Safe Haven(78)

“Then I won’t say anything.”

“Promise? Because I don’t want her to be mad at me.”

Alex raised his fingers. “Scout’s honor. But just so you know, she wouldn’t be mad at you even if I did. She thinks you’re a great kid.”

Josh sat up straighter and began reeling in his line. “Good,” he said. “Because I think she’s pretty great, too.”


The conversation with Josh kept Alex awake that night. He found himself studying the portrait of Carly in his bedroom as he sipped his third beer of the evening.

Kristen and Katie had returned to the house, full of energy and excitement as they showed him the clothes they’d purchased. Surprisingly, Katie had returned nearly half the money, saying only that she was pretty good at finding things on sale. Alex sat on the couch as Kristen modeled an outfit for him, only to vanish back into her bedroom before returning wearing something completely different. Even Josh, who ordinarily wouldn’t have cared in the slightest, set his Nintendo game aside, and when Kristen had left the room, he approached Katie.

“Could you take me shopping, too?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I need some new shirts and stuff.”

Afterward, Alex ordered Chinese food and they sat around the table, eating and laughing. At one point during dinner, Katie pulled a leather wristband from her purse and turned toward Josh. “I thought this was pretty cool-looking,” she said, handing it to Josh. His surprise gave way to pleasure as he put it on, and Alex noticed how Josh’s eyes continually flickered toward Katie for the rest of the evening.

Ironically, it was at times like tonight that he missed Carly most. Even though she’d never experienced nights like these as a family—the kids were too young when she died—he found it easy to imagine her being at the table.

Perhaps that was the reason he couldn’t sleep, long after Katie went home and Kristen and Josh were asleep in their beds. Tossing back the covers, he went to the closet and opened the safe he’d installed a few years earlier. In it were important financial and insurance documents, stacked beside treasures from his marriage. They were items that Carly had collected: photos from their honeymoon, a four-leaf clover they’d found while vacationing in Vancouver, the bouquet of peonies and calla lilies she’d carried on her wedding day, ultrasound images of Josh and Kristen while each was still in her womb, along with the outfits that each had worn on the way home from the hospital. Photo negatives and camera disks, chronicling their years together.

The articles were heavy with meaning and memories, and since Carly’s death, Alex had added nothing to the safe, except for the letters that Carly had written. One had been addressed to him. The second had no name on it, however, and it remained unopened. He couldn’t open it—a promise, after all, was a promise.

He pulled out the letter he’d read a hundred times, leaving the other in the safe. He’d known nothing about the letters until she’d handed the envelopes to him less than a week before she died. By that point, she was bedridden and could only sip liquids. When he carried her to the bathroom, she was light, as if somehow she’d been hollowed out. He spent her few waking hours sitting quietly beside her. Usually, she would fall asleep again within minutes, and Alex would stare at her, afraid to leave in case she needed him and afraid to stay in case he might rob her of rest. On the day she gave him the envelopes, he saw that they had been tucked into the blankets, appearing as if by magic. Only later would he learn that she’d written them two months earlier and her mom had been holding them.

Now, Alex opened the envelope and pulled out the much-handled letter. It was written on yellow legal paper. Bringing it to his nose, he was still able to discern the scent of the lotion she often wore. He remembered his surprise and the way her eyes pleaded with him for understanding.

“You want me to read this one first?” he remembered asking. He pointed to the one inscribed with his name and she nodded slightly. She relaxed as he pulled the letter out, her head sinking into the pillow.


My dearest Alex,



There are dreams that visit us and leave us fulfilled upon waking, there are dreams that make life worth living. You, my sweet husband, are that dream, and it saddens me to have to put into words the way I feel about you.

I’m writing this letter now, while I still can, and yet I’m not sure how to capture what I want to say. I’m not a writer, and words seem so inadequate right now. How can I describe how much I love you? Is it even possible to describe a love like that? I don’t know, but as I sit here with pen in hand, I know that I have to try.