The Letters He Claimed Never Existed
Grant recovered quickly. He always had. His entire adult life had taught him how to remain composed while everyone around him became emotional.
“Lauren,” he said sharply, “what exactly are you doing?”
My name was Lauren Mercer now. I had returned to my maiden name after our divorce and never regretted it.
I placed my briefcase on a nearby table.
“Answering a question our sons have been asking for years.”
Natalie stared at him.
“Sons?”
Grant looked at me.
“You never proved anything.”
That was when I opened the briefcase.
I removed four certified birth certificates. Four DNA reports. Copies of medical records. Photographs from the neonatal unit. And seventeen certified letters sent over almost three years.
Several envelopes carried the same postal marking.
REFUSED.
Evelyn picked one up. Her hands began trembling.
“Grant, what is this?”
He shook his head.
“I never saw those.”
I pulled another envelope from the stack. It had been addressed directly to him at his military office. Someone had signed for it.
Grant himself.
I met his eyes.
“You can tell people whatever makes your story easier to live with. But do not stand in front of these boys and pretend I never tried to tell you.”
Natalie slowly removed her hand from Grant’s arm. He noticed immediately.
“Natalie, this is complicated.”
She looked at the photographs of four tiny newborn boys.
“No. I think you made it complicated because the simple truth didn’t benefit you.”
