If you're reading this, chances are you've found the key inside my last remaining journal and I do hope that whoever you may be you will do what is right, you will do what I should have done fifteen months ago, but of course, it is entirely up to you what you do with the knowledge you have found.

I will try to recapture the story from beginning to end as it was in my jounals before they were burned, but in a shorter version perhaps.

My name is Margot Elise Wallace-Bradshaw, born to Wesley & Elizabeth Wallace. My story begins in the fall of 1938, I was eighteen years old and had never been kissed as they say. My father was having his annual fall dance and alas allowed me to join the festivities, each year prior he'd explained that I was still his little girl and should instead stay home. But not this year! It was at the dance that I met the handsome and older man that I married, William Bradshaw. He came from a family of "old money", as my father liked to call it, and had moved to town hoping to begin a company of his own. William was twenty-seven when we met and very charming indeed, especially to an eighteen year old girl. I fell madly in love, or so I thought, and we were wed the following May after I'd turned nineteen.

For two years we discussed starting a family, it was he who insisted we wait, but it was inevitable that I become pregnant. In June of 1941 I gave birth to our first daughter, Elizabeth June Bradshaw. She was the joy of my life and each day that I held her I counted my blessings. However, William felt betrayed apparently, because it was shortly after her birth that he struck me for the first time. He was a raving drunk and had taken to the bottle more after her birth.

I felt that I was married and there was no way out, it was my upbringing and my belief that marriage is to last forever, thus I continued to stay with him. I became pregnant again, sometimes I am surprised that the baby lived and nurtured inside me when William would make me go days without food and would strike me for any reason he found fit. I barely scraped enough money together to feed Elizabeth without his knowledge and lived like this until our son was born in August 1942. It was as if having a son changed things for William, a son could carry on the Bradshaw name and so the little one became known to the world as William Bradshaw the second.

Shortly after our son was born William was jailed for being drunk in public, it was in daddy's newspaper even. This, however, was not spoke of in our house. William said he was celebrating the birth of his son and had a little too much drink. He swore things would change and told me over and over how sorry he was for the events of the previous year. I, of course, believed him and stayed although I had already realized that I no longer loved William, if I ever had at all.

In October 1944 we had our third child, Mary Ann Bradshaw. Just prior to her birth I met a young reporter at my father's newspaper, James Adam White. James and I would sit for hours over coffee at my fathers office and just talk. It was innocent for I was honest and told him from the beginning that I was a married woman... I can't say that it stayed platonic however. Two months after Mary Ann was born, it was December 12th, I can remember so clearly, William went out of town to aid his father with the family business and left me home with the three children. It was this weekend that I realized that I had indeed never known love with William, it had never been the kind of love marriages should be made of. It was not true and pure, it was not of the unconditional sort. It was cold and tainted! The entire town knew of William's adultry, he'd never tried to hide it since it began only months after our wedding.

During that weekend while William was away I'd visited my best friend, Cathleen Gibson, and told her of my feelings for James. I cried upon her shoulder a good long time telling her of the beatings which had resumed just after the birth of Mary Ann. I told her everything and asked her to please watch over my children for just the night explaining that I needed just one night to myself, I had decisions to make regarding my marriage. They were decisions I realize now that I was not meant to make, they were made for me by life.

I spent that night in James Adam's arms. He made a gentle love to me that I'd never felt before and as he began to confess his love for me I stopped his words with a kiss. If only I could take back that kiss and hear those words that once for I'd never had the chance to hear his words again. He was gone when I woke the next morning, but I was sure I'd see him again. I thought that he was my salvation, that I'd leave William and forever be in his arms, but it was not meant to be.

William returned home the following night in a rage. His father had wanted him there to watch over the sale as he sold the business out of the family, the company his father had built from his own sweat, the company William had worked at since the age of sixteen, the company that was supposed to be his one day - his dad had sold it. That night I recieved a beating worse than any other and dared not to leave the house for days. I learned from my father that, for reasons unknown to him, his best reporter, James, had left town. All he'd told father was that his heart could take no more. In my heart I feared that it was because he thought I loved William and would not leave him. I could not know for sure at that time, but later...

September 10th 1946 I gave birth to a son, Adam James Bradshaw. This child however did not belong to William. I could look at our youngest child and see his fathers eyes, but to William it was just another mouth to feed. William could not know the truth.

As time aged us William began to calm down and appeared to have learned patience with the children as well as myself. The beatings and the drinking both came to an end and we were as close to happy as we had been since our wedding. William had stopped sleeping around and began taking his family seriously. Better late than never I used to say. Our oldest daughter was ten before she sat on her fathers knee for the first time, by '49 things were wonderful in our home, except that there was no love between him and I. The sex was automatic, it was habit, and although he hadn't struck me in some time I always held on to the fear and the pain so I dared not say no for any reason when he wanted something.

In 1951 he bought my father's newspaper and father retired, but in 1958 he sold the paper for twice what he paid for it. We were kept very comfortable by Williams business endeavors.

In 1960 both of my parents passed away and surprisingly William was there to support me and the children. He held me awkwardly during the services and even hugged my siblings for the first time since our wedding. Although our vows still existed, in my heart all I had left were my children.

In 1962 just prior to our oldest daughers 23rd birthday she was married to a lovely young man who's family lived in Missouri. This began a chain of events that ended with our Elizabeth's death in a car wreck. William, who had just begun growing close to his children in the previous ten years or so, felt his heart break for the first time ever and paid to have his eldest daughters body brought back to Michgan for buriel. I think it was watching him in such pain that I realized I cared for my husband again. It began when he first sat beautiful Elizabeth on his lap for the first time when she was ten, that is when I began seeing the real changes in my husband and felt hope. Now it was I who held William as we both cry over our loss.

In 1966 our third born, Mary Ann, ran off with her high school sweetheart to Canada so that he would not go to war during the draft. We were not to hear from her for a very long time and our souls were once again wracked with pain, somehow we clung to each other and young Adam. I was beginning to feel as if we finally had the chance to work on our love and I was not in this marriage alone.

In 1968 we recieved news from United States Army that our son, William II, was killed in Vietnam. Though this tore us both apart inside and left my dear Adam distraught over the loss of another sibling, it also brought William and I even closer together.

Adam, our only child left at home, had decided to stay living at home while he worked with William. He'd never found a woman to love. Adam dreamed of becoming a journalist and although our small town was no longer home to the local newspaper for the newest owners moved it to the next town to the west, Adam was able to find work at the paper.

On December 17th, 1971 Adam came home from the newspaper in time for dinner. It was obvious to me that he had something on his mind but he said little and ate even less during dinner. I took for granted that it was William he would not speak in front of and so I waited until later that evening when William sat in the library reading and went up to the attic. Adam was so often in the attic since he'd set it up as a small office to do his work in. When I'd asked what was wrong Adam simply handed me an envelope and explained that a new writer at the paper had asked him to bring this to me.

I was in shock when I opened the envelope and found that it held a letter from James! James Adam had moved back to the area and worked once again for the newspaper. According to the letter he'd kept tabs on myself and Adam through a friend he'd had here, he'd known that Adam was his son and he'd stayed away because he could not come between a husband and wife. The letter was not very long, but it was near comforting to know he'd watched his son grow up in a way, but at the same time hurtful.

When I looked into Adam's eyes again it was obvious he'd already read the letter and knew everything. His eyes shown of betrayal and confusion and pain. How could I have let my son live my lie? Even today I ask myself what could I have done to make things different? Could I have changed the events that were to follow had I been honest and followed my heart all those years ago?

We sat and talked about what had happened and what our lives were like back then, I was brutally honest about William and the beatings, the starving and the fear. I answered every question I could and asked questions of my own during the hours we sat together that night as mother and son. We knew not that William stood at the bottom of the attic stairs during most of the conversation and heard enough to know the truth, to know he'd been decieved; to know Adam was not a Bradshaw!

William beat me as Adam tried to stop him but William took hold of him next. I was beaten so badly I could no more than lie there and watch my husband beating my son and then my world faded to black. When I woke again I was in our bed, my body feeling broken and battered gave me a quick memory of the events prior to my fainting spell. William sat next to the bed in the rocking chair sobbing. I'd tried to ask him what happened but it hurt to speak and the dry copper taste of blood still lingured on my lips.

Three days passed and I had seen nothing outside of our bedroom and bathroom, I seen no one buy William. Finally, he took it upon himself to share the details of that horrible night with me and he spoke through his tears and held my hand as if that was penitence enough for what he'd done.

He'd been on his way up to the attic to tell me the wonderful news that Mary Ann had finally called after all this time and he knew where she was living in Canada when he heard us talking about James. He went crazy with rage and lost control of his emotions and went about beating us both for our betrayal. He'd beaten Adam to death and buried his body in the back yard under my flower garden! He'd killed my precious son! And he knew how to keep my silence!

He was the only one who knew where Mary Ann now lived with her hippy and their children... He swore if I told a soul that he would then go after them as well as James Adam! What could I do? I'd already lost three of my four children, my parents and my heart! I had to insure my last surviving daughters life and that of my grandchildren, though I knew I'd never get the chance to see them I also knew they must live! I feared for the lives of the only man I'd ever truly loved and for the lifeless existance I have on this earth.

Life is precious, though mine became nothing but a shrine to death as I lost everyone in my life that I loved except Mary Ann still lived. Maybe one day, if this letter is found and turned over to authorities in time, I will be able to find our Williams secret and find my last daughter. She holds the last bit of my broken heart!

Within a week our house was sold and William told anyone who'd listen that Adam had gone ahead to Battlecreek where the Bradshaw family lived to look for work. He told them we'd be moving there as well and we are moving, but not to Battlecreek I'm sure. William has made me give him all my journals and has burned them all, but I owe it to Adam and his story must be heard! There will be no closure for his soul until this affair is revealed, I just know, I feel, I see...

Where we're headed from here I do not know, William feels it is safer if I do not. Perhaps he plans to kill me as well or perhaps he plans to let me die a long, drawn out death from a broken heart.

Margot Elise Wallace-Bradshaw