The Letter(12)

But she still remembered the day of their first kiss. Somewhere near the start of high school. She was wearing a blue flowered dress, she remembered that. He’d stopped in the middle of showing her a math problem and tilted her face up and kissed her. Not a long kiss. But a kiss that had taken her breath away. She remembered she’d dropped the pencil right out of her hand. She’d looked at him, waiting for another kiss, wanting another kiss. But it had just been that one kiss. He’d smiled that lazy smile of his, picked up her dropped pencil, and started back into the math. As if her mind had been capable at that point to take in anything he was saying. She marveled that she could still remember so many details of their time together. So many years had passed. Paul had always made her feel so alive, but so safe at the same time. She’d lived for the stolen moments they could find. He’d made her heart pound whenever she’d seen him, whether it was pretending to ignore him when they crossed paths at school, or when they’d just catch a glimpse of each other from afar. There was no way she agreed with her papa’s version of Paul. She’d argued with her father, but realized she wasn’t going to change his mind. No one ever changed Papa’s mind. Not about anything. But she hadn’t given up on Paul either. She’d always thought that they would sneak way after high school and start a life together. They’d said they would, but had never figured out exactly how or when. But then Paul had just up and disappeared.

A deep heartache crept over her. One that she hadn’t felt in such a long time. She’d forced herself to forget her first love. Pushed it aside. Now it was all coming back to haunt her. Paul had sent her a note to meet him and go away with him. He’d wanted her. He’d sent a note that he had figured it out and they were going to be together. Had he changed his mind? Why else would he not have come looking for her?

She busied herself with rinsing the dishes, then placed them in the drainboard. She had a dishwasher, but it seemed a waste to use it for so few dishes. Besides, she actually enjoyed doing dishes by hand, something not many people could understand. The warm soapy water, the glistening dishes when she was finished, the time to just stare out the window and think.

She was going to talk to her sister when she got back from her vacation. Catherine was on a cruise and it was way too expensive to call her now. Maybe she knew something about how the letter had gotten in Lula’s writing desk. Catherine and Lula had been best friends after all.

She mindlessly dried her hands on the dish towel and continued to watch out the window at a small bird darting around her bird feeder. Evening was drifting down and the shadows were deepening in her yard. She did adore her little house and was enjoying her time alone in it while Catherine was gone on her trip, not that she’d ever admit that to her sister.

Catherine had moved in with Josephine a few years ago. It had just been while Catherine looked for a place to live. She’d sold her big old house in South Carolina where she’d lived until her husband had died, and was looking for a smaller place to live. But as the years went by, they’d fallen into a routine, and Catherine had quit looking for another place to live. Josephine didn’t mind really, but she did enjoy her time to herself when Catherine went on her many, many trips.

Her thoughts turned to her husband, Benjamin. He’d been a kind man. He’d been good to her. They’d had a good marriage, she was thankful for that. But, oh, the guilt she’d felt her whole life, secretly wishing for what never had happened. A life with her One and Only, Paul. She guessed that made her a bad person, for marrying one man and a part of her always wondering what life would have been like with another. Well, there was nothing she could do to change things now.

She neatly folded the dish towel and hung it on the rack under the sink. With a quick look around the kitchen, she could see everything was back in place. She crossed the room, switched off the light and walked into the living room to catch the news on TV.

~ * ~

“Aunt Jo seemed pretty upset when we left.” Gil brought up the obvious on the drive back to Comfort Crossing. He hated leaving her like that. All alone in the house.

“I feel badly for her. Like it’s all my fault all this is brought up again.”

Madeline’s eyes looked melancholy again. He wondered if he could ever make those eyes smile and take away their sadness. Whoa, where had that thought come from? Remember you’ve sworn off women, bud.

“It’s not your fault, and you know she appreciated having that letter.”

“But she’d rather have had it all those years ago.” Madeline sighed.