When Our Stories Entwine

Chapter Two - Maggie

Maggie-

I clutch the envelope tight in my fist, afraid if I loosen my grip it will all become a dream and my father will still be dead.

The envelope itself is slightly banged up but no more than a letter that was sent a week ago. There's no yellowing or any signs that it is over a decade old and the envelope itself hasn't even been opened. Maybe my mother hasn't even seen it.

Jack stands like a statue, unsure of what to do next but he watches my face like a hawk, ready to wrap me in his arms if at the first sign of panic. My legs feel weak and it feels as if the oxygen was sucked out of the room but I'm still, completely unmoving as I attempt to calculate my next move.

Do I confront my mother or steal the envelope? Surely she wouldn't lie to me now that I have proof. Has she been lying to me this entire time or has she just now found out he's alive and he tricked us both?

So many different scenarios are flying through my head and I can't seem to concentrate on just one possibility. One thing is for sure, I have to speak to my mother. I need answers.

My eyes make contact with Jack's and I realize he's been carefully watching my face go through all of these emotions. I'm surprised myself that I haven't broken down in tears, that would be my usual reaction.  Instead, I'm leaning against the counter in shock, with no tears to be found.

I start to deny the possibility of my father actually being the one who wrote this letter. I'm sure it's possible that there are plenty of other William Carpenters in the world, but how many of them are living in Prescott, Arizona?

I've been to Prescott once before, I'm almost sure. I close my eyes tight desperately trying to dig up a faint memory of being there with my father. I remember it's a very wooded area with tall trees and water- I remember water.  Maybe a lake?

I've hidden most memories of my father so deep inside my brain that it's impossible to bring them to light again. I suppose in certain situations it's a fantastic defense mechanism but not when you need those memories back.

Before I can dig deeper into my memories I feel Jackson's hands on my arms and it wakes me from my daydreaming.

"Maggie, are you okay?" He asks concern written all over his face.

"Yes, yes I'm okay. I need to talk to my mom." I say as I start to move but Jackson grips my arm and yanks me back against the counter.

"What's going on Maggie? You're not upset? You're usually so in touch with your emotions, this is off."

"Jack, if anything I'm in shock and I don't want to get my hopes up until I talk to my mother. What if it's some other William Carpenter or just an old letter?  It doesn't look like an old letter but-"

He grabs my face and makes my eyes meet his, "Okay. I was just worried you weren't processing any of this. Let's go talk to your mom." He says as he takes my hand.  With his touch, I once again feel I can conquer anything.

When we enter the dining room my mother's smug face is about to make another insulting joke until she notices the envelope in my hand. Her face falls into a frown and she quietly eyes me over, deciding what to say.

Silence.

The whole room is so silent I could literally hear a pin drop. If she's not going to say anything I will.

"What's this?" I ask as I lift the envelope.

"That's an old letter from your father dear." She says sadly. I think I've seen this emotion cross her face once before when I was younger, but I don't recall seeing it often. She's a tough woman and she doesn't break easily.