“She didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell.”
Silence descended and was broken a minute later when Jack redirected the conversation. “Did I ever tell you about the first time I met Clara?”
“I don’t think so,” said Ellie, thankful for the change in subject.
“It was shortly after Bill died. I must have been about eight years old.” Jack paused, giving a wistful smile. “Clara was looking for someone to come and help around the yard. It just so happened I was looking to make a little money, so when I heard she needed help, I walked right up to the house, knocked on the door, and asked for the job. I suspect she was hoping for someone a little older, but she was so taken by my initiative that she ended up giving me the job. I remember she and I sat right here on this swing and drank sweet tea.”
“She was like a second mother to you, wasn’t she?”
He nodded, blinking back the tears. “Did you know when I was writing my book, it was Clara I came to for help? When I found out it was going to be published, she’s the first person I told. I’ll never forget, she made me one of her famous blackberry cobblers to celebrate.”
“Now that I can believe.” Ellie held on to a smile for a few seconds before it faded from her face. “After that summer, she and I lost touch. Occasionally, I’d get a card or letter from her, but we were never as close as we were then. Now that she’s gone, I wish I’d made more of an effort.”
“She loved you though,” said Jack. “In fact, she talked about you all the time. You must have made quite an impact on her.” He glanced away before bringing his gaze back to her. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you never come back?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
She set her gaze upon him. “Of seeing you. We didn’t exactly part on good terms, Jack, and I was afraid that if I came back, I’d run into you somewhere and I just wasn’t ready to face you.”
Jack turned and stared at the water for a long time, not saying anything. “What will become of this place now that Clara’s gone?”
“That depends on you.” Ellie produced a letter and handed it to him.
“What’s this?” He opened the letter and began reading to himself.
Dear Jack,
Well, it’s true, no one lives forever. Not even me. Oh well, who would want to anyway?
I know you’re a busy man, so I’ll keep this brief. Regarding the house and ten acres, I’m leaving it all to you. Why, you ask? Because you are the one person in the world who is most like my beloved Bill. You came from humble beginnings, struggled, persevered, and made something of yourself. Whenever I needed you, you were always there, no questions asked. But above all that, I know how much this place means to you, which is why I know you’re the right person to see it into the future. That said, I don’t want you to feel obligated to keep the house. You’ve got a place of your own now, and it’s a fine place, but if you do decide to keep it, I hope you get to experience the same magic I once experienced, because there’s something special about this place. You can’t see it or touch it, but it’s there, and it’s real.
By the way, as much as I loved old George, he was wrong about one thing—you got your house on the hill, after all.
P.S. As wonderful as the view is, it’s better when you have someone to share it with.
Until we meet again,
Your friend,
Clara
When Jack finished reading the letter, he began to cry. Clara was gone but had given him the greatest gift anyone ever had.
“Well, what do you think?”
Jack wiped his eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”
“She loved you very much.”
“But what about you and your family?”
“I talked to them this afternoon, before everyone got here, and they agreed that you’re the right person to have it, no matter what you decide to do with it.”
“I’m going to need some time to think this over.” He stared ahead as if trying to process what he’d just read.
“Take all the time you need. There’s no rush.”
