Chapter 12 - The Blue BoxInside the box was the truth about the one person Grandma Augusta had never trusted.
The box was small enough to fit in Juny's hands.
Blue velvet.
Gold clasp.
No lock.
She had found it beneath the floorboard in Augusta's bedroom.
"Grandma gave it to me," Juny said.
"When?"
"Before she died."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You told me not to bring home secrets."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
That was exactly what I had said.
I had failed to understand she had been protecting the secret, not hiding it.
We opened the box together.
Inside was a cassette tape.
A photograph.
And a letter.
The letter was addressed to Juny.
She read it aloud.
My dearest Juny,
You will grow up in a family that teaches you to doubt your own eyes. Do not.
Juny's voice trembled.
She continued.
The people who call you dramatic will eventually call you dangerous when you stop believing them. That is how you will know you have found the truth.
She looked at me.
Then continued.
There is one person I never told your mother about.
I felt cold.
Her name is Eleanor.
My mother.
I looked at the doorway.
She was standing there.
"I told you everything."
"No."
Her face changed.
"What?"
I held up the letter.
"Grandma says you were her biggest mistake."
My mother's knees weakened.
"She was sick."
"She wasn't."
My mother looked at Juny.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain."
She sat down.
"I wasn't supposed to marry your father."
"What?"
"Augusta knew."
"Then why?"
"Because Richard threatened her."
My father.
"Threatened her with what?"
"The truth about Thomas."
I stared.
"What truth?"
My mother began crying.
"Thomas wasn't dead."
Silence.
I thought of the name.
The man I had been told died before Juny was born.
"Where is he?"
She whispered:
"Alive."
The room went still.
"Where?"
"He left the country."
"Why?"
"Because your father wanted him gone."
Miss Castellano stared at her.
"Why didn't Augusta expose him?"
My mother shook her head.
"Because Thomas knew about Sarah."
I turned to Juny.
Everything was becoming a circle.
Thomas had known Elise.
Elise had known about the money.
Sarah had inherited the bloodline.
Juny had become the chosen heir.
And my father had spent years trying to keep all of it buried.
But the cassette remained.
We played it.
A man's voice came through.
My father's voice.
"I don't want the money. I want the girl."
Another voice.
Augusta.
"Which girl?"
"Juny."
I froze.
"Why?"
"Because she's the only one who knows what happened."
I looked at my daughter.
She whispered:
"I don't remember."
The recording continued.
"She saw Elise's car."
Augusta's voice hardened.
"She was seven."
"Children remember."
My blood turned to ice.
"What did she see?"
The recording stopped.
Then another voice began.
A child.
Juny.
Seven years old.
"Grandma, that man put Mommy's friend in the car."
I covered my mouth.
Miss Castellano went pale.
Juny stared at the cassette.
"I don't remember saying that."
I did.
My daughter had never met Elise.
At least, that's what we had been told.
The final recording played.
A man's voice whispered:
"She saw me."
The tape clicked off.
Juny suddenly pointed toward the window.
"That's him."
A man stood outside.
He was older.
Gray hair.
Standing beneath the porch light.
I recognized him.
Thomas Vale.
May you like
My mother's supposedly dead first husband.
And he was staring directly at Juny.
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