“I know.”
“But I didn’t. And I want you to understand why.”
He raised his head.
“It wasn’t for you,” I said. “It was for Tom.”
His face crumpled.
“He left something for you,” I said. “I found it in a box, buried in the north eighty, along with a letter. I’ve read it a dozen times. I wasn’t going to show it to you. I thought you didn’t deserve it.” I slid the envelope across the table. “But Tom wanted you to have this, and I think I owe it to him.”
Dwayne didn’t touch it. He just stared at the envelope with an expression I’d never seen on him, helpless, stripped, a child’s face on a man’s body.
“What is it?”
“The last page of the letter. He wrote it to me, but there’s a part for you.” I swallowed. “Read it.”
