The Truth He Buried With Her Chapter 10

The Truth He Buried With Her Chapter 10

Griffin came to the textile mill to see me.

On a Saturday afternoon.

I wasn’t working that day. I was in the small playground below the dormitory, kicking a ball with Leo.

The ball rolled to the edge of the flowerbed. Leo chased it, crouched to pick it up, then stood and shouted,

“Daddy.”

I turned around.

Griffin stood at the edge of the playground, wearing an unbuttoned uniform jacket.

He’d lost a lot of weight. His cheekbones stood out. There was a shadow of stubble along his jaw and dark

circles under his eyes.

He held a bag. He stood there looking at me, his mouth opening and closing.

Leo hugged the ball and ran over to look up at him.

Griffin crouched and rubbed Leo’s head, handed him the bag, and said, “Daddy bought you some candy.”

Leo took the bag and looked back at me, but didn’t open it.

I walked over and pulled Leo to my side.

“What are you doing here?”

“To see you and Leo.”

“Well, you’ve seen us. You can go.”

He didn’t move.

“Honey.”

“Don’t call me honey. Call me Sloane.”

He paused, then corrected himself.

“Sloane, I have something to tell you. Give me ten minutes.”

I looked at Leo.

Leo hugged the candy bag, looked from him to me, then tugged my sleeve and said, “Mommy, I want to go

upstairs and draw.”

I said okay, take the ball up.

Leo ran off, the ball bobbing under his armpit.

Only the two of us were left on the field.

The wind blew from the textile mill chimney, carrying the smell of cotton lint.

He stood across from me for a while, took a deep breath, and began.

“From start to finish, I couldn’t figure out how to say it.”

He said he received Mitchell’s last request late at night.

Mitchell lay on a wooden cot in the aid station.

Someone had thrown two blankets over him, but he was still shaking. His lips had gone almost white.

By the time he pressed the cigarette carton paper into Griffin’s hand, his fingers had stiffened so badly they couldn’t be pried open.

He said, “Colonel, I’m not scared of dying. I’m scared for Blair. She’ll be alone.”

Then he grabbed my hand and said, “You owe me. Don’t repay me. Just get her and the baby out.”

And Griffin said yes.

Griffin looked at me, his eyes red.

“At the time, I only felt it was something I had to do. Mitchell had blocked for me twice. Without him, I wouldn’t have made it back. It was the last thing he begged me to do before he died.”

He said he thought he could hold the line.

He thought bringing Blair back, settling her in, waiting out the classified period, and then explaining everything would be enough.

But he never saw it coming-not Rita’s cruelty, not Eleanor singling me out in a public meeting, not the whole housing block treating me like dirt for two months.

By the time he reacted, I’d already been turned into the woman who’d bullied a pregnant girl into tears every

day.

And he couldn’t say a word.

“Are you finished?”

I frowned.

“Yes.”

His voice was low, like something was pressing on his chest.

I looked at him.

“Everything you just said, you should have told me the day you came back to the housing block.”

“We lived in the same house. You couldn’t find one moment to tell me?”

“If you had told me back then, I would have stood with you. I would have taken it with you. Whatever they said about me-I could have handled it, as long as we were in it together. Three months, I would have

waited.”

“But you didn’t. You told me you couldn’t talk about it. And then you told my brother. My parents. Eleanor.”

“You even told Blair to keep quiet. So she had to stand there and lie to my face. A sweet girl like her, stuck in

the middle.”

“What was the point, Griffin? What did any of that accomplish?”

His lips were trembling.

“You think you held the line. What did you hold? You held your loyalty to a fallen comrade, but you couldn’t keep your wife from being trampled. In the unit, you’re a brave commander. But you left your wife on the fire for two months.”

“And even…”

I laughed coldly.

“When I tried to speak for myself, you held me down. Did that feel good?”

He lowered his head.

His shoulders slumped forward, just like the day he knelt in the gravel.

“Griffin, I have nothing left to say to you. Go.”

He didn’t move.

I called Leo down, took his hand, and left.

As we reached the gate, I heard Griffin call from behind.

I’m sorry.

I didn’t look back.

That night, after I bathed Leo and put him to bed, he hugged the candy bag, unwrapped one, and put it in his

mouth.

The wrapper crinkled for a while. With the candy in his cheek, he asked, “Did Daddy do something wrong?”

I said, “Yeah.”

He thought for a long time, then asked, “Will he do it again?”

I said, “He won’t do it again. But some things are wrong once they’re done. It’s not enough to just change.”

Leo said, “Oh.” He folded the wrapper into a small square and put it by his pillow, then turned over and fell

asleep.

I sat on the bed and watched him for a long while. Then I took out the divorce settlement I’d already drafted from the drawer and copied it out again.

I wrote slowly, line by line. When I reached the signature line, the pen ran dry. I shook it twice and kept

writing.

Beside me, Leo’s breathing was even. A corner of the candy wrapper square stuck out from under his pillow.

The next morning, I went to Battalion HQ.

To see Colonel Harrington.

The office door was open. Colonel Harrington was reading documents in reading glasses.

He looked up, saw me standing at the door, and took off his glasses and stood.

“Mrs. Prescott.”

“I’m here to settle something.”