Chapter Two

To everyone's dismay, there was indeed a rash of poison pen letters going around town. By the end of the afternoon, Kalin and Radley had a huge bin of them from irate and bewildered townspeople. And there was no common denominator in the letters at all. No two were exactly alike. White paper, pink paper, flowered stationery, cut-out letters, computer typed, even a few from typewriters . . . everything was fair game.

Radley finally sank back in his chair, overwhelmed after looking at countless numbers of letters. "You know, I always thought Crash Town was small. Suddenly it seems like the number of people never stops."

Kalin gave a weary nod. "I know the feeling." He tossed another letter on the pile. "I don't know what to make of this at all."

". . . This one is even in Spanish," Radley said in disbelief as he pulled one out by a corner.

"What does it say?" Kalin asked in surprise.

Radley grimaced. "Well, it looks like somebody just used an online translator. This isn't really how it would be said in Spanish at all."

"Can you tell what they were trying to say?" Kalin asked.

"It looks like they're complaining that I didn't make them feel welcome in town, even though they're a fellow Hispanic," Radley scowled. "I've tried to help everyone feel welcome in town, Hispanic or not. And no self-respecting Hispanic would ever write such atrocious Spanish." He waved the letter back and forth. "Obviously it wasn't really written by anyone who knows the language."

Kalin scowled too. It infuriated him for Radley to be targeted by this lunatic, even though there was no real reason to think he and Radley would be exempt.

Radley looked like he was thinking the same thing. "I wonder what kinda garbage they're spreading about you," he said.

"I'm afraid to know," Kalin answered with dry sarcasm. "Whatever it is, it couldn't be as bad as what I did in real-life."

Radley regarded him with sympathy.

They had to go through the entire pile before they found the letter about Kalin. Radley caught sight of it first and looked it over. Immediately he went stiff.

"What's that one?" Kalin frowned.

"Just more nonsense, like all the rest," Radley replied. He folded it and tried to stick it near the bottom of the stack.

Kalin took it from him and opened it. "This one's about me, isn't it?"

Radley sighed. "Kalin, please don't read that," he begged.

Kalin's eyes traveled over the page. He paled.

Radley -

You should know that Kalin doesn't deserve your friendship and love. He never wanted you around; he hoped you would die in the mines. He left you there on purpose.

- A friend

Kalin trembled as he set the paper aside. "It's not true," he said. "I didn't deliberately leave you in the mines wanting you to die!"

"Of course you didn't," Radley soothed. "Whoever wrote that was heartless. The whole town knows how devastated and heartbroken you were about what happened."

"So any of them could have sent it," Kalin said darkly.

"That's true," Radley admitted. "But you know, a lot of these letters are stupid small-town stuff that's just silly, like somebody double-parking so someone else can't get their favorite parking spot at the store. For someone to write something blasting you in such a cruel way about something that's haunted you anyway, I have to wonder if that's the real purpose behind all this."

"Then why not just send that?" Kalin frowned. "Why send all the others too?"

Radley pondered. "I wonder if the letters were sent by different people," he mused. "The dumb ones could have been sent by someone wanting to hide the cruel letter. Maybe they thought if there was a rash of them, this one would get lost in the shuffle or not be seen at all." He shook his head. "I don't know. That sounds silly too, but it's hard to say what this person's mindset might be."

"And who would have sent it?" Kalin wondered. He slumped back. "Most of the town seems to respect and like me, unless it's all an act from at least one of them."

"Maybe it is," Radley said. "But that wouldn't cancel out all the genuine love from everyone else."

"The problem is, there's no way of knowing which one hates me, so how can I trust any of them?" Kalin berated.

"You know, the most likely thing is that somebody still loyal to Malcolm sent it," Radley said.

"Yeah. Only they always say it's the one you least suspect," Kalin said. "That would mean it's someone I trust."

"That's just something they say, especially if they wanna write a good fiction story," Radley said. "In real-life, honestly, it often is the usual suspects."

"So what are we going to do, go question all of Malcolm's supporters about this?" Kalin grunted.

"Yeah," Radley said. "We'll just start out asking them about this one specific letter, not whether they're sending all of them. But who knows, maybe they are. Maybe they just wanna give us a big headache."

"Are Malcolm's supporters really as juvenile as some of his men?" Kalin asked.

"Some of them probably are," Radley said dryly.

xxxx

Radley was unfortunately right. It was a long and frustrating day questioning those in town who had sided with Malcolm. They were largely unsympathetic to the problem, and some even looked gleeful when presented with the cruel letter. But they all denied actually writing it.

"You two can't look too far from home," one woman cautioned. "The one who actually wrote this must be someone you think is on your side. Maybe they're still bitter about how Radley suffered because of your selfishness."

Kalin flinched.

Radley glowered at her. "Don't you know anything about mental illness? When the story got out everywhere, we made sure to emphasize that Kalin wasn't in his right mind! I didn't understand at the time, but once I did, that changed everything! You can't act like he was just being selfish when he was struggling with depression! And for you to say this, well, I still havta wonder if you're the one who wrote the letter."

"I wouldn't waste my time bothering with that," she replied. "Anyway, the letter accuses Kalin of deliberately leaving you to die. I don't believe that. I just think he was too caught up in himself to consider other people's feelings or what could happen to them."

"And I can't deny that," Kalin said quietly. "Yes, that was exactly the problem. I may have been caught up in myself because of depression, but that didn't make it any less true that it was the case."

"Maybe not," Radley sighed, "but it sure makes it different than if you weren't struggling with depression." He drew an arm around Kalin's shoulders and steered him to the door. "Let's get out of here."

Kalin went willingly. ". . . Do you think she's right, about it being someone we think we know and can trust?" he wondered as they stepped outside.

"I hope she's wrong," Radley replied. "But . . . yeah, it's possible," he conceded in resignation.

"The Bunch has been questioning everyone else." Kalin took out his phone to look. "None of them have checked in to say that anything sounded suspicious."

"So if it is any of them, they're good at lying," Radley said.

"All the letters are postmarked from here, right?" Kalin said. "Nothing was sent from out of town?"

"I don't remember seeing any other postmarks," Radley said.

"And we haven't had any visitors in the last few days." Kalin sighed. "So it's definitely someone in town."

"It sure looks like it." Radley's eyes filled with annoyance and anger. "Whoever it is, they'll never have my respect any more when we figure out who they are."

Kalin had to smile.

"Kalin . . . are you going to be okay?" Radley asked in concern.

"Yes," Kalin said, a little too quickly. "Especially when we catch whoever's behind this."

"I'm so sorry about it anyway," Radley lamented. "I can't understand it. I'm outraged that anyone would try to hurt you like this! If they think they're being a 'friend,' they're not."

"It hurts," Kalin admitted. "But knowing you don't believe it makes it bearable."

"Of course." Radley froze at the sudden sound of an aircraft overhead. "What the . . . ?!"

Kalin looked up too. "That sounds awfully close. We're not expecting anything, are we?" During the war with Malcolm, the dyne had mostly been removed by aircraft. Even after his grasp on the town had lifted, sometimes that was still the most convenient way to ship it out. But such appointments were always scheduled. Airplanes did not suddenly land in Satisfaction Town on whims. There was so little to see.

"No, we're not." Radley looked towards the South. "It's landing just outside town. Come on, we'd better check it out." He grabbed his helmet and climbed on his motorcycle.

Kalin followed, praying it wasn't more trouble. That was the last thing they needed right now.

xxxx

Marisol was tense as the family aircraft approached the small town. On the flight she had been so determined, so filled with righteous anger and indignation, over what her mother had done and caused all of the family to do. Going to Radley with this new understanding and pleading forgiveness had seemed the only decent possibility. But now that it was upon her, she was starting to second-guess herself.

What was she thinking, packing up and going to her firstborn son after how she had hurt him? Radley had always had a sweetly forgiving nature, but eventually enough was enough for anyone. Maybe that was why he had never tried to contact them again.

No, it was more likely that he had just believed all the cruel things he had been told and had stayed away because he had thought that was what he was supposed to do. That was what Emilio had insisted. He was only six, though. How much could he really know of such an adult situation and feelings?

They landed just outside the South entrance. Marisol stared out the window. "It really is small. . . ."

"Radley loves it," Emilio said. "He's always thinking about the people and what he can do to make life better for them." He hurried to the door. "Maybe he saw us coming!"

"Emilio, wait!" Marisol exclaimed. She gathered her purse and took off after him.

By the time they got out and were looking around for transportation, a motorcycle with a rough-looking guy had driven up. He glowered at Marisol with suspicion, but the sight of Emilio made him soften in confusion.

"What are you doing here, kid?" he asked.

"We came to see Radley, Virgil," Emilio said. "This is my mother."

The guy stiffened. "Your . . . ?!" Again he looked to Marisol, this time with anger and rage. "You've got a lot of nerve, showing up here," he spat.

"I know," Marisol said sorrowfully. "But . . . there were things I never knew until today. Radley deserves to know I never knew. And . . . I have to see him, to hold him! He's alright, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's alright, lady," Virgil grunted. "But I don't know how long he'll be alright when he sees you."

"Please, take us to him," Marisol implored. "I promise I am not here to make trouble."

"Oh, I don't have to take you anywhere," Virgil said. "He's already coming." He nodded towards the sound of oncoming motorcycles.

Emilio perked up, his eyes sparkling. Marisol tensed, not certain she was prepared for this meeting after so long. She had seen a few pictures in the paper, but that wasn't like seeing him in person. It had been close to eight years since she had seen Radley in the flesh, and on that last meeting she had recoiled in horror at his long hair and the jewelry and the leather clothes. She had just stood by when her mother had literally shoved him out the door and off the porch. He certainly could have fought back, but he had just taken it, too shocked and too shattered to do anything else. She still remembered that look in his eyes of realization and betrayal as he had knelt sprawled on the walkway and looked up at the family that was turning him away.

A shaking hand flew to her mouth. The only thing that had stopped her from running to him and holding him and telling him it was alright was the complete belief that he would clean up his act and return to them. He had always fallen in line before. But he had never come back. And if it hadn't been for the love of his friends, including the one who had written that impassioned plea, he might very well not even be alive to see her now.

The motorcycles swerved to a stop in front of them. They had shown up side by side, and it was the rider on the right who was removing his helmet first.

She stared at him. "Radley . . ."

He was older now. The lines on his face were tired; he had been through so much since she had seen him last. His nose was no longer pierced, but he still wore an earring and a pendant. His hair, shorter than before but still long, blew about in the cold December breeze. He focused on the scene, first on Emilio and then on her. Utter shock went through his eyes.

Before he could react, Emilio was running for him, arms outstretched. "Radley! Radley!" He beamed with pure joy and Radley smiled too, catching the child in his arms and holding him close. Emilio snuggled against him, his long hair under Emilio's arms and against his hands.

That was how Marisol should have held him back then. . . .

"It's so good to see you," Radley told Emilio. "I didn't think I would again for a long time."

"We wanted to come see you!" Emilio said happily.

Radley looked to Marisol over his brother's shoulder. "Why are you here, Mom?" he asked warily. "If it's about the letters . . ."

"It's not about the letters, Radley," Marisol said softly. "I . . . I don't know how to say this. . . . Today I saw the newspaper saying it was retracting a story about you dying. I never saw the original story. Your grandmother has been hoarding every mention of you in the news for years!" She shook her head. "I never knew about any of what you've been up to until today."

Radley stared at her, at a loss for words.

Kalin wasn't.

"That doesn't excuse how you treated him," he snapped. "You went along with everything your parents did to him. You almost got him killed making him drink your wine when he's allergic. Then you disowned him because he grew his hair out and put on an earring!" The disgust and revulsion saturated his voice.

"I know!" Marisol exclaimed. "And I know I have no right to be here. I was so angry when I learned what my mother had been doing that I just had to get away. I brought Emilio here, but I didn't really have a plan for what to do after that. I wanted Radley to know the truth. . . ."

Finally Radley spoke. "Didn't you even try to find out about me on your own?" he asked.

"Yes! But I couldn't find you," Marisol said. "You'd dropped out of existence."

Radley sighed. ". . . I wasn't using my last name for years," he admitted. "I only started again recently. I didn't want any connection with a family that hated me so much. I didn't want it to look like I was trying to profit off my name. And . . . I wanted people to like me for myself and not because I was connected with the Ramon family and had money."

"Radley . . ." Marisol stepped closer to him. "I know it felt like it and that is unforgivable, but I never hated you. You're my son! I love you no matter how you dress or how you wear your hair!"

Radley drew a shaking breath. "I wish you would have made me feel like it," he said.

"I wish I had too," Marisol said softly.

Radley looked to his friends. "Hey, Kalin, Virgil . . . how about you take Emilio to the diner and get him whatever kind of ice cream he wants? I'll be along in a few minutes."

Emilio's eyes lit up. "Yeah!"

Kalin frowned. "Are you sure?" He knew Radley needed to have a private conversation with his mother, and yet he hated to leave his friend alone with someone who had wounded him so deeply.

"Yeah," Radley smiled, and Kalin understood. Radley didn't want Emilio here and he didn't want to let on just how bad the fireworks might get.

". . . Okay," Virgil said with great reluctance. "Come on. You can ride with one of us."

"Really?!" Emilio exclaimed.

Marisol started, looking to Radley in concern.

"It's really safe," Radley soothed. "My friends are expert motorcyclists." He sighed. "But I understand if you're not comfortable with that."

"It's just . . . he's so small," Marisol said.

". . . We'll walk into town," Kalin said. "Maybe later I can attach the sidecar and he can ride in that."

"Is that okay, Emilio?" Radley asked.

"Well . . . I'd like to ride on the motorcycle," Emilio said slowly, "but the sidecar is okay too."

"Good," Radley smiled.

He waited to speak again until Kalin and Virgil had Emilio out of earshot. Then he turned back to Marisol.

"I don't know how to fully put into words how much you've hurt me, Mom," he said. "I know Grandmother was really in charge, but you still hurt me too. I thought you'd protest when she pushed me down the stairs, but . . . you just stood there." He blinked back forming tears. "And then you replaced me. I know Emilio is innocent and I love him with all my heart, but that doesn't change how much it devastated me when I realized you'd decided to have another kid after I wasn't around anymore. You knew how bad I always wanted a sibling. You always said No. But when I wasn't the heir anymore, you decided to get another one!"

"That was not why I got pregnant again, my darling!" Marisol protested. "I . . . I couldn't stand that you weren't around anymore. I couldn't find you and your grandmother would not take back what she'd done. I wanted another child because I missed you so desperately . . . because I . . . I knew we'd been horrible parents and I wanted to try again. I wanted to make up for my mistakes. It was your grandmother's idea to name your brother Emilio. I hated that idea!"

"Having my brother and treating him better doesn't fix what you did to me," Radley said.

"Of course it doesn't," Marisol agreed. "And it didn't take me long to realize I still had that hole in my heart. I suppose I will always have it." She was openly crying now. "I know I can't ask for your forgiveness in good conscience, and yet . . . I don't know how I will stand it if I can never have it. I found out today that I almost lost you forever more than once and I never knew it! If you had actually died, I never would have known. My mother wouldn't have told me!"

Radley looked away, shutting his eyes tightly. "That's awful," he agreed. "She was hurting you as well as me."

"But?" Marisol prompted.

"But . . . I don't know why, but . . . it was so much easier to forgive Kalin and the Bunch for hurting me," Radley whispered. "Maybe because I knew they really didn't mean it. It's . . . harder to know that about you. But . . . I want to forgive, even if I can't quite trust yet. All I wanted was for you to be on my side, to hold me, to comfort me, to actually act like a mother! It took living apart from you to realize that my family life was messed-up, to say the least! I thought being treated like I was, was normal. Now I know it's not."

"No, it wasn't," Marisol agreed. "You had the worst possible childhood because of all of us. I don't know what we were thinking! I know I didn't know anything about raising children, but no first parent does and most of them don't do this poorly!"

Radley sighed. "I guess . . . you didn't really even do much yourself. You just stood back and let Grandmother do it all."

Marisol looked down. "Yes. . . . She always insisted. She said I wasn't a good mother and I didn't know how to do it, so she would take over. She was right that I wasn't good at it."

"You weren't good at it because you just bowed to everything she wanted," Radley said. "It looks like you finally got assertive about Emilio, aside from his name, and you haven't been letting her tell you how to raise him. You and Dad have been going to the other extreme by spoiling him, but at least you're in control now."

"But you are right that it can't take away all that we did to you and didn't do for you," Marisol said sorrowfully. "I'm so glad that you have turned out so well in spite of how we hurt you. So many people just continue the chain of abuse when they grow up and have children."

". . . I guess you could say I learned how not to raise kids from you," Radley remarked. He sighed. "I've tried to do well by the Bunch."

"And they love you for it," Marisol said. "I saw it in those boys' eyes. You are their world. I wished that I could be that for you, but I know I never have been and likely never will be. I don't deserve it. But . . ." She approached him slowly, cautiously, holding out her arms. ". . . Will you at least let me hold you now?"

Radley finally nodded. ". . . Yeah," he said softly.

Marisol gathered her son close in her arms. He was alive. He was breathing. He felt warm and strong; he had grown up well. His hair was smooth and well-groomed. He wasn't a ruffian, as her mother had insisted so often that he was. "My son," she choked out. "My poor, dear son. . . ."

Radley sobbed, clutching her close as a tremor went up his back. It was what he had wanted for so long. And he was generally a good judge of character. In spite of all the hurt and the pain, he could tell that his mother was absolutely sincere. She loved him. She wanted him back. And she was furious and felt betrayed at what the family matriarch had done to both of them.

"I forgive you," he whispered. "I really do forgive you. . . ."

And she breathed prayers of thanks as she held him to her heart.