Mom Said Grandpa Was Dead, Then Sophie met him

CHAPTER 2 - THE NAME SHE STOPPED SAYING

"I buried you long before this morning."

Maggie brought him inside because there was nowhere else for the moment to go.

The kitchen warmed slowly. The old radiator knocked in the corner. Sophie sat at the table in her socks, clutching a mug of hot chocolate and watching the two adults with the sharp attention children reserved for storms.

The old man held his coffee with both hands.

Up close, Maggie could see time in him. The deep lines around his mouth. The scar near his temple she did not remember. The tremor in his fingers. But the eyes were the same. Blue, tired, and painfully kind.

"My name's Walter," he said, as if she might need proof.

"I know your name."

He gave a broken little smile.

She sat across from him. "I was told you left. Then I was told you died in Ohio three years later."

Walter's brow pulled together. "Ohio?"

"By Mom."

At that, he went very still.

Sophie looked from one to the other. "So he is my grandpa?"

Maggie swallowed. "Yes."

Walter looked at Sophie then, really seeing her. The pink coat was draped over the back of the chair. His mouth quivered.

"She has your face," he said.

Maggie almost answered sharply, but the old hurt was too large for sharpness. It came out tired instead.

"When I was twelve, Mom packed our things in one night. She said you'd chosen drink over us. Said you'd signed papers. Said you didn't want to be found."

Walter set down his mug. "I never signed anything."

Silence settled hard.

Then he reached into the inside pocket of his worn coat and pulled out a folded paper, soft with age.

"I kept this because it made no sense," he said. "It came back to me unopened."

Maggie unfolded it.

The envelope was addressed in her own childish handwriting to a boarding house in Dayton. Across the front, in red ink, were two words:

DECEASED. RETURN TO SENDER.

Her hands shook.

Because she had written that letter at fourteen.

And her mother had mailed it.

Or said she did.

At the bottom corner, in tiny neat print, was a forwarding address in her mother's maiden name.

A name Maggie had never seen before.