Silent Fall

some pastries and tea -- coffee for you."
    "I don’t want you to go anywhere without me. It’s too dangerous. Let me get dressed. Then we’ll go together."
    Dylan got out of bed without any hint of self-consciousness and strode to the bathroom. He was about to shut the door when he stuck his head back out. "Next time don’t take your shower without me. I had a few dreams of my own last night, and they involved you and me and some very slippery soap."
    Her stomach clenched at the image his words created, and she was almost tempted to strip down and take another shower, but he was already closing the door. It was most likely a good thing, though. It was a new day, and they needed to focus on staying alive.
    While Dylan showered she returned to reading. She started to skim, impatient with Ruth’s retelling of the minutiae of her life. She’d never known anyone to take such careful note of every conversation, every bad moment, every little thing her kids or husband did to make her happy or sad. And yet on the other hand it was nice to have such a close look at the life of a woman who would probably never be able to tell any of her stories again. In her journal those stories would be forever remembered.
    As Catherine flipped through a few more pages, an envelope fell out of the book. Her breath caught in her chest. Instinctively she knew that this was what she’d been looking for.
    Before she could open it, Dylan walked out of the bathroom with a towel slung around his hips. He stopped, frowning as his gaze settled on the envelope in her hand. "What’s that?"
    "I’m not sure. I was just about to look."
    Dylan’s face tightened. He looked like he wanted to snatch the envelope out of her hand and burn it, but he didn’t move, and she gave him credit for staring down his fear.
    She pulled out a folded piece of paper and a faded photograph. She gazed at the picture first. It was of a bunch of people sitting under a big beach umbrella. There were four kids -- two boys, two girls -- two women, and a man. She recognized Dylan’s mother from her wedding photograph, and, of course, there was Dylan, towheaded and sunburned, holding a red pail and an orange shovel. "It’s you and Jake and your mom at the beach, I guess. I don’t know who the other people are."
    Dylan didn’t step forward or make any attempt to look at the photograph. "What does the note say?"
    She glanced down at the handwritten words and began to read aloud: " Dear Ruth, The summer is flying by. The boys have grown so much you won’t recognize them. They love it here. There are lots of kids their age to play with. I must admit I love it, too. I know you think I’m selfish, leaving my husband every summer, but this place is where I feel safe, happy, and the truth is that Richard and I haven’t been getting along for years, and recently our relationship has taken a turn for the worse. I want to make him happy, but it seems impossible. He won’t talk to me about what he needs, and I can’t seem to guess right. I always make him angry. He doesn’t think I’m a good mother or a good wife.
    The day before we left, he slapped me. He apologized shortly thereafter, but he told me it was my fault for making him so mad, for not doing things right. Maybe it was my fault, but he shouldn’t have struck me. I wasn’t sure if I should tell you, and perhaps it’s wrong to tell you now. He’s your son, and I know you love him, but I’m afraid of what he’s becoming. He drinks every night and takes sleeping pills. Ambition consumes him. His small failures make him crazy. His anger knows no bounds. He needs help, and I’m hoping he’ll listen to you, even if he won’t listen to me. Perhaps you can get him to slow down, to talk to someone before it’s too late.
    Your loving daughter-in-law, Olivia. "
    Catherine looked up at Dylan. A mix of pain and anger filled his eyes. It had been twenty-three years since he’d heard his mother’s words. She couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to hear them now.
    "So she knew he was a bastard, and she still left us alone with him. Mother of the year." He picked up his clothes and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
    Catherine felt his sense of betrayal as keenly as if it were her own. She read through the short letter again, noting the fact that Richard had hit Olivia. His anger had crossed