Chapter 5 - What Patricia Remembered
By four o’clock, Samantha was back at Apartment 214.
Gavin went with her.
Richard’s final sentence followed them all the way to Mesa.
Something Elaine swore she destroyed.
The problem was that the blue metal box contained almost three decades of paper.
Birthday cards.
Bank statements.
Receipts.
Medical paperwork.
Photographs.
Returned letters.
Old attorney correspondence.
If there was something else, it could be anywhere.
Patricia sat at the kitchen table eating toast.
She smiled when Samantha entered.
“Sammy.”
A good day.
Samantha could tell immediately.
“Hi, Mom.”
Patricia looked at Gavin.
“Serious husband.”
Gavin smiled.
“I’m starting to think that’s my official name.”
Patricia laughed.
Samantha sat.
“Can I ask you about Grandma Elaine?”
Patricia’s smile faded.
“Your mother?”
“My grandmother.”
“Right.”
Patricia touched her forehead.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I hate that.”
“I know.”
Patricia stared at the toast.
“She believed him.”
“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Too long.”
“Did she know he forged the custody form?”
Patricia looked toward the bedroom.
“Blue box.”
“We found it.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Blue box.”
“It’s here.”
“No.”
Samantha frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Patricia pushed back her chair.
She walked slowly into the bedroom.
Gavin and Samantha followed.
Patricia opened the closet.
The metal box sat where they had returned it.
She pointed.
“Not that one.”
Samantha stared.
“There’s another?”
Patricia crouched.
Gavin immediately stepped forward.
“Let me.”
This time she allowed him.
“Back.”
He reached behind several shoe boxes.
His fingers touched metal.
Another box.
Smaller.
Gray.
He pulled it out.
Samantha stared at her mother.
“You never showed me this.”
Patricia smiled faintly.
“I forgot.”
Gavin set it on the bed.
Locked.
“Key?”
Patricia looked confused.
Then she touched her necklace.
A tiny silver key hung beneath her cardigan.
Samantha inhaled.
“You kept it with you?”
Patricia shrugged.
“Elaine told me to.”
Samantha took the key.
The lock opened.
Inside was almost nothing.
One cassette tape.
A small recorder.
Three envelopes.
A photocopy of a bank statement.
And an old photograph of Richard, Elaine, and a man Samantha did not recognize.
On the back:
MARCH 1998 — AFTER THE AGREEMENT.
Samantha turned toward Patricia.
“What agreement?”
Patricia’s face changed.
Gavin recognized the pattern now.
Memory arriving.
Not gently.
Patricia sat on the bed.
“Elaine paid.”
Samantha froze.
“Paid who?”
“Your father.”
“For what?”
Patricia closed her eyes.
“To leave me alone.”
Samantha looked at Gavin.
“What does that mean?”
Patricia’s breathing became uneven.
“I kept calling.”
“Dad?”
“Lawyers.”
“What were you trying to do?”
“Get you back.”
Samantha sat beside her.
“And Grandma paid Dad?”
“No.”
Patricia frowned.
“Yes.”
Then shook her head.
“Not like that.”
“Take your time.”
“Elaine sold land.”
“What land?”
“Her father’s land.”
Samantha knew the story.
Her grandmother once owned acreage outside Flagstaff.
Richard said she sold it to pay medical bills.
“How much?”
Patricia stared at the wall.
“Two hundred…”
“Two hundred dollars?”
A small laugh.
“No.”
“Two hundred thousand?”
Patricia nodded.
Gavin exhaled.
In the late nineties, that was enormous money.
“Why?”
Patricia looked at Samantha.
“To make him fix it.”
“Fix what?”
“The loan.”
Richard had forged Patricia’s signature on the seventy-eight-thousand-dollar debt.
Elaine apparently paid far more.
Samantha picked up the bank statement.
A transfer.
$212,000.
From an account belonging to Elaine Carter.
To Richard Caldwell.
Date: March 9, 1998.
Eleven years after Patricia disappeared from Samantha’s life.
“What did he promise?”
Patricia pointed toward the cassette.
“Her.”
Samantha inserted the tape into the recorder.
The machine barely worked.
Gavin cleaned the battery contacts.
Tried again.
A click.
Static.
Then Elaine’s voice.
Older.
Firm.
Samantha had not heard her grandmother’s voice in years.
She covered her mouth.
Elaine spoke.
“Richard, this is not a gift.”
Static.
Then Richard’s younger voice.
“I understand.”
“This money clears Patricia’s obligation, reimburses the account, and pays the legal fees.”
“Yes.”
“And you tell Samantha the truth.”
Silence.
Elaine again.
“When she turns eighteen.”
Richard answered.
“Yes.”
“You let Patricia write.”
“Yes.”
“You do not interfere.”
“Yes.”
“If Samantha wants contact, you do not prevent it.”
“I said yes.”
Elaine’s voice hardened.
“And the forged custody document?”
A long pause.
Richard answered.
“Destroyed.”
Samantha stopped the tape.
Her hands shook.
Gavin sat beside her.
Patricia whispered, “He lied.”
“Yes.”
“I told Elaine.”
“When?”
“Later.”
“How?”
Patricia pointed toward one of the envelopes.
Samantha opened it.
Inside was a letter dated six months after the recording.
Elaine had written to Patricia.
I know now that Richard has not kept the agreement. I am trying to correct this without destabilizing Samantha’s life again. I should have protected you both sooner.
Samantha lowered the page.
Tears fell onto her hands.
“Why didn’t she come get me?”
Patricia whispered, “You loved him.”
“What?”
“You loved your father.”
Samantha looked at her.
Patricia’s eyes were clear.
Painfully clear.
“When Elaine finally saw you, you told her you were happy.”
“How old was I?”
“Eleven.”
Samantha remembered visiting her grandmother in Tucson.
A summer weekend.
Elaine asked strange questions.
Was she happy at home?
Did she ever think about her mother?
Did she want to know more?
Samantha had become angry.
Richard had told her Patricia chose another life.
Eleven-year-old Samantha had said she never wanted to hear Patricia’s name again.
Patricia whispered, “Elaine thought taking you away would hurt you.”
“So everyone decided for me.”
“Yes.”
Patricia began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
Samantha took her hand.
“You didn’t decide this.”
“I stopped.”
“What?”
“Trying.”
“No.”
“I did.”
“You wrote for years.”
“Then I stopped.”
“When?”
Patricia looked toward the box.
“After you married.”
Samantha’s breath caught.
“You knew?”
“Elaine sent me announcement.”
“My wedding announcement?”
Patricia nodded.
“I saw your picture.”
Samantha closed her eyes.
“You looked happy.”
“I was.”
“I thought…”
Patricia struggled.
“I thought maybe leaving you alone was the only good thing I had done.”
Samantha bent forward.
For several seconds, neither woman spoke.
Gavin looked away, giving them privacy without leaving.
Finally Samantha whispered, “You should have been there.”
Patricia touched her hair.
“I know.”
Samantha opened the second envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Her wedding.
She and Gavin leaving the church.
Someone had clipped it from a local paper.
Patricia had written on the back:
My daughter got married today. I hope he is kind.
Gavin read it.
He had no words.
Samantha laughed through tears.
“He’s learning.”
Patricia smiled.
“I like him.”
“Good.”
“I liked him yesterday too.”
Gavin’s chest tightened.
Yesterday.
Memory fading even while love survived.
Samantha picked up the final envelope.
Unlike the others, this one was sealed.
Elaine’s handwriting covered the front.
SAMANTHA ONLY. AFTER I AM GONE.
Samantha stared.
Her grandmother had died nine years earlier.
She ran her thumb beneath the flap.
Inside was a short letter.
She read silently.
Then stopped.
Her expression changed.
Gavin leaned forward.
“What?”
Samantha read the next line.
“No.”
“What does it say?”
She looked at Patricia.
Then back at the page.
“It says Grandma left something to Mom.”
Patricia frowned.
“What?”
Samantha continued reading.
“Something Dad told everyone never existed.”
She turned the page.
A legal document was clipped behind it.
At the top were four words.
May you like
THE CARTER FAMILY TRUST.
And beneath the beneficiary line was Patricia’s name.
