Letters From The Ledge

by Meyers, Lynda

  Brendan was following Ginny out of the building when he stopped cold and looked down at the book in his hands. We even nicknamed you guys Romeo and Juliet for a while. Her journal? He shook his head and vowed to keep it for the plane. He didn’t need anything else to distract him from leaving.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Get busy living, or get busy dying.”

  - The Shawshank Redemption

  As the stewardess settled him into his first class seat, Brendan fought the urge to try to order a drink and asked for a soda instead. International flight attendants were notorious for looking the other way as long as you looked at least sixteen. As soon as they shut the doors and began to taxi toward the runway, he pulled Sarah’s gift out of his knapsack. It was still wrapped in the delicate white paper, the black and white ribbon closed around it as if it could keep reality at bay. He pulled one of the pictures he’d taken of her out of his wallet. She was blond in the picture, but he remembered her face at graduation instead and licked his lips absently, searching for the taste of her.

  Carefully he untied the ribbon and attached it to the strap on his camera, then gently removed the tissue paper wrapping. He laid the simple, brown leather book in his lap and chuckled. He tried smelling it, but it just smelled like leather. There was no inscription. He opened it just as the plane was lifting off the ground.

  I saw him again tonight. Three nights in a row he’s been out there on the ledge. Sometimes he stands, holding his arms out like a bird, and I don’t know if he wants to jump or just fly away…

  The breath caught in Brendan’s chest. He’d known the truth, but somehow reading it there in her delicate script made it seem even more real. What really threw him was that she’d known too, but she didn’t say anything. How long had she known?

  He read the entries with interest, calculating the dates, trying to put together a mental picture of what she was doing, of when they met; anything that would help to make sense of the bizarre coincidences that seemed to be taking over his life these last few months.

  As her read her account of the angel bouncers, he pulled out his own journal, flipping through time to find his own words, comparing the two and wondering where the truth fit. The dates matched up exactly. He swallowed down a sip of coke and tried to steady the beating of his heart, which was now pounding against the barrier of his skin. A cold sweat broke out on his neck and his hands went numb. Calm down Brendan.

  Slowly he reached into his backpack once again and pulled out Tess’ letter. His hands were shaking as he held it there. He could’ve used a joint, but of course that was out of the question. Maybe he’d have to take up cigarettes. Or maybe he’d just have to get over himself.

  The guy next to him looked over. “You ok mate?”

  Brendan looked straight ahead and nodded, but the shaking didn’t stop. The guy looked around and then pushed his Rum and Coke toward Brendan. “You want this?”

  Brendan looked sideways at him and nodded.

  The guy popped the top on the miniature rum bottle and poured the rest in, then switched cups with him.

  “Thanks.”

  The guy just nodded and went back to reading. It was going to be a long flight.

  Brendan opened the letter, still trembling, and read the words he already knew were written on the page.

  Know that I loved you. And if it’s possible at all, I’ll be watching out for you. Me and the angels, that is…

  Brendan put his hand over his mouth and wasn’t able to stop the tears from dripping down his face in an embarrassing show of weakness. After a minute, he downed the Rum and Coke in two big gulps and the guy next to him quietly switched their cups back, then signaled the stewardess and asked for another.

  I guess there are angels everywhere, aren’t there Tess?

  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reconcile it. There were no logical explanations for this. Then again, maybe there had been things throughout his life that had little explanation, he’d just been unaware. Maybe he’d been protected many times and never known it. So many stories had emerged since 9/11 of people who, by some strange coincidence weren’t in the towers the morning they collapsed, it had raised the awareness, with or without faith, of some strange, karma-like force that held the universe together.

  For Brendan it begged the obvious questions. Why him? And why now? Because of her? Was Tess somehow trying to set him up with Sarah? She did give her permission, after all. And if he could believe in the voice he’d heard in his head that day he ran after Sarah at the cemetery, then surely he could believe…

  He sighed as the guy next to him smiled sympathetically and slid the new Rum and Coke into his spot, pulling the regular coke onto his own tray table. “I’ve had some rough trips myself” the guy explained, sticking out his hand. “I’m Rob.”

  “Brendan.” The two shook hands.

  Rob nodded. His white long-sleeved shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, was made to be worn untucked, over jeans. Add to that the spiked dirty blond hair and gleaming white teeth and for all Brendan knew he could’ve been a British rock star. Rob looked down at the growing stack of journals and letters on Brendan’s lap. “Trouble with a girl?”

  Brendan laughed a little. He’d guessed right on the British part–maybe tipped with a bit of Australian.

  “Two, actually.”

  Now it was Rob’s turn to laugh, inclining his head toward the clear plastic cup filled with brown syrupy liquid. “I was right. You needed that more than me.” He eyed the picture of Sarah and his eyebrows raised in admiration. “Nice. She the one you’re choosing?”

  Brendan blinked, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. He was about to say that he didn’t have a choice, but that wasn’t really true. It wasn’t just that Tess was dead and Sarah was alive. He could still choose to hold onto the pain of losing Tess, but as time went on it seemed pointless. Especially since she seemed to be letting go first. The whole thing was just bizarre. It was like she knew. And not only did she know what, she knew when. That was the part that really freaked him out.

  He held the picture of Sarah between his fingers. “You think this one’s good–get a load of this picture here.” He dug through his backpack one more time and produced his copy of the book he’d made for Tess. At the end there was a black and white of Sarah’s face–the picture he’d snapped at the coffee shop that day. In that picture you couldn’t tell what color her hair was, so all you noticed was her skin and her eyes and her lips and–

  “You’re right.” Rob said. “Much better photo. Did you take these?”

  Brendan thought it was hilarious that when a Brit asked a question, the inflection dropped on the last word instead of going up. It was so strange for two people to speak the same language, but speak it a totally different way. He looked down at the book in his hand. “Uh–yeah. I did.”

  “May I?”

  There it was again. Brendan found himself chuckling. He took another sip of the Rum and Coke. It was sweeter than he preferred, but it was doing the trick and he was thankful for it.

  Rob looked skeptical. “Did I say something funny?”

  One more time, ok… It really wasn’t that funny and Brendan had to stop laughing at the poor guy. “No, no. You’re fine. I was just thinking about something else.”

  Rob looked through the book slowly, deliberately. It started to make Brendan a little uncomfortable. He watched Rob read through every poem; examine every image. Of course, it was an eight-hour flight. They had nothing but time to kill. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did.

  “Did you write these words?”

  Brendan looked up. “What? No. Well, only a couple. Most of them were written by a friend of mine.”

  “Well, I’d like to meet him. They’d make amazing lyrics.”

  “Her.” Brendan corrected.

  His face brightened and he flipped to the black and white of Sarah’s face. “The one in the picture then?”

  Brendan shook his head. “No.
The other one.”

  “Have you got a picture of her too?”

  Brendan swallowed and looked him in the eye. “She’s dead.”

  “Oh. Oh! Sorry then. So, so sorry.”

  Brendan just shook his head softly and tried to smile. They sat in silence for a while longer. Rob kept reading that first poem over and over. His head was just bobbing up and down to a rhythm all its own. Brendan watched him with a quizzical look on his face.

  Rob looked up, surprised but not at all embarrassed. “I’m sorry, it’s just–I can hear music to this in my head when I read it. Was it a song once?”

  Brendan shook his head. “No. Not that I know of.”

  “Pity. I think it’d be really, really good.”

  Brendan smiled. “Yeah? Are you a musician?”

  “Yeah, you know, me and the boys play a little on the weekends.” The guy might not be a rock star, but he’d guessed pretty close, anyway. And not too many starving musicians flew first class. Rob was still bobbing up and down to the music in his head, tapping out the drumbeat on his thigh. “So where are you headed?” Rob wondered.

  The question was valid. He was, after all, on a plane bound for London. “Me? I’m not sure.”

  “Well they are going to drop you round Heathrow in about seven more hours, you know.” Rob smiled indulgently. “Business or pleasure?”

  “Both, I hope. But mostly just to see all the stuff I’ve been reading about all these years. Graduation gift from my parents.”

  “Well that’s a fine gift, isn’t it?”

  “I guess we’ll see.”

  “So you’re starting in London then?”

  “Yeah. Figured I’d start where they speak English and move on as I get braver.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve been everywhere. You can almost always find someone who speaks your language.”

  “Probably.” Brendan looked out the window.

  “Have you got a place to stay while you’re in London?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, me and a couple of my band members have got a flat in town, and you’re welcome to the couch for a few days if you want it. At least until you get your bearings.”

  Brendan blinked back his surprise. “Thanks.”

  “No worries.” Rob smiled, looking down at the book again. “Maybe you’ll even let me and the boys have a crack at making this into a song.”

  “I think she would’ve liked that.”

  Rob smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

  Maybe there really were angels every step of the way.

  Dear Brendan,

  This will be the last entry into this journal. This will be my last act of courage where you’re concerned, because I’m letting you go so that you can fly. But before I do, I want you to know some things.

  When I saw that it was you through my dad’s binoculars, I knew for the first time in my life that God was real, and those angels I saw lift you up that one night–they were real too. You’ve been kept alive for something special, because everything happens for a reason. It makes so much sense now–why I was drawn to you.

  The hardest thing to come to terms with is that I may not be a part of that something in your life. It’s possible that my part to play in your life is over, and now you’ll move on and do whatever it is you were meant to do. I’m glad you never jumped. I’m glad you’re less angry now than you used to be.

  What I want to explain to you–and maybe I can’t even put it into words, is that without even knowing it, you’ve helped me to find my own freedom. Somehow knowing you has given me the courage I needed to step outside my fears and explore what I’m really made of. I’ll never forget you for that, and I want you to know that I don’t regret one minute of the time I spent with you.

  I leave for Brigus in a couple of weeks. My aunt’s restaurant is on the south side of town, with a view of the harbor, and there must be a nest along the cliffs somewhere because I always see eagles flying through the harbor. I don’t think I’ll ever see them again without thinking of you and your desire to fly free, and I’ll be praying that you find what you need to get you where you’re going.

  By the time I get back you’ll probably be gone–off to wherever it is your life is calling you. In November my family will move again, and I’ll say goodbye to New York, just as I’ve said goodbye to so many other places. This time will be different though, because I’m leaving part of my heart behind. For the first time, I made an investment in a place that went deeper than the surface.

  Our lives so far have been very different, but I’m glad that for a brief moment in time, our paths saw fit to converge and mingle. I’m glad that I got to be a friend for part of the journey. You’ve left on me some of your fairy dust, and because of it, now I can fly too. It wasn’t so much that I needed to think happy thoughts, but I did need to learn how to believe.

  Thank you. I hope you have an incredible life.

  Love,

  Sarah

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “After all…

  I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

  - Notting Hill

  “You know, I can’t believe we never had to use that information I had on Frank. I can’t believe he backed down so easily.” Paige leaned back as the server set her plate down in front of her. “Thank you.”

  “Believe me, I’m not complaining.” Nate took a sip of his Sapphire and tonic. “Just keep it handy. Snakes tend to lie in the grass, biding their time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He may not be finished with this yet.”

  “Well, so far Kevin hasn’t fired me, so that’s encouraging.”

  “Did you ever tell him what happened?”

  “I did–for integrity’s sake. He apologized and promised to back me if it ever came to blows.”

  “Blows?”

  “Rumors, blacklisting, that kind of thing.”

  “How chivalrous.” Nate smirked.

  “Saving his own skin is more like it, but that’s ok too.” Paige smiled. “I’ll take what I can get.”

  “That’s mighty righteous of him, considering he’s the one who forced your hand in the first place.”

  “It’s over and that’s all I really care about right now.” Paige shook her head. “Let’s just cross each bridge as we come to it, shall we?”

  Nate’s stomach began to twist but he pushed back against the feeling. “Fair enough.” He buttered a roll and looked at her out of the corner of one eye. “You know, I have been working on that ‘possessive’ thing.”

  “I know.”

  “But I don’t have it down yet, so–”

  She grabbed his buttering hand and put hers on top of it momentarily. “It’s ok. Most of the time I think it’s cute.”

  He rolled his eyes and finished buttering his roll.

  “Do you ever hear from Brendan? It’s been a while. How’s Europe treating him?”

  “He emails me every so often, just to check in I guess.” Nate was twirling Pasta on his plate. “He’s supposed to be back in the States next weekend.”

  Paige sipped her wine and speared some lettuce. “Then what?”

  “I’ve offered him a job, and a temporary place to stay if he needs it.”

  “Really?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “I guess not.” She smiled. “You just never stop surprising me.”

  “The kid is amazingly talented, and he’s worth something. He just needs a little kick start.” He pushed the pasta around some more. “Most of all he needs to know that somebody believes in him. We all need that.”

  When he looked up at Paige she was staring at him. “Like you believed in me?”

  He just nodded.

  “You know, I believe in you too.”

  “Thanks.” He grabbed at another scoop of pasta but Paige was still staring, not moving. “Are you ok?”

  “Yeah, I am. It’s just–there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”r />
  He laid his fork down and rested his forearms on the table.

  “Would you mind closing your eyes?”

  “Bewildered over here.” He closed his eyes. “Compliant, but bewildered.”

  “Now keep them closed.”

  He could hear some rustling going on and things being moved around on the table.

  “Ok. You can open them.”

  In the space where his plate used to be, a red velvet box sat open in front of him. In it was a white-gold ring with three diamonds embedded in the band.

  “You father said this is the man’s equivalent of an anniversary ring. The three stones are supposed to represent yesterday, today and tomorrow.”

  “My father?” Nate kept on blinking, looking from the box to her face and back again. He couldn’t wrap his brain around what she was trying to do. “What’s it for?”

  “The day before you moved out you told me that you wanted me to come to you when I was ready. When I wanted it as much as you did. Do you remember that?”

  He nodded, speechless.

  “Well, the truth is, I’ve counted the cost, and being without you is just too damn expensive. I can’t afford it. The apartment is too cold; too quiet. I’ve loved this season of dating you and being apart. It’s shown your love for me in ways I couldn’t even comprehend at first, but I can see now where it was necessary. When we were on that bridge in Switzerland you said you wanted to give me my wings. You wanted to watch me fly. You’ve done that, and I want to thank you.”

  A tear slipped down his cheek.

  “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and some things I hadn’t even thought of. And now I’m ready to fly home to you, Nate. I’m ready.” She took both of his hands in hers. “Will you still marry me?”

  A muscle jerked in his jaw and he shook his head, incredulous. “Yes–yes!” His head bobbed up and down about a hundred times a minute. He stood, pulling her up out of her seat, circling gently and setting her back down again. “I thought you’d never ask!”