Every Breath(53)

But the letter was calling to her, and lifting the seal, she pulled it out and began to read.

Dear Hope,

I’m not sure whether you want to read this, but in my confusion, I am grasping at straws. Along with this letter, you’ll find two drawings. Maybe you’ve already seen them. You might recognize the first one. I worked on the second one while you were at the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. I have a feeling that I’ll complete more drawings of you when I get home, but I’d like to keep those, if it’s all right with you. If not, please let me know. I can either send them to you, or dispose of them, and will not attempt another one. I hope that you believe that I am, and will always be, someone that you can trust.

I want you to know that while imagining a life without you is unbearable, I understand your reasons. I saw your radiant expression when you spoke of having children, and I will never forget it. I know how agonizing this choice has been for you. It’s been devastating for me, but I can’t find it in my heart to blame you. After all, I have a son, and I can’t imagine life without him.

After you leave, I suspect I’ll walk the beach as I have every day since I arrived, but nothing will be the same. For with every step I take, I’ll find myself thinking about you. I will feel you beside me, and within me. You have already become part of me, after all, and I know with certainty that this will never change.

I never expected to feel this way. How could I? For most of my life, and with the exception of my son, I’ve always felt as though I were meant to be alone. I’m not implying that I’ve lived the life of a hermit, because I haven’t, and you already know that my job requires a certain level of social agreeableness. But I was never a person who felt incomplete without someone lying beside me in bed; I never felt as though I was only half of something better. Until you came along. And when you did, I understood that I’d been fooling myself, and that I’d really been missing you, all these long years.

I don’t know what that means for my future. I do know that I’m not going to be the same person I used to be, because that’s no longer possible. I’m not naive enough to believe that memories will suffice, and in quiet moments, I may reach for drawing paper and try to capture whatever remains. I hope you will not deny me that.

I wish that things could have been different for us, but fate seems to have had other plans. Still, you need to know this: The love I feel for you is real, and all the sadness that now comes with it is a price I would pay a thousand times over. For knowing you, and loving you, even for a short while, has given my life a different kind of meaning, and I know it always will.

I’m not asking the same of you. I know what’s coming next for you, the new life that you’ll be living, and there’s no room for a third person there. I accept that. The Chinese philosopher Lao-tzu once said that being loved deeply by someone gives you strength, and loving someone deeply gives you courage. I understand now what he meant. Because you came into my life, I can face the oncoming years with the kind of courage that I never knew I had. Loving you has made me more than I was.

You know where I am and where I’ll be if you ever want to contact me. It might take time. I’ve already mentioned that the world moves more slowly in the bush. And some items never reach their destination. But I firmly believe that you and I shared something special enough that if you reach out to me, the universe will somehow let me know. It’s because of you, after all, that I now believe in miracles. With us, I want to believe that anything will always be possible.

Loving you,

Tru



Hope read the letter a second time, then once more, before finally returning it to the envelope. She pictured Tru writing the letter as he’d sat in her kitchen, and though she wanted to read it again, she doubted she would be able to make it to her parents’ if she did.

She stowed the drawings and the letter in the glove compartment but didn’t start the car right away. Instead, she leaned back against the headrest, trying to calm her raging emotions. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she forced herself to get on the road.

Her legs were unsteady as she walked to the door of her parents’ home. She forced a smile as she stepped through inside, watching as her dad struggled to rise from his recliner to greet her. The aroma from the kitchen filled the house, but Hope couldn’t muster an appetite.

At the table, she shared a few stories from the wedding. Asked about the rest of the week, she made no mention of Tru. Nor did she tell her parents that Josh had proposed.

After dessert, she retreated to the front porch, claiming a need for fresh air.

By then, the sky was full of stars, and when she heard the screen door creak open, she saw her dad framed in the lights from the living room. He smiled and touched her shoulder as he shuffled carefully to the seat next to hers. He carried a cup of decaffeinated coffee with him, and after he settled in, he took a sip.

“Your mom still makes the best beef stew I’ve ever tasted.”

“It was very good tonight,” Hope agreed.

“Are you feeling okay? You seemed a little quiet at dinner.”

She tucked a leg up beneath her. “Yeah. I guess I’m still recovering from the weekend.”

He placed the cup on the table between them. In the corner of the porch, a moth was dancing around the light, and crickets had begun their evening call.

“I heard that Josh showed up at the wedding.” When she turned toward him, he shrugged. “Your mom told me.”