I can’t touch it, but I know it’s there.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Jamie – Now
Igroan as I flop onto the bed, perpendicular to the mattress, legs hanging off the side. I toe off my shoes, listening to the soft thud they make as they hit the floor.
Today was busy. The beginning of the summer tourist season is upon us and there were more new arrivals than any other day since I’ve been here. But I savored the busyness, as it worked to keep my mind off Avi… and Lennox.
Grandad oversaw things in the kitchen while Hamish filled in for Avi… but we all know the “Angus version” is much more hands-on than the doctor would prefer.
Gran had her hands full ensuring all the rooms got turned over with the housekeeping staff, that everything was clean and tidy around the inn, and doing the other millions of things she does on a daily basis to keep this place running smoothly.
I was even relieved when the night manager called to say she was running late so I could offer to cover the front desk while Gran and Grandad ate dinner together.
I know the conversation about what comes next, what they’ve known about Lennox and when they learned it, will have to happen eventually, but I’d like one more night to think about all of this—or not—before we have to have it.
A knock at the door pulls me away from staring blankly at the ceiling and I roll toward the pillows with a groan. The crinkle of paper against my face brings me up short and I pull back, seeing a cream-colored envelope beside a small bundle tied together with red-and-white string.
Another knock. “Coming,” I say, narrowing my eyes on the envelope.
I grab it and head for the door, pulling it open to reveal Hector from the kitchen with a tray laden with food.
“Angus asked me to deliver this to you,” he says with a flat smile.
Of course he did. “Thank you,” I say, taking the tray. The comforting smell of shepherd’s pie engulfs me as I set it on my small table. Crunchy bread accompanies it and I rip off a piece and pop it into my mouth, its warmth spreading through me.
Damn, that’s good.
I sit down and contemplate the envelope in my hands.
At first I thought it might be from Avi, but we were never the letter writers. Tipping my forefinger under the upper corner, I slide it across, tearing it open and pulling out the singular piece of paper within.
My lips tilt up when I see the writing.
I settle the letter on the table, smoothing it out, and reach for another piece of bread. Then I begin to read.
Jameson,
I’m sure you noticed that there are no letters between your Gran and I from 1967 to 1968. I’ve known the time for this part of the story was coming—the broken part—and I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m writing to you about this now. I promise there’s a reason.
The bundle of letters are the ones I wrote to your gran during that time, but I never sent them. She’s never read them. Never wanted to. She knows I’m giving them to you now though, and she approves.
This is part of our story. A story I think you’ve romanticized into this perfect thing in your head. But love is never perfect. It’s always messy. It’s always hard. It’s always work.
Even ours.
You’ve seen the ‘other side’ of our story, but you haven’t seen the middle—the mess, the hard…
That’s what’s in these letters.
My wish for what you’ll find in them is hope.
Hope that even in a situation that feels as impossible and messy and hard as yours does right now, that there is beauty on the other side. Hope that there is healing and reconciliation on the other side. Hope that there is love on the other side.
Your gran and I will never be able to change the part we played in keeping Lennox from you for this past year. There will never be a reasonable explanation for it in your eyes, and we understand that too. The choice to either respect Avi’s wishes where Lennox was concerned orto tell you was never an easy one, and with the past couple months, it only became more complicated.
Perhaps we made the wrong one but second-guessing it now won’t change anything. We can only apologize for the hurt we caused, and hope for your forgiveness.
