The Mailbox

by Marybeth Whalen

  He pulled her into a hug. “Let me take you. We’ll go right now.”

  Lindsey shook her head and stiffened against him, not wanting to fall into the lull of his attention and care. “No. She said to come in a few days. I’ll wait until the week is up at least.”

  Grant wasn’t deterred. “Okay, sure. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do. I know it will be hard for you to see your mother again, but you’ll do great. You’re the most forgiving person I know.” He backed away. “The kids want me to make pancakes. Would you like some?”

  She had missed his famous Saturday-morning pancakes. She nodded and wiped her eyes.

  After he went back inside and she listened to the kids cheer over his pancakes, she knew that her forgiveness was what he was counting on. She could forgive him—had forgiven him—but she also wondered if she could ever love and trust him the way she wanted to love and trust her husband. As she listened to her kids singing “The Pancake Song,” a song they made up years ago that was nothing more than a repeated chorus of “Dad makes great pancakes, great pancakes, great pancakes,” she felt more confused than ever.

  She began to pray. Should she open up her heart to people who had hurt her in the past? And if so, who? She remembered Holly’s prayer from last night and hoped that God’s answer came soon.

  w

  Later that morning Grant didn’t argue when Lindsey told him she wanted to walk to the mailbox alone. She thought it would be obvious to him that this wasn’t an ordinary trip, that she had a different agenda. She worried that the truth was coloring her face like a sunburn. That after all these years he would be able to look right into her head and see the thoughts of Campbell she carried around. So when he smiled and said to not only go but also to take her time, she was surprised. She pushed away the thought that he didn’t know her as well as she wanted to be known and plastered on a smile. He was playing Sequence with Anna and Jake, and she waved to them all, grateful to escape the beach house and head down the desolate shore with only the seagulls and her thoughts for company.

  Her letter was in her pocket, finally written, though not even close to the letter she had come there expecting to write. So much had changed since their arrival at Sunset just a few days earlier.

  Grant hadn’t slept with her the night before, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. After the kids were in bed, he stole into the master bedroom. To have him standing there after she had come so far made everything feel off center. Though something inside her wanted him there, something else wanted him gone. She looked up from the book she pretended to read and blinked back at him as if she hadn’t already discerned what he was going to say next. He pointed to the bed. “Can I join you?” he asked and raised his eyebrows.

  “Grant,” she said, laying the book in her lap and smoothing the covers so she wouldn’t have to look directly at him. “It’s too soon. I need a lot more time.”

  He exhaled loudly, revealing a hint of his impatience. “Well, then where should I sleep?”

  She stifled a smile, her small revenge. “On the couch?” she offered sweetly.

  He wasn’t to be deterred so easily. He strode across the room and sat down beside her on the bed. He smelled different. Like someone else’s detergent, someone else’s soap, cologne someone else had chosen. She wrinkled her nose. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, tangled his hands in her hair. “Your hair’s gotten so long,” he said. Grant always liked her hair cut in a certain style, kept as neatly manicured and predictable as the life they once had. She had let it grow wild and long in his absence, an act of rebellion.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I like it,” she said.

  “Mmm, I do too,” he whispered in her ear, in a husky voice she knew all too well.

  She took both her hands and placed them on his shoulders, pushing him away with all the force she could muster. He looked back at her, his face giving away his shock. Apparently he had thought he could seduce her with enough effort.

  “Grant,” she said, “I told you it was too soon. You’ve been away for so long, you can’t possibly just expect to pick up where we left off.”

  She saw the disappointment etched on his face as he rose from the bed. “No, Lindsey, I wasn’t expecting that at all. The truth is, I don’t want to pick up where we left off. Because where we left off was a terrible place. I wanted to start something new here, this week, with you and the kids.” He walked to the door and turned back to face her. “I hope somehow you’ll let me do that.” And then he was gone.

  This morning, as they ate pancakes together around the table, Lindsey almost let herself get lost in the moment. But the thought of her letter and getting to the mailbox kept her firmly planted in reality. She barely made it through breakfast and a round of Uno with Grant and the kids before she bolted from the house.

  She walked so close to the water that it lapped at her feet. As she breathed in the salty air, she placed her hand in her pocket and rubbed her letter just as she saw the mailbox in the dunes up ahead, her own personal lighthouse. Her heart quickened to be this close to it even as it sank with the knowledge that there was no Kindred Spirit for her, no magic attached to the place as she had once believed.

  She paused before she opened the mailbox to place her letter inside. Her pulse quickened with her assumption that Campbell had followed her year after year and lurked in the dunes, watching her. Even though the temperature climbed and the sun beat down on her, she shivered at the thought of being watched. She looked around, peering into the dunes, trying to catch a flash of movement, a glimpse of him. But nothing was there. As she opened the mailbox, she realized that what she was feeling was, strangely, disappointment.

  Inside the mailbox was the usual assortment of loose paper, watermarked notebooks, and pens with missing caps. Sitting on the stack of notebooks she found a folded sheet of paper with her name on it. She reached into the mailbox to retrieve it and noticed that her hand shook, keeping time with her trembling heart. She took the letter over to the bench in the sand and sat down to read it. Her eyes filled with tears as she began to read.

  Dear Lindsey,

  I just saw you a few minutes ago at your house. You sent me away, and for that I can’t blame you. I know you are angry with me for what I kept from you. I know you must have a million questions that you need for me to answer. And believe me, I want to answer them all. For the rest of my life I will answer your questions, if that’s what it takes.

  I know that with your husband back in the picture, things are more complicated. But I don’t feel that his arrival has to mean that there is no chance for us. I have to believe we have a future. Because if I stop believing that we have a chance—as I have believed every time I read one of your letters—I will stop existing. It is the possibility of you that has kept me going every day of my life, ever since I was sixteen years old and kissed you on this very beach.

  I have made huge mistakes. And the knowledge of how I have broken your heart is what’s kept me from coming to find you all these years. But the truth is, I was always there for you, even when you couldn’t see it. All these years you wrote faithfully to the Kindred Spirit. I have to ask you now, are you willing to accept the fact that your Kindred Spirit is me? That I am the one who has kept your letters for you, recorded your history, felt every pain and every joy you’ve experienced year after year?

  You can choose to leave me here, at this mailbox, in your past, or you can choose to move forward, beyond this place, into a future we can build together. I think you know what I hope you choose. I will wait as long as it takes for you to decide.

  All my love,

  Your Kindred Spirit,

  Campbell

  She refolded the letter and slipped it into her pocket, removing the letter she brought with her so she could reread her own words.

  Dear Kindred Spirit,

  Of all the lette
rs I have written to you through the years, this is the hardest one. Because I know it must be my last. How I have loved coming here every summer. How many memories are tied to this simple act of writing a letter each year about my life and placing it in this mailbox?

  Is it any less magical now that I know the recipient was you?

  In some ways, yes. But in other ways, absolutely not.

  But, as with all things in the world of grown-ups, it’s time to admit that magic is an illusion. A long time ago, we loved each other. And, if circumstances were different, we might have had a future together. But the truth is, circumstances aren’t different. My husband wants to work on our marriage. You have a daughter who needs you now more than ever. We must go on with our lives and stop living in a distant past that we are trying in vain to retrieve.

  I will never be that fifteen-year-old girl again. And you will never be that sixteen-year-old boy. Please know that, though I won’t be writing to you anymore, I will carry those two people in my heart. Always.

  Lindsey

  She held the two letters, hers and Campbell’s, weighing them in her hand like gold on a scale. Which one was real? Which one was worth more? She stared out at the sea, wishing she could blink and see Campbell there, skipping shells across the water. Or Holly, dancing fearlessly in time to the rhythm of the waves. She wanted to ask them both: What would you do if you were me? “Help me,” she whispered to no one.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she tore her own letter to shreds, admitting to herself for the first time that—Grant or no Grant—she wasn’t ready to say good-bye to Campbell yet. She knew that she and Campbell hadn’t said everything they needed to say. She didn’t know when or how she would see him again, but as she started her walk back to the beach house, she knew that somehow the mailbox would unite them, just as it always had. Both Campbell and Grant would have to wait on her to sort it all out. She had certainly done her time waiting for them.

  Chapter 33

  Sunset Beach

  Summer 2004

  “Can I take Nikki to her appointment today?” Campbell’s mom asked. He was still lying in bed, his arm slung across his face to block the intrusive rays of the sun. He had been trying to come up with just one reason to get out of bed. Driving Nikki to her appointment was the only thing he came up with.

  “You just took my reason for getting up this morning,” he responded, not bothering to remove his arm.

  He heard her bustle into the room, opening the shades and picking up his discarded clothes with a sigh. She sat on the very edge of the bed, so close she looked like she could slide right off. He didn’t move over to give her more room, though. He was being selfish, sulking like a child. He could sense his mother gearing up to call him on it. He didn’t want to give her room to do it.

  “Campbell,” she said.

  “Oh no,” he said from under his arm. “Here it comes.”

  “I think I know what’s bothering you. And it isn’t Nikki.”

  “Tell her what she’s won, Bert!” he said, removing his arm and looking at her for the first time, offering a meager smile.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what happened between you and Lindsey, but I do know this. She makes you feel like a kid again—in a good way. She might even be your soul mate. Whatever she is, I know she’s something special.”

  He turned to look out the window. “It’s too late, Mom,” he told her.

  “Has she gone home yet?” she asked.

  “No, she’ll finish out the week with her husband.” He looked back at her, hoping she could see the hurt on his face and let it go. “He came back. And I screwed up. Case closed.”

  His revelation did not deter his mother. “Well, then it’s not too late. You have to go to her. You have to chase after her. Maybe that’s what she’s been waiting for all these years. For you to follow after her. Maybe she just needs to know she’s worth the pursuit.” She raised her eyebrows at him, and he couldn’t help but grin back.

  “Did Dad chase after you, Mom?” he asked, even though mentioning his dad could still stir up fresh pain for both of them, like pressing on a bruise.

  “Every day, honey,” she said as she rose to leave. “Every day.”

  w

  When Lindsey walked into the beach house, she could hear Grant’s voice in the master bedroom. The kids were outside by the canal, throwing pebbles into the water. They were so engrossed in their activity, they barely acknowledged her arrival. Something in her quickened as she tiptoed toward the door with an extreme sense of déjà vu. She stood just outside the open door where he couldn’t see her, but she could see him. He had his back turned to her and looked out the window, keeping an eye, she supposed, on Anna and Jake.

  “I know,” he said. “I do too.” A long pause followed.

  “Of course,” he said. “Yes. You know that.” His tone was the same tone he used when he tried to seduce her last night. Her blood ran like ice through her veins, and her heart pounded so loudly she could barely focus on his words.

  “This is just something I had to do. For the kids. No, no, not for her. I told you it’s over with her.” He paused, then chuckled, a deep throaty laugh.

  In the next moment, she no longer thought of Anna or Jake, of what they wanted or what might or might not be right for them. She didn’t think about the photo of their family that hung in the foyer back home, the picture of perfection she strived for every day, with every decision. Instead she thought of herself on the beach an hour earlier, the satisfying sensation of the shreds of letter slipping from her fingers as she tossed them into the ocean and watched the waves pull them out to sea. All her life she did what was right, what was expected, what others wanted her to do. And it had gotten her nowhere. In a few short seconds, Grant had just convinced her that taking a chance on Campbell was less risky than settling for more years of disappointment with him. Five years ago, one year ago, one week ago, she would have overlooked this in the name of keeping their family together. But everything was different now.

  She stalked into the room with her adrenaline pumping and took the phone out of Grant’s hand, hardly noticing the angry, shocked look on his face. She didn’t bother to note what the woman on the other end’s voice sounded like as she told her that Grant would have to call her back when he was on his way home. She just knew she had to get him out of the house as fast as she could.

  “I don’t know why you came here or what you’re up to,” she said. “But I want you out of here. Now. I will call the police if I have to, Grant. But I will get you out of here one way or another.”

  He sputtered and fumbled for words. “I—it’s not what you think—I—she’s just someone I had taken out a few times and she wanted it to be more. I—she—I was just trying—I had to let her down easy.”

  “Grant,” she said, nearly feeling sorry for him as she spoke. “You don’t fool me. I know this woman is more to you than that. And I know it’s really over between us. Now you can make someone else miserable with your lies and deceit. But it won’t be me. Not anymore.” She could feel Holly cheering for her as she walked out of the bedroom and into the den where his duffel bag lay opened. She shoved his few things into it and handed it to him. “I can’t do this with you anymore. You have put me through enough. So, go tell your kids good-bye,” she said. “Tell them that you enjoyed your visit and I’ll make up an excuse as to why you had to leave.”

  He took the bag from her hands and picked up his keys, resigned to leaving, the fight gone out of him. “I’m sorry you heard that conversation,” he said sullenly.

  She laughed. “I’ll bet you are.”

  “I just … I couldn’t stand the thought of you moving on with another man. Something in me wanted to stop it, to prove I could.”

  “But … what are you … how did you know about that?”

/>   “Anna called the night you went out. To tell me good night. She said she was afraid I would call the beach house and get worried because they weren’t there. She said you were out with an old friend named Campbell.” He smiled ruefully. “Of course I remembered who he was. And I guess I couldn’t accept it.”

  He paused, twirling his keys around on the ring, the jingling the only sound in the house. Outside she could faintly hear Anna and Jake laughing. The thought of what was being decided for them, once and for all, broke her heart, but made her no less resolute.

  “I wanted you to let me go,” Grant said, “but I guess I never considered I would have to let you go in the process. How’s that for irony?”

  She nodded. She knew that Grant would probably never be faithful to anyone, and she couldn’t be one of his casualties anymore. Instead of sadness or loss, relief vibrated through her like a tuning fork. The sound of the door closing behind Grant felt less like an ending and more like a beginning.

  Chapter 34

  Sunset Beach

  Summer 2004

  Before Nikki and Campbell’s mom left for Nikki’s counseling session, Nikki milled around in the kitchen while LaRae finished a load of laundry in the other room. Campbell brooded at the kitchen table in front of a half-eaten bowl of cereal with soggy flakes floating in the now warm milk

  Nikki eyed him suspiciously. “Dad?” she asked. “You okay?”

  “Fine, thanks, honey. Uh, I’m probably going to go into work today,” he said, even though she hadn’t asked about his plans.

  Nikki cocked her head, studying him. “Grandma told me about Lindsey. I’m sorry,” she said, sounding so much like an adult he almost wanted to shush her.

  He tried to muster up a smile. “Lindsey isn’t the point. You are.”

  She shook her head. “Dad, seeing you with Lindsey made me happy. It even gave me a little hope for my future. I’ve worried that there was some sort of genetic code for loneliness that I inherited from you.”