Chapter 2 - The Last Letter My Mother Wrote
Grandma Evelyn opened the envelope with shaking hands.
I stood so close that my shoulder touched her arm.
Tasha remained near the kitchen doorway.
For once, she wasn't shouting.
She wasn't calling me selfish.
She wasn't telling Grandma to mind her business.
She was simply staring.
And I had never seen her look so afraid.
Grandma pulled out a folded sheet of pale yellow paper.
A photograph slipped onto the table.
I recognized my mother immediately.
She was sitting beneath a big oak tree, holding me on her lap.
I was little.
Maybe three.
Her hair was tied in a high bun, and she was laughing.
I reached for the photograph.
"That's Mommy."
Grandma nodded.
"Yes, sweetheart."
My fingers touched her face.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen a new picture of her.
Grandma unfolded the letter.
Her eyes moved across the first line.
Then she covered her mouth.
"Grandma?"
She took a breath.
"Isaiah, your mother wrote this for you."
I couldn't move.
"Can you read it?"
Grandma looked toward Dad's phone.
"Malcolm, are you still there?"
His voice was quiet.
"I'm here."
She began reading.
"My precious Isaiah, if you're holding this letter, it means you're growing up faster than I can watch."
My throat tightened.
"Before you remember me as someone who was sick, I want you to remember that I was your mother first."
Grandma's voice broke.
She paused.
I held her hand.
"Keep going, Grandma."
She wiped her cheek.
"I loved you from the moment I heard your heartbeat. Nothing that happens in this world can change that."
Tears slid down my face.
I tried wiping them away.
But more kept coming.
Mom had been sick for almost a year before she died.
I remembered hospitals.
White blankets.
Dad sitting beside her bed.
And one night when she held me close and told me to be brave.
I hadn't understood what she meant.
Now I wondered whether she'd known she was leaving.
Grandma continued.
"I have left money to help you learn, grow, and follow your dreams. Your father and Grandma Evelyn will know how to protect it."
I looked up.
"Money?"
Grandma nodded slowly.
Then she read the next line.
"And I have left something more important. My journals, photographs, and the little blue music box you loved when you were small."
I gasped.
"The music box!"
I remembered it.
A blue wooden box with a tiny silver moon on top.
When opened, it played the song Mom used to hum.
I hadn't seen it since Tasha moved into our house.
"Where is it?" I whispered.
Nobody answered.
Grandma read the final paragraph.
"Never believe anyone who tells you that love must be earned by being quiet or making yourself smaller. You are worthy of love exactly as you are."
I started crying harder.
Grandma pulled me against her.
I pressed my face into her cardigan.
She smelled like cinnamon and soap.
The same way she always had.
For a moment, I wished I could stay there forever.
Then Dad spoke.
"Mom, read the last page."
Grandma looked down.
There was another sheet inside the envelope.
She unfolded it.
I watched her expression change.
"What is this?"
Dad answered.
"The trust information."
Grandma stared at the page.
Then she looked at Tasha.
"How much money was supposed to be in that account?"
Tasha said nothing.
Dad's voice came through the phone.
"Danielle's family funded it after she died. I added money every year."
Grandma swallowed.
"Malcolm, what was the original amount?"
"Seventy-five thousand dollars."
My eyes widened.
Seventy-five thousand?
I had never heard of so much money.
Dad continued.
"It was meant for Isaiah's education and future. I was told the account was being handled properly."
Grandma looked at the statements again.
"Handled by whom?"
A long silence followed.
Then Dad said:
"Tasha."
I felt cold.
Tasha had always told me we couldn't afford school supplies.
She said my clothes were good enough.
She sometimes complained that feeding me cost too much.
But Mom had left money for me.
And Dad had been sending more.
I looked toward my stepmother.
"Did you take Mommy's money?"
Tasha opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Grandma stepped between us.
"Answer him."
Tasha's face hardened.
"You people don't understand how expensive this house is!"
Grandma stared.
"This isn't your money."
"I've been raising three children while Malcolm works out of state!"
"You've been raising two children like royalty," Grandma answered, "and treating the third like a burden."
Tasha slammed her palm against the counter.
"That's not fair!"
I flinched.
Grandma immediately moved closer to me.
"Lower your voice."
Dad spoke through the phone.
"Tasha, tell me exactly what's happened."
She started crying.
But it wasn't like my crying.
Her tears came with anger.
"Do you know how hard I've worked? Do you know what I sacrifice?"
Dad's voice remained firm.
"Where is Isaiah's money?"
Tasha looked toward Jordan and Ava.
They stood beside the dining table.
Ava was holding her new backpack.
Jordan stared at the floor.
Then Tasha said something I'll never forget.
"He's just a child. He didn't need it yet."
Grandma stepped forward.
"That child needed shoes."
Tasha looked away.
"He had shoes."
"With holes in them!"
Silence filled the room.
Then Dad said:
"I'm coming home."
Tasha froze.
"Malcolm, don't be ridiculous. You're six hours away."
"I'll be there tonight."
His voice sounded different.
I had never heard him so angry.
Then he added:
"Mom, keep Isaiah with you. Don't let Tasha touch any of those documents."
Grandma nodded.
"I won't."
The call ended.
I thought everything might finally be okay.
But then Tasha reached into her pocket.
She pulled out her phone.
Her fingers moved quickly across the screen.
Grandma noticed.
"Who are you calling?"
"Nobody."
Tasha began walking away.
Grandma followed.
"Tasha."
My stepmother stopped near the hallway.
For one brief moment, her eyes met mine.
There was no kindness there.
Only fear.
And something that looked almost like hatred.
She turned and disappeared upstairs.
Grandma gathered the papers.
"Come on, Isaiah."
I held Mom's photograph against my chest.
"Where are we going?"
"Home with me."
I looked toward Jordan and Ava.
They were still standing beside their new things.
Ava started crying.
"Is Mommy going to jail?"
Grandma knelt beside her.
"I don't know, sweetheart."
Then Jordan suddenly spoke.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Grandma Evelyn?"
She turned.
"What is it?"
Jordan looked toward the stairs.
Then at me.
"Mom has another box."
My heart began pounding.
"What box?"
He swallowed.
"The one she keeps in her bedroom closet."
Grandma went still.
May you like
Jordan's next words made her grab the edge of the table.
"She said it was full of things Isaiah wasn't supposed to remember."
