know what he was like.”
“Neither do I.”
The admission stopped Sandra.
Ren continued.
“That’s the point. You made sure I never got the chance.”
Sandra looked toward the stove.
For the first time since arriving, she appeared tired instead of angry.
“I grew up poor.”
Garrett turned toward her.
Sandra kept speaking.
“And I don’t mean we skipped restaurants. I mean the lights went off. I mean my mother’s car disappeared one morning because she hadn’t made the payment. I mean watching her cry over bills she could not pay.”
Ren said nothing.
“I promised myself I would never live like that again.”
Sandra glanced around the cabin.
“Then I married your father. A man with a dead wife still in his wallet, a daughter who never trusted me, and a business that was already cracking underneath him.”
“That explains stealing my letters?”
“No.”
Sandra’s voice became quieter.
“It explains me. It does not excuse me.”
That answer surprised Ren.
Sandra looked at the transfer papers.
“When the business started failing, I saw everything I had spent my whole life running from coming back. The repossessions. The bills. Losing the house.”
“And then you found my land.”
“Yes.”
“And thought I wouldn’t miss what I didn’t know existed.”
Sandra looked at her.
“Yes.”
At least she had stopped lying.
Ren brought up the strongbox next.
When she opened it, Garrett stared at the savings bonds.
Ren laid several on the table.
Her name was visible on each.
“One for almost every year.”
Garrett picked up the oldest.
His face changed.
“He bought these for you?”