I sit down at my computer and press my fingertips lightly on the keyboard. There is no way to tell a broken-hearted man that you have the heart he once lost. For years, I’ve contemplated the words I would use but no words seem delicate or worthy enough. For just over a month, I have sat down at this computer and typed out the perfect letter at least a hundred times, only to type the last word and immediately hate everything I have written. What I’ve concluded is that this isn’t the type of information given through a letter, but it still has to be written.

---

Dear Hunter,

I can’t do this any longer. Her heart aches for you every time I send you a letter. Guilt fills my soul and covers me like a heavy blanket I can’t seem to find my way out of. I know I’m not responsible for taking her life but I feel like I’m keeping her alive for you and at the same time holding this heart hostage for the sake of yours.

I’ve debated over the last couple of weeks whether or not this is the right decision, but I think it is.

I asked the doctors to keep my information anonymous because I didn’t think I would have it in me to face the family who so unfortunately lost this very heart I protect so dearly. With realization of the unfairness in this situation, given you have not been offered the choice to remain anonymous, I feel I should unveil my identity to offer you proper closure. These letters aren’t fair to either one of us, and I have been selfish in pretending they are.

I’d like to request that you meet me at the Borderline Grill for dinner tonight at seven. I realize it is short notice and I know you have to find care for Olive, but if I don’t do this now, I may never find the courage to do it again.

I understand if this is too much to ask or if you don’t wish to meet with me. In any case, I appreciate your consideration.

---

Best,

Her Heart

---

I print out the letter and, with an exhale, I place it into an envelope. Now or never. For the amount of times I have said that…I can’t believe I’m actually sending it.

I’m not sure I can wait for the mail to run through the delivery system so I’m going to drop it into his mailbox, and chance him seeing me from his window. I need him to have this letter and I need to see if he will meet me tonight so I can come clean. There’s no more waiting.

As I drive down Hunter’s street, I see cars in his driveway and a knot forms in my stomach. Maybe I could just ring his doorbell and blurt it all out, but I feel like I should give him the option of finding this information out. He may not want to know who I am. If he chooses to meet me tonight, then I’ll know it’s what he wants. If he doesn’t, I’m going to lay this all to rest.

I stop in right in front of his mailbox, glancing quickly at the window to see if the coast is clear. When I see it is, I hop out of my car and place the letter inside the mailbox, leaving the flap open so he will hopefully know something is inside. Without being spotted, I take off, crossing my fingers that he does want to know who has his wife’s heart. It’s a secret I don’t want to hold onto anymore.

As I pull into the parking lot of the diner I asked Hunter to meet me at tonight, I realize this has been one of the longest days of my life. To my surprise, I see his car as I’m walking toward the front door. He’s here. He came! He wants to know, and I want to relieve myself of this heavy secret. All of these understandings are making my chest hurt, but also making Ellie’s heart beat hard and fast. I hope she wants this as much as I do.

When I walk into the diner, Hunter is already inside. His back is to me, and he’s looking around the restaurant as the hostess asks him how many are in his party. Without thinking, I respond for him. “Two, please.”

Expecting him to turn around, possibly with curiosity as to who is answering for him, I’m a little taken aback when he doesn’t turn to see me. Instead, he follows the young girl leading us to our seat.

As we approach the end of the row, the girl places two menus down onto the table and Hunter sits in the closest seat, still facing away from me. After our meeting in the garden, I find Hunter’s behavior a little strange. I can only assume he’s as nervous as I am, and this is his way of showing it.

When I slip into the seat across from him, feeling even more anxious than a moment ago, I find him with his eyes closed, which confirms my assumptions. He’s scared to know. Part of me would like to take his hand and place it over my chest before he has a second to realize anything else, but that would be inappropriate.

Instead, I place my hand gently on top of his. The sensation of his skin is cold against mine, yet magnetic at the same time. His fingers feel stiff beneath my touch, but only until he curls his hand up into a fist.

Finally, he pulls in a shuddering breath and opens his eyes, appearing startled, shocked, and I’m not sure I can pinpoint the hundreds of other emotions running through his face.

His hand cups over his mouth, and all I hear is a muttering of, “You.”

I respond with, “Me,” and a small laugh to ease the discomfort.

We begin a conversation with the small talk we left off with at the gardens, but it quickly grows heavier during every moment that passes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

“I couldn’t figure out how to,” I say, trying my best to look everywhere and anywhere except him.

Though, when I look back at him, there’s a small smile teasing his lips. “Hey, I have your wife’s heart,” he says, joking of the simple words that should have been spoken when we met at the gardnes. “That would have done the trick.”

“Yeah, like that would be the appropriate way to do it and not weird at all,” I say through a sigh. “I wanted to tell you but there’s something about running up to a total stranger and gutting him.”

Although strangers, the way in which we are connected is much stranger

“Instead, you have written me anonymous letters for five years. Don’t you realize that has gutted me, too?” I gutted him? That was precisely what I was trying to avoid. How could I have been so wrong?

“That was never my intention, Hunter. I promise you,” I say, stressfully running my fingers through my hair. “

He looks like he’s contemplating his next set of questions, which has my nerves bundled up in a tight ball. Maybe this was a bad idea.“Did you know I would be at the gardens that day?” he asks. Oh, no…he think I’ve been following him. I’m not pscyho!

“No, I had no idea. That happened all on it’s own.” Although I can’t help and wonder if maybe Ellie wanted it to happen.

“Wow,” he says, questioningly. I don’t know if his reaction is a good one or bad one, though. I’m just hoping he doesn’t think I’m insane

“Can I take your order or do you need a few more minutes?” The waitress thankfully interrupts.

“Could I have the garden salad with oil and vinegar, topped with the grilled chicken, please?”

“Salad? Are you serious?” he asks with laughter.

I place my hand over my chest. “Gotta keep this ticking.”

“She’ll have a burger and fries,” he spits out to the waitress. His gesture utterly shocks me. We don’t know each other at all and yet, he wants to order for me? Normally, I would consider that rude, but for some reason, I don’t think he’s doing it to be disrespectful.

“Hey,” I croak out.

“Are you a vegetarian?” he asks with a raised brow.

“No,” I laugh.

“Burger and fries it is, then. Same for me, please.” As the waitress takes the menus, Hunter leans back into his chair, relaxing a bit, which is a relief. If only, I felt the same way. “So, you knew Ellie? I know you made mention of it in one of your last letters, but hearing it out loud stuns me again.”

Oh no. No. No. No. I didn’t realize how many truths I would have to dilvuge by just admitting who I was. Now, I’m telling Hunter all sorts of things I feel like Ellie wanted to keep a secret. “I was her student teacher before she passed.”

“Student teacher?” he asks, seeming confused. “I don’t understand,” what one thing has to do with another.

“I was dying,” I tell him, feeling a sudden tear break out of the corner of my eye. Crap! This was not in my plan for tonight.

“From what? he asks simply, almost unfazed—sort of the way I was toward the end.

“Congenital Heart Failure. I wasn’t supposed to make it past twenty, but I did,” I explain. “She wanted to help me.” It sounds like such an easy solution coming from my mouth, but for the fact that she had to die in order for me to live, is something I will never be able to swallow.

“That was Ellie. She considered becoming a nurse but she has—had—an aversion to blood and a teacher was the next best thing when it came to helping people, so that’s what she did. She also had a thing for little kids—born to be a mother, I always thought,” he says.

I try to pull in a couple of even breaths, but I’m not sure I will be able to catch breath throughout the rest of our time here together. “She told me if it was meant to be, I would receive my heart—meaning if her heart were to outlive her brain before I passed away, I would be pretty damn lucky. The kindness of Ellie is something that has been infused within me; it has remained in her heart. But her telling me I would be lucky didn’t seem so clear until I found out the heart was going to be mine. I wouldn’t consider her death in exchange for my survival to be very lucky.”

I’m quick to realize I have once again said too much as the look on Hunter’s face contorts with pain. “I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his. “What were you saying about her heart surviving her brain?”

I feel a weakness crawl through me, making me want to fall faint into the chair I’m leaning on, just so I can disappear from this conversation. “That’s what she said to me,” I say quietly.

“But why would she consider that possibility?” he asks, sounding almost outgaged. “You must know why she would say something so random?”

Thinking quickly, all I can come up with is, “She said it was her destiny to give life. It was God’s plan for her.”

“No. There was more,” he says.

“This is not my place,” I tell him. “I don’t feel right about this, which is exactly why I have kept my distance over the years. I didn’t come here tonight to tell you things Ellie confided in me. I came here to end the pain I’ve presumably been causing you, which is evident now.” I need to leave. I’ve ruined everything and I’ve made this situation so much worse. “This was a terrible idea.”

As I stand up and walk past him, he makes an attempt to keep me here, grabbing my arm, getting me to stay and tell him more, but I pull away and run outside, needing the cold air to clear out my suffocating lungs.

I only make it out to the front curb before I drop down and let the tears fall from my eyes. I just screwed up Hunter’s life a little more. That wasn’t fair of me. I should never have reopened this wound.

He finds me outside and the questions begin to pour out of him, each one breaking my heart a little more. He’s looking at me like I hold all of the secrets, like he wants to take a hold of my arm and not let me go until everything I know is drained out of my mouth. I can’t give him that but I admit to knowing about him from years ago when Ellie would talk about him daily, to knowing who he was the first moment I saw him in the garden. I explain the internal debate I’ve had for years about revealing my identity in fear of hurting him more, and yet, nothing I say seems like enough or like what he’s wanting to hear because he’s staring at me with a lost look in his eyes, or like he’s trying to see through my eyes to read every thought floating through me. The apologetic look I must have on my face is likely telling him there is more he doesn’t know. But, it’s a secret I promised to keep.