Postcards from Abby

by Sarah Price

  The next morning, Tia receives the news with a knock on her door. Seraphina stands there in tears and Tia is frozen, unable to move. Abby had passed away in her sleep that night. Seraphina had found her in the morning, the book of postcards still in her arms.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Tia and Abby

  The postcard came that morning. It was the first day of spring break and my mother walked into my room, complaining about the mess, the clothes on the floor, the fact that I was sleeping past noon, complaining about most things moms complain about a teenager daughter. I jumped out of my bed at the words “Abby” and “Calexico.” She had promised me on the last day of school that she would send me a postcard. And here it is! The front of the postcard was a picture of a hotel with red tile bricks and light tan walls with the word Calexico on top and Hotel De Anza, circa 1945 on the bottom. I take the Atlas from my desk and turn to the pages on California. I find Calexico right on the border of Mexico and United States. I then focus on the postcard again and turn it around to read

  Dear Tia,

  As promised, I am sending you a postcard from Calexico, California. My dad and I arrived this morning and we are about to spend the next week driving the coast together. He’s even promised me a trip across the border to Tijuana! Can you believe that? I will be leaving the country for the first time in my life. How exciting. Can’t wait to tell you all about it when I return. I wish you were here with me. Maybe next time, you can come along. I’ll save you a seat!

  Abby

  Abby is buried two days later following an intimate and simple mass at the same cemetery where Tia’s father is also resting. In honoring Abby and the way she lived her life, Tia does not wear black, not a hint of grey or any dark colors for that matter, even as she earns the judgmental looks of the locals who are most likely thinking Tia is a hedonist or, even worse, an atheist. She doesn’t care. Instead she wears a bright colored floral sundress with red pumps and a shawl. For the few who really know Abby, there are small smiles of approval and nods of understanding.

  After the burial, Tia stays riveted to the grave long after all of the other mourners have gone, including Jack. He lingers a few steps behind everyone else, glancing back at Tia, hoping she will turn to him and ask him to stay. Jack had hoped Tia would need him, need him to comfort her, need him to love her. More than anything else, Jack wants to love her.

  But Tia is unaware of his presence. She continues to stare at the ground before her and Jack decides it’s best to leave her to her own thoughts. The day had started out sunny with a few clouds in the sky. By midday, the clouds crowded together more ominously until finally they gave way to a few raindrops that fell with increasing force. Tia does not seem to notice and she stays frozen to the spot right by a mound of dirt piled high in front of her where just a few hours before it was empty, a deep hole, where her lifelong friend is now laid to rest.

  The rain soaks through her clothes and her hair clings to her cheeks and covers her eyes. The tears are coming down Tia’s face in a steady stream. Only the sound of thunder jars her out of her trance. Tia walks slowly down the hill, away from the cemetery, in the direction of the Inn. It is the same road she had walked with Jack just a few weeks before except now there are no group of old ladies gossiping about them and no thoughts of Jack floating around in her head.

  Tia walks up the front steps of the Inn but stops on the last step directly outside the veranda. Something is stopping Tia from seeking shelter. She knows the reason. Her friend is out in this rain, freezing, with nothing to keep her warm. Tia wants to be with Abby at that moment, to feel what she must be feeling. Tia doesn’t want her to be cold. No, she realizes. That’s not true. The fact is that Tia doesn’t want her to be alone.

  At that moment, Jack comes walking out of the Inn’s front door, holding a blanket in his hands. He takes Tia in his arms without a word being spoken. On the veranda, Jack gently wraps the blanket around Tia’s shoulders and guides her inside the Inn. Once inside, Jack walks her through the crowded lobby, both unaware of the stares they are generating, their clothes soaking wet and dripping, leaving a trail behind them. Tia leans closer to Jack and lays her head on his shoulder. Jack wraps his arms tighter around her as he leads her up the stairs to the hallway to the front door of her room, all in silence.

  They both stop and face each other. Jack has taken the blanket off of Tia’s shoulders and is drying her wet hair with it, his hands caressing her scalp and moving across the roots of her hair, trailing slowly down to the tips. He never takes his eyes away from Tia’s gaze. Without saying a word, without having to, Tia knows Jack understands and all he wants to do is give her comfort.

  And she needs to be comforted.

  She leans over and kisses him gently on his cheeks and then on his lips. He responds slowly with kisses of his own, on her cheeks, her lips, her neck, all the while with his hands still intertwined in her hair. The kisses turn urgent, more probing, on her breasts, his hands moving across her back, the blanket falling on the floor in a wet heap. Tia’s hands wrap around Jack’s neck, leaving him just enough time to reach for her keys and open the door.

  Once inside, without even enough time to close the door behind them, they reach for each other again, fumbling with buttons and tearing away the layers of clothes, anxious to feel skin on top of skin. Tia needs to feel something, anything other than pain, needs to feel Jack’s love, his passion for her. Jack needs to reconnect with Tia, wants to protect her, needs to love her.

  The next morning, Tia wakes up and leaves Jack lying asleep on the bed. She walks out, holding the red pumps and shawl in her hands. She does not leave behind a note or even a soft word. Just like it happened the night before, Tia knows that Jack will understand what is unspoken between them. It seems like the right thing to do.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tia has not seen Jack since the day of Abby’s burial. Two days have passed and although Tia is at the Inn most of the time going through Abby’s belongings, there are no signs of him. On the third day, Tia is in her room when the phone rings. Anxious to hear his voice, Tia picks up the receiver ready to hear Jack’s voice on the other line. Instead, she hears a voice she does not recognize.

  “Señora Tiadora Gables, please?” He has a thick Spanish accent but speaks in a professional manner, without the warmth or friendliness of a friend or family member. Tia senses this is not a social call or a call offering condolences.

  “Ms. Tiadora Vale, please. I’m divorced.”

  “Then I assume Gables was your married name?”

  “You assume right. Who are you?” Tia asks, annoyed at the twenty questions from this man whom she doesn’t know.

  “Of course, my apologies. I am Señor Pedro Gonzalez-the attorney and administrator of Señorita Abigail Peters’ estate.”

  “What can I do for you?” Tia asks politely, confused as to why Abby’s attorney would be calling her. She’s even more confused that Abby actually has her own attorney. It seems like such an adult thing to do and so out of character for Abby.

  “There are a few items that I need to go over with you regarding Señorita Peters. Can you come to my office tomorrow morning to discuss this in person?”

  Tia hangs up the phone with the promise that she will come in to see Mr. Gonzalez the next day. Tia wakes up in the morning and drives into town. The law office is small, not what Tia expects. She has only been inside a law firm twice before- where Michael worked and where her divorce was finalized. So going by what she remembers, she is expecting to see a large reception area with dark cherry wood panels, Persian rugs and a staff of over 100. Instead, Tia is greeted by a very friendly receptionist in a tiny waiting room and quickly ushered into an equally small conference room. Mr. Gonzalez comes in holding a pile of papers underneath his right arm and a cup of coffee in his left hand. He apologizes for keeping Tia waiting-something else she is not used to hearing from attorneys. Mr. Gonzalez looks to be about fifty years old and is dressed in a white bu
tton down shirt with khaki pants. Looking at the way he is dressed and the casual manner in which he conducts himself, Tia knows immediately why Abby chose him to handle her affairs. After the initial pleasantries, Mr. Gonzalez gets down to the business at hand.

  “Señorita Vale. I don’t know if you were aware of this but, a few weeks ago, Abigail Peters hired me to draft a will for her. In that will, she named you as the sole beneficiary.”

  “What?” Tia is surprised by these news. It’s true that she and Abby were close but Tia always assumed that Abby would leave anything she had of value to her family back home in New York, except for a few trinkets here and there that Abby might have left to her. She waits for Mr. Gonzalez to speak again, certain that he is going to tell her that the estate is comprised of nothing more than a few personal items of Abby’s.

  “As a sole beneficiary of Señorita Peters’ estate, you stand to inherit a great deal of money.”

  “I don’t understand,” she says, confused by the words that he is speaking.

  “Your friend left behind a considerable fortune. She died a very wealthy woman,” he explains slowly.

  Tia’s mind is reeling, mumbling to herself underneath her breath. Abby, with money? She can’t seem to comprehend the words that Mr. Gonzalez has repeated. I don’t understand. Why is he telling me this? Finally, she speaks directly to Mr. Gonzalez, “I don’t see how this has anything to do with me.”

  “It has everything to do with you. Like I stated before, you are Abigail Peters’ sole beneficiary. She left everything to you which mean that you are now a very rich woman yourself.”

  “That’s not possible.” Tia is having a hard time believing any of this.

  “It’s possible. See for yourself.” Mr. Gonzalez hands Tia a stack of legal sized papers neatly stapled together. Tia can’t make out much of what is said in the will. She does find her name, however, right after the word beneficiary. Mr. Gonzalez extends his hand out to Tia, “Congratulations, Señorita Vale.”

  Tia stares back at him coldly. She resents the warm wishes. She resents his choice of words. There is nothing that he has just said that warrants congratulations. This isn’t some kind of lottery. Her friend is dead and being rich or poor isn’t going to change that.

  Sensing her anger, Abby’s attorney quickly returns to shuffling papers around on the desk. “There’s just a few documents that need your signature before we can transfer the money over to you. A few tax issues, both here and in the United States, but nothing for you to worry about. I’ll be handling everything from here. I just need some information from you which my secretary can take down for me.”

  Tia is still glaring at him.

  He continues to shuffle, trying hard to look busy, never once looking into Tia’s eyes. “I almost forgot. There is the matter of this.”

  He pulls out a book from his briefcase. Tia recognizes it immediately. It is the travel book that belonged to Abby’s father, the same one that lay on top of Abby’s casket, as it had her father’s casket-the only specific request Abby had regarding her funeral arrangements. Along with the book, Mr. Gonzalez gave Tia a long white envelope. Tia looks at it and notices that the front of the envelope is plain with nothing on it except her name in script. He explains.

  “My client did have one stipulation to the will. She specifically requested that this book be given to you and that you read this letter and agree to all of its terms. Señorita Peters prepared it herself. I don’t know what’s inside of that letter. Nobody was to know except for you. She said that you would understand.” The attorney then takes out a business card from the side pocket of his suit and gives it to Tia. “Take as much time as you’d like reading it. I’ll be in touch soon. If you have any questions, this is where I can be reached.”

  He walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. For a few minutes, Tia just sits there without moving, the envelope still in her hands unopened, the book lying on the table in front of her. Tia is afraid to open the letter. She knows that this will be the last time that she’ll read anything that Abby has written to her again. Finally, Tia turns over the envelope and gently, with the tips of her fingers, begins tearing the seam apart, careful not to tear the letter. Inside, she finds one sheet of paper and immediately recognizes Abby’s handwriting.

  Dear Tia,

  Even as I am writing this, it still seems strange to me that I am organizing my affairs and preparing for my death before it actually happens. It doesn’t seem to fit the way I’ve lived my life. But in a way, this is good, quite cathartic actually. It’s forced me to come to terms with all of the things I’ve tried to hide away in my life. I am lucky in the sense that I am leaving nothing left undone. I am finally at peace with myself.

  As for you, I am sure you have heard the news by now. You’re probably wondering how it is possible you never knew about the money and why I chose to give it to you. It is a lot to take in all at once, I know. It came as a shock to me too when, over twenty years ago, I sat there reading a similar letter from my own father. So, if you’re like me, you are probably thinking: what’s the catch to all of this? And you’d be right, there is a catch. I have one more favor to ask of you. You see, I know a little something about you, Tiadora Vale, and that is you would never accept my money, not in a million years, without good reason-even if you are like family to me. So, here goes.

  The money is not a gift. It comes with one condition attached to it. The same condition my father left for me when he passed on. You can have the money as long as you agree to use it to live. And when I say live, I mean live with everything that you have. Learn to love again. Learn to dream. Learn to find yourself in places you’ve never thought possible.

  Now, I know what you must be thinking but I’m not doing this just for you. I have my own reasons. I need you to finish the journey that I’ve been on, the one my father started. Walk in my shoes and live your life as if each day were your last. I know it won’t be easy but I also know that you have enough courage for the both of us to do this. Now, if you want to walk away, that’s fine. I won’t push you. You can go home to your family and know that you have made my last few weeks happy. But if you do decide to accept, prepare yourself for an unforgettable trip. I will be watching proudly. I love you. I’ll miss you.

  Abby

  Tia lays the letter down on the desk and moves the travel book over to her. She touches the cover, running her fingers over the title and then opens the book to the front page. In black faded ink, but still visible to read, the simple words: Here’s hoping you’re traveling with wings.

  Tucked inside the page is a postcard. The postcard is very plain, unlike the others Abby has sent her over the years, the ones Tia carefully placed into the photo album and gave to Abby the last night of her life. This postcard has a picture of blue skies in the front. Tia turns it over to read:

  Tia,

  This is the last postcard to add to the collection. I know I will see you again one day and when the time comes, I’ll be saving you a seat.

  Abby

  For the first time since Abby had died, Tia smiles. She would learn over the course of the next few days, while reviewing Abby’s financial records and speaking with the attorney, the source of her wealth. Tia had never once stopped to think about how Abby had funded her travel. It was just something Abby did. But now it all made sense. Apparently, Abby’s father had a very large insurance policy, leaving all of it to his only daughter. Tia even found the letter addressed to Abby from her father on his death. In the letter, Mr. Peters urges Abby to live life to the fullest and see the world for him. It is something he had hoped his only daughter would do to carry on his name.

  Finally, it all makes sense to Tia. Now, she understands the urgency behind Abby’s decision to join the Peace Corp. all those years back and why she did not want to wait to travel. It is the promise that she had made to her father, the same promise she is asking Tia to make now as well.

  Tia sighs, knowing that she has a decision to make,
a decision that is certain to change the course of her life.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  She has been thinking of nothing other than Abby’s request for the last few days. She has churned it over in her head, thinking of all of the possibilities, considering all of the scenarios and in every possibility and every scenario, Jack is there and his words echo in her mind, now-words such as courage, hiding and fear. After reading Abby’s letter, all three words now have a new meaning.

  Funny, how both Abby and Jack had mentioned courage to her, encouraging her to find the courage to live her life on her own terms. Abby and Jack-the two people in the world who seem to know her the best, know that she has been hiding, living behind excuses, living for her children and her marriage, because she has been afraid of being on her own, making hard choices, and finding happiness. Both Jack and Abby are offering her the chance to find happiness now but on different terms. Who would she choose? Because it has to be a choice, doesn’t it?

  She tried having it all and it didn’t work for her. She tried pleasing everyone but herself and in the end, wound up pleasing no one. Jack had said it best when he said that we all make choices and they’re never easy. He made the choice to love her, Abby made the choice to let James go. What would be her choice? Such a life altering decision and she knows she doesn’t have much time to make it. She can’t expect Jack to wait forever, can she?

  Just as Tia is heading out of her hotel room to take an early afternoon walk to the cemetery to visit with her father and Abby and clear her head, there is a knock on the door. An older man with graying hair and small squinting grey eyes stands at her door.

  “I’m sorry to bother you but I’m looking for Abigail Peters. The front desk gave me this room number.”