by Marie Force
“She’s a town employee, so technically it’s public record.”
“And it’s not wrong of me to read this when she didn’t show it to me herself?”
“Did she tell you what happened?”
“Earlier today. Not all the details, but the gist.”
“Then she doesn’t mind if you know, right?”
“I guess not.”
“I’m going to hit the hay. I’m tapped out after this incredibly long and frustrating day.”
“I’m sorry I caused you a ton of shit by firing Sharon.”
“You didn’t. She did, and clearly you did the right thing if she’s capable of this kind of maliciousness. Don’t sweat it.”
Though Paul gave him a pass, Alex still felt bad for his role in the entire mess. But he didn’t regret firing Sharon.
“See you in the morning,” Paul said.
“Night.”
For a long time after his brother left the room, Alex stared at the folded pages Paul had given him, trying to decide if it was the right thing to read them. He’d understood after their discussion tonight that she was willing to talk about her loss—to a point. It had been clear to him that it was difficult for her, even after all this time, and that it had been a relief to her to change the subject.
It would be better, he decided, to get the details this way than to force her to share things she’d rather forget. Since he found himself thinking about her pretty much all the time, he couldn’t help being curious to know more about her and what she’d been through. And, he reasoned, if she’d been willing to share such personal memories with people she didn’t know, surely she wouldn’t mind if he read the letter. At least he hoped she wouldn’t mind.
Alex’s fingers trembled ever so slightly as he unfolded the pages and began to read.
My name is Jenny Wilks,
and I’m applying for the lighthouse keeper’s position on Gansett Island. I currently reside in Charlotte, North Carolina, and the reason for my interest in the position dates back almost eleven years.
The morning of September 11, 2001, began like any other Tuesday for my fiancé, Toby, and me. We woke up in our Greenwich Village apartment, had breakfast, got dressed and left for work—me at an ad agency in Midtown, and he as a financial services advisor at the World Trade Center’s South Tower. I don’t remember what we said to each other that morning. Probably the usual stuff about our plans for the day, what time we might be home, what we’d do for dinner. I so wish I could remember our exact words. I had no idea then how very precious they would be.
We met at Wharton, survived the MBA program together and were due to be married that October. Toby was quiet and studious and destined for big things in his career. I used to call him my sexy nerd. While he tended to be shy with other people, with me he was easygoing, fun to be around and always making plans for our future. As we grappled with the stress of managing new jobs in New York while planning a wedding in North Carolina (where I’m from), his easygoing nature kept me sane.
I was in a meeting when Toby called my cell phone that morning. We often sent texts back and forth but rarely called each other during the day. I was worried he might be sick or something, so I took the call despite the look of disapproval I received from my supervisor. I vividly recall getting up and starting to walk out of the room. I was about halfway to the door when the fear and panic in Toby’s voice registered. He was saying things I couldn’t comprehend. An airplane had hit the building, there was a fire, and they were trapped. He told me they were going up on the roof, hoping to be rescued, but if it all went bad, he wanted me to know how much he loved me.
Right around then, people in the office heard what was going on, and everyone ran to the windows, where we could see plumes of smoke coming from Lower Manhattan. I started to scream. It couldn’t be happening. I heard the words terrorists and Pentagon and hijacking and all sorts of things that didn’t seem real. Toby was yelling at me over the phone. “Jenny,’ he said, ‘are you there?” I snapped out of it and realized my entire body was cold. I was shivering uncontrollably. Toby needed me, and I had to pull it together for him.
Somehow I managed to form words. I managed to tell him how very much I loved him, how certain I was that everything would be fine and we’d have a long and happy life together the way we’d always planned. Even though I was utterly terrified, I held it together until he started to cry. He told me he didn’t want to leave me and that he was so sorry to do this to me. He said he wanted me to be happy no matter what, that my happiness was the most important thing to him.
Alex swiped at tears that rolled unchecked down his cheeks. His entire body ached as he read about the utter agony she’d endured.
You all know what happened, so I won’t belabor the point. His body was never recovered. It was like he went to work one morning and disappeared off the face of the earth, which is essentially what happened. For days, weeks, months afterward, I was a total zombie. My parents came to get me, and I went home with them to North Carolina. Toby’s parents had a funeral in Pennsylvania that my parents took me to. I barely remember being there. My sisters quietly canceled the wedding I’d planned down to the last detail. Everyone was so very nice. Our money was refunded. People wanted to help in any way they could, but all the kind gestures in the world couldn’t replace what I’d lost. The oddest part was I never cried. I didn’t shed a single tear, even though every part of me hurt.
I had nightmares for months over how Toby’s life might’ve ended. It’s a terrible thing to hope the person you loved most in the world had suffocated from the smoke before other more horrific things could happen to him. I went to therapy and grief groups and all the things my family thought might help. A year went by without my knowledge, and it suddenly became critically important that I attend the anniversary ceremonies. My parents were adamantly opposed, but I needed to see it. I needed to see where he had died.
Minutes after I arrived at the place they call Ground Zero, a name I’ve always hated, I broke down into the kind of heartbroken tears you see in the movies. Apparently, I made quite a scene. It’s another thing I barely remember. My parents carted me out of there, and I’m told I cried for days. Once the tears stopped, I was finally, somehow, a little better. I didn’t feel quite so numb, which was a good and bad thing because that’s when the pain set in. I won’t bore you with the details of that stage. Suffice to say it was ugly.
“God,” Alex whispered, barely able to see through his own tears.
After two years of barely functioning, I wanted my old life back—or as much of it as still remained. For all that time, my company held my job for me. Can you believe that? I still can’t. That was a bright spot in a sea of gray. They welcomed me back with open arms. I found out my parents had paid the rent on our place in Greenwich Village, which was another bright spot. I went back to our home and wallowed in the comfort of being surrounded by Toby’s things. After four years, I asked his parents to come take what they wanted and packed up the rest because it was no longer a comfort to be surrounded by his belongings.
In the fifth year, I started dating again. That was a comedy of errors with one disaster following another. I felt sorry for the very nice guys my well-meaning friends fixed me up with. They didn’t stand a chance against the fiancé I’d lost so tragically. Still, I went through the motions, mostly because it made the people around me more comfortable with my unending grief. I did what I could to make it better for them, because nothing could make it better for me.
I became involved in the planning for the memorial, which was somehow cathartic when my rational self knew it probably shouldn’t be. New York slowly recovered, the debris was cleared away, and new construction began. Against all odds, life went on. I still had nightmares about how Toby died. I dreamed about the wedding we’d so looked forward to that hadn’t happened. I went to work, I came home, I went to bed, I got up and did it all again the next day.
As the tenth anniversary approached, I couldn’t
do it anymore. I couldn’t stay in that city, in our apartment, in the job I’d had that day, with the well-meaning people who went out of their way to try to fix the unfixable. I started looking around for something to do that would get me out of the city, something that would get me off the treadmill my life had become. Two weeks before the tenth anniversary, I moved out of our apartment and went home to North Carolina. I couldn’t stay for the dedication of the memorial or all the hoopla that would surround the anniversary. Leaving our apartment and our city for the last time was one of the most difficult moments in a decade of difficult moments.
I’ve worked for the last year at a small PR firm in Charlotte. I saw your advertisement for the lighthouse keeper’s position in The New York Times last weekend, and everything about it appealed to me. I have absolutely no experience running a lighthouse, although where one would get such experience, I couldn’t begin to imagine! I’m thirty-six years old, well educated in both the classroom and the school of hard knocks. I’m a reliable person looking for the opportunity to start over in a new place. I’d be honored to be considered for this position. Thank you for “listening” to my story. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely, Jenny Wilks.
Alex held the pages in both hands, his head bowed as he absorbed her incredibly moving words. He already admired her more than he’d admired anyone in a long time. But after reading her heartfelt words, he suspected he might also be on his way to falling in love with her. That she’d suffered such an unimaginable loss and could still be so positive and upbeat and fun was a testament to who she was underneath it all.
It was suddenly imperative that he see her. He tucked her letter into a nook in the kitchen to return to Paul in the morning and went to his room to grab a jacket. In the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face and brushed his teeth. Then he tapped lightly on Paul’s door and opened it.
“What?” Paul muttered.
“I’m going out.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah… I just… I need to see her.”
“Go ahead. I’ll be here.”
“Thanks, Paul. For showing me the letter and for everything else, too.” In the midst of the daily struggle with their mother, he and his brother didn’t often get into emotional topics if they could avoid them. But Jenny’s letter was a reminder that life could be short, and there was no time like the present to tell people how you felt about them.
“You, too. Thanks for coming home when I asked you to. I never could’ve done this by myself.”
“I never would’ve let you.”
“Don’t take the bike out in the rain.”
“I won’t.”
“I like her, Al.”
He knew his brother meant Jenny. “I like her, too. Get some sleep.” On the way out the door, he sent Jenny a text. Coming over. Didn’t want to scare you.
Didn’t I just see you?
Wasn’t enough.
Alex ran through the rain to his company truck and headed toward the Southeast Light. On the way, the story she’d told in her letter ran through his mind like a horror movie. How did anyone survive a loss like that? He’d thought it traumatic to lose his dad to cancer, but at least his dad had lived a good long life.
And what was his plan when he got there? Would he tell her what he’d learned about her in the hour since they were last together? At some point, he’d tell her. Maybe not right away, but he’d let her know that he’d read the letter and admired her even more than he had before.
He had to keep in mind what she’d said about not treating her differently after he knew the truth of her past. She didn’t want that and had been very clear on that point. So he had to make an effort to compartmentalize what he’d learned about her past and put it aside to give the woman she was today what she wanted and needed.
As she hadn’t bothered to lock the gate at the lighthouse, he was able to drive right up to her door. When he cut the engine and the headlights, he noticed the total darkness surrounding the lighthouse. The place was downright spooky.
Holding a flashlight, Jenny met him at the door.
“Did you lose power?”
“Yes, and it’s scary. Is it okay to say I’m really glad to see you?”
He smiled at her as he shut the door and kicked off his shoes in the mudroom. “Yeah, babe, it’s okay to say that.”
“To what do I owe this very nice surprise?”
“I told you. I didn’t get enough of you earlier.”
“You had all of me earlier,” she reminded him as she led him up the spiral stairs to the first level.
The view of her sweet ass in sexy boy shorts on the way up the stairs made his mouth water. At the top of the stairs, she turned abruptly and caught him staring. Alex smiled sheepishly at her. “I’m only human, and that’s a very nice ass you’ve got there.”
“Glad to know all my yoga has been good for something.”
The thought of her bent into all sorts of intriguing positions had him widening his eyes. “Yoga? Could I get a demonstration?”
She set the flashlight on the table, and the small circle of light made the room seem smaller and cozier than usual. “Maybe. If you’re good.”
With his hands on her hips, he brought her in tight against him to ensure she knew how badly he wanted her. “How good do I have to be?”
“Very, very good.”
“I can do that.” He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers, absorbing her alluring scent and the peaceful calm that came over him whenever he was near her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Are you sure?”
When she looked up at him with those bottomless brown eyes, Alex decided he couldn’t keep what he knew from her. It wouldn’t be right. “Paul showed me the letter you wrote to the council when you applied for the job.”
Her face lost all expression. “Oh.”
“I hope you’re not mad that I read it.”
“Why would I be mad? You already knew a lot of it.”
“Still… I want to say that if I didn’t already admire you as much as it was possible to admire anyone, I would after reading that. I know you don’t want to talk about it or dwell on it, and I promise not to treat you differently, but I need you to know I think you’re amazing and resilient and…” His throat closed around a tight knot of emotion. “And I’m very honored that you choose to spend time with me.”
“Alex…” She put her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”
“I mean it.”
“So I might be forgiven for the tomato incident?”
He smiled as her soft hair brushed against his lips. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Can you sleep over?”
“I was hoping you’d ask me to.”
“Good, because I’m a little creeped out by the dark.”
Relieved that they’d successfully navigated yet another emotional minefield, he said, “So that’s all I’m good for? Keeping the boogeyman at bay?”
She took his hand, picked up the flashlight and aimed it toward the set of stairs that led to her bedroom. “You might be good for a few other things, too.”
“That sounds very promising.”
Lightning zigzagged in the sky as Jenny propped the flashlight on her bedside table, which drew Alex’s attention to a framed picture.
He picked it up and took a closer look. “Is this Toby?”
“Yes.”
“He was a good-looking guy.”
“Yes, he was.”
“Where was this the other night when I was here?”
“In the drawer. I didn’t think you needed another guy watching us while we did…you know…that.”
Smiling, Alex returned the frame to the table and ran a finger over the blush that flamed her cheek. “I don’t want you to feel like you ever have to hide him or pictures of him or the life you shared with him from
me. He’s part of you, and I’m falling very deeply into serious like with you.”
“Serious like,” she said with a grin. “That’s a good thing?”
“That’s a very good—and very unexpected—thing.”
“For me, too. It’s very good and very unexpected. And it means a lot to me that I don’t have to hide what I shared with Toby from you.”
“I’d never want or expect that. However, we do need to talk about your shameless flirtation with Jared James earlier. Right in front me, too!”
Jenny’s mouth fell open in shock. “I wasn’t flirting with him!”
“Oh Jared,” Alex said in a phony female voice, “come see my lighthouse. Any time.”
“You’ve lost your mind. I was not flirting with him. I knew him years ago at school.”
“Whatever you say. I know flirting when I see it.” Deciding to give her a break, he put his arms around her.
“Get away. You’re being a jerk.”
“I’m teasing you.”
“I wasn’t flirting with him. I wouldn’t do that right in front of you.”
“So you’d do it when I’m not looking?”
“You are an extremely exasperating person sometimes. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Me? Exasperating? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He caught her by surprise with a kiss. “And I know you weren’t flirting with him, but you charmed him nonetheless.”
“That wasn’t my intention. I felt sorry for him when he said he’s nursing a broken heart.”
“That is too bad, but he’s not going to make you his private-duty nurse.”
“Honestly, Alex! What part of I’m not interested in him didn’t you get? For some reason, which is escaping me at the moment, I seem to be interested in you.”
“You are? Really?”
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Was this whole thing a roundabout way to get me to admit something you already knew?”
“It worked, didn’t it?”