Page 77 of Rivals

“A letter was sent to me. I got a call a while ago from a law firm in Kansas. It was part of her will to send it to me.”

“How long ago?” I ask her.

“More than a month ago,” she says. Everything starts to click into place. As much as I hate it, I would have never seen this coming. I pinch my lips, replaying every interaction we’ve had, which hasn’t been much. That should have been the thing to tip me off the most.

She started spiraling the minute she got that phone call. “Did you get the letter yet?” She nods against my chest. “Did you read it?” Her hand on my chest fists my shirt. That can’t be good.

“Yes,” she rasps. I debate on asking her if she wants to talk about it. I feel like I’m trying to disarm a bomb instead of comfort a woman right now. I know anger and its many forms. Revna is the subtle anger. You don’t see her coming until after you’ve been burnt to a crisp by it. So, I pin my lips together and wait for her to decide to tell me or leave me wondering.

She starts crying again, and I draw my hands through her hair. We stay like that until my arms feel stiff. Her shoulders finally stop shaking and I check to see if she fell asleep. She’s wide awake, just staring into space. “Revna,” I murmur. She tilts her head again. “I’m sorry baby, I…I was trying to understand what changed. I’m sorry I pushed you so hard. I thought you were just scared.”

“Did you just apologize to me?”

I frown. “Yeah?”

“You don’t apologize to anyone.” I shrug and wipe her tears again. Her eyes are so puffy and red that they must hurt.

“I apologize toyou, little bird.“ She breaks eye contact and takes another deep breath. I can feel her building the courage to tell me what the letter said or at least some version.

“Thank you,” she says into my chest.

My throat hurts as I force the words out. “I shouldn’t give you any reason to have to accept an apology from me.”

She huffs a sarcastic laugh. “Lachlan, you forget I know you, and I know that’s entirely impossible for someone like you.”

Guilt snags on my heart. “It shouldn’t be.”

“We’re human.” I rub her back, and she shifts around in the bed so our legs are intertwined.

“That we are,” I mumble.

“I don’t know what I expected to read, but it wasn’t what she said.” She takes a shuddered breath. “I’m so tired of crying.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Revna. I want to know because I want to help you, but if it’s too painful, I understand. Seeing you like this is killing me.”

“It’s on the nightstand.” She points next to her bed. I glance at the open letter and the shaky scrawl on it. “Just read it yourself.”

“Are you sure?” I feel like the moment I read this letter, we won’t just take another step together, but she will finally let me past her walls. And I’ll be damned if I let her build them up and keep me out again. This is it, there is no going back.

“Yeah, just read it.” I squeeze her again and reach for the two pieces of paper. I would have thought someone who gave up their child would have a little more to say on their deathbed, but maybe she was a woman of few words.

***

Revna,

I’m sure you have so many questions. I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I can answer them all in just this letter. But, I figured when I died, you should at least know. Maybe you’ll get some kind of closure.

I’m sorry I left you with nothing. Looking back, I should have given you up for adoption in a different way. I was young. I didn’t know how to be a mother. I was a child myself. I know you probably don’t want to read this, and it makes me an awful person, but I don’t regret it. I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to have hope where it doesn’t belong. My life never got better. I couldn’t provide for you, and I knew that. For years now, I have wondered where you were. I hoped a wonderful family snatched you up and gave you everything I couldn’t.

I never deserved you. And because I would want to know if it was me, your father could be three different men. I know some are alive, and some are dead. None of them are worth pursuing that much, I can tell you. He will not do anything to help you in any way. So, if you have ever thought about who he was, let it go. He’s not worth it, and neither am I.

I’m sorry, Revna, I really am. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the mother you needed me to be. I hope life has turned out ok for you. I know you would be 28 by now, and I hope those 28 years are not filled with regret like mine are.

I was diagnosed with cancer last year, and they told me I didn’t have long. I’ll be long gone after you get this. Don’t bother coming to my grave. I know I don’t deserve it. Which is why I’m not giving you that information, nor is the lawyer. I hope you can live your life free of the burden of not knowing more than this.

I wish you all the best. Do better than me, Revna. I don’t know you, but I know you are already a step ahead. I don’t know how I know that. I just do.

Diane