so there should never be any chance encounters.
I’ll leave it to you to file for divorce. I don’t want anything from you but my freedom. You and Cordelia are part of my past now. I don’t want to share custody. You can have her.
Please accept my decision and don’t come after me.
Natalie
Cordie’s heart ached for her father. She couldn’t imagine what he must have felt when he read the letter. It was so cold, brutal, unfeeling. It had to have devastated him, and yet he mourned her on his deathbed.
He’d treated the letter as though it was a treasure. He’d wrapped it in tissue, then sealed it in a plastic bag and tucked it in the bottom of the box with his other important papers. His letters to Natalie were there as well. There were four of them, and all had been returned unopened with
Return to Sender
stamped on the front. The address showed her father had sent them to a post office box in Chicago.
If her father hadn’t wanted Cordie to read the letters he’d written, he would have destroyed them, she decided. She sat in the middle of her bed, spread the envelopes in front of her, and one by one opened them.
In the first two letters he pleaded with Natalie to come home. He told her he loved her, that he would always love her, and that he was lost without her. In the third letter, sent two years after she’d left him, he notified her he had filed for divorce and had requested full custody of their daughter, Cordelia. He added that, even though he was taking legal action, he still loved her and wanted her to come back to him. He promised to wait because she would always be the love of his life. The fourth letter was verification that the divorce was final.
At first Cordie wanted to find the woman, to look her in the eyes and tell her what she probably already knew, that she was a horrible person for causing her father so much pain, but as therapeutic as it would be, Cordie knew she would never confront her. What would be the point? She gave up on the idea of having a conversation with the woman. She still wanted to find her, though. There were a few questions that needed answers. Had Natalie’s life changed for the better or the worse? Had her ridiculous dream of pretending she’d never been married and starting all over worked? Was she being pampered? Cordie most wanted to know if she had any regrets.
There were two other documents in the box with the letters: the marriage certificate and the divorce decree. The marriage certificate showed that Natalie Smith married Andrew Kane in Las Vegas, Nevada. It was dated four months before Cordie was born. The divorce decree was a very basic notice dissolving the marriage. She read them both and then carefully put everything back in the box and closed the lid.
It was after midnight when she finally got into bed. She tossed and turned for another hour before her mind calmed. She kept thinking about her father and how he had thrown his life away waiting. He could have remarried and had a wonderful life if he’d only been open to the idea. Did his love for Natalie become an obsession? Or did he feel, once married, always married?
She didn’t have any answers. She couldn’t understand how he could continue to love Natalie after reading that terrible letter.
You can have her.
Those were the last words that drifted into Cordie’s thoughts before sleep claimed her.
• • •
Sunday afternoon was spent grading papers, and Sunday evening was spent falling apart. She had been melancholy all day, but she kept busy so that she wouldn’t have time to feel sorry for herself. Not wanting to talk to anyone in her present frame of mind, she let the phone calls go to voice mail and tried to focus on getting organized for school. She was fine, she told herself again and again. She was just feeling a little stressed, nothing more, and certainly nothing to worry about.
But she wasn’t fine. She had lost her dad, her only family, the one person who had loved her
I’ll leave it to you to file for divorce. I don’t want anything from you but my freedom. You and Cordelia are part of my past now. I don’t want to share custody. You can have her.
Please accept my decision and don’t come after me.
Natalie
Cordie’s heart ached for her father. She couldn’t imagine what he must have felt when he read the letter. It was so cold, brutal, unfeeling. It had to have devastated him, and yet he mourned her on his deathbed.
He’d treated the letter as though it was a treasure. He’d wrapped it in tissue, then sealed it in a plastic bag and tucked it in the bottom of the box with his other important papers. His letters to Natalie were there as well. There were four of them, and all had been returned unopened with
Return to Sender
stamped on the front. The address showed her father had sent them to a post office box in Chicago.
If her father hadn’t wanted Cordie to read the letters he’d written, he would have destroyed them, she decided. She sat in the middle of her bed, spread the envelopes in front of her, and one by one opened them.
In the first two letters he pleaded with Natalie to come home. He told her he loved her, that he would always love her, and that he was lost without her. In the third letter, sent two years after she’d left him, he notified her he had filed for divorce and had requested full custody of their daughter, Cordelia. He added that, even though he was taking legal action, he still loved her and wanted her to come back to him. He promised to wait because she would always be the love of his life. The fourth letter was verification that the divorce was final.
At first Cordie wanted to find the woman, to look her in the eyes and tell her what she probably already knew, that she was a horrible person for causing her father so much pain, but as therapeutic as it would be, Cordie knew she would never confront her. What would be the point? She gave up on the idea of having a conversation with the woman. She still wanted to find her, though. There were a few questions that needed answers. Had Natalie’s life changed for the better or the worse? Had her ridiculous dream of pretending she’d never been married and starting all over worked? Was she being pampered? Cordie most wanted to know if she had any regrets.
There were two other documents in the box with the letters: the marriage certificate and the divorce decree. The marriage certificate showed that Natalie Smith married Andrew Kane in Las Vegas, Nevada. It was dated four months before Cordie was born. The divorce decree was a very basic notice dissolving the marriage. She read them both and then carefully put everything back in the box and closed the lid.
It was after midnight when she finally got into bed. She tossed and turned for another hour before her mind calmed. She kept thinking about her father and how he had thrown his life away waiting. He could have remarried and had a wonderful life if he’d only been open to the idea. Did his love for Natalie become an obsession? Or did he feel, once married, always married?
She didn’t have any answers. She couldn’t understand how he could continue to love Natalie after reading that terrible letter.
You can have her.
Those were the last words that drifted into Cordie’s thoughts before sleep claimed her.
• • •
Sunday afternoon was spent grading papers, and Sunday evening was spent falling apart. She had been melancholy all day, but she kept busy so that she wouldn’t have time to feel sorry for herself. Not wanting to talk to anyone in her present frame of mind, she let the phone calls go to voice mail and tried to focus on getting organized for school. She was fine, she told herself again and again. She was just feeling a little stressed, nothing more, and certainly nothing to worry about.
But she wasn’t fine. She had lost her dad, her only family, the one person who had loved her
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