Lost Love Letters

by Cheryl Shireman

  I melted into the receiver: I’ve lived my life so that there were no what if’s except for you. You’re the one thing left undone in my otherwise full life. I tested the waters. I can’t wait to see you again. I was thinking of coffee at Starbucks. Daylight. Open. Honest. No sneaking, just two old friends who held each other’s hearts.

  Your sigh carried a stinging finality: I couldn’t hurt my mother, and now I can’t hurt Amy. You were my first love but you can’t be my last. As much as I want to see you, I can’t.

  That was when I guessed your urgency for my call was generated by Amy’s absence. She might be shopping or having her nails done while I was soul-mating with her husband. My heart shattered like crystal on concrete. I listened to you breathe as I longed for more words. I couldn’t let go.

  Your goodbye was heavy with regret. You hung up and my world wobbled.

  Again, I was on the outside looking in. I couldn’t sleep that night. I felt body parts I never knew existed. Everything ached. I needed to touch your face just one more time and then I’d go in peace.

  The first pinkish rays of sunlight worked their way into my room as I finally dozed. In my dream, a faceless Amy came to me. She wore a headscarf and a hospital gown. She placed her hand on my arm and asked me to take care of you. She was terminal. I felt her pain and reached to comfort her. She spoke in the wordless way of dream visitors. “Take good care of Mark,” she said. “He always loved you. I’ve sensed your presence in our marriage.” Still dreaming, I wiped a tear that trickled down my cheek.

  “But who gets to keep him in heaven?” I asked.

  Amy gave me a puzzled look as she started to fade. I began to wake.

  “Wait!” I said. “You or me? Who gets him forever after?”

  I stared out the window at the full glory of morning and wondered if my dream meant anything. My pillow was wet with tears. A dozen questions flickered like candles in a draft. How is love valued in heaven? Is it by the length of time or the strength of love? What about soul mates?

  There is that moment of truth wherein you choose action or inaction and that choice tells you who you really are. I didn’t like me as I left a cheerful message for you on your office voice mail. I trumped up a story about having to be in your city next week on business. Although my intentions were innocent, it was wrong to call and I immediately regretted it. I just wanted to see your smile... one more time.

  Another night and sleep would not come. I heard my heart beating in the darkness. Please don’t call back. You have no idea how much this means. Don’t call. I needed you to be the decent man I fell in love with. If you were a man of honor you wouldn’t return my call. But what if you did? Then who would you be? More importantly, who would I be?

  Once upon a time in the very beginning there was a guy with a smile that could light up my world.

  You never called.

  ~~~

  Years have gone by since those scant few phone words. I open my eyes to the dawn and know something is very wrong on this earth. By evening I still can’t shake the terrible chill. I type your name in the search engine on my computer and then hesitantly type the word obituary.

  You died early this morning.

  No one would have known to tell me. There is no one with whom I can share my sorrow. Lines from Byron’s poem “When We Two Parted” haunt me.

  When we two parted

  In silence and tears,

  Half broken-hearted

  To sever for years,

  Pale grew they cheek and cold,

  Colder thy kiss:

  Truly that hour foretold

  Sorrow to this.

  They now not I knew thee,

  Who knew thee too well:

  Long, long shall I rue thee,

  Too deeply to tell.

  Tomorrow I will walk to the beach clutching this letter and my treasured feather from a long-dead pheasant. This paper and the feather will catch the breeze and dance over the darkened sea. I know this letter will reach you because first loves never leave your heart even if they never share your life.

  Love,

  Barbara

  Barbara Silkstone

  Barbara Silkstone is the best-selling author of Criminally Funny Fables series that currently includes: The Secret Diary of Alice in Wonderland, Age 42 and Three-Quarters; Wendy and the Lost Boys; Zo White and the Seven Morphs; Cold Case Morphs; and London Broil.

  For further giggles and a touch of true fiction try: The Adventures of a Love Investigator, 527 Naked Men and One Woman.

  Silkstone’s writing has been described as “perfectly paced and pitched – shades of Janet Evanovich and Carl Hiaasen – without seeming remotely derivative. Fast moving action that shoots from the hip with bullet-proof characterization.”

  Find Barbara online at barbswire-ebooksandmore.blogspot.com

  Lia Fairchild

  Dear Brother:

  Even after all these years, I still look for you in the faces of strangers on the street. Would I even recognize you? I try to tell myself you are still tall and fit with dark features and a beautiful smile (I always was jealous of your perfect teeth), and not weathered and beaten from hundreds of miles of walking. I think about you when the bitter rain pummels the roof of my house. Do you have a coat to keep you dry? Are you freezing? I think of you when the sweltering sun heats up the pavement on my street. Are you thirsty? Do you have shade to protect you? I never take for granted that these things seem to be at my fingertips. That I can eat when I’m hungry, or sleep in a comfortable bed when I’m tired.

  I often ask God how two people that started out in life in the exact same manner could end up in totally different situations. Why does one feel so thankful for life’s blessings while the other is left with seemingly nothing? He does not give me an answer, but I feel he wants me to continue thinking of you and hoping for better days. And, to reach out to those that lead similar lives. I tell myself that maybe if I help them, someone, somewhere will be helping you. Most people accept my assistance with a smile and a thank you. But others are distant, only wanting to be left alone. I pray you are the former and that accepting a stranger’s kindness might give you some comfort.

  My thoughts of you are not only sad. I try to remember what things were like when we were both carefree; or at least as carefree as two children could be in those circumstances. I remember the games, the crazy things we did, getting in trouble because we were so damn bored. And no matter how mad we got at each other, when the shit hit the fan we had each other’s backs. I remember a nine-year-old girl crying her eyes out because she was never as good as the big brother who held four blue ribbons in his hand. And even though you were more than willing to give one up to me, I couldn’t take it. I wanted to earn it on my own, the way my big brother did. What happened to that fighter, that competitor? It’s never too late for a comeback, you know. It’s never too late to try again. I know there is a strong possibility that you can’t or simply don’t want to try. Maybe you think you’ve been abandoned, forgotten about. I hope against hope that is not the case. I hope you will remember when I took you in. Or that day I found you in the park. You did know me, but something wasn’t quite right. It felt more like you were recognizing a familiar face.

  I still hold out hope that one day you will find the strength within yourself to want more; to want a better life for yourself. And when that day comes, we’ll be waiting. I tell myself as I write this letter that I’d know if you were gone for good. I would feel a loss of your presence. Somehow I would know. So I will continue to wait, hanging on to the memories and thinking of you often, big brother.

  Love,

  Your sister

  Lia Fairchild

  Lia Fairchild is a writer and author of the bestselling drama, In Search of Lucy.

  Find Lia online at liafairchild.com

  Melissa Smith

  My Grumpy,

  “Who knows, you just might marry that boy someday.”

  I’m sure you all remember hearing
your own mothers tell you this very same thing when you were younger.

  Most of the times, with other boys, I’m sure she said it in fun, but with this particular boy, my mom said it more often than not. And she was right.

  Moving to a new city and a new school at the dramatic age of 13, my life as I knew it was over. I hated having to start over. I had said goodbye to all of my friends, cried as we exchanged addresses (so we could write real letters) and made promises to keep in touch. It was awful.

  And do you know what’s even more awful? Starting a new school after the year has already started, that’s what. Three months into my seventh grade year and I was the new girl. Oh, at first it wasn’t so bad. After all, I made a few new friends, but everyone’s eyes were always on me. I was the latest novelty.

  Anyone who knows me knows that I’m shy until I get to know you. Then watch out baby! I’m loud (ok, maybe not so much loud, but you get it ;) ) and funny and love to have fun. It’s just how I’ve always been.

  After my mom went back to work, I had to start riding the bus to and from school. And that’s when I first saw you. Well, I take that back. All I saw were your eyes hovering just above the edge of the seat. It didn’t matter where we sat on the bus, you sitting somewhere in front with me in the back or vice versa, all I ever saw were your eyes just above the edge of the seat.

  At first, I paid you no mind, because like I said, I was new and it seemed that everyone stared. But when you never seemed to stop? That’s when even my new friends started to notice.

  They’d jab me in the ribs as they teased me, “Oh Melissa! I think he likes you!” “Maybe you should say hi and see if he speaks!” “Don’t look now, but he’s still lookin’ this way!”

  As soon as my mom got home I had to ask her if this was normal boy behavior, because it just seemed odd to me that you never said a word, you just stared.

  That was the first time she spoke those words to me. “Who knows Melissa, you might just marry that boy someday.”

  Of course, I scoffed at her statement. Marry you? Whatever! Sure you were cute an’ all, but let’s face it, you’re weird. In all this time, which was several weeks by now, you’ve never said a single word to me, and I was supposed to marry you? Yeah, whatever. My mom’s ridiculous.

  Eventually, and when I say that I mean it was months later, you did say hi. Your whole face flashed bright red and you couldn’t manage to keep your eyes up, but you did say hi . . . as you passed by me on your way off the bus at your stop.

  The girl I was sitting with couldn’t believe her ears. She started laughing and tugging on my arm as she squealed, “I can’t believe it! He actually spoke to you!”

  Apparently that was all you needed to break the ice because the next morning, you sat with only one seat between us. (My stop was the first one to get on and the last one to get off) I was shocked. However, where it was sweet, you were also a bit too late. I had already started to like this other boy in one of my classes and he’d actually been talking to me from almost my very first day.

  You were the first boy to give me my very first love letter. On the last day of school. Right before you got off the bus. Just like the first time you spoke to me, your face was the color of a fresh sunburn as you gave me a shy smile and handed me your note.

  My friend, dying to know what it said, wanted me to open it right then and there, but I waited until I got home.

  As the years went on, I can honestly say that you were the only guy I hung out with to become one of my best friends. And without fail, almost every time you came over to my house, my mother would whisper, loudly, “You’re gonna marry him someday. You’ll see.” Do you remember? I think she liked to see you blush, but I would roll my eyes at her and tell her you were just a friend. My best friend. Her reply was simple. “And who do you think your dad is to me?”

  At first, it seemed whenever I had started to like you in that special way again, you were in a relationship, so I would give up and move on. I later found out that it was the same for you too.

  Eventually the timing was perfect and we took that step forward. I’ve never looked back!

  I might not remember much from our wedding day, but I remember getting ready and my mom kept passing me a knowing look. You know the look people give you when they’re sharing an inside joke and you’re on the outside? Yeah, that look. Confused, I had to open my big fat mouth and ask. “What?”

  “See? Didn’t I say you were gonna marry that boy someday?”

  Of course, she was right. And even though I was loath to admit it, I told her so.

  At our reception, just as we were getting ready to cut our cake, you made me a toast. You declared to all our guests that you were happy your chase was finally over! When my dad asked for clarification, you laughed. “I’ve been chasing her since the seventh grade and I’ve finally caught her!”

  Most of our guests couldn’t believe it was true, but my mom was all too happy to make the rounds and fill them in on our long history.

  Sixteen wedded years and two teenaged boys later; you still make my heart flutter and make me laugh every single day. I couldn’t ask for a better love story.

  ~ Bunniez

  P.S. Deep down I must have known you were the one, because of all my boyfriends and friends that were boys, your gifts and letters were the only ones I’ve ever kept. I still have the very first note you gave me on that last day of school all those years ago.

  Melissa Smith

  Living in the heart of the corn belt, I am a wife and mother to two teenaged boys. While I’ve always loved reading and writing, it’s only lately that I’ve taken the time to sit and write down some real work. I really hope people will love the journey I take you on as you delve into the worlds I’ve created!

  Find Melissa online at melissasmithbooks.zoomshare.com

  Faith Mortimer

  To my darling daughter Catherine,

  Before you were born I was searching for a name and I chose ‘Catherine.’ I knew it would be perfect and it was. Your name means "pure" and that is exactly what you are, pure inside and out. From the moment I set eyes on you, your smile brought me overwhelming joy. I was amazed how your little girl sweetness melted my heart – it still does - and how your pureness lit up my world.

  To me you are perfect as you are and never let anyone tell you otherwise. Never let the cruelness of this world harden you, instead embrace humankind with your pure and gentle heart. Always remembering that whatever life brings, it is my hope that you remember a few simple things:

  First you must believe in yourself – or to thine own self be true – (Hamlet) and follow your dreams. Your dreams are for yourself and if you work on them they’ll come true.

  Don’t ever forget to be yourself, laugh at life, cry when you’re saddened and above all love as it heals all pain.

  Look after yourself; your health and your body. Sleep when your body tells you, eat and drink not to excess and love your body...it is perfect just as you are.

  Listen to others; your friends and your enemies. They have a right to be heard, but do not be too quick to judge. Act as a true friend and learn to forgive. It is often hard to think before you speak, and to draw back, but thought gives you more respect. When you speak with a pure heart, making someone feel good is a true blessing.

  Offer help and only give advice when asked. Too many people act before thinking of how their words will affect the outcome. Are you qualified to advise? Help the elderly, you’ll be one someday. Treasure a child and you’ll be rewarded.

  Always question in your mind if you think something is not right. Lead if you believe you are right in your thinking and never give in to pressure if you know it is wrong.

  Always keep your promises and never say you’ll do something, knowing you’ll never be able to fulfill that promise. If you break a trust it can be hard to rebuild a relationship.

  See the world through open eyes. Treasure it, love it, revere it and please keep it for your children and your child
ren’s’ children.

  Although you are now a mother and have made me the proudest of all grandmothers, you’ll always be my baby. Teach your child what I have strived to pass on to you. Be strong, independent and love. But remember...whatever happens, you’ll never be alone...you will always have me, you will always be my baby and you’ll always have a home.

  Your loving mother.

  Faith Mortimer

  Faith Mortimer was born in Manchester and educated in Singapore, Malaya and Hampshire, England. She qualified as a Registered nurse and after some years changed careers to oversee a number of travel and sport related companies. It wasn’t until after Faith completed a Science degree that she considered she had the confidence, stamina and dedication to complete her first novel. She has since published numerous titles.

  Find Faith online at faithmortimerauthor.com

  Sarah Woodbury

  To My Daughter On Her Wedding Day

  A new baby girl sleeps

  Eyes closed

  Exhausted from the day

  All her mother can do

  Is watch her as she breathes

  And lie awake all night

  Unable to sleep as her baby does

  Knowing only

  That life has changed irrevocably

  Who could have imagined

  That such a creation was possible?

  Or imagine

  What she would become

  A heartbeat later

  She smiles shyly

  And says

  “I think I love him, Mum.”

  She is a creature beyond imagining

  Strong

  Fiercely powerful

  Jumping with both feet

  Into a future only she can see

  She is only a step or two ahead

  And then she’s running

  Not away, but towards another

  And wearing white

  What advice could I possibly give her?

  But here it is:

  To love completely

  To never hold a grudge