Susan puts the letter down, goes to the kitchen for a glass of water, and resumes reading:
Let me take you back to the too-short time we had together as a family, and back further. I was a young seventeen-year-old when I first became aware that you, Julie, fluttered in my womb. Your father, when I gave him the news, exploded in a rage. At twenty-five years old, he was just starting in his business as a financier, following his own father’s footsteps. Until then, I had not seen that dark side of him. I almost lost you, dear child, in that outburst of whiskey-fueled anger. The next day, he came to me with a proposal he had worked out with his parents: They would buy me a cottage on the outskirts of town, not too far yet not too close, provide me with a “living wage,” day-to-day provisions, even an education in the local college. My side of the bargain was that I would never, under any circumstances, disclose who the father of my child was, nor admit to any relationship with him. If I did, I would never again see my child, my Julie, and I would be transported to another city across the country to make do on my own, without resources, without contact with friends and family. Your father was destined to have a burgeoning career, a wife worthy of his social status, and all the accoutrements of an international financial expert. I was dead to him. But he had a key to our cottage and could, and did, visit whenever he felt the need to express his wicked fantasies.
Read Episode 18
