"Hardly anything," I said. "Geraldine never
talked about him and there isn't even a picture of
him--that I know of, that is. I know where he is
buried and I know he was killed in an automobile
accident and he was supposedly drunk. That's what
she means by a family tragedy."
I paused and shook my head.
"I don't even know what he looked like." "Wow. Well, we've got to search high and low
tomorrow for pictures, okay?" Misty said.
"What? Oh, yes."
"Maybe there were some in one of the cartons
up in the crawl space," she suggested.
"Yes, there were old pictures in a cigar box." "I'll go back up and get everything down. We'll
have a good time exploring," Misty said. She thought
a moment. "That was strange, that part about
Geraldine. Your mother made it sound as if Geraldine
was in love with Alden too, but Alden was her uncle.
Surely, she didn't expect to marry her uncle. I guess
she was just terribly disappointed in him for having an
affair with her mother. Men can let you down in so
many ways," she concluded.
I nodded, folded the letter carefully, and put it
back with the others.
"You're not going to read another one?" "I'm tired," I said.
"Me too. It's been a great day though, lots of
fun, right?"
"Yes," I said.
I reached over to turn off the light.
"You know, you closed your bedroom door even though we're the only ones in the house," she
said.