Chapter 12 - HIS FATHER’S SIDE OF THE STORY
Jonathan did not ask to come inside.
That mattered to me.
He stood on the porch and waited until Ethan finally stepped aside.
For the next two hours, the story Ethan had believed about his childhood fell apart piece by piece.
Jonathan had not abandoned him.
He had left Sylvia.
There was a difference.
According to Jonathan, their marriage had become consumed by control, money, accusations, and threats.
When he attempted divorce, Sylvia told their teenage son that Jonathan had chosen another woman.
There had been no affair.
Jonathan showed us old emails, court filings, and letters he had mailed Ethan over the years.
Most were marked undeliverable.
One had been returned with handwriting across the envelope:
HE DOES NOT WANT YOU.
Ethan recognized Sylvia’s handwriting.
His face collapsed.
“I never saw these.”
“I know,” Jonathan said.
“Why didn’t you fight harder?”
Jonathan took the question without flinching.
“I should have.”
Ethan’s eyes filled.
“I was sixteen.”
“I know.”
“You let me think you didn’t care.”
“I was a coward in a different way than you were last night.”
The sentence stopped everyone.
Jonathan had already heard about the hospital.
Sylvia had called him in fury after Ethan refused to leave with her.
“She told me Rachel was turning you against the family,” Jonathan said.
I almost laughed from disbelief.
“That phrase again.”
Jonathan nodded.
“It’s the phrase she uses whenever someone sets a boundary.”
Then came the reason for Northfield.
Jonathan had secretly partnered with Sylvia two years earlier because she approached him claiming she wanted to repair their relationship with Ethan.
She proposed buying property near Boston as a future investment.
Jonathan contributed money.
He had no idea Ethan’s funds were being used too.
“I trusted the wrong person twice,” he admitted.
Ethan rubbed his temples.
“Why Boston?”
Jonathan hesitated.
“That’s the part I don’t understand.”
He opened his briefcase.
“There is one more thing.”
Inside was a photocopy of a letter Sylvia had mailed him seven months earlier.
Jonathan placed it on the table.
The letter discussed “the Boston transition.”
Then one sentence jumped from the page.
Once Ethan accepts the director position, Rachel will have little choice but to follow. Once they are here, we can begin correcting the custody structure.
I looked at Ethan.
He looked sick.
Jonathan turned to the final page.
At the bottom was a handwritten note.
And one name.
Someone Sylvia believed could “help with Rachel.”
Dr. Marianne Voss.
My former therapist.
The therapist I had seen for postpartum anxiety.
May you like
My throat closed.
“How does Sylvia know her?”
