Chloe.
She’s beautiful, and I watched her grow up knowing that she was your daughter. The older she got, the more she resembled you. And the more she resembled you, the more I missed you. I missed you so much—your smile, your caress, your love.
When Chloe grew into her body and became an adult, I found myself drawn to her, and sometimes I’d imagine that she was you in the room with me. By the time she started college, she looked exactly like you when we were together and in love.
Judy, I’m a weak, broken man. I’m not a good man. I did something unforgivable, something I hate myself for, something I know you’ll hate me for. My desperate longing for you manifested into my desire to have Chloe at any cost. I broke up the love and bond your daughter had with my son so I could have her for myself. I cornered your daughter and slept with her against her will. I missed you so much that I thought that if I had her, I could feel just a small fragment of our love again. But I didn’t, and yet I continued trying for over a year before she ended it.
I hate myself for being this sick, perverted man, Judy. I know I am no longer the man you fell in love with. So I know I’m asking a lot, but can you ever forgive me for what I did? I just missed you so much over the years. I was devastated when you had the miscarriage and we lost our unborn child. And instead of being there for you, my grief consumed me and I left you for a loveless marriage. I left you when you needed me the most. I know because of me, you started drinking. I know I ruined your life.
And now, as I am lying here on my deathbed, waiting for the cancer to kill me, I’m completely alone and filled with so much regret. Of all my regrets, my biggest one is leaving you thirty-three years ago when I still loved you. I still love you. I will continue to love you until my very last breath.
Please forgive me.
Always Yours,
John
I stared out into the front yard for what seemed like forever as I tried to process what I’d just read.
It was Jackson who broke the silence. “I talked to my mom this morning and she gave me these letters.”
“She had them?” I asked softly, trying to piece everything together in my head.
“Yeah. Even though my parents were divorced by the time my dad passed away from prostate cancer last year, he had left everything to my mom in the will, including the house. After he passed, my mom went and cleaned out the house and found these unsent love letters.”
“Did she know about my mom?”
“She said looking back, she knew something wasn’t right when she married my dad. They got married pretty quickly after they started dating, because my mom got pregnant with me a few months after they started dating. She said she had seen your mom next door sometimes and thought she saw glimpses of my dad looking out toward your house. But back then, she didn’t want to believe there was anything wrong, so she turned a blind eye from those suspicions.”
“Oh.”
“So you see, Clo. We’re not brother and sister. We can be together.” He grabbed my hands with his and squeezed them.
I met his warm gaze and saw how relieved and happy he looked. But for some reason, I didn’t feel that way.
“What’s wrong, Clo?” he asked, detecting my mood.
“I guess it’s just a lot to take in right now.” I sighed.
“But aren’t you happy we can now be together?”
“Jax,” I began. I couldn’t believe I was going to say this after finding out the truth. “I need some time to think.”
“Time?” His face fell. “How much time?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly.
“A couple of hours? A few days? A week? Ballpark,” he urged, somewhat impatiently.
“I don’t know, Jax.” I got up from the concrete steps and headed to the front door. “I just need some time to process everything.”
Without another word, I went inside and closed the door behind me.
“Chloe?” Aunt Betty’s head popped out from the kitchen.
Learning to Kill: Stories