I wanted to cry out in despair, but then, I realized what Liza meant. “He went home?”
“Yes.” She gave me a sad smile. “He made the decision all on his own. He left you something.” She reached out for my hand and tugged me toward the staircase.
Heart in my throat, I followed her to her room with only one thought: Charlie was home. After all his time away, after all his pain both inward and outward, still he chose to face the most painful path in the end. And I was so proud of him.
She let go of my hand and paced to her desk to pick up something. She brought it near, and I recognized it instantly. My painting.
“I’d forgotten completely.”
“He didn’t. I kept his secret. He built this frame, pieced it together perfectly. Then he went back to the opera a few nights ago, and somehow managed to slip out your watercolor and sneak it back home. He wanted to give it to you himself.” Liza shook her head. “Well, honestly, he wanted to take it home with him. But when you never came ... I think he thought this was best.”
She held out the framed picture and a folded letter. “I’ll fetch us some tea,” she said, patting my arm.
She closed the door behind her, and I sank onto her four-poster bed.
I traced my thumb along the simple carvings Charlie had made to the picture frame. Ivy, the very same that grew upon the house and upon the trees in the grove, climbed up the sides and met with tiny flowers. He must have worked on it every day. And it fit my painting perfectly.
I set it aside and picked up his letter.
I had no idea what to expect. Charlie had never written me anything before. No man had. My fingers stilled on the folds. What if inside this letter, instead of what I wanted to hear, he refuted ever loving me? What if he apologized or claimed madness and embarrassment from our time together?
Look at this frame, my heart whispered. And carefully I unwrapped the page.
Dearest Rosalind,
His hand was slanted, but sleek. Perfectly Charlie. I wanted to laugh and cry all at once.
Forgive me for not seeking you out before I left. I am not certain you would have wanted the interference.
As promised, I hope this painting finds you well. Such a beautiful picture deserves an equally beautiful frame, and while I cannot claim to be perfect, I tried my best to craft something deserving of the honor. I found this wood from a felled tree in the grove, where we so often met, and where I fell utterly and entirely in love with you.
Please do not feel sorry for me. I am happy to have known you at all. Happy to have helped you in some small way in your journey. You certainly inspired me in mine.
And so, I wanted to thank you, dearest Ros, you brilliant, beautiful girl, for being true to who you are. What a list you created! I can only imagine what more you will do and see and become. I do wish I could have withheld my affection only if it meant that you and I could maintain a comfortable friendship.
But that would not allow me to be true to myself. And I am trying. Truly, I am. My mother is here, and she has taken me in her arms and loved me like only a mother can. She has humbled me. And I am going home.
Can you believe it?
I know you will argue me, but I shall say it anyway: You say I do not belong on your list. That I did not change but merely found myself again. Perhaps that much is true. But on the whole, you are wrong, Ros. Ihavechanged. I want to be a braver, kinder, more generous man because of you.
So with a happy heart, I tell you: Rosalind Newbury, you have checked off every single item on your list. You are ready for whatever life brings you.
Thank you, my dearest friend, for never giving up on me. For giving me even an ounce of your affection. I shall carry it with me always.
Yours,
Charlie
“Lovely, isn’t it?”
I wiped my eyes and looked up to find Liza leaning against her doorframe. She scrunched her nose. “I read the whole thing. I could not stand it.”
“Liza!” I chided with a surprised laugh, still tearful from the loveliest letter I’d ever received. I was a mess. Entirely.
She strode to the bed and plopped down beside me. “I tried to fold it neatly back so you would not guess, but I don’t know why I tried. Of course I’d have to tell you the truth.” She took my free hand and pulled it into her lap. “You love him, too, do you not?”
I met her gaze with a weak smile and nodded. “I do.”
