His face became completely pale.
Then he turned the page.
It was not a bank record or legal agreement.
It was a handwritten letter.
Across the top, in neat handwriting, were the words:
“For George. If you’re reading this, then it’s finally time for you to know the truth.”
I looked at him.
His hands began trembling as he continued.
“George, I know this binder will probably make you angry before it makes sense. I only ask that you read every page before you decide what to think of me.”
“Eleven years ago, when Nancy became ill, I borrowed money because I truly had no other choice. Every dollar you lent us helped pay for her treatment.”
“I promised I’d pay you back. I meant it every single time I said those words.”
Behind the letter sat a copy of the first check George had ever written to his brother.
The amount matched the opening entry in the notebook inside our bedroom drawer.
Next to it was another column marked Investment Fund Deposit.
The amount was far smaller.
Only seventy-five dollars.
Then fifty.
Then one hundred twenty.
I frowned.
“What is this?”
George continued turning pages.
Beneath each loan were dozens of smaller deposits.
Sometimes twenty dollars.
Sometimes three hundred.
Occasionally months passed without a contribution.
But the deposits always resumed.
Every payment had gone into the same long-term investment account.
Nancy had written comments throughout the margins.
“Sold my old jewellery today. Another $180 into the fund.”
“Skipped our anniversary trip. George comes first.”
“Tax refund arrived. Straight into the investment.”
“Finally had a better month. We can add a little extra.”
By the eighth year, the deposits were arriving almost every month.
Tears stung my eyes.
“They never stopped,” I whispered.
George shook his head.
“No.”
He kept reading.
The account had been established eleven years earlier.
Every contribution appeared there.
Every dividend.
Every year of growth.
Attached near the front was a recent valuation.
One sentence at the bottom had been highlighted in yellow.
George frowned.
“That’s…”
I glanced at the wall calendar.
“Today.”
Pete had included one final note.
“George, yesterday I checked the final valuation. The investment has matured. It is finally worth more than everything I ever borrowed from you, including the interest I calculated myself. That’s why I told you my debt had already been paid in full.”
