Give in to Me

by K. M. Scott

  I won’t let you go. If all I can have is stolen moments with you, then I’ll take them for now. I won’t let you leave me, Tressa. We make each other happy. Just hearing you say we should end what this is nearly drove me mad last night. I won’t let you do it.

  I tapped Nina on the shoulder and showed her the letter. “She wanted to leave him. Any luck finding any letters from her to him?”

  “Not yet. Just pictures of you all over the place. I swear your brother must have been camera shy, Tristan.”

  Folding the letter, I slid it into the envelope. “He wasn’t much for pictures. Or sports, for that matter.”

  “Who took all these pictures of you and your mother? Your father?”

  The memory of the one time my father attended any of my games for a mere fifteen minutes passed through my mind. “No. Rogers always took the pictures. It was him who came to see every one of my games and matches.”

  Nina rested her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, honey. At least you know Rogers cared about you. I think he did.”

  “I thought so too.”

  She returned to searching for my mother’s letters to her mystery lover without a word, and I focused on the next to last letter in the pile next to me. My eyes scanned the lines that told of their impending break up.

  Nothing is more important than love. No matter what excuse you give, I’ll give a better one to show we should be together. I won’t let you go, Tressa. I can’t. Why won’t you give in to what you know makes you happy? Come away with me. Leave him and be mine forever.

  He was losing her. I sensed it in every word. He knew it too. She probably had told him their affair had to end, and he was just holding on to what used to be.

  “I think I might have found something.” Nina leaned over the front of the trunk and groaned as she buried her head inside. When she straightened up, she was holding a silver tin in one hand and its lid in the other. Inside the tin were more letters but no envelopes.

  She set the box between us and lifted one out for me to read. Opening it, I read one of my mother’s letters to the man she loved. Her words were tender and kind, and if my father had ever seen them, he would have made her life a living hell. Suddenly the thought that he had learned of her affair occurred to me.

  I sit here alone as the boys play with the nanny and wish there was a way we could all be together, but he’ll never let me go with them and I can’t leave without them. I’m their mother. They need me. My love for you may be what keeps me going each day, but I can’t give in to that and sacrifice them.

  “She stayed because of us,” I said quietly as I placed the letter back in the tin.

  “That’s a good thing, Tristan. She loved you. You’re lucky to have a mother like that.”

  “But she was unhappy, Nina. It’s all over these letters. She was stuck in a loveless marriage. I knew that from the moment I was old enough to compare my parents with other people’s. They never kissed or hugged or held hands. She could have had happiness if she ran away with this person.”

  “You don’t know that. She was breaking it off with him. She had to have a reason, and I doubt it was you and your brother. His letters make it sound like she wanted out for another reason.”

  I read through more of my mother’s letters, hoping to find what Nina said was in fact the truth. I hated thinking she’d given up a chance at real happiness for us. Each one read like the first, some telling him she couldn’t leave because of her children and others simply declarations of love.

  “Tristan, did you read this last one of his letters? He wasn’t going to let her go. Do you remember her acting differently or saying anything to indicate she was frightened? He was threatening her. Listen to this.”

  He knows, so what’s the point of hiding anymore? I know you still love me. After all these years, I know you do. It can be like it was in the beginning. The boys are older now. They don’t need you like I do. I won’t let you leave me. Not now—not ever.

  Nina looked up from the letter. “Do you have any idea when this could have been?”

  “No. I never knew about any of this.”

  The truth was I had never been the kind of son she deserved. I knew she was unhappy, but I never bothered to consider that something other than my father had caused that sadness in her.

  “Can I read the letters in the tin to see if we can figure out what happened?”

  I shook the cobwebs of memories from my head. “Sure.” I didn’t want to read any more of the past. The letters had only served to confirm what I’d always believed and shown me it was even worse.

  Watching as Nina read letter after letter, I saw her expression change when she reached the last one. “What’s wrong? Is there something in that one?”

  Turning to look at me, she shook her head. “I’m not sure. Listen to this.”

  It’s over. Take what he’s given you and be thankful. He means it to be symbolic. That’s why he named it Rider. He’s giving you a company he doesn’t care about to show you that you’ll never have me. Only a company he named after me. Take it and make it yours. I can’t see you again. Accept his gift and know he’ll never forget this. Be careful.

  “What does she mean ‘that’s why he named it Rider’? What does that have to do with this?”

  My mother’s words hung heavy in the air as I attempted to process what Nina had just read. My mother hadn’t just had an affair. She’d had an affair with my father’s best friend.

  Karl.

  Nina gently shook me by the shoulder. “Tristan, what does this mean? Who is Rider?”

  “Ryder with a y. It was my mother’s maiden name. Tressa Ryder. My father must have changed it to Rider Pharmaceutical when he bought the company before he found out she cheated on him. That he’d give Karl a company with the same name as my mother’s is exactly what she thought. It was supposed to be symbolic. My father would do something like that. Karl could have some company that meant nothing to him, but he couldn’t have the woman that my father didn’t give a damn about.”

  “Are you saying your mother was in love with Karl, the guy who wants you and me out of the way?”

  I’d been as surprised as Nina was at first, but it all made sense. The holiday dinners when I was a child when Karl would be all smiles as he teased my mother or told her stupid jokes. How sweetly she’d always acted toward him. In my mind’s eye, I could see him then, the far more charming younger man he was instead of the odious bastard he was now.

  “I guess so. That’s the only answer since it involved Rider Pharmaceutical.”

  “I don’t understand. If he was so in love with your mother, why would he do this to you?”

  As Nina returned to searching the trunk for what we were looking for, I tried to reconcile Karl Dreger’s hatred for me with how much he’d loved my mother. It made no sense, no matter how much I wanted to pretend it did.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nina

  I rummaged through more pictures and mementos as Tristan sat silently next to me, obviously rocked by the news that the man who was busy doing everything possible to make his life a living hell was also the man his mother had loved, even to the point of endangering her own welfare. I found another portrait the family had sat for years later that showed the life Tressa Stone had accepted. In her expression was etched the sadness of a woman who’d chosen to sacrifice her own happiness. Those brown eyes so similar to Tristan’s looked out blankly, even as she smiled for the camera.

  Lifting the picture out of the trunk, I propped it up against the lid. “When was this taken? You look like a teenager here.”

  Tristan focused on the image and nodded. “I remember that day. Taylor and my father barely made it in time for the photographer to get the photo. Not that I was much better. My mother had reminded us every day for a week, but her need to have a family picture meant little to us.”

  “You were a teenage boy. They never care about things like that. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

  “Lo
ok at her, Nina. She was married to a man who didn’t give a damn about her and actually gave the man she was cheating with a company, even though I don’t think he gave her one present after they were married. Even if he hated Karl, he treated her worse. And my brother and I weren’t much better.”

  “Don’t do this to yourself, Tristan. You were a kid. I’m sure your mother understood that.”

  He faked a tiny smile and nodded. “Anything else in there?”

  Pushing pictures and frames across the bottom of the trunk, I lifted my head and turned toward him. “Not that I can see. I think we should move to some of the boxes and trunks around us.”

  “Okay. I’ll check the boxes. Take a look at that trunk near the wall.”

  Tristan silently moved toward the floor-to-ceiling stack of boxes nearby still wearing a frown from the news he’d read in his mother’s letters. I could understand. It’s as if he’d lived all his life thinking one thing, and now he had to grapple with the fact that what he’d believed wasn’t true at all.

  The image of Tressa Stone’s sad eyes stayed in my mind as I searched through the second trunk. I admired her, even though I’d never met her. Whatever her life had been, she’d stayed for her sons, and to me, that made whatever else she did unimportant. That one son turned out to be a monster wasn’t her fault. The blame for that belonged on her husband, not her. And Tristan was proof that she’d done something right. That thoughtless teenager had grown into a wonderful man. Her influence was obvious, even if he couldn’t see it.

  The trunk contained blankets and clothes, but as I pushed my hands through them to see if any papers were hidden there, I realized I was searching through baby things. Holding a newborn onesie up in front of me, I sat amazed at how tiny the little blue outfit was. Had Tristan worn this as a baby?

  “You don’t look like you’re doing much searching over there,” he joked from behind me.

  Turning around, I displayed the onesie for him. “Was this yours? It’s so cute!”

  For the first time in nearly an hour, he looked happy. Reaching over, he took the clothing and held it up to examine it. “No, this must have been Taylor’s. See? His name is sewn into it just under the tag.”

  I looked and there was the name Taylor sewn in on a tiny piece of fabric near the collar. “Is that how your mother told your clothes apart?”

  Tristan chuckled. “Yeah. And it was more like that’s how the nanny knew whose clothes were whose.”

  “A nanny, huh? I want you to know that I don’t plan to have a nanny for our kids. I hope you’re okay with that.”

  He threw the onesie back into the trunk and leaned down to place a tiny kiss on the tip of my nose. “Our kids?”

  “Yeah. I thought we should have some after we get married. You know, like lots of people often do.”

  Twisting a strand of my hair around his finger, he leaned down and kissed me, this time on the lips. Smiling, he said, “Kids it is, but I can’t promise normal.”

  I looked up into his face and for a moment thought I saw a trace of fear in his eyes. “No problem. I’ve got perfectly normal and average covered, so our kids will be fine.”

  “Do you remember what I said to you that first night in the car?”

  I thought back to that night for a moment. “No. What?”

  He tucked my hair behind my ear and gave me that look that always made me feel like lava was pooling in my abdomen. “You said you were ordinary, and I told you you’re anything but.”

  “Yeah, but you knew nothing about me then.”

  “And I still saw it in you. So forget about this average business. You’re anything but, Nina Edwards.”

  “Well, Tristan Stone, I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let you forget.”

  I loved seeing him like this. These moments when he was relaxed and playful were so infrequent, but when they happened, they made me realize all over again why I was so crazy about him.

  “Did you find anything in those boxes?”

  He shook his head and frowned as all the playfulness disappeared. “Not yet. We better get back to it.”

  Something in the way his shoulders sagged when he turned back to begin searching the boxes again showed how much this was affecting him. I wanted to take him into my arms and tell him everything was going to be okay, but until we figured out how to stop Karl, nothing was going to be okay.

  Except us. We would be okay. I knew that in all my heart.

  I focused on a trunk next to the one I’d just finished searching and prayed to God that we’d find something soon. Smaller than the previous two, this one contained what appeared to be old Christmas and birthday cards, some from as far back as before Tristan and his brother were born. Although I knew Tristan wouldn’t mind me reading them, I felt oddly like an intruder on the private notes and cards from his family.

  One handmade card of a wreath made out of silver and gold foil sat on the bottom of the trunk, reflecting the little light that reached it. Lifting it out, I ran my fingertip over the edges of the wreath, impressed with how beautiful it still was after years hidden away. The card’s creator had taken care to make folds in each piece of foil to simulate movement in the wreath. Tilting the card up and down, I watched as the light from the window danced over it.

  I turned it over but saw no writing or name. Carefully, I pulled the edge of the card and found it opened to reveal a barely legible handwritten Christmas greeting.

  May the blessings of the season fill your days with joy.

  There was an initial just below that line I couldn’t make out. Smudged, it looked like a K or a D. K would make sense if it was from Karl to Tressa, but something about the card seemed distinctly unlike one a man would give to a woman. Setting it aside, I sifted through anniversary cards and birthday cards belonging to Tristan’s mother. All store bought, unlike the Christmas card, they were from Victor Stone to his wife. None showed much thought on his part, and none even contained the word love. Tristan’s assessment of his parents’ marriage seemed to be correct.

  Inside one of the cards were three small, white envelopes addressed to her in what looked like a man’s handwriting. I couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t appear to be either Victor Stone’s writing or Karl Dreger’s. Had there been another affair?

  I quietly slipped the letter out of the first envelope, not wanting Tristan to hear the rustle of paper. Not that I disapproved, but I wasn’t sure how he’d handle finding out his mother had cheated on his father with yet another man. Some things didn’t need to be known.

  Looking over toward Tristan, I saw he was busy beginning his search of the next box, so I turned my back toward him and began to read Tressa’s letter. I knew from the first sentence I’d been wrong. This was no love letter.

  Dear Tressa,

  I know it’s been years since we last spoke. I’ve never forgotten how wonderful you were to my girls when their mother died. It’s because of that kindness that I’m writing you today in the hopes that by doing so I can lessen the pain of what I must now do.

  An investigation into what I thought was merely a simple case of a workplace lawsuit at Stone Worldwide has unearthed a story I have to believe you know nothing about. It’s with a heavy heart that I must tell you that I cannot keep this information secret much longer. Please know that if I could spare you the pain I know this will cause you, I would.

  Your husband is at the center of my investigation that shows he was responsible for a bombing at a coffee shop in Atlanta that killed innocent men, women, and children. The intended victim was the judge in a sexual harassment case against Stone Worldwide, but the story goes far deeper. The judge’s daughter, a fifteen year old, had become pregnant with your son Taylor’s child and when he abandoned her, she committed suicide. The judge knew what your son had done and would have made sure the case went against Stone, so your husband made sure that never happened.

  Tressa, I wish there was another way to tell you this, but I d
idn’t want to put you in harm’s way. I’m sorry. Be careful and if you need to reply, do so only to the address on this letter. Your husband and the men surrounding him are dangerous.

  Take care.

  Joe

  I sat stunned at what I’d just read, unsure of how it was possible that my father had written Tristan’s mother. Thinking back to when my mother died, I couldn’t remember her coming to see us. How had she known my family then?

  Nothing seemed to make any sense. Had my father and Tressa Stone had an affair before my mother died? Just the thought of my father cheating seemed wrong. If not, how had they known one another?

  Looking up from the letter in my hands, I saw Tristan finishing with a box and motioned for him to come over. I held the letter up and shook my head.

  “What’s wrong? Did you find something?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

  “I don’t know. I…I don’t understand this letter. You read it and tell me what’s going on.”

  My hands shook as his eyes moved across the page reading the words my father had written. When he finished, he looked up, his expression telling me he was as confused as I was.

  “What does this mean? Your father knew my mother?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are there any other letters from him?”

  I handed him the other two letters I found inside the card. “I found three letters. They’re addressed to your mother at somewhere in Pennsylvania. Did she ever live there?”

  Tristan nodded as he silently read the address. “My mother was from Gladwyne, right outside of Philadelphia. The address this was sent to was my grandparents’ house there. It was left to her when they died.”

  “How would my father know to send her a letter there?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll find something out in the other letters.”

  I watched as he read the next letter, silently hoping it would tell us that my father hadn’t been unfaithful to my mother. Lifting his head, Tristan smiled. “I think I know what you were thinking, but it’s not like that. Listen to what he wrote.”