A LOVE LETTER

At ten minutes to three, Tru left the house and proceeded down the walkway toward the beach, noting that the temperature had cooled markedly since the morning. The sky was gray and a steady breeze was churning up the ocean. Foam blew down the beach, rolling like tumbleweeds in the westerns he’d sometimes watched on television as a child.

He heard Hope before he saw her. She was shouting at Scottie not to pull so hard. As she descended to the beach, he noticed that she’d donned a light jacket, and her auburn hair not only was shorter, but seemed to glint in places. He watched as Scottie dragged her toward him.

“Hey there, ” she said when close. “How was your day? ”

“Quiet, ” Tru answered, thinking her normally turquoise eyes now reflected the gray of the sky, lending them an almost ethereal quality. “I went fishing earlier. ”

“I know. I saw you going that way this morning. Any luck? ”

“A bit, ” he said. “How about you? Did you accomplish all you’d hoped? ”

“I did, but I feel like I’ve been rushing around ever since I woke up. ”

“Your hair is lovely, by the way. ”

“Thank you. She cut more than I thought she would, but I’m glad you still recognize me. ” She zipped her jacket before bending over to release Scottie from the leash. “Do you think you’ll need a coat? It’s kind of chilly out here, and we’ll be walking for a while. ”

“I’ll be all right. ”

“It must be all that Zimbabwean blood coursing through your veins. ”

As soon as Scottie was free, he took off running, sand flying from his feet. The two of them began to follow.

“I know you probably think he’s out of control, ” she said, “but I’ve taken him to obedience classes. He’s too stubborn to learn. ”

“I’ll take your word for it. ”

“You don’t believe me? ”

“Why wouldn’t I? ”

“I’m not sure. I’m thinking that maybe you figure I’m just a pushover when it comes to my dog. ”

“I’m not sure there’s a safe way for me to respond to that comment. ”

She laughed. “Probably not. Did you get the chance to speak with Andrew? ”

“I did. But I’m fairly certain that I miss him more than he misses me. ”

“I think that’s typical for kids, isn’t it? Whenever I went off to camp, I was having too much fun to even have time to think about my parents. ”

“Good to know, ” he said. He glanced over at her. “Did you ever think about having children? ”

“All the time, ” she admitted. “I can’t imagine not having children. ”

“Yeah? ”

“I guess I’m just into the whole marriage and family thing. I mean, I enjoy my job, but that’s not what life is about for me. I can remember when my sister had her first baby, and she let me hold her, and I just…melted. Like I knew my purpose in life. But then again, I’ve always felt that way. ” Her eyes glowed. “When I was a little girl, I used to walk around with a sofa cushion stuffed under my shirt, pretending I was pregnant. ” She laughed at the memory. “I’ve always pictured myself as a mother…somehow, the idea of growing a person within you, bringing it into the world and loving it with a kind of primal intensity feels…profound to me. I don’t get to church that often anymore, but my feelings about this are as close to spiritual as I get, I suppose. ”

He watched as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, as though trying to push away a painful truth, her vulnerability making him long to put his arms around her.

“But then, things don’t always work out the way that we imagine they will, do they? ” The question was rhetorical, so he didn’t answer. After a few steps, Hope went on. “I know that life isn’t fair, and I’ve heard that old saying about how man plans and God laughs, but I never expected to be single at my age. It’s like my life is on hold somehow. It seemed like everything was on track. I’d met this wonderful man, we were making plans, and then…nothing. We’re exactly where we were six years ago. We don’t live together, we’re not married or even engaged. We’re just dating. ” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. You probably have no interest in hearing about any of this. ”

“That’s not true. ”

“Why would you care? ”

Because I care about you, he thought. Instead, he said: “Because sometimes, all a person needs is for someone else to listen. ”

She seemed to contemplate that as they walked through the sand. Scottie was far ahead, already past the pier, chasing one flock of birds after another, as energetic as always.

“I probably shouldn’t have said anything, ” she remarked with a defeated shrug. “I’m just disappointed in Josh right now and it makes me wonder what the future holds for us. Or even if there’s going to be a future. But that’s just my anger talking. If you’d asked me when things were good between us, I’d have gone on and on about how wonderful he is. ”

When she trailed off, Tru glanced over at her. “Do you know if he wants to be married? Or have kids? ”

“That’s the thing…he says he does. Or he used to, anyway. We haven’t talked about it much recently, and when I finally tried to bring it up again, the discussion went south real fast. That’s why he’s not here. Because we ended up in this huge argument, and now instead of coming to the wedding with me, he’s in Las Vegas with his buddies. ”

Tru winced. Even in Zimbabwe, people knew about Las Vegas. Meanwhile, Hope continued. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s me. I probably could have handled it better, and I know I’m making him sound completely selfish. But he isn’t. It’s just, sometimes, I think he hasn’t finished growing up yet. ”

“How old is he? ”

“Almost forty. How old are you, by the way? ”

“Forty-two. ”

“When did you finally feel like an adult? ”

“When I was eighteen and left the farm. ”

“That doesn’t come as a shock. With all you went through, you had no choice but to grow up. ”

By then they’d reached the pier, and Tru noticed that many of the pilings were no longer submerged. Low tide, just as she’d told him.

“What do you intend to do? ” he asked.

“I don’t know, ” she said. “Right now, I’m guessing that in the end, we’ll get back together and try to pick up from where we left off. ”

“Is that what you want? ”

“I love him, ” she conceded. “And he loves me. I know he’s being a bit of a jerk right now, but most of the time, he’s…really great. ”

Though he’d expected the words, there was part of him that wished she hadn’t said them. “Of that, I have no doubt. ”

“Why would you say that? ”

“Because, ” he responded, “you’ve chosen to stay with him for six years. And from what I know about you, you would never have done so unless he had numerous admirable traits. ”

She stopped to pick up a colorful seashell, but it turned out to be broken. “I like the way you phrase things. You often sound very British. I’ve never heard anyone described as having ‘numerous admirable traits. ’ ”

“That’s a pity. ”

She tossed the shell aside and laughed. “You want to know what I think? ”

“What’s that? ”

“I think Kim might have made a mistake by letting you go. ”

“That’s kind of you to say. But she didn’t. I’m not sure I was ever cut out to be a husband. ”

“Does that mean you’ll never get married again? ”

“I haven’t given the matter any thought. Between work and spending time with Andrew, meeting someone is rather low on my list of priorities. ”

“What are the women like in Zimbabwe? ”

“In my world, you mean? Single women? ”

“Sure. ”

“Few and far between. Most of the women I meet are already married and they’re at the lodge with their husbands. ”

“Maybe you should move to another country. ”

“Zimbabwe is my home. And Andrew is there. I could never leave him. ”

“No, ” she said. “You can’t. ”

“How about you? Have you ever considered moving from the United States? ”

“Never, ” she said. “And it’s certainly not possible now, since my dad is sick. But even in the future, I’m not sure that I could. My family’s here, my friends are here. But I do hope to make it to Africa one day. And go on safari. ”

“If you do, keep your guard up around the guides. Some of them can be extremely charming. ”

“Yeah, I know. ” She playfully nudged his shoulder with hers. “Are you ready for Kindred Spirit? ”

“I still don’t know what it is. ”

“It’s a mailbox on the beach, ” she said.

“To whom does the mailbox belong? ”

She shrugged. “To anyone, I guess. And everyone. ”

“Am I supposed to write a letter? ”

“If you’d like, ” she said. “The first time I went, I did. ”

“When was that? ”

She considered the question. “Maybe five years ago? ”

“I assumed you’d been going there since you were young. ”

“It hasn’t been around that long. I think my dad told me that it went up in 1983, but I could be wrong about that. I’ve only been there a few times. Including the day after Christmas last year, which was kind of crazy. ”

“Why? ”

“Because it snowed fifteen inches. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen snow on the beach. When we returned home, we built a snowman near the steps. I think there’s a photo of it in the cottage somewhere. ”

“I’ve never seen snow. ”

“Ever? ”

“It doesn’t snow in Zimbabwe, and I’ve only been to Europe in the summers. ”

“It rarely snows in Raleigh, but my parents used to bring us skiing at Snowshoe in West Virginia during the winter. ”

“Are you any good? ”

“I’m all right. I never liked to go too fast. I’m not a risk taker. I just want to have fun. ”

Up ahead, he saw clouds flickering on the distant horizon. “Is that lightning? ”

“Probably. ”

“Does that mean we should turn back? ”

“It’s out to sea, ” she said. “The storm will be coming from the northwest. ”

“Are you sure? ”

“Pretty sure, ” she said. “I’m willing to risk it if you are. ”

“All right, then, ” he said with a nod, and they continued on, the pier growing ever smaller behind them. Sunset Beach eventually came to an end, with Bird Island directly ahead. They had to skirt the dune to keep their feet from getting wet, and Tru found his thoughts drifting back to the way she’d playfully bumped against him. It seemed as though he could still feel the sensation, a tingling up and down his arm.

“It’s a mailbox, ” Tru said.

They’d reached Kindred Spirit, and Hope watched as Tru simply stared at it.

“I already told you that. ”

“I thought it might be a metaphor. ”

“Nope, ” she said. “It’s real. ”

“Who takes care of it? ”

“I have no idea. My dad could probably tell you, but I assume it’s a local. Come on. ”

As she walked toward the mailbox, she glanced at Tru, noting again the small dimple in his chin and his windblown hair. Over his shoulder, she saw Scottie sniffing near the dune, his tongue hanging out, tired from the endless quest to keep birds in the air. “You’ll probably take this idea back with you to Zimbabwe, and you’ll put up a mailbox in the middle of the bush. How neat would that be? ”

He shook his head. “The termites would eat the post in less than a month. Besides, it’s not as though anyone could put a letter in it, or sit around reading it. Too dangerous. ”

“Do you ever go out into the bush alone? ”

“Only if I’m armed. And only when I can predict that I’ll be safe, because I know what animals are in the vicinity. ”

“What are the most dangerous animals? ”

“That depends on the time and the location and the mood of the animal, ” he answered. “Generally, if you’re in or around the water, crocodiles and hippos. In the bush during daylight, elephants, especially if they’re in heat. In the bush at night, lions. And black mambas anytime. That’s a snake. Very poisonous. The bite is nearly always fatal. ”

“We have water moccasins in North Carolina. Copperheads, too. A kid came into the emergency room once after being bitten. But we had antivenin at the hospital, and he recovered. And how did we get on this subject again? ”

“You suggested that I put a mailbox in the middle of the bush. ”

“Oh yeah, ” she said. By then, she had her hand on the handle. “Are you ready for this? ”

“Is there a protocol? ”

“Of course there is, ” she said, “First you do ten jumping jacks, then sing ‘Auld Lang Syne, ’ and you’re supposed to bring red velvet cake as an offering, which you place on the bench. ”

When he stared at her, she giggled. “Gotcha. No, there’s no protocol. You just…read what’s in the mailbox. And if you want to, you can write something. ”

Hope pulled it open and removed the entire stack of mail that rested inside, bringing it with her to the bench. When she set it beside her, Tru took a seat next to her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body.

“How about I read first, and then just pass them to you? ”

“I’ll follow your lead, ” he answered. “Proceed. ”

She rolled her eyes. “Proceed, ” she repeated. “It’s fine if you just say ‘okay, ’ you know. ”

“Okay. ”

“I hope there’s a good one. I’ve read some amazing letters when I’ve been here. ”

“Tell me about the one you remember most. ”

She took a few seconds to consider it. “I read about this man who was searching for a woman he’d met briefly at a restaurant. They were at the bar and they spoke for a few minutes before her friends arrived and she went to her table. But he knew she was the one for him. There was this beautiful line in there about stars colliding, sending shimmers of light through his soul. And anyway, this guy was writing because he hoped that someone knew who she was and would let her know that he wanted to see her again. He even left his name and phone number. ”

“He’d barely spoken to her? He sounds obsessive. ”

“You had to read the way he wrote it, ” she said. “It was very romantic. Sometimes a person just knows. ”

He watched as she lifted a postcard from the top of the stack, one displaying the USS North Carolina, a World War II battleship. When she was finished reading it, she handed it to him without comment.

Tru scanned it before turning toward her. “It’s a shopping list for someone planning a barbecue. ”

“I know. ”

“I’m not sure why I’d be interested in this. ”

“You don’t have to be, ” she said. “That’s why this is exciting. Because we’re hoping to find that diamond in the rough, and who knows, ” she said, lifting a letter from the stack, “maybe this is it. ”

Tru set the postcard aside, and when she was finished with the letter, she handed it to him. It was from a young girl, a poem about her parents, and it reminded him of something Andrew might have written when he was younger. As he read, he felt Hope’s leg move against his, and by the time he finished, Hope was handing him a sheaf of pages torn from a notebook. He wondered if she realized that they were touching, or if she was simply lost in the words of anonymous writers and didn’t even notice. Now and then, he saw her glance up to make sure that Scottie was still nearby; because there were no birds, he’d plopped himself down a bit closer to the water’s edge.

There was another postcard, and a handful of photographs with comments on the back. That was followed by a letter from a father to his children, with whom he seldom spoke. In the letter, there was more bitterness and blame than sadness about the broken relationship. Tru wondered whether the man took any responsibility for what had happened.

As he set it aside, Hope was still reading the next letter in the stack. In the silence, he spotted a pelican skimming low over the water, just past the breakers. Beyond them, the sea continued to darken, becoming almost black near the horizon. Broken seashells littered the smooth, hard sand, left behind by the receding tide. Hope’s hair was lifting slightly in the breeze; in the graying light, she seemed to be the only element of color.

She had yet to hand him another letter, and only then did he realize that she was reading the one in her hand a second time. He heard her sniff.

“Wow, ” she finally said.

“Did he write about stars colliding and sending shimmers of light through his soul? ”

“No. And on second thought, you’re probably right. That other guy was definitely obsessive. ”

He laughed as she handed over the letter. She didn’t reach for another one, instead keeping her gaze on him.

“You’re not going to watch me read it, are you? ” he asked.

“I have a better idea, ” she said. “Why don’t you read it aloud? ”

The suggestion caught him off guard, but he took the letter, feeling her hand brush against his. He thought how relaxed they already seemed to be with each other, and how easy it would be to fall for someone like her. And that maybe, just maybe, he was already falling, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

In the silence, he felt her move closer. He could smell her hair, the scent clean and sweet, as fresh as flowers, and he fought the urge to put his arm around her. Instead, he took a deep breath and, lowering his gaze, began to read the shaky scrawl.

Dear Lena,

The sands in the hourglass have fallen without mercy throughout my life, but I try to remind myself of the blessed years that we shared—especially now, when I am drowning in riptides of sorrow and loss.

I wonder who I am without you. Even when I was old and tired, it was you who helped me face the day. I sometimes felt as though you could read my mind. You seemed to always know what I wanted and needed. Even though we had our struggles at times, I can think back on the more than half a century we spent together and know that I was the lucky one. You inspired and fascinated me, and I walked just a bit taller because you were by my side. Every time I held you, I felt as though I needed nothing else. I would trade anything to hold you just one more time.

I want to smell your hair, and sit at the dinner table with you. I want to watch as you cook the fried chicken that always made my mouth water, the meal the doctor warned me against eating. I want to see you slip your arms into the blue sweater I bought you for your birthday, the one you usually wore in the evenings, when you settled beside me in the den. I want to sit with our children and grandchildren, and Emma, our one and only great-grandchild. How can I be this old? I think when I hug her, but when I listen for you to tease me about it, I never hear your voice. And it always breaks my heart.

I’m not good at this. Spending my days alone. I miss your knowing smile, and I miss the sound of your voice. Sometimes I imagine that I can still hear you calling to me from the garden, but when I go to the window, there are nothing but cardinals, the ones you made me hang the bird feeder for.

I keep it filled for you. I know you’d want me to do that. You always enjoyed watching those birds. I never understood why, until the man at the pet store mentioned that cardinals mate for life.

I don’t know if that’s true, but I want to believe it. And as I watch them, just as you used to, I think to myself that you have always been my cardinal, and I have always been yours. I miss you so much.

Happy Anniversary.

Joe

When he finished, Tru continued to stare at the page, more affected by the words than he wanted to admit. He knew that Hope was watching him, and when he turned toward her, he was struck by the open, unguarded nature of her beauty.

“That letter, ” she said quietly, “is the reason I like to come to Kindred Spirit. ”

Folding the page, he put it back in the envelope and set it atop the small stack beside him. Even as he watched her reach toward the unread pile, he had the feeling that the remaining messages would be anticlimactic, and they were. Most were heartfelt and earnest, but there was nothing that struck a chord in the same way Joe’s letter had. Even as they rose from the bench and refilled the mailbox, he wondered about the man: where he lived, what he was doing, and considering his obvious age, how he’d been able to make his way to this isolated stretch of beach on a mostly inaccessible island.

They started back toward the house, sometimes making idle conversation but mainly content to remain silent as they walked. Their ease made Tru think about Joe and Lena again, a relationship rooted in comfort and trust and a lasting desire to be together. He wondered whether Hope was thinking the same thing.

Up ahead, Scottie was zigzagging from the dunes to the water’s edge and back again. The clouds continued to darken, shape-shifting in the wind, and a few minutes later, it started to sprinkle. The tide had come in and they had to step onto the dune to keep the waves from washing over them, but Tru quickly realized that it was pointless to attempt to stay dry. There were two flashes of lightning followed by two booms of thunder, and the world suddenly dimmed. The sprinkle turned to rain and then became a downpour.

Hope squealed and started to run, but with the pier still in the distance, she eventually slowed to a walk again. Turning around, she held up her hands.

“I guess I was wrong about how much time we had, huh? ” she called out. “Sorry! ”

“Not a worry, ” he answered, walking toward her. “It’s wet, but not terribly cold. ”

“Not just wet, ” she said. “Soaking wet. And it’s been an adventure, right? ”

In the downpour, he saw a smudge of mascara on her cheek, a hint of imperfection on a woman who otherwise struck him as nearly perfect in every way. He wondered why she’d come into his life, and how he could have come to care for her as deeply as he already did. All his thoughts revolved around her. He didn’t reflect on his life in Zimbabwe or the reason he’d come to North Carolina; instead, he marveled at her beauty and replayed the time they’d spent together, a reel of vivid images. It was a tidal wave of sensation and emotion, and he suddenly felt that every step he’d taken in his life had been on a path leading to her, as if she were his ultimate destination.

Hope seemed frozen in place. He guessed she knew what he was feeling, and he wondered whether she felt the same. He couldn’t tell, but she didn’t move even when he reached out, finally placing a hand on her hip.

For a long time, they stood that way, the energy passing back and forth between them through that single, simple touch. He stared at her and she stared back, the moment seeming to last forever before he finally inched forward. He tilted his head, his face slowly drawing toward hers, before feeling Hope place a gentle hand on his chest.

“Tru…” she whispered.

Her voice was enough to stop him from going further. He knew he should step back, make space between them, but he felt powerless to move.

Nor did she step back. Instead, they faced each other in the downpour, and Tru felt the old instincts rising up, instincts he couldn’t control. With sudden clarity he understood that he’d fallen in love—and perhaps even that he’d been waiting for someone just like her all his life.

Hope stared at Tru, her mind racing, trying to ignore the gentle strength she felt in his hand. Trying to ignore the desire and longing she sensed in his touch. Part of her knew she wanted him to kiss her, even as another part, the stronger part, warned her against it, causing her to put a hand between them.

She wasn’t ready for this…

Finally, reluctantly, she averted her gaze, sensing both his disappointment and his acceptance. When at long last, he stepped back, she finally felt like she could breathe again, even though his hand remained on her hip.

“We should probably be getting back, ” she murmured.

He nodded and as he slid his hand from her hip, she reached for it, intending to give it a squeeze. He happened to rotate his hand at the same time, and their fingers interlocked as if choreographed. The next thing she knew, they were holding hands as they walked side by side.

The sensation was heady, even though she knew holding hands meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. She vaguely remembered doing the same thing with Tony, the boy she’d kissed at the cottage, when they’d gone to the movies the following day. Back then, that simple gesture had probably impressed her as a sign of maturity, as if she were finally growing up, but here and now, it struck her as one of the most intimate things that had ever happened to her. His touch carried with it the possibility of even greater intimacy later, and she focused on keeping Scottie in sight to avoid thinking too deeply about it.

Eventually they passed Clancy’s and then the pier; not too long after that, they’d reached the steps of the cottage. It was only when she stopped that Tru let go of her hand. As she stared at him, she knew she wasn’t yet ready to end their time together.

“Would you like to have dinner tonight? At the cottage? I picked up some fresh fish the other day at the market. ”

“Yes, ” he said. “Very much. ”

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