Except us. We would be okay. I knew that in all my heart.
I focused on a trunk next to the one I’d just finished searching and prayed to God that we’d find something soon. Smaller than the previous two, this one contained what appeared to be old Christmas and birthday cards, some from as far back as before Tristan and his brother were born. Although I knew Tristan wouldn’t mind me reading them, I felt oddly like an intruder on the private notes and cards from his family.
One handmade card of a wreath made out of silver and gold foil sat on the bottom of the trunk, reflecting the little light that reached it. Lifting it out, I ran my fingertip over the edges of the wreath, impressed with how beautiful it still was after years hidden away. The card’s creator had taken care to make folds in each piece of foil to simulate movement in the wreath. Tilting the card up and down, I watched as the light from the window danced over it.
I turned it over but saw no writing or name. Carefully, I pulled the edge of the card and found it opened to reveal a barely legible handwritten Christmas greeting.
May the blessings of the season fill your days with joy.
There was an initial just below that line I couldn’t make out. Smudged, it looked like a K or a D. K would make sense if it was from Karl to Tressa, but something about the card seemed distinctly unlike one a man would give to a woman. Setting it aside, I sifted through anniversary cards and birthday cards belonging to Tristan’s mother. All store bought, unlike the Christmas card, they were from Victor Stone to his wife. None showed much thought on his part, and none even contained the word love. Tristan’s assessment of his parents’ marriage seemed to be correct.
Inside one of the cards were three small, white envelopes addressed to her in what looked like a man’s handwriting. I couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t appear to be either Victor Stone’s writing or Karl Dreger’s. Had there been another affair?
I quietly slipped the letter out of the first envelope, not wanting Tristan to hear the rustle of paper. Not that I disapproved, but I wasn’t sure how he’d handle finding out his mother had cheated on his father with yet another man. Some things didn’t need to be known.
Looking over toward Tristan, I saw he was busy beginning his search of the next box, so I turned my back toward him and began to read Tressa’s letter. I knew from the first sentence I’d been wrong. This was no love letter.
Dear Tressa,
I know it’s been years since we last spoke. I’ve never forgotten how wonderful you were to my girls when their mother died. It’s because of that kindness that I’m writing you today in the hopes that by doing so I can lessen the pain of what I must now do.
An investigation into what I thought was merely a simple case of a workplace lawsuit at Stone Worldwide has unearthed a story I have to believe you know nothing about. It’s with a heavy heart that I must tell you that I cannot keep this information secret much longer. Please know that if I could spare you the pain I know this will cause you, I would.
Your husband is at the center of my investigation that shows he was responsible for a bombing at a coffee shop in Atlanta that killed innocent men, women, and children. The intended victim was the judge in a sexual harassment case against Stone Worldwide, but the story goes far deeper. The judge’s daughter, a fifteen year old, had become pregnant with your son Taylor’s child and when he abandoned her, she committed suicide. The judge knew what your son had done and would have made sure the case went against Stone, so your husband made sure that never happened.
Tressa, I wish there was another way to tell you this, but I didn’t want to put you in harm’s way. I’m sorry. Be careful and if you need to reply, do so only to the address on this letter. Your husband and the men surrounding him are dangerous.
Take care.
Joe
I sat stunned at what I’d just read, unsure of how it was possible that my father had written Tristan’s mother. Thinking back to when my mother died, I couldn’t remember her coming to see us. How had she known my family then?
Nothing seemed to make any sense. Had my father and Tressa Stone had an affair before my mother died? Just the thought of my father cheating seemed wrong. If not, how had they known one another?
Looking up from the letter in my hands, I saw Tristan finishing with a box and motioned for him to come over. I held the letter up and shook my head.
“What’s wrong? Did you find something?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
“I don’t know. I…I don’t understand this letter. You read it and tell me what’s going on.”
My hands shook as his eyes moved across the page reading the words my father had written. When he finished, he looked up, his expression telling me he was as confused as I was.