Chapter 4: The Name George Was Afraid To Write
For several seconds, I couldn’t move.
The phone screen glowed in my hand.
The message from Louise sat there like a warning I wasn’t ready to read.
*“It wasn’t Jessica.””*
I read those three words again.
Then a third time.
Because my mind refused to accept them.
If George had been afraid of someone, I knew who I expected it to be.
Jessica.
The woman who walked into my house and changed everything while I was away.
The woman who packed my husband’s jacket into a box like it was an old towel.
The woman who stood in my living room and told me to leave.
But Louise’s message said it wasn’t her.
Which meant there was another person.
Someone else.
Someone George knew.
Someone he had been worried about.
I looked up.
Matthew was still standing near the bedroom door.
Jessica stood behind him.
Both of them were watching me.
“What did Louise say?”” Matthew asked.
His voice was careful.
Too careful.
I slipped my phone into my pocket.
“Nothing.””
Jessica gave a small laugh.
“You’re really going to start hiding things now?””
I looked at her.
The irony almost made me smile.
“Interesting choice of words.””
Her face tightened.
“What’s that supposed to mean?””
“It means I spent the last hour discovering that the people living in my house have been keeping secrets from me.””
Matthew sighed.
“Mom, please.””
I turned to him.
“Your father knew.””
The color drained from his face.
“Knew what?””
“That something like this might happen.””
His eyes dropped.
Just for a second.
But I saw it.
“You knew,” I whispered.
He looked back at me.
“I knew Dad was worried.””
“About what?””
He didn’t answer.
I walked closer.
“Matthew.””
His jaw tightened.
“Mom, I don’t want to do this right now.””
I stared at him.
“You don’t get to decide when the truth is convenient.””
The room went silent.
I had spent years avoiding confrontation with my son.
After George died, I worried that if I pushed too hard, I would lose Matthew too.
I had already lost my husband.
I couldn’t lose my child.
But standing there, I realized something painful.
I had spent so much time trying not to lose him that I had ignored the fact that he was already walking away.
“I’m going to Louise’s,” I said.
Matthew looked surprised.
“Now?””
“Yes.””
“You’re leaving?””
I looked around the bedroom.
At the walls George painted.
At the dresser we bought on our first anniversary.
At the photograph of us on the night Matthew graduated high school.
“No,” I said quietly.
“I’m going to get answers.””
Jessica rolled her eyes.
“This is ridiculous.””
I turned toward her.
“Do you know what’s ridiculous?””
She stared at me.
“Coming into someone’s home and acting like they’re a guest.””
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
For once, she had no quick response.
I picked up my coat.
As I walked downstairs, I heard Matthew following me.
“Mom.””
I stopped at the bottom step.
“What?””
His expression was different now.
Less defensive.
More afraid.
“Can we talk before you go?””
I almost said no.
Then I saw something I hadn’t seen in years.
The little boy who used to look scared when he knew he disappointed me.
The little boy who once cried because he thought he ruined Christmas when he broke a glass ornament.
For one second, I saw my son.
Not the man who betrayed me.
My son.
“Talk,” I said.
He looked toward the kitchen.
Jessica was there.
Listening.
“I need privacy.””
I looked at Jessica.
She immediately shook her head.
“No.””
Matthew turned.
“Jessica.””
“No. We are not hiding things from each other.””
I looked between them.
There it was.
The problem.
They didn’t even agree on who they were protecting.
Matthew lowered his voice.
“Please.””
Jessica stared at him.
Then at me.
Finally, she walked into the other room.
But not before saying:
“Five minutes.””
Five minutes.
Like I was negotiating a business meeting.
Like my life was a schedule she controlled.
Matthew waited until she was gone.
Then he whispered:
“I made mistakes.””
I said nothing.
“I know how it looks.””
“How does it look?””
He rubbed his hands together.
“Like I betrayed you.””
I held his gaze.
“And?””
He looked down.
“I did.””
The honesty surprised me.
Maybe because I had been waiting all day for it.
“I didn’t mean for things to happen this way.””
“How did you mean for them to happen?””
He didn’t answer.
I stepped closer.
“Tell me the truth.””
He took a deep breath.
“When Dad got sick, he started preparing everything.””
I nodded.
“I know.””
“He made sure the house couldn’t be sold without your approval.””
“I know.””
Matthew looked surprised.
“You read the letter.””
“Yes.””
He looked away.
“Dad always thought ahead.””
“He did.””
A painful silence passed between us.
Then Matthew said:
“I was angry with him.””
I froze.
“Angry?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
His eyes filled slightly.
Not tears.
Regret.
“I thought he didn’t trust me.””
I didn’t speak.
“Dad called me into his office a month before he died. He showed me the documents. He told me the house was yours and that no one could pressure you into anything.””
“And that upset you?””
“No.””
He swallowed.
“At first, no.””
“Then what changed?””
He looked toward the room where Jessica was waiting.
“I met her.””
The answer was quiet.
But it hurt.
“What does Jessica have to do with your father’s documents?””
Matthew sat down on the couch.
“She knew about the house.””
“How?””
“She asked questions.””
“What kind of questions?””
He rubbed his face.
“She wanted to know if I would inherit it.””
My stomach tightened.
“And what did you tell her?””
“The truth.””
“That the house was mine?””
“Yes.””
“And she stayed?””
He closed his eyes.
That was answer enough.
“Matthew.””
His voice broke.
“She said she didn’t care about the house.””
“But?””
“But she said we needed stability.””
I stared at him.
“Stability.””
“Yes.””
“Meaning my home.””
He didn’t argue.
I walked to the door.
“Mom, wait.””
I turned.
“I never wanted to hurt you.””
“But you did.””
“I know.””
“You let her treat me like I was an inconvenience.””
His face fell.
“I was scared.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
The word came out softly.
“You were comfortable.””
He looked like I had slapped him.
Because it was true.
Fear explains many things.
But comfort allows them to continue.
I opened the front door.
The cold air rushed in.
Then Matthew said something that made me stop.
“Dad warned me about someone.””
Slowly, I turned around.
“What?””
He looked terrified.
“Before he died, he told me there was one person he didn’t trust.””
“Who?””
Matthew hesitated.
“Mom…”
“Who?””
His voice dropped.
“Uncle Richard.””
The name hit me harder than I expected.
Richard.
George’s younger brother.
I hadn’t heard that name in almost five years.
Not since the argument.
Not since the day George told me:
“Some people only show their true colors when they think there’s something to gain.””
I had forgotten.
Or maybe I had chosen to forget.
“What does Richard have to do with this?””
Matthew stood.
“I don’t know.””
“You do.””
“I swear, Mom, I don’t know everything.””
“But you know something.””
He looked toward the kitchen.
Then lowered his voice.
“Dad thought Richard was trying to get information about the house.””
My hand tightened around the door handle.
“Why?””
“He said Richard believed there was something valuable here.””
Something valuable.
Not money.
Not the house.
Something else.
The key in my pocket suddenly felt heavier.
I thought about the metal key.
The hidden place.
The thing George trusted me to protect.
“Where is Richard now?”” I asked.
Matthew looked confused.
“I don’t know.””
My phone buzzed again.
Louise.
This time, I answered immediately.
“Ellie,” she said.
Her voice sounded different.
Scared.
“What happened?””
“I found the name.””
My heart started racing.
“What name?””
“The person George wrote about.””
I looked at Matthew.
He was watching me.
Waiting.
“Tell me.””
Louise was quiet for a moment.
Then she said:
“George didn’t write that he feared Richard.””
My grip tightened.
“Then who?””
I heard papers moving on her end.
Then Louise whispered:
“Ellie, the person George was afraid of was someone inside your family.””
My blood went cold.
“Who?””
A long pause.
May you like
Then:
“He wrote Matthew’s name.””
