I won’t be there today, Bea. I won’t even send this letter, because I know you and you’ll try to convince me otherwise, and I’ll be unable to resist you. Instead, I write this for me, to confirm that I’m doing what I know to be right. To remind myself that the tree protects the flower, but in doing so, is frozen for all time.
I won’t take you in my arms as I long to do with every breath. But you will be in my heart, every day for the rest of my life.
Yours always,
Wallace
I read the letter one more time, sadness racing through me as I noted the date at the top. How tragic! My grandfather loved another woman before he met my grandmother and he deserted her without ever telling her why? A woman named Bea? I folded the letter back up, wishing my grandfather were still alive to ask him about it. I pictured my grandfather—a stoic but kind man who’d always seemed to have sadness in his eyes. He’d told me our family had Cheyenne Indian in us, and I’d inherited his bone structure and dark hair. He died when I was so young, and I’d always attributed the sorrow in his eyes to my father’s state, never even considering that he’d experienced things beyond our own family as I supposed all children were apt to do. My grandmother had been a kind woman, but I’d always sensed more of a friendship between her and my grandfather than a great, romantic love. I looked at the letter. Well, now I’d never know who the woman named Bea was. He’d taken the memory to his grave.
I put the letter on top of the pile of loose papers and shuffled forward to the stairs. With the small reminder that sad things happened to people all the time and life went on, I headed to my room, took a quick shower, and got ready for work. If I was going to continue to hold on to hope, I had to operate as if something would work out. If I allowed my business to crumble then it was as good as admitting that Luella Townsend had already won.
When I walked into my studio an hour later, Jay was already there, a cup of coffee in hand. “Morning, sunshine.”
I smiled weakly as I began taking off my jacket.
“Still no call back?” he asked. I appreciated the sympathy in his voice, but it also embarrassed me. He obviously felt sorry for me.
“No,” I answered flatly. “I called again this morning and his secretary keeps telling me she’s given him the messages.” I sighed, hanging up my coat and tossing my purse onto the table.
Jay came around his desk and leaned his butt on the edge. “If the bastard won’t call you back, go to him and demand he talk to you.”
“I can’t. He’s in California.”
“They do make these things called airplanes now.”
I expelled a breathy laugh. “Fly to California? I . . . that seems kind of drastic.”
“A woman is trying to steal your place of business and leave you penniless. I’d say that calls for drastic action.”
I worried my lip. “Fly to California and confront him?”
He shrugged. “It seems like that’s the only option he’s leaving you with.”
My chest tightened. Calling had been one thing . . . The anger of him not returning my call had even spurred me forward and made it easier to keep calling. But to see Dane in person? My stomach squeezed uncomfortably and without a thought, I placed a hand on it. I simply didn’t know if I could muster the strength to go to Dane—to see him in person.
“What really happened between you two?” Jay asked. “I mean, you said you were young but . . .”
My eyes snapped to his and he left the thought hanging. What really happened between you two? “We just . . .” I shook my head. “I , we . . . I mean, we got married because I was pregnant,” I said hesitantly. “Our baby”—I cleared my throat—“didn’t . . . live. And after that we . . . just fell apart. Our marriage didn’t survive it.” I nearly didn’t survive it.
“Damn, Audra, I’m so sorry.”
I shook my head, grimacing. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago and I . . . I’m past it as much as you can, you know, move past something like that. I don’t think about it anymore.” About him. A jolt of guilt moved through me at my own words, feelin
g the wrongness of my statement, but it was true. I made sure it was true because it was how I survived.
Jay was watching me closely, a small frown mixed with the still-sympathetic look in his eyes. “It’s common that couples who lose a child don’t make it.”
I nodded and the movement felt jerky. “I know, yes. We, um, didn’t beat the odds. Not to mention we had other things working against us. Anyway.” I turned, began rifling through some papers on my desk, not wanting to talk about this anymore because talking about it forced me to think about it.
“Well, take today to consider going to see Dane, okay?” Jay asked gently.
I nodded. I didn’t even really have the money for airline fare. The McMaster deposit should arrive in a day or two, so I supposed I could use some of that for a plane ticket and hotel room for a couple of days.
But then I’d have to hope I had the money to purchase all the flowers and supplies for the wedding in two months.
However, if I didn’t do something, I wouldn’t have a business at all by that point.
I told Jay I was going to get a cup of coffee and left the studio to head to the kitchen. On the way, I stood at the railing staring at the first floor and foyer I’d admired—thinking it’s really mine—just the week before. Life could change in an instant, a heart-shattering moment. Who knew that better than I did?