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  "Gina...do you mind if we do this some other time After reading the blog, my emotions are so raw, I'm afraid I can't stop crying, and I don't want to be this way at a restaurant."

"I've got an idea, sweetie, hear me out before deciding." Gina paused and took in a breath, mostly for courage."

"You're going to be upset anyway. Let me come over there. I'll pick up a pizza and we can just talk okay?"

"I don't know..." Jeannie wanted so much to stop crying. She was angry that she had wasted so much emotion on this already and she was really tired."

"I'll stop at Vesuvius and I can be over there by 5...Katie's meeting with Claire from 5 to 7 or so, I'll just let them know we'll be here...maybe they can go out for coffee." Gina prayed that her friend would agree...she had something to tell...rather show Jeannie that she needed to know. What she would share wouldn’t necessarily change Jeannie's mind about the relationship, but it might provide her with insight about her husband.

"Come on, girl...I know you know you're hungry after all that crying, and you need a shoulder, just in case it starts again."

"O...okay." Jeannie was hungry, Gina was a friend, and Vesuvius had the best onion and garlic pies in the area. At worst, when Todd came home, her kiss was guaranteed to make him think twice before kissing her. She still was angry, despite the tears, and anticipated the 'big talk" was just around the bend, and she wanted to be ready to steel herself to any emotion that was already wearing down her defenses.

Gina hung up the phone and reached into her purse and produced a very worn envelope, the contents of which had been examined the day before by Katie and Claire.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Lad?" Katie asked, belying the figure of the attractive woman sitting across from her on the couch. Claire was fifteen minutes early, anxious to hear whatever news Katie had for her. But it was Todd that Katie wanted to talk with, despite the woman in the rust colored brocade skirt and jacket.

"It's too hard in the not-knowing, Dr. Kelly." She said softly. "I need to know what it says. I picked up a little of it when I first read it, but I don’t know Scots Gaelic. All I know is I was hurt that mom left me to read it after she died."

"All right lad." Katie said softly. She had talked with Bobby McTavish, a friend from Ben's old Rugby team who knew Scots-Gaelic." Bobby was a gay cop from Philly and had gone through his own rejection. When Katie asked about the note, Bobby looked at Katie and simply said,”

"No mother should write a letter like this to her own son, no matter what." The look on Bobby's face had been one of sheer horror.

"He wrote the translation above the original" She looked down at the letter and tears came to her eyes. Katie usually was able to maintain objectivity, but now was struggling with it, having been reminded of how her father had treated her. She went on,

"I have to ask once again, Todd...is this something you really want to know. We can stop this right now and destroy this letter."

"No...I need to know just what was so bad." Without ceremony, Katie began to read.

You have been nothing but a disappointment to me since the day you were born. Your brother Craig set an example that apparently you were either unwilling or unable to follow, which I cannot understand. Your brother Jerry had no problem, so I can only assume that you chose not to act like a man. I prefer to believe, without evidence, that you were unwilling, since at least I can say that you were a rebel instead of a pathetic excuse for a man.

You are not my son. I have only two children now, and you are a stranger to me. If I could, I would have preferred to die in childbirth rather than have you as my child, but that would have meant that your brother Jerry would never have been born. You are not welcome at my funeral. I have left instructions that you be reminded of such if you attend. You cannot be prevented from attending the church service, but your brothers will not permit you to attend any other aspect of my funeral.

Agnes Sinclair

Katie was glad in a way that Claire had once again buried her face in the bolster of the couch. She had read this twice in order to be prepared not to break down when she read it to Claire and she was having some success in that she was quiet even though her own eyes were filled with tears. It was Claire who sat on the couch, so nicely dressed, so lady-like and attractive, but it was Todd who wept bitterly. He had gleaned a few words from the letter with his limited understanding of Scots-Gaelic, but in no way could ever have anticipated the intense hatred his mother had for him. His brothers never followed through with the instructions and Craig never told him what his mother had said. So his mother's hatred died with her and so he could never know just why she hated. So he wept. Katie quickly dried her tears and went to retrieve two bottles of water for them.

After almost twelve minutes, Claire raised her head. She had worn no mascara that day, which benefited her face and Katie’s couch. Rocco had jumped up and placed his head on Claire’s lap, waiting for the scratch behind the ears that was more likely to distract Claire at that point…clever dog, I suppose, but he could actually anticipate someone’s need for his presence.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on inside, dear.” Katie said. She knew that Claire wasn’t a rebel, and was entirely convinced that at least Todd thought himself a pathetic excuse.

“She never told me; my Aunt Clare had to tell me…” She wiped her face with her sleeve.

“When she was about eleven or twelve, her father walked up to mom and Uncle Todd and said to them…” Claire choked back a sob, hoping to continue, but was only able to speak after crying again for about ten minutes.

“You’re not my kids anymore, he said! Can you believe that? What a fucking bastard.” Again, it was Claire sitting in front of Katie, but it was Todd who was angry, but sadder.

“Aunt Claire wouldn’t talk about it for the longest time…but she sat me down just before she died.

“Todd, she said….there’s a reason for your mom’s bitterness, and it has nothing to do with you”

Katie leaned forward, wondering where this was leading, but fearful that she already knew. Her fears were confirmed when Todd continued.

“So she says to me, Daddy grew tired of them…they were getting too old.” Todd choked back a sob but continued.

“I can’t even say the words, honey, but just this…he turned his attention to me and your Aunt Annie…do you understand? She looked at me and began to cry. She actually leaned forward and covered her face with the comforter in her lap.”

As carefully and gently, Katie said what no one had been able to speak,

“Your grandfather molested his children, didn’t he?” Katie asked softly.

“Yes…” Claire and Todd wept together for the loss of their mother’s innocence and the shame and guilt that plagued her for her whole life.

When Claire’s weeping began to abate, Katie said to her softly.

I guess that explains her appearance, dear. Remember you told me she hardly ever wore dresses, and she was always lookin’ like she didn’t want to be attractive. This certainly explains it. And maybe why she resented you wearing her clothing? Not to make a joke of it…” It really was sadly ironic,

“You wanted to be just like her, and she didn’t want to be her at all” Katie noted that Claire had stopped crying.

“Are you okay, dear?” Katie smiled warmly

“I think...I guess so,” she said, taking a very large swig from her water bottle.

“I’ve got an idea…let’s go get some coffee. I’ve nothing on the schedule for tomorrow; we can get back to this. Why don’t you come over to my place? I’m sure Gina won’t mind, and she’s cooking
Ká¶ttbullar, Swedish meatballs with gravy, potatoes, jam, and pickled cucumber.” Claire looked at her sideways.

“Great grandmother’s name was Olsson; she’s one quarter Swedish’ on her mothers’ side.”
The two rose to their feet, followed quickly by Rocco, who raced to the front door.

Jeannie sat at her kitchen table sipping on a diet Sierra Mist while Gina finished her third slice of pizza. Jeannie had hardly touched her first, instead staring at the worn stationary sitting on the table.

“This can’t be true…it can’t be.” Jeannie believed the letter to be true, every bit of it. What she was speaking of was the absolute cold reality that had just slapped her in the face.

“I’m sorry, honey,’ she said to Gina. “We’ve known each other since we were little kids; you were my first friend when we moved here.

“Your first friend? You punched me in the nose!” Gina said with mock indignation. After a rough start, they did become friends. Jeannie’s uncle and aunt lived right around the corner from Gina and her mom. They spent time each summer visiting when Jeannie’s mother grew tired of having to interrupt her series of highballs to see to her daughter’s needs.

"Come fottutamente folle ᨠla nostra famiglia," Jeannie said which evoked a quizzical look on Gina's face.

“Todd’s brother once said this and I never knew it; it’s almost like it should be on the Sinclair family crest “How fucking crazy is our family” She looked at the letter once again, growing angry at a man who had been dead for decades.

“How can anyone do that to a child? What…how?” A look of horror grew wider across Jeannie’s face. “Oh god…Their house…his uncle…they used to stay there in the summer…”

Gina anticipated this, having talked with Katie and Claire the night before. She put down her pizza and diet Coke and walked over to where Jeannie was sitting.

Jeannie picked up the letter, a family relic best left hidden or buried, but out in the open, finally revealing its secrets. She looked at it, almost reverently before ripping it up. She fell onto her arms on the table and began to weep. Gina stood behind her and leaned over and hugged her.

“Oh Dio, cosa dobbiamo fare ora. Mi dicono?” She sobbed and said it over and over.

Gina wasn’t fluent in Italian, but had gleaned enough over the years to know what it meant.

“Oh God, what do we do now? Tell me?” She was glad for one thing, but that was the one thing that held promise, even in the midst of all the madness that had been the Sinclair family. Geavanna Caliva Sinclair was asking God what they…Todd and her...could do.

Gina continued to hug her friend and simply said what her father Johnny used to say,

“Oh mio dolce bambino ... voi tenere amorevole e pregare (oh my sweet child, you keep loving and praying)

Per Te as sung by Josh Groban
from the Album "Closer"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Spa1dt2aC0Y