No wind chime...
She hesitated, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She felt odd and curiously weightless, as if she were in a waking dream. The closer she got, the more the house seemed to decay before her.
She blinked and noticed that the door was cracked down the middle with a two-by-four hammered across it, bracing it to the crumbling casing.
She blinked again and saw that part of the wall, up in the corner, had rotted away, leaving a jagged hole.
She blinked a third time and realized that the lower half of the window was cracked and broken; pieces of glass littered the porch.
Katie climbed onto the porch, unable to stop herself. Leaning in, she peered through the windows into the darkened cottage.
Dust and dirt, broken furniture, piles of garbage. Nothing painted, nothing cleaned. All at once, Katie stepped back on the porch, almost stumbling off the broken step. No. It wasn't possible, it just wasn't. What had happened to Jo, and what about all the improvements she'd made on the small cottage? Katie had seen Jo hang the wind chime. Jo had been over to her house, complaining about having to paint and clean. They'd had coffee and wine and cheese and Jo had teased Katie about the bicycle. Jo had met her after work and they'd gone to a bar. The waitress had seen them both. Katie had ordered both of them wine...
But Jo's glass had been untouched, she recalled.
Katie massaged her temples, her mind racing, searching for answers. She remembered that Jo had been sitting on the steps when Alex dropped her off. Even Alex had seen her...
Or had he?
Katie backed away from the decaying home. Jo was real. There was no way she'd been a figment of her imagination. She hadn't made her up.
But Jo liked everything you did: she drank her coffee the same way, she liked the clothes you bought, her thoughts about the employees at Ivan's mirrored your own.
A dozen random details suddenly began crowding her mind and voices dueled in her head...
She lived here!
But why is it such a dump?
We looked at the stars together!
You looked at the stars alone, which is why you still don't know their names.
We drank wine at my house!
You drank the bottle by yourself, which was why you were so dizzy.
She told me about Alex! She wanted us to be together!
She never mentioned his name until you already knew it, and you were interested in him all along.
She was the kids' counselor!
Which was the excuse you used as a reason to never tell Alex about her.
But...
But...
But...
One by one, the answers came as quickly as she could think of them: the reason she'd never learned Jo's last name or saw her drive a car... the reason Jo never invited her over or accepted her offer to help her paint... how Jo had been able to magically appear at Katie's side in jogging clothes...
Katie felt something give way inside her as everything clicked into place.
Jo, she suddenly realized, had never been there at all.
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Still feeling as if she were in a dream, Katie stumbled back to her house. She took a seat in the rocker and stared at Jo's house, wondering if she'd gone utterly mad.
She knew that the creation of imaginary friends was common among children, but she wasn't a child. And yes, she'd been under a great deal of stress when she arrived in Southport. Alone and friendless, on the run and looking over her shoulder, terrified that Kevin was closing in--who wouldn't be anxious? But was that enough to have prompted the creation of an alter ego? Maybe some psychiatrists would say yes, but she wasn't so sure.
The problem was that she didn't want to believe it. She couldn't believe it because it had felt so... real. She remembered those conversations, could still see Jo's expressions, still hear the sound of her laughter. Her memories of Jo felt as real as her memories of Alex did. Of course, he probably wasn't real, either. Probably made him up, too. And Kristen and Josh. She was probably strapped to a bed in an asylum somewhere, lost in an entire world of her own creation. She shook her head, frustrated and confused and yet...
There was something else nagging at her, though, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She was forgetting about something. Something important.
As much as she tried, she couldn't seem to place it. The events of the past few days had left her feeling drained and jittery. She looked up. Dusk was beginning to spread across the sky and the temperature was falling. Near the trees, a mist was starting to roll in.
Looking away from Jo's house--which was how she'd always refer to it, regardless of the state of mind it implied--Katie reached for the letter and examined it. The outer envelope was blank.
There was something frightening about the unopened letter, even though she wasn't sure why. It might have been Alex's expression as he'd handed it over... somehow she knew it was not only serious, but also important to him, and she wondered why he hadn't told her anything about it.
She didn't know, but it would be getting dark soon and she knew she was running out of time. Turning the envelope over, she lifted the seal. In the waning light, she ran her finger over the yellow legal paper before unfolding the pages. Finally, she began to read.
To the woman my husband loves,
If it seems odd for you to read these words, please believe me when I tell you that it feels just as odd to write them. Then again, nothing about this letter feels normal. There's so much I want to say, so much I want to tell you, and when I first put pen to paper, everything was clear in my mind. Now, however, I find myself struggling and I'm not sure where to begin.
I can start by saying this: I've come to believe that in everyone's life, there's one undeniable moment of change, a set of circumstances that suddenly alters everything. For me, that moment was meeting Alex. Though I don't know when or where you're reading this, I know it means he loves you. It also means he wants to share his life with you, and if nothing else, we will always have that in common.
My name, as you probably know, is Carly, but for most of my life, my friends called me Jo...
Katie stopped reading and looked at the letter in her hands, unable to absorb its words. Taking a deep breath, she reread those words: for most of my life, my friends called me Jo...
She gripped the pages, feeling the memory she'd been struggling to retrieve come into focus at last. Suddenly, she was back in the master bedroom on the night of the fire. She felt the strain in her arms and back as she heaved the rocking chair through the window, felt the surge of panic as she wrapped Josh and Kristen in the comforter, only to hear the loud splintering sound behind her. With sudden clarity, she remembered whirling around and seeing the portrait hanging on the wall, the portrait of Alex's wife. At the time, she'd been confused, her nerves short-circuiting in the hell of smoke and fear.
But she'd seen the face. Yes, she'd even taken a step closer to get a better look.
That looks a lot like Jo, she remembered thinking, even if her mind hadn't been able to process it. But now, as she sat on the porch beneath a slowly darkening sky, she knew with certainty that she was wrong. Wrong about everything. She raised her eyes to gaze at Jo's cottage again.
It looked like Jo, she suddenly realized, because it was Jo. Unbidden, she felt another memory float free, from the first morning that Jo had come over.
My friends call me Jo, she had said by way of introduction.
Oh, my God.
Katie paled.
...Jo...
She hadn't imagined Jo, she suddenly knew. She hadn't made her up.
Jo had been here, and she felt her throat begin to tighten. Not because she didn't believe it, but because she suddenly understood that her friend Jo--her only real friend, her wise adviser, her supporter and confidante--would never come back.
They would never have coffee, they would never share another bottle of wine, they would never visit on the porch out front. She'd never hear the sound of Jo's laug
hter or watch the way she arched her eyebrow. She would never hear Jo complain about having to do manual labor, and she began to cry, mourning the wonderful friend she'd never had the chance to meet in life.
She wasn't sure how much time passed before she was able to begin reading again. It was getting dark, and with a sigh, she stood and unlocked the front door. Inside, she took a seat at the kitchen table. Jo, she remembered, had once sat in the opposite chair, and for a reason she couldn't explain, Katie felt herself begin to relax.
Okay, she thought to herself. I'm ready to hear what you have to say.
...but for most of my life, my friends called me Jo. Please feel free to call me either, and just so you know, I already consider you a friend. I hope by the end of this letter, you'll feel the same about me.
Dying is a strange business, and I'm not going to bore you with the details. I might have weeks or I might have months and though it's a cliche, it's true that so many of the things I once believed to be important no longer are. I don't read the newspaper anymore, or care about the stock market, or worry whether it's going to rain while I'm on vacation. Instead, I find myself reflecting on the essential moments of my life. I think about Alex and how handsome he looked on the day we were married. I remember my exhausted elation when I first held Josh and Kristen in my arms. They were wonderful babies, and I used to lay them in my lap and stare at them while they slept. I could do that for hours, trying to figure out whether they had my nose or Alex's, his eyes or mine. Sometimes, while they were dreaming, their little fists would curl around my finger, and I can remember thinking that I'd never experienced a purer form of joy.
It wasn't until I had children that I really understood what love meant. Don't get me wrong. I love Alex deeply, but it's different from the love I feel for Josh and Kristen. I don't know how to explain it and I don't know that I need to. All I know is that despite my illness, I nonetheless feel blessed, because I've been able to experience both. I've lived a full, happy life and experienced the kind of love that many people will never know.
But my prognosis scares me. I try to be brave around Alex, and the kids are still too young to understand what's really happening, but in quiet moments when I'm alone, the tears come readily, and sometimes I wonder if they're ever going to stop. Though I know I shouldn't, I'll find myself dwelling on the fact that I'm never going to walk my children to school or that I'll never get another chance to witness their excitement on Christmas morning. I'll never help Kristen shop for a prom dress or watch Josh play baseball. There is so much I will never see and do with them, and sometimes I despair that I'll be nothing but a distant memory by the time they get married.
How can I tell them that I love them if I'm no longer there?
And Alex. He's my dream and my companion, my lover and my friend. He's a devoted father, but more than that, he's my ideal husband. I can't describe the comfort I feel when he takes me in his arms, or how I look forward to lying down beside him at night. There's an unshakable humanity about him, a faith in the goodness of life, and it breaks my heart to imagine him alone. That's why I've asked him to give you this letter; I thought of it as a way of making him keep his promise that he would find someone special again--someone who loves him, and someone he could love. He needs that.
I was blessed to be married to him for five years and I've mothered my children for less time than that. Now, my life is almost over and you are going to take my place. You'll become the wife who grows old with Alex, and you'll become the only mother my children will ever know. You can't imagine how terrible it is to lie in bed, staring at my family and knowing these things, and realizing there's nothing I can do to change them. Sometimes, I dream that I'll find a way to come back, that I can find a way to ensure they're going to be all right. I like to believe that I'll watch over them from heaven, or that I can visit them in their dreams. I want to pretend that my journey isn't over and I pray that the boundless love I feel for them will somehow make it possible.
This is where you come in. I want you to do something for me.
If you love Alex now, then love him forever. Make him laugh again, and cherish the time you spend together. Take walks and ride your bikes, curl up on the couch and watch movies beneath a blanket. Make him breakfast, but don't spoil him. Let him make breakfast for you as well, so he can show you he thinks you're special. Kiss him and make love to him, and consider yourself lucky for having met him, for he's the kind of man who'll prove you right.
I also want you to love my children in the same way I do. Help them with their homework and kiss their scraped elbows and knees when they fall. Run your hand through their hair and assure them they can do anything they put their mind to. Tuck them in at night and help them say their prayers. Make their lunches; support them in their friendships. Adore them, laugh with them, help them grow into kind, independent adults. What you give them in love, they'll return tenfold in time, if only because Alex is their father.
Please. I beg you, do these things for me. After all, they are your family now, not mine.
I'm not jealous or angry that I've been replaced by you; as I mentioned already, I consider you a friend. You've made my husband and children happy, and I wish I were around to be able to thank you in person. Instead, all I can do is assure you that you have my everlasting gratitude.
If Alex has chosen you, then I want you to believe that I have chosen you as well.
Your friend in spirit,
Carly Jo
When Katie finished reading the letter, she wiped her tears and ran her finger over the pages before slipping them back into the envelope. She sat quietly, thinking about the words that Jo had written, already knowing she would do exactly as Jo had asked.
Not because of the letter, she thought, but because she knew that in some inexplicable way, Jo was the one who'd gently urged her to give Alex a chance in the first place.
She smiled. "Thank you for trusting me," she whispered, and she knew that Jo had been right all along. She'd fallen in love with Alex and she'd fallen in love with the children and she already knew that she couldn't imagine a future without them. It was time to go home, she thought, it was time to see her family.
Outside, the moon was a brilliant white disk that guided her as she made her way toward the jeep. But before climbing in, she glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Jo's.
The lights were on and the windows of the cottage were glowing yellow. In the painted kitchen, she saw Jo standing near the window. Though she was too far away to make out much more than that, Katie had the sense she was smiling. Jo raised a hand in a friendly farewell, and Katie was reminded again that love can sometimes achieve the impossible.
When Katie blinked, however, the cottage was dark again. No lights were on and Jo had vanished, but she thought she could hear the words in the letter being carried on the gentle breeze.
If Alex has chosen you, then I want you to believe that I have chosen you as well.
Katie smiled and turned away, knowing it wasn't an illusion or a figment of her imagination. She knew what she saw.
She knew what she believed.
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