Nineteen Letters

by Jodi Perry

  That day we gave ourselves to each other completely. Our bodies and hearts became one.

  What we had is far too beautiful to be forgotten.

  Yours always,

  Braxton

  I release a contented sigh as I refold the letter. I’m grateful that he was my first, and for all the trouble he went to making it so special. These letters make me see just how lucky I’ve been to have his love.

  Taking the charms out of the envelope, I lay them out on the palm of my hand. Two hearts linked together, and a tiny plane. A smile forms on my lips as I stare down at them. Although we no longer live together as husband and wife, there’s a part of me that knows my heart still belongs to him.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Braxton

  ‘He seems happy here,’ Jemma says, linking her arm through mine as we leave the nursing home and walk to my car. ‘But do you feel sad leaving him? Because I do.’

  ‘All the time,’ I admit. ‘Some days are harder than others, but it’s never easy.’

  ‘How come he never came to live with us?’

  ‘We both had jobs and a mortgage to pay. And as much as we would have liked to have him with us rather than in a home, neither of us could afford to give up work and give him the full-time care he needed.’

  ‘Life can be so unfair at times.’

  ‘It can, but you need to make the most of what you’ve got, I suppose.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Are you coping all right with the mortgage repayments without my income?’

  ‘I’m doing okay.’ I smile as I open her door. It was sweet of her to ask, but since our shopping-centre deal, money no longer seems an issue. ‘That reminds me, the insurance cheque came for your car a few days ago. I put it into your bank account, but it probably won’t clear until the end of the week.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’m not sure if you ever want to drive again, but the money is there if you want to buy another car.’

  ‘Am I still able to drive with my memory loss?’

  ‘It’s something we’d have to look into. You may need to sit another test, or do some lessons.’

  ‘I’m not sure if I’m ready for anything like that yet. I’m happy catching the bus. Besides, if I have to start from scratch, it could be dangerous.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ I say, chuckling. ‘You have me to chauffeur you around.’

  ‘I do.’ She looks over at me and smiles. ‘Do you have any plans this weekend?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘Please don’t feel you have to say yes, but I’d love to go and visit Tilly-Girl on Saturday.’

  ‘Consider it done.’

  ‘And maybe I could come over on Sunday and cook you another roast. We could bring your dad to the house for the day.’

  ‘He’d like that … so would I.’

  I reach for her hand, and she lets me hold it all the way back to Christine’s. When I pull into the driveway, she stays seated, showing no indication of wanting to leave. I take that as a sign; I won’t put pressure on her, but I’m going to take every opportunity I can to try to win her back.

  Leaning over, I cup the side of her face as my lips gently meet hers. I don’t know what we are, but we’ve definitely moved past the friend zone. It’s another step forward, and as long as we’re moving in the right direction, I’m happy.

  My forehead rests against hers when I finally pull out of the kiss. ‘I have another letter for you.’

  Her lips curve into a smile when I retrieve it from the glovebox. I’ve enclosed a small coffee mug charm inside.

  LETTER FIFTEEN …

  Dearest Jemma,

  The ninth of February 2007. Even though you were putting on a brave face, I saw you wipe the tears from your eyes a number of times throughout the day. We were packing up my father’s car ready for me to head to university. My heart was heavy, and like you, I struggled to remain composed.

  There was a huge part of me that was excited to embark on this new adventure, but it was overshadowed by the pain of leaving you behind. Even though I would be just an hour-and-a-half’s drive away, I would only get to see you on the weekends, and that didn’t sit well with me at all. You’d been a part of my everyday life for the past eleven years. I wasn’t sure how I would survive without my daily dose of your pretty face.

  My father had taken us and your parents out for my farewell dinner at The Sea Shanty, the night before. You kept your head bowed, pushing the food around on your plate. I’d occasionally see you wipe your eyes, and it broke my heart.

  My hand clutched yours tightly, under the table. Seeing you like this did nothing to ease my sense of foreboding about leaving. I was grateful, however, that your parents agreed to let you spend the night at my house. We hardly slept; instead we talked, we made love, and I held you while you cried. Although I was still physically there, I was already missing you.

  I had already decided to make the trip on my own. Having both my father and you at the other end would do nothing to help me settle. My dad had insisted I take his car for that week. He told me it was his way of guaranteeing I would come home the following weekend, which was ironic because nothing could have kept me from coming home to see you. I was already doubting I would last a week.

  I left around 1pm after a lunch your mother had made but neither you or I had eaten.

  The four of you stood by the car, and I said goodbye to your parents first. Your mum got all teary as she hugged me tight. ‘Can you keep an eye on my dad while I’m gone?’ I whispered to her.

  I knew she would, she always did, but I felt compelled to ask her. I was worried about leaving him alone.

  Your father shook my hand and told me how proud he was, which meant a lot. Saying goodbye to them was hard, but my next two goodbyes were what I dreaded the most. I silently prayed that I’d be able to hold it all together.

  ‘Bye, Pop,’ I said, extending my hand to him, but he pulled me into an embrace instead.

  ‘Make me proud, son.’

  ‘I will.’ Tears stung my eyes as he held me. ‘I love you, Pop.’ I hadn’t said those words to him since my mother’s death. I’d been too scared to.

  ‘I love you too, son.’

  He released me and took a step back, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of notes and shoved them into my hand. ‘No, Pop,’ I said, trying to give the money back to him. ‘I still have money I saved from my lawn-mowing jobs.’ Plus I’d lined up a few interviews for part-time work to keep me going once I got there.

  ‘Take it … please.’

  The tortured look on your face as I moved towards you only served to make the lump that had formed in my throat grow bigger.

  I pulled you into my arms, squeezing you tight, and the tears you’d been fighting all day came flooding to the surface as you sobbed into my chest. I clenched my eyes shut, fighting back my own.

  ‘I’m going to miss you so much,’ I whispered into your hair.

  ‘I’ll miss you too.’

  When I finally let you go, I cupped your face in my hands, using the pad of my thumbs to wipe your tears away. ‘I’ll call you when I get there, and we can Skype every night.’

  ‘Okay,’ you said as more tears leaked from your eyes.

  I placed my lips against yours and held them there for the longest time. How was I going to survive a whole week without your kisses?

  ‘I love you, Jem.’ Expressing my love to you came easy now.

  ‘I love you too.’

  ‘I’ll be back Friday afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting.’

  I looked at the four of you as I started the car. The four most important people in my life … my family. It was incredibly hard for me to drive away from you all that day. I wound down my window as I reversed out of the driveway. My dad’s arm was draped over your shoulder, and your head was resting on his chest.

  I waved goodbye once I reached the street. ‘Drive safely,’ your mum called out as she wiped a tear from her e
ye.

  ‘I love you,’ you mouthed when my gaze moved to you. I blew you a kiss, and you pretended to catch it, before placing your clenched hand over your heart.

  I put my foot down and drove away. It was only then that I let my emotions go. I wiped the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand as I set off down the street, ready to embark on this new chapter in my life.

  The fourteenth of February 2007. It was a Wednesday. I said I wouldn’t be back until Friday, but there was no way I could miss seeing you on our very first Valentine’s Day.

  I had secured a job working nights in a small pub not far from the university. I had been training all week, ready for my first shift the following Monday, so I would have to drive home and back in the one day.

  I sat on the bonnet of your car when I reached the school. You had no idea I was coming. Excitement grew within me when the bell sounded, marking the end of your day. There was a bunch of red roses in my hand, and under my arm was tucked a white teddy bear with a big red bow around its neck. It played ‘You Are My Sunshine’ when you pressed its tummy.

  You’ve always been my sunshine, Jem. The mere sight of you brightens my day.

  It had only been five days since I’d seen you, but it felt like a lifetime. You were walking with a few of your girlfriends when one of them elbowed you, pointing in my direction. I inhaled a sharp breath, because your beauty has always managed to leave me breathless. You froze the second your eyes landed on me. You just stood there for a brief time staring, and for a split second I was unsure if you were happy that I was here.

  Relief flooded through me when a huge smile broke out on your face, and you dropped your backpack and ran to me.

  ‘Braxton,’ you said, leaping into my arms. ‘What are you doing here?’ I buried my face in your hair and inhaled your sweet scent.

  There were tears glistening in your eyes when you drew back to look at me.

  ‘It’s our first Valentine’s Day,’ I said, ‘and I needed to see my girl.’

  You crashed your mouth against mine. Christ, how I’d missed the feel of your soft lips. A few of the other students cheered and whistled as they passed, but it didn’t deter us in the slightest. We had five days worth of kisses to make up for.

  Once we left the school, you asked me to take you home so you could give me my gift. You had bought me a mug that said, ‘You’re cute, can I keep you?’

  To this day, it’s still my favourite mug, and I drink out of it every day.

  What we had is far too beautiful to be forgotten.

  Yours always,

  Braxton

  The weekend rolls around fast. I called over to Stephen’s apartment last night and took the spare keys to Ma and Pa’s house, just in case Jemma wants to go inside. I also packed Tilly-Girl’s saddle into the trunk of the car.

  It’s a beautiful autumn day, perfect for a ride.

  I arrive at Christine’s house just after eight. The earlier we leave, the longer I get to spend with her.

  Before I even make it to the front porch, Jemma leaves the house. My eyes drink her in. Her jade green top hangs off to one side, revealing a slender shoulder. I can’t recall seeing her in this top before, it must be new. She’s wearing knee-high tan boots over a pair of skinny jeans that perfectly showcase her long legs. Legs that she once willingly wrapped around me. The recent memory of her straddling my lap floods my mind.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ I say.

  ‘Thank you. You look rather dashing yourself.’

  I extend my hand to her when she reaches the bottom step, pulling her into my arms. ‘Good morning.’ Bringing my face forward, I brush my lips against hers. I kiss her hello and goodbye every time we’re together now. As long as she’s okay with that, I’m not about to stop.

  ‘Good morning,’ she replies, sliding her arms around my waist.

  ‘Are you ready to go and see Tilly-Girl?’

  ‘I can’t wait to see her. I could hardly sleep last night I was so excited.’

  I place a soft kiss on her forehead before drawing back, and a movement in the window catches my eye. It’s Christine. She’s watching us with a huge grin on her face. I give her a quick wave before reaching for Jemma’s hand.

  ‘I brought Tilly-Girl’s saddle with me in case you feel up to riding her.’

  ‘I’d love to ride her.’

  As we make our way onto the freeway, my eyes leave the road briefly, and I see her smiling as she relaxes back into the seat. She reaches across and places her hand on my thigh. It seems like such a natural reaction, it’s something she always did. Turning her head slightly, she gazes out her window. She seems so content.

  ‘Did I go to the same university as you?’

  ‘You did. You started the year after me.’

  ‘Did we live together?’

  ‘No. Well, not officially, anyway. Your parents set you up in shared accommodation off campus. Your apartment wasn’t far from mine. That’s how you and Rachel became such good friends, she was your roommate.’

  She turns her face in my direction. ‘Why didn’t I live with you?’

  ‘Your parents thought we were too young for that kind of commitment, but we spent almost every night together. If you didn’t sleep at my apartment, I slept at yours.’

  Her lips break into a smile as she turns her head to gaze back out the window.

  We spend over an hour at Ma and Pa’s. Jemma is eager to go inside and have a look around. It’s still exactly the same as I remember it, albeit a little dustier.

  I stand back and observe Jemma as she walks from room to room, answering all the questions she asks. ‘I’m really grateful that you brought me back here. It’s nice to have an actual visual of the inside of the house, instead of trying to conjure one up in my mind,’ she glances at me over her shoulder as she speaks. ‘The kitchen where we helped Ma bake treats, the fireplace we sat in front of after our misadventure with the Loch Ness Monster, and the bedroom that you and I shared when we were kids …’

  Her words tug at my heart. These were all moments from our past that I have included in my letters. It’s just another example of how difficult life has become for her. The accident may have stolen her away from me, but what she lost that day was far greater. My stories can give her back snippets of her past, but the visions, emotions and feelings that she once associated with those times are lost forever.

  She picks up ornaments, runs her hands over the rich wooden furniture, and studies the framed pictures on the mantelpiece, as well as the ones hanging on the wall.

  ‘Do you think it would be okay if I took a few of these pictures home?’ she asked as she stands in front of the old fireplace. ‘It seems so wasteful just having them sitting here with nobody to look at them.’

  ‘I don’t think your mother would mind. If she does, we can always bring them back.’

  Out of the ten or so pictures, she chooses three: one of her sitting on Pa’s lap while he’s driving the tractor, one of her parents on their wedding day, and one of the two of us as kids with Ma.

  She hugs the three framed pictures to her chest as I lock up the farmhouse. ‘Next time we come back, I’d like to give the place a good clean,’ she says. ‘Maybe vacuum and dust, and open some windows to let the fresh air in. It’s very stuffy in there.’

  I called Mr Talbot yesterday, informing him that we would be dropping by to visit Tilly-Girl. There is a part of me that’s concerned about Jemma riding again, but it’s something she always loved and I want her to experience it again. Since the accident she seems fragile, but in reality she’s anything but. She’s one of the strongest, most courageous people I know.

  After saddling the horse, I help her up, before climbing on behind her. I want to make sure she’s comfortable before letting her ride Tilly-Girl on her own. It’s been years since I’ve sat behind her on this horse.

  After we do a few laps around the paddock, I hop down, giving her the reins, and I spend the next few hours leaning on the fence post, sm
iling the entire time as I watch her. It’s a beautiful sight seeing her so happy and carefree. The bond between Jemma and the horse is as strong as ever, even if she doesn’t remember it.

  I can tell it is hard for her to say goodbye, but I promise to bring her back every weekend if that’s what she wants.

  ‘I’ve had the most amazing day,’ she says as we head down the long driveway, towards the main road.

  ‘I meant what I said, we can come back every weekend if you like.’

  She places her hand on my leg again. ‘Thank you for today … thank you for everything.’

  It starts to sprinkle as we drive out of town. ‘Are you hungry, or would you prefer to head back to Christine’s?’

  I still can’t bring myself to refer to that house as her home.

  ‘I’m starved. Riding Tilly-Girl really worked up my appetite.’

  ‘There’s a place not far from here … Mama’s Country Kitchen. Ma and Pa used to take us there as a treat when we were kids. All their meals come with a side of sweet potato. They’re cooked whole in the skin, and served topped with whipped cinnamon butter. You used to love them.’

  She loved them so much she used to steal mine sometimes too.

  ‘That sounds perfect.’

  She not only ate all of her sweet potato, she polished off half of mine, just like old times. She may not realise it, but there are parts of her that are still the same.

  By the time I pay the bill and we leave the restaurant, it’s pouring with rain. ‘Wait here,’ I say. ‘I’ll bring the car around so you don’t get wet.’

  Pulling the back of my jacket over my head, I make a dash for the car. I’m halfway across the car park when someone grabs hold of my arm. Suddenly I find Jemma standing beside me. The rain has already drenched her hair, and she squints as the heavy drops pound against her face.

  ‘Dance with me?’

  There’s a part of me that wants to just keep her dry and warm, but how can I say no? It’s been almost ten years since we’ve done this, and if she wants to dance with me in the rain, then that’s exactly what I’ll do. Giving her back pieces of her past in the letters I’ve written is nothing like letting her experience those moments firsthand.