Chapter 4 - The Number Nobody Could Explain
Mom looked from Liam to Dad.
"You know who Caleb is?"
Dad didn't answer.
"Thomas."
My father's name had rarely sounded so sharp in my mother's mouth.
He lowered himself into the chair.
His face had gone gray.
"Sit down, Evelyn."
"No."
"Please."
"I have spent ten years believing one son wanted nothing to do with me."
Her voice shook.
"Now I wake up and discover the other one has a child I've never even heard about."
She pointed at Dad.
"And somehow you know?"
Dad pressed both hands onto the top of his cane.
"I didn't know the boy's name."
Liam laughed bitterly.
"That's the part you're going with?"
Dad looked at him.
"I didn't."
"You knew she was pregnant."
Mom staggered backward.
I moved beside her.
"Mom."
She waved me away.
"No. I want to hear this."
Liam stared at our father.
"You told Rachel to disappear."
Dad looked older by the second.
"I was trying to protect you."
"Protect me?"
"She had known you less than a year."
"We dated for eighteen months."
"You were throwing away your future."
"It was my future!"
Mom covered her mouth.
"Thomas, did you really do this?"
Dad's eyes filled.
"I thought I was helping."
I almost laughed at the familiar excuse.
Helping.
Everyone in this family had apparently been helping everyone else straight into disaster.
Liam walked toward him.
"You offered her twenty thousand dollars."
Mom gasped.
Dad didn't deny it.
"Where did you get twenty thousand dollars?" she asked.
Dad's silence told me there were layers to this story I still didn't understand.
"Your business," I said.
He looked at me.
"The debt started around then, didn't it?"
Dad nodded slowly.
Liam turned toward me.
"Now you understand."
"No."
I held up one of the forged letters.
"I understand why you needed money. I don't understand this."
He looked away.
Mom took the page from me.
She read it.
Her face crumbled.
"I kept these."
Liam's shoulders sagged.
"I know."
"I read them every birthday."
"Mom—"
"I wondered what I had done."
Her voice broke.
"Every year I wondered what kind of mother makes her child ashamed to come home."
Liam stepped toward her.
She backed away.
That hurt him.
I saw it immediately.
Good, some part of me thought.
Then another part hated myself for thinking it.
"Why?" Mom whispered.
Liam rubbed his face.
"Because the first time Isaac sent money, you asked why he hadn't called."
She stared at him.
"I told you he was busy. But you kept asking."
"So you wrote a letter?"
"One letter."
His voice dropped.
"At first."
Dad stared at him.
"You told us Isaac didn't want contact."
"I needed you to stop asking him questions."
"Why?" I demanded.
"Because if you talked to him, you'd mention the roof hadn't been fixed. Or Mom would say she couldn't afford medication."
"So you isolated them."
He nodded.
The admission was almost worse than another lie.
"When did it start?" I asked.
"About eighteen months after you left."
"And when did you decide it was acceptable to continue for another eight years?"
"I didn't decide."
"That's not how ten years works."
"It happened piece by piece."
He looked at all of us.
"One lie required another."
I stared at him.
"That's the most honest thing you've said tonight."
Mom sat heavily at the table.
Dad looked toward her.
"Evelyn."
"Don't."
One word.
Dad stopped.
She looked at Liam.
"Is my grandson alive?"
Liam's expression softened immediately.
"Yes."
"Is he sick?"
"Not like when he was little."
"Does he know about us?"
Liam hesitated.
Mom's eyes narrowed.
"Liam."
"He knows he has grandparents."
"But?"
"He thinks you don't want him."
Dad closed his eyes.
Mom stared at her son as though she barely recognized him.
"You did it again."
Liam looked confused.
"What?"
"You made someone else believe we didn't love them."
She touched her chest.
"First Isaac. Then a child."
"Rachel didn't want—"
"Don't blame her."
Liam went silent.
Mom stood.
"I want to meet him."
Dad lifted his head.
"Evelyn, maybe we should—"
"I did not ask you."
I'd never heard her speak to him that way.
Neither had he.
She walked toward Liam.
"Tomorrow."
His face tightened.
"I can't just show up."
"Then call his mother."
"It's complicated."
"No."
Mom shook her head.
"This family has spent ten years hiding behind the word complicated."
She pointed to the box.
"That is not complicated. Those are lies."
Then she walked toward the bedroom.
Halfway there, she stopped.
Without turning, she said, "Isaac?"
"Yes?"
"Did you really send money every month?"
"Every month."
"Even birthdays?"
"Extra on birthdays."
Her shoulders shook.
"I never knew."
She disappeared down the hallway.
Dad remained in his chair.
Liam moved toward the door.
"We're not finished," I said.
"I know."
"Tomorrow. Bank. Lawyer. Everything."
He nodded.
Then Dad spoke.
"There's something else."
Liam stopped.
I looked at him.
"What now?"
Dad slowly raised his eyes to mine.
"I knew money was coming."
My body went still.
"What?"
Liam turned around sharply.
"You what?"
Dad's voice trembled.
"Not all of it. Not how much."
I stared at him.
"Explain."
"Around six years ago, I found a bank statement in Liam's truck."
Liam's face changed.
"You never told me that."
"I saw transfers from Isaac."
"Why didn't you say anything?" I demanded.
Dad's eyes dropped.
"Because Liam told me the money was his."
I laughed in disbelief.
"And you believed him?"
"At first."
"At first?"
Dad swallowed.
"He said you owed him money."
"For what?"
"Helping the family."
I looked at Liam.
He couldn't meet my eyes.
Dad continued.
"Later, I realized that didn't make sense."
"So what did you do?"
"Nothing."
The word hung there.
"You did nothing."
"I was ashamed."
"Of what?"
Dad's mouth tightened.
"Everything."
His business.
The debt.
Rachel.
The money he'd offered her.
All the pieces connected.
Dad whispered, "I had already ruined enough."
"So you let Liam keep doing it."
"I didn't know about the letters."
"You knew something was wrong."
"Yes."
My anger shifted.
For hours, Liam had been the villain.
Now I realized our family wasn't built around one betrayal.
It was built around silence.
Dad looked at me.
"I didn't deserve the money."
"That wasn't your decision."
"I couldn't admit I needed my son's help."
"So you'd rather Mom go without medication?"
His face collapsed.
"I told myself Liam was handling it."
Liam gave a bitter laugh.
"Sound familiar, Isaac?"
The shot hit.
Because he was right about one thing.
I had done the same.
I had trusted.
But there was a difference.
"I was overseas," I said. "Dad was sitting ten feet from the evidence."
Liam nodded.
"Fair."
The anger between us cooled just enough for reality to enter.
Mom was hurting.
Dad was ashamed.
Liam had committed crimes.
And somewhere in Arizona, a nine-year-old boy believed his grandparents had rejected him.
I looked at my brother.
"Call Rachel."
"Tonight?"
"Now."
He hesitated.
Then pulled out his phone.
He stared at the screen before pressing her name.
It rang four times.
A woman answered.
"Liam?"
"Hey."
"Is Caleb okay?"
"He's fine."
A pause.
"Then why are you calling after midnight?"
Liam looked at me.
"My brother came home."
Silence.
"Isaac?"
"Yeah."
Another pause.
Then Rachel said something I didn't expect.
"Does he know?"
Liam closed his eyes.
"Yes."
"Everything?"
"Enough."
Her voice became cold.
"I told you this would happen."
"I know."
"Did you tell him whose idea the letters were?"
I stepped forward.
Liam's eyes snapped toward me.
"Whose idea?"
Rachel went silent.
Liam ended the call.
I stared at him.
"What did she mean?"
"Nothing."
I grabbed the phone from his hand.
"Isaac."
"Whose idea were the letters?"
He reached for it.
I moved back.
Dad had gone pale again.
Then I noticed it.
Not Liam.
Dad.
I looked at him.
"You."
He said nothing.
"Dad?"
Liam whispered, "Don't."
I turned toward my father.
"Did you tell him to write the first letter?"
Dad's mouth opened.
No sound came out.
That was enough.
Mom appeared in the hallway again.
She had heard us.
Dad looked at her.
"Evelyn—"
She shook her head.
"No."
His eyes filled.
"It wasn't supposed to become this."
I felt something inside me break.
"You started it?"
Dad looked at me.
"I thought if you believed we didn't need anything, you could focus on surviving."
"That makes no sense."
"I knew you'd send everything you had."
"So you told Liam to pretend I didn't need to worry?"
"Only at first."
"And the letter?"
Dad looked at the floor.
"You kept asking why we didn't use the money for repairs."
My chest tightened.
"So you helped convince Mom I had stopped sending it."
"I thought Liam was saving it."
Liam laughed bitterly.
"And that's how it started."
Mom leaned against the wall.
Three men stood around her.
Three men who had each believed silence was protection.
She looked at us with tears streaming down her face.
"No more."
Then she pointed at the wooden box.
"Tomorrow morning, that box goes with us."
"Where?" Dad asked.
"To someone who doesn't lie."
At eight the next morning, we walked into a law office carrying ten years of secrets.
May you like
And by noon, we discovered that the money missing from my parents' account was far more than Liam had admitted.
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