All the Little Lights(130)

You know I’d never just leave you alone like that. You’ll be mad at first, but you’ll believe me, because you know me. You’ll forgive me, and I’ll get back to Oak Creek, and we’ll go to prom, and you’ll watch me suck at football, and we’ll get our shoes wet in the creek, and swing in the park, and eat sandwiches on your porch swing. Because you’re going to forgive me. I know you, and I know everything will be okay. That’s what I’m going to tell myself until I see you again.

“Okay,” Elliott said, cringing. “It’s all coming back to me now. They’re not as romantic as I thought.”

“No!” I said. “I love them. This is . . . this is amazing, Elliott. I mean, it’s heart-wrenching to read how worried you were, but you were right. About everything.”

He squinted one eye and smiled, embarrassed. “I kind of was.” He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my fingers.

“Want me to keep reading?” I asked.

“You don’t have to read them out loud. At least not until you get past the one where I got caught trying to drive to Oak Creek. They’re a little less desperate and repetitive after that. I think I can stomach hearing those ones.”

I thumbed through the stack, looking up at him with big eyes. “There are at least a hundred letters here.”

“And that’s just the first box. I can’t believe Mom didn’t send them, but I’m even more surprised she kept them all.”

“I’m surprised she gave them to you. That was a risk, doing it right before we left. You could have left mad.”

“It was a gesture, I think. A way of apologizing for everything.”

“Would you think I was ignoring you if I read them all?”

He chuckled. “Go for it. They’re all there, and it’s a long trip.”

My shoulders shot up to my ears, and I bobbed my knees. I was giddy thinking about getting to read Elliott’s thoughts while he was away.

“You look way too happy to read the torture I went through,” he teased.

I thought about that, remembering how much I missed him and how angry I was not knowing where he’d gone. The long nights with Mama, and the longer days at school. Elliott’s time away was no better. I wasn’t sure if it was right or wrong that I found comfort in knowing I wasn’t alone in my suffering.

“Only because I know how it ends,” I said.

Elliott smiled, looking more content than I’d ever seen him. “This isn’t the end. Not even close.”

The Chrysler turned onto the highway, and we drove south toward the Oklahoma-Texas state line. A new dorm, a new roommate, and a new life was waiting for me at Baylor. The quad where the athletes stayed wasn’t far away from Brooks Residential, where I would be living. The insurance money from the Juniper would pay for all four years of college, and Elliott had a full scholarship. The worst was behind us.

I set the shoebox to the side between me and the passenger door and then reached back for my music box, setting it on my lap. I turned the crank, watching the ballerina spin slowly to the familiar tune that had always helped me relax. I settled in to read over Elliott’s words.

“You okay?” Elliott asked, squeezing my hand.

I smiled at him, feeling the sunshine filtering through the window.

“I’m just excited. And maybe a little tired.”

“You don’t have to read the letters now. Rest. We have plenty of time.”

I leaned against the headrest, my eyes feeling heavy. “Promise?”

He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles, and then nodded. He returned his attention to the road and, to the tune of my music box, hummed me to sleep.