by Emma Browne
I rubbed a hand over my face as I wondered if maybe that was the reason that she had ruled out being in a relationship with me again. Did she think she would end up alone in it? That I would leave when things got hard?
Well, if that was the case, I knew what to do.
Chapter 48
Miranda
‘Angus, where have you been all my life?’ Julia said, after Angus finished talking about some of his ideas for how we could raise the money we would need.
Angus ran his hands down his jeans, looking every kind of uncomfortable as Nick scowled at Julia.
‘What?’ Julia asked.
Nick raised his eyebrows and said in his most dry tone, ‘Angus, where have you been all my life? Are you for real? I’m sitting right here.’
Julia stroked his cheek with a smile and shrugged. ‘I’m just saying it’s nice to hear something positive. For once. I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Nick smirked and shook his head.
Sophia snorted. ‘Uh-huh. Is that it then? We’re doing this?’
‘Um…’ I still felt a bit overwhelmed by it all.
‘What is it now?’ Julia sighed as she looked at me. ‘Miranda, what more do you need? It will be a tough year, but we’re all in this together. Let’s live a little!’
My eyes flashed to Jack’s. He was studying me intently, as though trying to work me out.
Live a little. Julia’s words echoed in my head.
Part of me wanted to take offence at them, but the other part knew too well that if there was one thing which I was an expert at, it was how to avoid living. Ever since the year when Jack’s and my relationship ended, I miscarried, Mum died, and Dad went off the rails with the alcohol, I had kept existing, but I had done my best to avoid life. Some verse I had read in John’s Gospel came back to me: The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. I had underlined that verse several times. It had seemed an important one.
Fine. I had chosen to try to follow Jesus, and he seemed keen on living.
I straightened my back and nodded. ‘Well, if you guys are sure you’re all in, then I guess I’ll speak to my boss tomorrow to let him know I’ll need to come down in hours.’
‘Yes!’ Julia shrieked as she leapt across the coffee table and swept me up and into a hug. Not able to stand still, she rocked us from side to side and beamed at me. ‘You’re not going to regret this!’
A laugh escaped. ‘I sure hope not!’
Sophia stood up too and held her hand up for a high five. Julia ignored it and went to hug her, too. Sophia stiffened, her smile frozen on her face as she tapped Julia’s back awkwardly. ‘Yay…’
I shrugged and smiled at her. ‘Yeah. Yay… I hope.’ I glanced at Jack again. He winked at me, causing a tingle to run up my spine. I quickly turned away, and we sat down to iron out the details of what was next for Project Cup.
As our meeting had taken so long, I sent Julia and Jack to get some nacho crisps, salsa and ice cream, and the rest of us made vegan chilli for dinner. We all ate together, and though I was still unsure of the wisdom of continuing Project Cup, I felt myself relax as the dinner conversation went into more casual territory. Soon everyone was sharing stories and laughing. Our social enterprise might crash and burn, but at least we would have fun trying to make it work.
I glanced at Jack to find him looking at me.
Again.
He gave me a soft smile. I wasn’t sure what his smile meant, but I couldn’t look away, and soon my stupid heart wished for things it couldn’t have. Or maybe it could?
‘Miranda?’ Julia cleared her throat loudly to get my attention.
‘Uh, yeah?’ I pulled my eyes away from Jack’s and put my hands over my cheeks to cover the blush I felt rising.
‘Are you having any more ice cream, or can I take your bowl?’
Everyone helped clean the kitchen before they all left me alone with my thoughts. I made myself a cup of tea and sat at my kitchen table as I tried to process my feelings after the board meeting. The anxiety I had felt about going all in hadn’t vanished completely. I still dreaded the thought of not having enough money, and I wasn’t sure we could actually make it work. But it was a risk I had to take. As soon as Monday came around, I would speak to my boss about working less at the bank – before I chickened out.
When there was a knock at the door, I glanced at the time. It was after eleven and pitch-black outside. The only person that would ever show up at this time of the day was my Dad. The cool air hit me in the face as I opened the door, and I pulled my cardigan closer to stop from shivering.
‘Hello?’ I pushed the door open wider so he could step inside, doing a double take when I saw it wasn’t Dad standing on the front step, but Jack. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ Self-conscious, I ran a hand through my hair. ‘Did you forget something?’
‘You could say that.’ He shut the door behind him, and his eyes scanned my face. ‘Are you okay?’
I nodded. ‘Is that why you came over? To ask if I’m okay?’
Jack’s lip tugged to the side. ‘No.’ He stepped closer and held up a shoebox. ‘I came to give you this.’
I swallowed as awareness of how close he was flooded me. I had to look up to see his eyes, which were set on mine. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to. I closed my eyes and reminded myself that I didn’t want to. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s for you.’ He cleared his throat, and his eyes roamed my face as he held the box out to me.
Taking it from him, I avoided his eyes. ‘Okay.’
‘Let me know what you think. Okay?’
I didn’t trust my voice but gave a sharp nod.
‘Great.’ He shot me a nervous smile before turning and opening the door. ‘Good night,’ he said as he left, closing the door behind him.
‘Good night,’ I echoed at the closed door.
Once I had made another up of camomile tea, I sat back down at the kitchen table and glanced at the shoebox. Not sure what to expect, I opened it and found a stack of letters. The first one was written on the day he had left Scotland for Hong Kong, and the last tonight. Deciding to go read them in chronological order, I reached for the first one.
My dearest Miranda,
Today I left my heart in Edinburgh and left for the other side of the world. Because I can’t handle not being able to fix your problems. There, I told the truth for once. Not that you will ever read this, but still. I told you I’m coming back soon, but the truth is I may never come back. Not unless I can find a way to handle all these feelings. I know I should have let you go, but I couldn’t do it. Not today. For a little longer, I will let myself live in the fantasy that one day we will be together again.
I tell myself I’m looking forward to being in Hong Kong, and that this is some great adventure I’m living. But the truth is that life feels bleak without you – like watered down lukewarm tea without any caffeine. Like I’m missing a limb.
Maybe I’ll get used to this ache someday. I don’t know.
All I know is I miss you.
Your Jack xx
I read the letter again as tears filled my eyes. If only he had told me these things at the time. I put the letter aside and took out the next one.
Dearest Miranda,
I dreamed of you tonight. We were walking down the beach at Portobello with a baby girl – our baby girl – strapped to your chest in one of those baby carriers. You were beautiful in the sun as you nuzzled the baby’s head, your eyes shining as you looked at me. The baby was still tiny, and fast asleep as we walked along the water’s edge discussing what to name her. You were keen on Morven after your Grandma, but I wanted to call her Mabel. We weren’t about to come to an agreement anytime soon, so we were throwing around all kinds of other names we could think of. I suggested Sue, but that reminded you of Ruby Sue in the Griswold family Christmas, and then you couldn’t stop quoting the film and laughing to yourself. ‘Remember
when they go to chop the Christmas tree down?’ you said and then did the voices: ‘Isn’t it a beaut, Audrey?’, ‘She’ll see it later honey. Her eyes are frozen.’
Your laughter woke me up with a smile on my face, and I never found out what name we decided on in the end.
But as the dream faded, so did the happiness I had felt, and instead panic filled me. I can’t be a dad when I can’t even be there for you.
That’s why I sent you an email and ended our relationship for real.
And though I knew it had to be done, I wish I’d had the guts to do it better. You deserve better than a stilted email. I’ll call a counsellor today – I need to change.
I don’t expect you to wait for me, but I hope to the God I don’t believe in that one day I will learn to handle all these feelings and you’ll give me another chance.
In the meantime, don’t miss me.
Forever your Jack x
The tears were flowing freely now. I had been pregnant when Jack had written this letter, although I hadn’t known it yet. Whenever we had spoken about children as teenagers, it had been in a joking way, always in a distant future kind of way. But Jack’s dream made me think the jokes had been a cover, hiding his true thoughts and feelings. He had always come across as such a cool guy, hardly ever letting on he was affected by anything. Life might have been difficult for other people, but Jack would shrug off problems like they weren’t significant at all. I had loved that about him, even as I found the way he would dismiss my problems frustrating. I had seen glimpses of his feelings from time to time though. There had always been more to Jack than his coolness.
I laughed through my tears as I read the part about National Lampoons Christmas Vacation. Such a good film that would never grow old.
Wiping at my cheeks, I read letter after letter, each deeper than the previous one and full of his agony at being away. He wrote when my mother died, and his letter was so different than the polite note of condolences I had received back then. He shared his favourite memories of my mum, and as I read them, I was reminded of things I had forgotten about her. And he wrote about how he had almost stopped seeing his counsellor, but when my mum had died, his inability to go home and face the loss made him realise he had only peeled a couple of the layers off the onion, and there were more layers to peel. He said they had made a plan to process some more, and then he would go home and see me when he felt more able to handle things. So, he had sent me a note, which he had written about twenty drafts of before googling what to put into it and sending it off with the intention to fix everything when he next saw me.
I remembered how I had planned an impromptu visit to London once I found out he was coming home for a visit. I hadn’t felt able to deal with the hurt that seeing him again would cause.
He wrote about what he had learned as he went through therapy in Hong Kong, and how he was processing his sister Josie’s death.
As I read letter after letter, I cried for me and I cried for him.
The letter before he finally left Hong Kong and moved back to Edinburgh was filled with determination to live his life without hiding from his feelings and hope that I would see the real him and be willing to try again.
There was another letter from when we were travelling in China, wishing it would never end. Another from after we came back, filled with disappointment, questions, and hope that we might still work out.
And then there was a letter from a couple of days after I had told him about the miscarriage.
Miranda,
I don’t know how to breathe with knowing you never felt you could tell me about the miscarriage.
I don’t blame you – I wasn’t the kind of person you could tell things like that back then. I wish I was. I wish I was the kind of person you could have shared your grief with. The kind of person you could have talked to about all the broken dreams and all the disappointment and despair you must have felt. The kind of person who could have grieved with you and been there for you.
But I wasn’t. And no matter how much I wish otherwise, I can’t change the past. I can only acknowledge that I was highhanded, arrogant, stupid, broken and unable. And for all the ways that my brokenness made you feel, I am sorry.
I know it was too early to know whether it was a boy or a girl, but I wish I could have told you how our baby would have been the most loved little girl or boy in the world. You told me that you didn’t name him or her, but if it was a girl maybe we could have called her Mabel. It means lovely and beautiful. She would have been gentle and kind and determined and strong and beautiful – I know that because you are all those things and I’m sure you would have rubbed off on her. And it would have been a privilege to be her dad.
I know that now.
And as I grieve over our baby and over the past, I also grieve over the future. Over every day that we will exist on this earth without each other.
I wish I could tell you how I love you. How I still carry a picture of you in my wallet. I probably always will. But I think you’re right – you’re better off without me.
Forever your Jack xx
After reading letter after letter all night, I wouldn’t have thought there were any tears left, but as Jack’s words of grief and hopelessness pierced my soul, all I could do was succumb to the sobs that took over.
The next letter was written only a few days ago.
Miranda,
I had a few conversations that led me to believe I have been wrong about some things.
I realised recently that I’ve been pretty angry at God. First for my sister’s death, and later for things like your Dad’s alcoholism, Lisa’s death, the miscarriage, and so on. People talk about God as being loving and kind, but then they pray to God because they think he’s in control, and you know how I feel that’s just crazy. If God’s in control, then how come all these bad things happen? Is he making them happen? Did he kill my sister, or our baby? Because if Him being in control means he makes bad things happen, then he’s not good, or kind, or loving.
But I’m starting to think I’ve been wrong.
Sure, there are things God is in control of, but if he’s given us free will, then there are a bunch of things he’s not in control of.
At all.
Like our choices.
Because God is good, and kind, and loving. Therefore, it must be utterly impossible for him to orchestrate evil. And he allows us to have real choices with real consequences, and he grieves with us when those choices lead to suffering. He doesn’t insist on his own way, even when he knows his way is best.
I’ve been doing everything all wrong. I came home from Hong Kong intending to show you that we should get back together. And every time you said no, I found a way to work around it.
And then you told me about our miscarriage, and I understood how damaging my making all the decisions for us has been to you. Love doesn’t insist on its own way, and I’m sorry for every time I decided that I knew best. You had every right to push me away after the way I behaved back when I first left. You have every right never to trust me again.
And I didn’t think you ever would. Until tonight.
Tonight you kissed me. On the cheek, but still. Then you let me hold you. I guess it made me wonder if maybe, maybe you’ll be willing to give us another chance someday.
I will always, always, always love you.
Forever your Jack xx
Finally, there was the last letter.
Miranda,
When I came back from Hong Kong, it was because I felt I had changed. I had learned to handle my emotions and I wanted a second chance with you. I wasn’t going to shy away from suffering anymore, and I was going to show you that I could be there for you when things got hard.
And as good as my intentions were, I hadn’t yet understood that you didn’t need or trust anyone to handle things for you, to fix your problems, or to lean on. You are smart and capable and can handle anything life throws at you alone.
Still, I wonder if sometimes yo
u feel lonely and wish you had a companion. Someone willing to jump into life’s adventures together with you. Someone to mutually share life’s joys and horrors with. Someone to laugh with and to grieve with.
I never intended for you to read any of these letters. But now I wish I had shared them with you earlier. Maybe then you would have known how much I feel and think about you. Maybe then you would have known that you were not alone in our relationship.
I don’t get to go back and do things differently, and if you give me another chance I will let you down again from time to time. I have changed, but I’m still a work in progress. Despite all that, I hope as you read, you’ll hear my heart.
I love you. I always will.
Forever your Jack xx
Something deep inside me awakened as I read his last letter. Sophia’s suggestion to forget Jack and let him forget me, or to do something about it rang in my mind. There was no forgetting Jack. There never would be. And from reading his letters I knew he would never forget me either.
Though it was five o’clock in the morning and I knew Jack was probably asleep, I took out my phone and sent him a text.
Me: Can we talk?
As soon as the message was sent my determination gave way to doubt. Can we talk?? Why had I sent that text without thinking it through first? What was I going to say to him?
It wasn’t two minutes before my phone lit up with a message back from him.
Jack: Meet me at the beach in an hour
An hour was no time at all. My nerves rattled almost audibly and made me feel queasy. Why had I thought this would be a good idea? Was I really going to do this?
I rubbed my stomach and glanced at the wall where I had hung Mum’s embroidered verse again. Taste and See that the Lord is Good.
I swallowed my doubt and went to wash my face.
Chapter 49