The Tale of Two Letters

It was another insanely busy day at work. There was an election coming up in a matter of days; Madison was working on two funding applications simultaneously; the phone was ringing off the hook with calls about projects she had in progress. You name it, it was happening. Another day in the life of a local government project manager.

Madison was just ready to throw the phone against the wall when she saw that this latest call was coming from the main entrance court marshal's station.

"Dear Lord,"she whispered under her breath. "Now, someone wants to up here and meet with me."

She picked up the phone and said facetiously, "No."

"No?" Madison heard B.K., one of her favorite court marshals say with a laugh. "You don't even know what I want."

"I hope you don't want to send someone up here when I'm on a major deadline," she responded.

"Nope," B.K. said. "You have a package. Want me to bring it up to you?"

Madison declined the offer, stating that she could use a break and walking down the two flights of stairs from her office on the third floor of the Patterson County Court House to the structure's front door would be a welcome distraction from the mountain of documents and maps covering her desk.

When she arrived at the station, B.K. was seated in front of the security monitors with a thin, letter-size delivery box setting beside his keyboard. A retired police officer, B.K. was imposing when you first met him, but his quick wit and infectious laugh won people over quickly.

"Here you go," he said. "Maybe it's a check for $1 million."

"You know it is," Madison responded with a laugh as she turned to head back to the stairway.

The box was unremarkable - the same type of box Madison received constantly from companies bidding on projects and sending reports of all sorts. There was no name on the return label, but that really wasn't so unusual.

Once Madison was back inside her office, she cleared a spot on her desk and cut the tape which sealed the box. She removed a regular envelope and placed the box in the open spot on her desk.

Looking at the envelope, she read the name printed in the return address.

"Law Offices of Steven Tracy, esq., Martinsville, MO."

Steven Tracy. Madison knew a Steven Tracy many years ago. He was a teenager and Madison had spent five years in a roller coaster ride of a relationship with his father, David.

David Tracy was 25 years older than Madison when their relationship began. He, himself, was an attorney and he lived a life filled with parties, divorces, children, and lots of drama. He had taken a liking to the pretty, brunette 22-year-old who was fresh off a bachelor degree in journalism and covering criminal court for the local newspaper.

Intrigued by his attention and ignoring the warnings from people who knew him and his history, Madison accepted a dinner invitation from David that lead to years of emotional and mental abuse - cheating, lies, breakups, groveling over and over for one more chance - all of which led Madison to lose everything she had and nearly lose her mind.

Madison had not seen David Tracy in nearly 20 years. The last time she saw him, they had once again broken up after she discovered he had been sleeping with a woman who had recently moved in across the street from him. Madison packed up everything she could gather quickly, loaded her two cats into her car and sped off into a new life in a new town two states away.

Inside the envelope from Steven Tracy, there was a letter addressing Madison by her first name. The first sentences confirmed to her that the letter was indeed from the Steven Tracy she knew. He had followed his father into the field of law. Steven informed Madison that his father, David, had recently past away after a long illness and that Madison had been included in his will. Steven said a second envelope located in the box would provide all the details, but if she had any questions she could call his office.

Madison sat back in her chair stunned. She had separated herself from David and her life with him so long ago. Sure, she thought of him from time to time. Every time the thought of him crossed her mind, she thanked God that she had been able to finally end their relationship once and for all and forge a new life for herself in a new place. She considered herself blessed to have met a new man who was nothing like the arrogant ego maniac who was David Tracy - a man with whom she had spent the past 12 years building a solid relationship.

Madison couldn't wrap her mind around the idea that David had included her in his will. What did he leave her? A vat of poison for her to drink, gag on, and die? A dagger to run through her own heart the way he claimed she had run one through his in one of the very long phone messages he'd left her once he had managed to get her new number?

As Madison swiveled side to side in her chair, staring at the box setting in the middle of her desk, a million different things ran through her mind as to what was in that second envelope waiting inside that plain white box. Emotions and anxiety she hadn't felt in years swelled in her chest, rising into her throat. She thought she was rid of him; rid of the turmoil and the angst, yet here it was, as strong and as heavy as it had ever been.

Oh, how she longed for a really big, deep glass of gin. But, alas, it was the middle of the work day in a government building and there wasn't a drop of alcohol in sight. Madison didn't drink much gin any more - merlot had become more her style over the years - but this blast from the past warranted something much stronger. Even so, coffee was going to have to suffice.

Madison went on about her work, attempting to focus on her 4 p.m. deadline and ignore the box on her desk. She told herself it was just another box, it was no big deal, and it could wait until she had uploaded all of her application documents and hit the "send" button. After all, what in the world would a dead man have to say to her after more than two decades and why should she even care?

Some way, some how, she managed to complete the application and meet her deadline. She continued to sit in that chair, swiveling from left to right in her own private hell. Madison had never really shared the details of her past relationship with anyone except her husband and she only did that to explain how messed up she was in terms of relationships.

When 4:30 p.m. finally rolled around, Madison gathered her things, including the white box, and headed across the street to one of her favorite restaurants. Once inside, she tucked herself into a back booth, and ordered a gin martini sans the olives. She placed the white box on the table in front of her and stared at it while she sipped the gin and felt it causing her courage to rise just as it did back in the day when she had to endure yet another long-winded explanation from David as to why he had cheated on her yet again and how sorry he was for doing it.

With two martinis gone and a third one not far from it, Madison finally tipped the box so that both of the envelopes slid out and into her right hand. Taking a sip of the martini in her left had, Madison slid the envelope she'd opened earlier to the side. She took the second envelope and studied it carefully before opening it. It was very thick nor heavy. It didn't feel as if it contained anything other than paper. Steeling herself with rather large gulp of martini, Madison slid her fingernail under the piece of scotch tape that sealed the envelope.

She pulled out a folded two-page letter. It was from David. In it, he poured out his feelings about their relationship, stating what it had been meant to him, and how sorry he was to have let her go. With each paragraph of remorse and what ifs, Madison took a sip of martini and drank in what this man who had once consumed her had to say - one last time.

The last paragraph led to Madison almost dropping her now-empty martini glass.

"Please contact Steven at your earliest convenience," David instructed. "He has a check for you for $1.5 million. While I know money was never something you focused on much, I feel it's the least I can do to at least attempt to make amends for all of the pain I caused you and all that you gave up to be with me during our time together. I learned the hard way that what we had was priceless. Whatever you decide to do with this money, I know it will benefit something or someone and make them better the same way you did me. You weren't here to see it, but you did make me a better man."

Madison sat in the booth dumbfounded. What would she do with that kind of money? While she was far from destitute, Madison was nowhere near a millionaire. She wanted another martini, but instead of waving the waiter over to the table, she opened the second envelope to find Steven's number. There was no righteous indignation or any other emotion coursing through her at the time, only the urgency to seal this deal before someone, somewhere, found a reason to renig on it. She wasn't too proud to take his money. She actually felt that she had, indeed, earned it with everything she had to do to rebuild her life and regain her sanity. Madison wouldn't spend it all on herself. She had a list of local charitable organizations for which Christmas was going to come a bit early.

"Hello," she said to the person on the other end of the line. "This is Madison Dalton calling for Steven Tracy.

"Yes. I'll hold."