Hope, he’d immediately thought. The woman sounded exactly like Hope.
In the years since his visit to Sunset Beach, he’d met thousands of guests. A few had been from North Carolina, and there was something unique about the accent when compared to other southern states, a softer roll to the vowels, perhaps.
They had something important to tell him.
Before he even realized that he’d risen from his seat, he was at their table. Normally, he would never think of interrupting strangers at lunch, but like a puppet on a string, he felt as though he had no choice.
“Pardon me,” Tru began. “I hate to interrupt, but you wouldn’t happen to be from North Carolina?” he asked them.
If either the man or woman was bothered by his sudden appearance at their table, they didn’t show it.
“Why, as a matter of fact, we are,” said the woman. She smiled expectantly. “Have we met?”
“I don’t believe we have.”
“Then how on earth would you know where we’re from?”
“I recognized the accent,” Tru responded.
“But clearly you’re not a Tar Heel.”
“No,” he said. “I’m originally from Zimbabwe. But I spent some time in Sunset Beach once.”
“Small world!” the woman exclaimed. “We have a house there. When did you visit?”
“1990,” Tru answered.
“That’s long before our time,” she said. “We just bought the beach house two years ago. I’m Sharon Wheddon, and this is my husband, Bill.”
Bill reached his hand out, and Tru shook it.
“Tru Walls,” he said. “I heard you talking about Mombo Camp and Jack’s Camp. Before I retired, I used to be a safari guide, and I can assure you that both are outstanding. You’ll see plenty of game at Mombo. But the camps are different. Jack’s is in the Kalahari, and it’s one of the best places in the world to see meerkats.”
As he spoke, the woman stared at him, her head cocked slightly to the side, a slight frown of concentration on her face. Her mouth opened, then closed before she leaned across the table.
“Did you say your name was Tru Walls, and that you’re from Zimbabwe? And that you used to guide?”
“Yes.”
Sharon turned from Tru to Bill. “Do you remember what we found last spring? When we were staying at the beach house and went on that long walk? And I made a joke, because we were going to Africa?”
As she spoke, Bill began to nod. “Now I do.”
Sharon faced Tru with a delighted expression.
“Have you ever heard of Kindred Spirit?”
At her comment, Tru felt suddenly dizzy. How long had it been since he’d heard anyone mention the name of the mailbox? Though it was a place Tru had remembered a thousand times over the years, it had been until now a knowledge that felt in some way only his and Hope’s to share. “You mean the mailbox?” he croaked out.
“Yes!” Sharon cried, “I can’t believe this! Honey, can you believe this?”
Bill shook his head, seemingly as amazed as she was, while she clapped her hands in excitement.
“When you were at Sunset Beach, you met a woman there named…Helen? Hannah?” She frowned. “No, Hope—that was it, wasn’t it?”
The world beyond their table went blurry and the floor suddenly felt unsteady. “I did,” he finally stammered, “but you seem to have me at a disadvantage.”
“Maybe you should sit,” Sharon said. “There was a letter at Kindred Spirit that I need to tell you about.”
* * *
By the time he concluded, darkness had pressed close around the house, the fire the only source of light. He could just make out the faint sounds of music drifting from the radio in the kitchen. Hope’s eyes gleamed in the firelight.
“Two days later, I was here, in North Carolina. Obviously, they didn’t remember everything about the letter—critically, the date or even the month you would be here—but my name and background were enough for them to remember the basics.”
“Why didn’t you start looking for me as soon as you got to North Carolina?”
He was quiet for a moment. “Do you realize that during the week we spent together, you never told me Josh’s last name?”
“Of course I did,” she said. “I must have.”
“No,” he said, with an almost sad smile. “You didn’t. And I never asked. Nor did I know your sisters’ last names. I didn’t even realize it until after I got back to Africa, not that it mattered back then, of course. And after twenty-four years, without last names, I didn’t have much to go on. I knew your maiden name, but Anderson is a fairly common name, I quickly learned, even in North Carolina. And besides, I had no idea where you were living, or even if you’d stayed in North Carolina at all. I did remember that Josh was an orthopedic surgeon, and I must have called every orthopedic office and hospital all the way to Greensboro, asking about doctors named Josh, but that didn’t get me anywhere.”
She brought her lips together. “Then how on earth would you have found me years ago? When you almost got on the plane?”
“At the time, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. But I suppose I would have probably hired a private investigator. And if you hadn’t shown up by the end of the year, that’s what I was planning to do. But…” He grinned. “I knew you’d come. I knew I’d find you at Kindred Spirit, because that’s where you said you’d be. Every day in September, I woke up thinking that today would be the day.”
“And every day was a disappointment.”
“Yes,” he said. “But it also made it more likely that the next day would be the one.”
“What if I’d decided to come in July or August? Weren’t you worried that you’d missed me?”
“Not really,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d want to meet me in the summer, because of all the vacationers. I suspected you’d pick a day more like the one on which we visited the mailbox, when it was likely we could have some privacy. Autumn or winter seemed most likely.”
Hope gave a rueful smile. “You’ve always known me, haven’t you?”
In response, Tru lifted her hand and kissed it. “I believed in us.”
She felt herself flush again. “Would you like to read the letter?”
“You still have it?”
“I have a copy,” she said. “It’s in the box on the table.”
When she started to get up, Tru raised his hands to stop her. Rising from the couch, he fetched the carved box from the kitchen and was about to set it on the coffee table when Hope shook her head.
“No,” she said. “Put it here on the couch. Between us.”
“It’s heavy,” he observed, taking a seat again.
“It’s from Zimbabwe,” she said. “Open it. The letter is at the bottom.”
Tru lifted the lid. On top, he saw the wedding invitation, and he touched it with a questioning look; beneath it were the drawings, as well as the letter he’d written to her. At the bottom was an envelope, plain and unmarked. He was strangely affected by the sight of the drawings and letter.
“You kept them,” he murmured, almost in disbelief.
“Of course,” she answered.
“Why?”
“Don’t you know?” She touched his arm gently. “Even when I married Josh, I was still in love with you. I knew that as I took my vows. My feelings for you were passionate, but…peaceful. Because that’s how you made me feel during the week we spent together. At peace. Being with you felt like coming home.”
Tru swallowed through the lump in his throat. “It was the same for me.” He stared down at the letter. “Losing you was like feeling the earth fall away beneath my feet.”
“Read,” she said, nodding at the envelope. “It’s short.”
Tru returned the other items to the box before sliding the letter from the envelope. He read it slowly, rolling the words around in his mind, hearing her voice in every line. His chest filled, brimming now with unspoken emotion. He wanted to kiss her then, bu
t didn’t. “I have something to give you.”
He got up and went to the end table near the door. Reaching into the canvas knapsack, he pulled out the book of bound sketches he’d made. Returning to the couch, he handed her the book. Kindred Spirit, the gold-stamped lettering on the cover read.
Hope looked from him to the book and back again, curiosity getting the better of her. Tru settled next to her as she ran her finger over the wording.
“I’m almost afraid to see what it is,” she said.
“Don’t be,” he urged as Hope finally opened the book. On the first page, there was a portrait of Hope at the edge of the pier, a place he’d never seen her. It was a sketch that seemed to capture everything about her, but since it had no role in their story, he viewed it as a title page of sorts.
He was silent as Hope turned the page, studying on the left an image of him walking the beach, and on the right, Hope trailing behind, some distance back. Scottie could be seen racing for the dune.
The next pages showed the two of them on the first morning they’d ever spoken; in the sketches, he was holding Scottie and her concern was evident in her worried expression. The next two pages showed them walking back toward the cottage; those were followed by drawings of the two of them drinking coffee on the back deck. The images blended together like a series of screen shots in a movie. Hope took a long time to work her way through to the end. When she finally did, he noted a tear track on her cheek.
“You captured all of it,” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “I tried to, anyway. It’s for you.”
“No,” she said. “This is a work of art.”
“It’s us,” he said.
“When did you…”
“It took years,” he said.
She ran her hand over the cover again. “I don’t know what to say. But there’s no way you can give this to me. It’s…a treasure.”
“I can always make another one. And ever since I finished, I’ve been dreaming of the day I would see you again, so I could show you how you’ve lived on in my soul.”
She continued to hold the book in her lap, clutching it as though she never wanted to let it go. “You even added that moment on the beach, after I told you Josh had proposed, when you held me…”
He waited as she searched for the words.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about that,” she said in a low voice. “As we walked, I was trying to figure out a way to tell you, and I was so confused and scared. I could feel this void already beginning to form because I knew we were going to say goodbye. But I wanted it to be on our terms, whatever that meant, and it felt like Josh took that away from me…”
He could hear the plea in her tone. “I thought I understood how much I hurt you that day, but seeing the drawing of you in that moment is devastating. The expression on your face—the way you drew yourself…”
Her voice trembled, and she trailed off. Tru swallowed, acknowledging the truth of her words. It had been one of the most painful renderings in the entire book, one he’d had to walk away from more than once.
“And then, do you know what you did? You didn’t argue, or get angry, or make demands. Instead, your first instinct was just to hold me. To comfort me, even when it should have been the other way around. I didn’t deserve it, but you knew it was something that I needed.” She fought to keep her composure. “That’s what I feel like I missed out on when I married Josh—having someone who would comfort me when things were at their worst. And then, today, at the mailbox, when I was in shock and had no idea what to say or do, you took me in your arms again. Because you knew I felt like I had fallen off a cliff and needed you to catch me.” She shook her head sadly. “I don’t know if Josh ever held me like that—with perfect empathy. It made me think again how much I gave up when I drove away that day.”
He watched her without moving, then finally reached for the box and placed it on the table. He put his hand on the book of sketches he’d created, loosening it from her grip, and set it beside the box before putting his arm around her. Hope leaned into him. He kissed her hair softly, just as he’d done so long ago.
“I’m here now,” he whispered. “We were in love, but the timing wasn’t right. And all the love in the world can’t alter timing.”
“I know,” she said, “but I think we would have been good together. I think we could have made each other happy…” He watched as she closed her eyes before slowly opening them again. “And now it’s too late,” she said, her voice desolate.
Tru used a finger to gently lift her chin. She faced him, as beautiful as any woman he’d ever seen. He leaned closer, their lips coming together. Her mouth was warm and eager.
“It’s never too late to hold you,” he murmured.
Rising from the couch, he reached for her hand. The moon had risen, casting a silvery beam through the window to compete with the molten glow of the fire. She rose, slowly, and he kissed the hand he’d been holding. Languorously, he pulled her toward him. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling as her arms twined around his neck. She rested her head against his shoulder, her breath fluttering against his collarbone, and he thought to himself that this was all he’d ever wanted. She was all he’d ever wanted. He’d known she was the one since the moment he’d met her; he’d known since then that there would never be another.
From the porch, he heard the distant tinkle of wind chimes. Hope’s body swayed against his, beckoning and warm, and he gave in to everything he was feeling.
Her mouth opened beneath his, her tongue flicking against his. It was hot and moist, the sensation unchanged after all this time, ageless and elemental. He tightened his arms around her, melding her body to his. His hand roved over her back and into her hair, then caressed her back again. He’d waited so long for this, reliving it on so many lonely nights. When the kiss ended, Hope rested her head on his chest, her body beginning to shake.
He heard her sniff, and with alarm, he realized she was crying. When he pulled back, she refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she kept her face buried in his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so, so sorry. I wish I had never left you. I wish I had found you earlier, I wish you had gotten on that plane…”
There was something in her voice, a fear he hadn’t expected. “I’m here now,” he said, “and I’m not going anywhere.”
“It’s too late,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry, but it’s too late now. I can’t do this to you.”
“It’s all right,” he whispered, feeling the first inkling of panic. He didn’t know what was wrong; he didn’t know what he’d done to upset her. “I understand why you had to leave. And you have two wonderful children…Hope, it’s all right. I understand the choice you made.”
“It’s not that.” She shook her head, a deep weariness weighting her words. “But it’s still too late.”
“What are you talking about?” he cried, gripping her arms and pulling back. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. Please talk to me, Hope.” Desperate, he tried to peer into her face.
“I’m afraid…and I have no idea what to say to my kids…”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“But they won’t,” she said. “I remember how hard it was for me.”
Tru felt a shiver go through him. He forced himself to take a deep breath. “I don’t understand.”
Hope began to cry harder, great gasping sobs that left her clinging to him for support. “I’m dying,” she finally said. “I have ALS like my father did, and now I’m dying.”
With her words, Tru’s mind emptied, and all he could think about were the shadows cast by the fire and the way they seemed almost alive. Her words seemed to ricochet inside him…I have ALS like my father did, and now I’m dying.
He closed his eyes, trying to offer strength, but his body seemed to be weakening. She squeezed him hard
, whispering, “Oh, Tru…I’m so sorry…It’s all my fault…”
He felt a pressure behind his eyes as he heard her voice again.
I’m dying…She’d told him how heartbreaking her father’s decline had been; that he had lost so much weight in the last few months that Hope could carry him to the bed. It was a ruthless and unstoppable illness, finally stealing even his very breath. Tru didn’t know what to say as Hope rocked and sobbed against him, and it was all he could do to simply remain upright.
Beyond the windows, the world was black. A cold night, but Tru felt even colder. He had waited a lifetime for Hope and had found her, but all too soon, she would be stolen from him again. His thoughts were racing and he ached inside, and he remembered again the last line in the note he’d written to her after she’d invited him to Kindred Spirit the very first time.
I’m anticipating surprise with you as my guide.
He didn’t know why those words leaped to mind, or what they were supposed to mean right now, nor did they seem to make any sense at all. Hope was his dream, all he’d ever wanted, and she’d told him that she was dying. Tru felt on the verge of shattering as they clung to each other and wept, the sounds muffled in the cocoon of the silent house.
Day by Day
I knew I had it, even before my first diagnostic test,” Hope said.
It had taken her a while to stop crying, and when her tears had finally abated, Tru had wiped his own face as well. He’d gone to the kitchen to make more tea and brought a fresh cup to her as she sat on the couch. Her knees were drawn up, swaddled in the blanket.
Gripping the mug with both hands, she said, “I remembered what my father had told me it was like in the very beginning. Just this overall run-down feeling, like a cold, except that it never got any better. I was the one who suggested the diagnosis to my doctor, but she was skeptical. Because ALS generally doesn’t run in families. Only one in ten cases has any kind of family history. But when I went in for the tests and the results were slow to come back, I knew.”
Every Breath Page 25