Daniel did not sleep well that night.
The envelope sat inside the top drawer of his desk, beneath a stack of school papers and an old baseball glove. He had considered taking it back to Walter immediately.
He had even put on his shoes.
Then he had sat on the edge of his bed for nearly ten minutes, staring at the drawer.
The date bothered him.
October 14, 1999.
Daniel had been born thirteen years later.
His parents had barely finished high school when the letter was written.
Whatever had happened in Walter's life back then belonged to another generation.
Still, Daniel could not stop thinking about the expression on the old man's face.
It had not been anger.
It had been recognition.
Walter had known exactly what the envelope was.
The next morning, Daniel returned it.
Walter opened the door wearing a gray sweater despite the warm weather.
“You forgot this.”
Daniel held out the envelope.
Walter stared at it.
Then he looked at Daniel.
“Where did you find it?”
“Near the box.”
“You opened the box?”
“No.”
“Did you read the letter?”
“No.”
Walter took the envelope.
His fingers trembled.
Daniel noticed.
Walter noticed him noticing.
“People shake when they get old,” he said.
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking you looked scared.”
Walter's jaw tightened.
For a second, Daniel thought the old man might close the door.
Instead, Walter stepped aside.
“Come in.”
The house smelled faintly of coffee and old wood.
Daniel had never been inside before.
The living room was neat but almost untouched. Family photographs covered one wall. There was a younger Walter in a military uniform. Another photograph showed him standing beside a woman with dark hair and a bright smile.
Daniel recognized her.
“Your wife?”
Walter nodded.
“Evelyn.”
“She was pretty.”
“She was trouble.”
Daniel smiled.
Walter looked at the photograph.
“She'd tell you I was the trouble.”
There was warmth in his voice when he said it.
Daniel noticed something else.
On a small table beneath the photograph were dozens of unopened envelopes.
All addressed to Walter.
Some were recent.
Some were old.
One had been returned to sender.
Daniel looked away.
Walter noticed.
“Curiosity gets people into trouble.”
“So does hiding things under grass.”
Walter gave him a long look.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
It was a short laugh, but genuine.
“Sit down.”
Daniel sat.
Walter placed the old envelope on the table.
“You want to know what's inside.”
Daniel hesitated.
“Yes.”
“You're not entitled to know.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
Daniel waited.
Walter opened the envelope.
The paper inside was folded three times.
He read the first line.
His face changed.
Daniel could not see the words.
Walter folded the letter again.
“That's enough.”
“Who sent it?”
“My son.”
Daniel looked up.
“You have a son?”
“I had a son.”
The sentence hung between them.
Daniel glanced at the photographs.
There were no pictures of a boy.
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Doesn't he live nearby?”
“I said I don't know.”
Walter returned the letter to the envelope.
Daniel stood.
“I should go.”
Walter nodded.
At the door, Daniel stopped.
“Mr. Bennett?”
“What?”
“If you want me to keep mowing, I'll keep mowing.”
Walter looked almost offended.
“I never asked you to.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you keep coming?”
Daniel shrugged.
“Because the grass keeps growing.”
Walter stared at him.
Then his expression softened.
“You can come Saturday.”
Daniel smiled.
“I'll be here.”
The following Saturday, the lawn was already half dry from the morning heat.
Daniel started near the sidewalk.
Walter sat on the porch.
Neither mentioned the letter.
But something had changed.
Every few minutes, Walter looked toward the street.
Daniel noticed.
A blue pickup passed.
Walter watched it.
A woman walked a dog.
Walter watched her.
A delivery truck slowed near the mailbox.
Walter stood.
Then sat down again when it continued past.
Daniel eventually stopped the mower.
“Are you expecting someone?”
“No.”
“You keep looking at the road.”
“I look at whatever I want.”
“Okay.”
Daniel restarted the mower.
Ten minutes later, Walter called him.
“Daniel.”
Daniel switched it off.
Walter pointed toward the mailbox.
“Would you check that for me?”
Daniel walked over.
There were three envelopes.
A utility bill.
A grocery advertisement.
And a plain white envelope with no stamp.
Daniel brought all three to the porch.
Walter took the first two.
Then he saw the third.
He froze.
The envelope had been folded once.
There was handwriting on the front.
Walter did not open it.
“Who delivered this?”
“I don't know.”
Walter turned it over.
There was one word on the back.
Dad.
Daniel looked at him.
Walter's hand began to shake again.
This time, he could not hide it.
He sat down slowly.
“Is it your son?”
Walter nodded.
“What does he want?”
“I don't know.”
“Are you going to open it?”
Walter stared at the envelope.
For nearly a minute, he said nothing.
Then he slipped it into his pocket.
“No.”
Daniel frowned.
“Why not?”
“Because some doors don't need to be opened twice.”
Daniel thought about the old photograph of Evelyn.
He thought about the pile of unopened letters.
He thought about the first envelope buried beneath the lawn.
Then he asked quietly, “Did your son hurt you?”
Walter's eyes lifted.
“No.”
“Did you hurt him?”
Walter looked toward the street.
“Yes.”
Daniel waited.
Walter rubbed both hands over his face.
“I told him to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought I was protecting him.”
“From what?”
“Myself.”
Daniel did not understand.
Walter stood and walked inside.
“Finish the lawn.”
The screen door shut.
Daniel remained on the porch for a moment.
Then he went back to work.
Near the maple tree, the mower struck something again.
Daniel stopped immediately.
He looked down.
This time there was no metal box.
There was a small wooden stake hidden beneath the grass.
Someone had carved initials into it.
W.B.
Underneath were two numbers.
10/14.
Daniel stared at the date.
The same date written on the old letter.
He pushed the grass aside.
Beneath the stake was a narrow strip of red fabric.
Daniel pulled it free.
It was part of an old child's jacket.
He stood slowly.
The piece of cloth was faded, but one detail remained visible.
A stitched yellow star.
Daniel had seen that jacket before.
Not in a photograph.
In the house.
It was hanging in a hallway closet.
And suddenly he understood why Walter had asked him never to go upstairs.
The secret beneath the grass was connected to the secret inside the house.
Daniel looked toward the porch.
Walter was standing behind the window.
He was no longer watching the street.
He was watching Daniel.
Click Here to continue read next: PART3: The Name Hidden Inside Walter’s House Forced Daniel to Question Everything He Thought He Knew About the Quiet Man Next Door
The Mower Suddenly Stopped Beneath the Tall Grass, and the Old Man on the Porch Stood Up as Though He Had Seen a Ghost
Part 2 of 16
