Chapter 4 – The Letter He Wrote Twice

Vanessa looked at the blue envelope in her hand.

For a long moment, she didn’t answer my father.

Then she said, “I didn’t lose it.”

Dad looked relieved.

“Oh, good.”

“I put it with the other arrangements.”

“Then may Betty have it?”

Vanessa glanced toward Luca.

“I’m not sure this is the right time.”

My father frowned.

“It’s our anniversary.”

“I understand, Robert.”

“Then when would be the right time?”

She had no answer.

Luca held out his hand.

“Give him the envelope.”

Vanessa hesitated.

Then she passed it to him.

He didn’t open it.

He placed it gently in front of Dad.

“It’s yours, Robert. You decide.”

Dad studied the envelope.

His name was written on the back in large, uneven letters.

Then he looked toward Mom.

“Betty, would you read it?”

She smiled.

“Of course.”

He pushed it toward her.

“I practiced writing it, but my hands aren’t as steady as they used to be.”

Mom carefully opened the envelope.

Inside was a folded sheet of cream-colored stationery.

She began reading silently.

Then stopped.

Her hand went to her mouth.

“Robert.”

He looked worried.

“Is it bad?”

She shook her head.

“Oh, honey. No.”

Luca stepped away to give them privacy.

But Mom touched his sleeve.

“Please stay.”

She unfolded the paper completely.

Then she read aloud.

“Dear Betty,

“I know our anniversary is November third, but sometimes I forget what day it is. That’s why I’ve asked Melissa to help me mark the calendar.”

My throat tightened.

Mom continued.

“I remember the first time I saw you. You were wearing a yellow dress at the church picnic. I spilled lemonade because I was trying to look at you and pour a drink at the same time.”

Dad smiled.

“That was embarrassing.”

Mom laughed through her tears.

She kept reading.

“I remember we couldn’t afford much when we got married. But we had a room full of people who loved us. We had a cake and one record, and you told me you didn’t care if the record skipped.”

Mom’s voice broke.

Dad reached for her hand.

“Take your time.”

She smiled at him.

Then continued.

“I wish I could promise that I’ll remember every anniversary after this one. I can’t. The doctor told us things may get harder.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“But I can promise that when I look at you, even on the days I can’t find the right words, I will still be looking at the woman who made my life worth remembering.”

Nobody moved.

Mom read the final line.

“I hope you get to dance tonight. Even if I forget the steps, please don’t stop holding my hand.”

She lowered the paper.

Dad looked frightened.

“Did I write that?”

Mom nodded.

“You did.”

He smiled faintly.

“Good. I meant it.”

My mother leaned over and kissed him.

For several seconds, they held each other without speaking.

Then Dad looked toward Vanessa.

“Thank you for keeping it safe.”

Something passed across her face.

Guilt, perhaps.

Or relief that he hadn’t asked anything else.

I couldn’t tell.

Luca looked at the envelope.

“Robert, when did you write this?”

Dad thought carefully.

“Last week.”

Mom nodded.

“He spent three evenings working on it.”

Dad looked embarrassed.

“I kept spelling things wrong.”

I smiled through my tears.

“He asked me how to spell anniversary six times.”

Dad laughed.

“Still can’t spell it.”

Luca smiled.

Then his expression changed.

“Vanessa, you had this letter on Monday?”

“Yes.”

“And you knew how important tonight was to him?”

She looked down.

“Yes.”

“Then how could you tell Melissa to send him away?”

“I thought keeping the evening quiet would be kinder.”

“Kind to whom?”

Vanessa looked toward the guests.

“Luca, you don’t understand how frightening public confusion can be.”

Dad lowered his eyes.

Mom immediately reached for his hand.

“Robert, this isn’t about anything you’ve done.”

But Vanessa continued.

“Last Monday, he was visibly distressed. He didn’t recognize the dining room. He asked questions he couldn’t answer.”

My father stared at his watch.

I could see him shrinking into himself again.

Luca’s jaw tightened.

“You’re discussing a private medical incident in front of people who have no right to hear it.”

Vanessa looked hurt.

“I’m trying to explain my decision.”

“Then explain your decision without humiliating him.”

She stopped.

Luca turned toward Margaret.

“What happened to the reservation?”

Margaret opened the leather booking folder.

“I’ve checked the entry twice.”

She took out a handwritten cancellation slip.

My father leaned forward.

“Is that for us?”

“Yes, Mr. Carter.”

He frowned.

“But I paid already.”

Margaret nodded.

“You did.”

Luca took the slip.

His expression changed.

“Who authorized this?”

Margaret hesitated.

“According to the record, Melissa Carter.”

I thought I’d misheard.

“Excuse me?”

Vanessa looked away.

Margaret continued.

“The note says the Carter family requested cancellation because Mr. Carter might be uncomfortable in a crowded room.”

I stared at the paper.

“I never canceled anything.”

Margaret looked uncomfortable.

“Melissa, your name is on it.”

“Then somebody put it there.”

Vanessa folded her arms.

“Perhaps you mentioned that your parents might be better off somewhere quieter.”

“Are you certain?”

I stared at her.

“My parents have been looking forward to this for a year.”

She gave a small sigh.

“People sometimes say things without realizing how they’ll be interpreted.”

Luca looked at her.

“Vanessa, stop.”

But my father was no longer listening.

He was looking at me.

His eyes were wet.

“Pumpkin?”

I turned toward him.

“Yes, Daddy?”

He swallowed.

“Did you tell them we shouldn’t come?”

He looked confused.

“But the lady said—”

“Dad, I would never do that.”

He stared at the cancellation slip.

Then he asked the question that hurt more than anything Vanessa had said.

“Melissa, did you cancel our dinner because you were ashamed of me?”