The Letter(11)

“I don’t know.” Josephine shook her head. “I never saw this letter. Poor Paul, he must have waited for me, but I never showed up. But then why wouldn’t he have come looking for me? I just don’t understand.”

“So Paul was your high school boyfriend?”

Josephine gave a big sigh. “He was more than that. Paul was my best friend, since the day we met in grade school. We were such good friends, then as we got older, well it turned into much more. I was so madly in love with him. Papa couldn’t abide by him though. Said he wasn’t right for me. See, Paul’s father died when Paul was just a young boy, and his mother worked cleaning houses to support them. Then his mother died right at the middle of our senior year of high school. It was so sad. But anyway, Papa didn’t think Paul was a proper suitor for me. So, we hid it from everyone. Except his mother knew about us until, well, she passed away.”

“I’ve never heard any of this, Aunt Jo. I’d heard stories that your father was a tough nut to crack, but I’m sorry he kept you two apart. Do you think he had something to do with this?”

“I don’t think so. I really think we hid it well. We talked of running off and getting married but never made any definite plans. Then Paul’s mother got sick, and everything was just so crazy. He was going to stay with a friend’s family to finish out high school. Then one day before we finished our senior year, he just disappeared. I’d seen him a few nights before that. I remember we talked about running away together again and started to plan out how we would do it. I would have given up anything to be with him. But we heard someone coming that night as we were planning it all out so we both headed out in different directions so we wouldn’t get caught. That was the last time I ever saw him.”

Madeline’s heart ached for this woman. So many years of wondering where her first love was and why he’d left.

“When Paul disappeared, I tried to find him, but I didn’t know where to look. There was really no one to ask about him.”

“He didn’t have any family left here in town after his mom passed away?” Gil leaned forward in his chair and picked up the letter, studying it as if looking for a hint or clue to the mystery it held.

“No. No one.” Josephine shook her head. “His friend he was staying with said he’d no idea where Paul went or why he left. He just said Paul packed up, thanked his friend’s mother for letting him stay there and left.”

“I’m so sorry, Josephine. That is so sad.” Madeline could see the fresh pain in Josephine’s eyes.

“A handful of years after that I met Benjamin and we got married. We had a good life. But I still thought about Paul often. Wondered what he ever did with his life. If he ever thought about me. Why he just up and left like that.”

“Well, I wonder how his letter to you ended up in that desk, instead of being given to you.” Gil wrinkled his brow.

“I don’t know. I’m sure he just addressed it from O so my parents wouldn’t know. I had a friend who had moved away named Ophelia. I’m sure he thought it was a good cover. My parents wouldn’t question a letter from Ophelia, if they ever even saw it. I usually brought the mail inside on my way in from school each day. Paul knew that.”

Josephine reached across the table and took the letter back from Gil. “But I never got the letter. Paul sometimes left me messages at the tree where we often met. We did that sometimes. Left each other notes. But after I hadn’t seen him in a few days, I went to the tree and there was no message.”

“There has to be some connection if your sister and my grandmother were friends, some reason it ended up under the lining of the desk drawer.”

“There does, but I don’t have any idea what it would be.” Josephine stroked the letter again. A sad smile crossed her wrinkled face. “I just haven’t a clue.”





CHAPTER FOUR





Josephine stood at the kitchen sink, slowly washing the dishes after her visitors left. She stared out the window as the night darkened. How long had she been standing there daydreaming? So lost in her memories.

Thoughts of Paul chased through her mind. Memories she rarely let herself take out and examine. Their first kiss. She still remembered everything about it. She might not be as sharp as she used to be, but she remembered every detail of that kiss. They’d been at the live oak tree in the grove behind the old sawmill. They met there often, talking endlessly about everything and nothing. He helped her with her math. She quizzed him on history. They talked about what they wanted from life. Such big plans. He was a wonderful artist. He could draw like no one she knew. But he always said that artists can’t support a family. He was going to go get a proper degree and show her father that he was worthy.