Chapter 16 #2
She untied the twine binding the envelopes into a single stack.
They were of varying sizes. Using the return address in the top left corner of each envelope, she divided them by sender and then date, placing them in a chronological manner.
It left her with three stacks. The largest of those were letters Mom had written to her future husband, based upon the dates.
A smaller stack contained half a dozen letters from her grandmother.
The final pile only held a single envelope from her grandfather.
She had fond memories of Grandma, but Grandpa had been a tall, stern, angry man.
He had died when Layne was only six, so she had never really gotten to know him.
She decided to read her grandmother’s letters to Dad first, and they turned out to be as warm and loving as the woman she recalled.
Apparently, her father had spent some time in Chicago because they were all addressed to him on a street in Chicago.
Layne hadn’t known that he’d lived there for any length of time.
Opening the first, she began to read. They sounded just like Grandma spoke and were full of events happening in the Bay.
People that her dad would have known. Each letter ended with how much Grandma loved and missed her only child.
The tone and content of the final letter was different, however.
No fun bits of gossip. Only a single page.
As Layne read it, her throat swelled with emotion.
My dearest Jack –
Thank you for your call last night. It was so good to hear your voice after months of not hearing you. I understand your decision to come home. I know how much your father has nagged you to do so. I’m sorry about that, honey. I know you left the Bay with big dreams.
You may not live the life you dreamed of by coming home, but at least you have the love of a sweet girl. Lark is a wonderful person and will support you in whatever you choose to do.
I’ll see you in two weeks. I’ll even make my special pot roast for you since you’ve written how you’ve missed the taste of it.
All my love,
Mama
Layne didn’t know what Dad had been doing in Chicago, but she suspected it was tied to his art—and that Grandpa hadn’t approved.
She turned to his letter, opening it with trepidation.
Jack –
It’s time for you to quit playing artist and come back to the Bay.
Art doesn’t put food on the table. You need to be practical and grow up.
Put your foolish notions behind you. Lark isn’t going to wait forever for you.
In fact, I saw her with that Gilmore boy the other day, and they looked as if they were having a fine time together.
If you don’t want to lose your girl—and lose my respect—you’ll come home and get a real job.
You know I’ve refused to put a dime toward this art school you enrolled in.
I never intend to. It’s your responsibility to come home and find a solid way to make a living.
You’re good with your hands, I’ll give you that.
That will be a start. Maybe you can go to a trade school in Corpus.
Learn to put up sheetrock or lay flooring.
The point is, you need to get your ass back to the Bay. You’ve had your head in the clouds too long. Your mama and Lark encouraged you to pursue art, and they were plain wrong. It’s time to stop being Peter Pan and earn a living.
A sick feeling washed over Layne, a memory she had forgotten about suddenly flooding her.
She had always enjoyed drawing when she was young, her crayons a constant companion as she drew pictures and made up stories about what she had drawn.
In second grade, she’d won an award for a painting she had done in her art class, and she had proudly brought home both the painting and the blue ribbon signifying her win.
Mom had hugged her, telling Layne how proud she was of her, but Dad had been unusually quiet, his usual praise of her absent.
She remembered thinking she had done something wrong.
After dinner that night, he had stopped to visit her in her bedroom while she did her homework.
Layne had forgotten that conversation until now.
She couldn’t remember everything Dad had said, only that there wasn’t any money to be made in art.
That it would be impossible to earn a living at it.
He had encouraged her to abandon drawing, saying she was a whiz at numbers and told her that was the path she should follow.
He stressed how she could make good money if she went into business.
Because she idolized him, she had immediately set aside art, believing him when he told her that art would never amount to anything.
Everything she pursued after that, from sports to debate, Dad had praised her efforts. He was her biggest cheerleader, and she was always proud to share her latest accomplishments with him. She had forgotten all about her love of drawing.
Until now.
It hurt her that Dad had given in to the demands of his own father and abandoned art school.
Grandpa had been a stern disciplinarian, and she could only imagine the pressure her dad had felt, being under his thumb, as well as the financial burden since Grandpa didn’t provide any money.
The thought of losing Mom to another guy probably was another factor influencing him.
A part of her wondered if Grandpa had even made that up, simply to convince his son to return to Texas.