CHAPTER 20
Harper
I looked around the room and was surprised by how much the cabin looked like mine. It even had the same colorful Afghans draped over the sofa, and the same oak leaf screen sitting in front of the cozy fireplace. Unlike my place, his was immaculate. Everything was in its place, including the magazines that were displayed across the coffee table. When I glanced back over to him, I found him sitting the same way he’d been sitting for the past twenty minutes—staring at me like a lost puppy. While I’d never seen the man before, there was something oddly familiar about him. Maybe it was the fact that he looked so much like my grandfather with his balding gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses, not to mention the plaid flannel shirt, baggy khakis, and orthopedic shoes he wore. Needless to say, it was hard to feel threatened by an elderly kidnapper, but the gun he had pointed in my direction was a different matter altogether. I could see by the way he was looking at me that he was contemplating his next move.
Ever since he brought me over to his cabin, he hadn’t spoken a word to me, and I was beginning to wonder if he ever would. Not knowing what else to do, I finally asked, “Could you at least tell me your name?”
His shoulder sagged with defeat, like I’d just hurt his feelings by even asking. “Oliver Tolbert.”
I’d heard the name before. I knew I had, but I just couldn’t remember where. “Have we met before, Oliver?”
“Not exactly.”
“So, we’ve met indirectly?”
“I guess you could say that.”
His short answers weren’t making it easy, but I had to keep trying. “Could you tell me how you know me?”
“It’s a long story.”
I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. “I’d really like to hear it. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
“Oh.” Feeling disappointed, I replied, “Okay. Is there something else you’d like to talk about?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. What?”
“Your book.”
Surprised by his response, I asked, “What about my book?”
He pushed his glasses up against his forehead and with a stern tone he replied, “You can’t finish it.”
“But why?”
“You just can’t. That’s why I’m here.”
I was confused beyond reason. “What do you mean?”
“I’m here to make sure you don’t finish that book.”
“I don’t understand.” I just could fathom why he would care about the book I was writing. It just didn’t make any sense. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
I could see the turmoil in his eyes as he lowered the gun to his upper thigh and let out a deep breath. He brought his hand up to his face and wiped his eyes before he looked back over to me. “I’d never believed in soulmates. I thought it was just something people made up in romance books, until the day I met mine. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Eyes as blue as the sea and hair that was long and golden like the sun. She had a smile that could light up the darkest of rooms.”
His voice cracked and it was obvious from the look on his face that he was hurting. It was hard not to feel sorry for him. “She sounds wonderful.”
“She was.” He swallowed hard, then continued, “She was the librarian in town. I worked across the street at a small printing shop, and I’d watch her go in every morning and come out every afternoon. I never dreamed she’d even talk to me. I was twenty-four years old, and I’d just come home from Vietnam. I was poor and didn’t have much, but one day I got the courage to go in and check out a book. We started talking, and well … we got married. We were married for forty-seven years.”
I could see the love in his eyes when he spoke about his wife, and I knew exactly how he felt. I’d loved Max since I was just a young girl, and while I’d never considered the thought of us being soulmates, hearing Oliver talk about his wife made me consider the possibility. I loved Max with all my heart, and I had no doubt I could never love another the way I loved him. “That’s an amazing story, Oliver.”
“She was my whole world, Harper.”
“Did you have any children?”
“Oh, my wife wanted a house full of children, but we were only able to have one child. There were some complications during Sabrina’s birth, and we just couldn’t risk having another.”
Our conversation baffled me. While Oliver seemed coherent and almost normal, he was obviously mentally ill, otherwise he wouldn’t have kidnapped me at gun point and told me I couldn’t write the end of my book. Somewhere along the way, something had hurt him and he’d lost his way. I just had to be patient and see if he would reveal what had happened to him. Maybe then, I could find a way get him the help that he desperately needed. Somehow, I doubted it had anything to do with the fact that they couldn’t have any more children. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
He shook his head. “I liked it being just the three of us. We didn’t have much money, but we made do. We were happy. Really happy. Sabrina brought us joy that you couldn’t begin to imagine.” His voice grew soft, and then he said, “But then she grew up. She made a life for herself, had children, and didn’t have time for us anymore. So our lives went back to the way it was before.”
A smile crossed his face as he said, “Just like when we were younger, my wife would bring books home from the library, and we’d read them together. It was a chance for us to visit other places … to have an adventure. It was something we truly enjoyed doing together. And then one day … she brought one of your books home.”
I suddenly wanted to hit the fast forward button so I could finally know why he’d kidnapped me, but it wasn’t that easy. He had a story to tell, and if I wanted to get out of this thing alive, I had to sit there and listen. But I was curious by nature, and I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Well … what did you think of it?”
“I thought it was a bit pretentious, but my wife saw great potential in your work. As soon as we finished the first book, she brought the second one home. She couldn’t stop talking about it.” It took me a second to get over his pretentious comment, but as he continued talking, I was eventually able to let it go, especially since his wife so was fond of the books. “That’s when she contacted you on her computer.”
“She did?”
“She was so nervous about writing you. I bet she wrote that message fifteen times before she finally sent it. And when you wrote her back, I don’t think I’d ever seen her so happy.”
I thought back to all the messages I’d received over the past couple of years, and there were just too many to know who he was talking about. I just hoped that he’d keep talking long enough for me to figure it out. “It was sweet of her to write to me.”
He gave me a lopsided grin as he said, “After reading her letter, I was surprised you ever wrote her back.”
“What do you mean?”
“I tried to talk her out of it. I told her that it wasn’t something you’d want to hear from a complete stranger. I told her you’d think she was just putting your book down, but she had all these suggestions and ideas that she wanted to share with you. And then you surprised us both when you turned around and wrote her back thanking her.”
And then it hit me. How could I have been so stupid? All the clues were right there for me to see, but I just hadn’t put them together. The changes in her messages. The flowers. The packages. I smiled as I told him, “I’ve always appreciated Claudia’s advice. She’s a very special lady.”
“Yes, she was …” his voice trailed off as his eyes dropped to his hands.
The pieces were finally starting to come together. It was then that I wondered if he’d even thought about how he wanted this whole thing to play out. I knew I was encroaching on shaky ground, but I couldn’t let the conversation end there. “Can you tell me what happened to her?”
He dropped his head into his chest and his body started to tremble as he sobbed silently. After several minutes, he finally managed to mutter, “The doctors were concerned about her heart, but they seemed hopeful. Claudia wasn’t. She tried to tell me that it was coming … but I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to believe that she’d go before me.”
“No one wants to think that someone they love will die first.”
“Her heart stopped while she was sleeping. She died, and I couldn’t do anything to help her … I still can’t believe she’s gone.”
“I’m so sorry, Oliver.”
It was clear that he was devastated, but I still had no idea what any of this had to do with me. But then, his knees started to bounce and the gun wobbled in his hand as he said, “Now, you see why you can’t finish the book.”
Hoping he might explain it all to me, I asked, “No, Oliver. I honestly don’t.”
“Don’t you see? Once you write the ending, it will all be over. Those books meant everything to her. Once she started working with you, they were all she could talk about. We spent hours and hours going over every chapter, trying to predict your next move. We did that together. Your characters became our family . Their problems became our problems . Their joy became our joy . Now that Claudia is gone, those books … those characters are all I’ve got left. If you end the book, I’ll have nothing left … I can’t let you do that.”
Bless his heart. I’d known people who’d gotten caught up in a story, but he’d given it a whole new meaning. I could feel the tension radiating off of him as he spoke, and I worried that he might do something drastic. There was no doubt in my mind that he was completely delusional, but I hoped that if I talked calmly and rationally, I might be able to make him see things differently. “But Oliver … it’s just a story. These characters live in a world inside my head, and their story is already finished. It’s just a matter of putting it down on paper … But it’s just an ending, Oliver. It’s not the end ,” I explained.
He sniffled, then sounded hopeful. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“There will be more books, more stories to tell with characters that I haven’t even created yet, and I want to share them with you … all of them.”
“You do?” he asked with surprise.
“Of course, I do,” I told him sincerely. I had every intention of sharing my stories with him, but I would have to get him the help he needed first. I stood up and walked over to him, placing my hand on his knee as I knelt down in front of him. “I know it was hard for you to lose Claudia. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you, but she wouldn’t want you to do this. She wouldn’t want you to come here and force me to stop writing the book that she loved. You know that. She would want the book to have its ending, don’t ya think?”
“I do,” he cried.
When he started to sob, I gave his knee a light squeeze, and whispered, “Then, let me finish the book, Oliver. Let me give Claudia the ending she deserves. And let me give you the ending, so you can finally turn the page and start a new chapter on a new book with new characters and a new adventure .”
“It won’t be the same.”
“No, it won’t.” I shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t be good … and it certainly doesn’t mean you can’t find joy in reading again. You just have to be brave enough to take a chance. Are you willing to do that?”
His eyes were red and swollen from crying, and he was barely able to keep them open as he said, “I don’t know.”
“I believe you’re braver than you think.” I gave him a stern look and said, “Oliver, why don’t you give me the gun?”
He looked down at his lap and a surprised look crossed his face, like he’d almost forgotten it was there. Without resisting me, he lifted it up and placed it in the palm of my hand. “I’m sorry, Harper. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I know you didn’t.” I patted him on the knee as I stood up and reached for one of the Afghans. As I placed it over his leg, I said, “I’m going to make you a cup of hot tea. I think it might help settle your nerves.”
He nodded, and as I walked into the kitchen, I spotted my little red journal and flash drive sitting on the counter. I thought about asking him about them, but considering everything that had happened, I decided it was best to just leave it.
As I put on a pot of water to boil, he asked “Did you like the postcards and bookmarks I sent?” I was surprised by his question. I’d always thought Claudia was the one making them, but then I remembered him saying that he worked at a small printing company. “I used a matte print on the cover this time.”
“I loved them. I thought they were perfect.”
“Good. I’ll make you up an order when I get back home.” He smiled as he said, “But this time I’ll send them to your office.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
“And the presents … those were from Claudia. She’d bought them before she passed but never had a chance to send them.”
“Oh, that was so sweet of her. Thank you for sending them.”
“I did it for her. She would want you to have them.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.”
I looked in his cabinets and they were fairly empty except for a couple of cans of soup and some crackers. Thinking he might be hungry, I decided to warm him up a bowl for dinner, hoping to buy some time until I could figure out what I was going to do with him. I glanced over my shoulder and looked at him, thinking how desperate he must’ve felt to come all the way to Whiskey Creek to find me. I remembered how hurt and lost I felt when Max left, but I held on to that glimmer of hope that he would come back to me. Oliver didn’t have that kind of hope. Losing Claudia must have broken his heart and made him crazy with grief. He needed help, the kind of help I couldn’t give him, and I wasn’t sure who could. With a heavy heart, I turned back to look out the window, I noticed that everything was covered with a blanket of snow. It was dark out, but I could still see the little white flakes drifting aimlessly down from the heavens. It was a beautiful sight, and for the first time since I’d been taken, I realized I hadn’t spoken to Max in hours. I could only hope that he was still busy at work and hadn’t noticed that I wasn’t at the cabin. I would try my best to feed Oliver, get him settled, and let him know that I needed to get back home. Hopefully by then, he’d have the peace of mind to let me go.