Claire went upstairs knowing she would find her mother in the sitting room on the third floor of her home. Since her father had died three years ago, her mother had happily retreated from the hectic society life and spent her days mostly reading and sometimes sending emails and Facebooking with old friends.

The small sitting room, twice as large as most apartments, was not only spacious, but serene. Her mother had a flair for decorating that led to a calm atmosphere. Claire wondered how long it would be before her mother sold the large, cumbersome house where she had lived so many years with her husband and move into a smaller, more manageable place. Of course, with a live-in housekeeper, a cook, and a variety of other hired help, Claire mused that it probably didn’t matter much. Her mother could live on the third floor of the house and the rest of the house would sustain itself. She even had a personal assistant who paid the bills and handled the business side of running a household including shopping for staples.

Claire had a personal assistant, too, but the girl, Martie, mostly handled business administrative work. And errands. Claire hated errands. The driving. The in and out of the car kind of errands. She had a weekly dry cleaning delivery service and basic food delivery, so Martie really had a limited number of errands.

“Claire,” her mother smiled and stood up to hug her. “Did Danielle come?”

Danielle and Betty had been fast friends since the day Danielle came into the world.

Claire supposed it was a natural since Claire spent so much time working and Betty kept her during the weekdays when Danielle wasn’t in school.

“She’s got her afternoon yoga class and then she’s going out with some friends.”

“Aw,” Betty sank back into her chair. “Tell her to come by when she has time.”

“You know you’ll see her this weekend.”

“It’s never soon enough,” Betty said. “What brings you out here on a Tuesday?”

Her mother wanted to cut to the chase then. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“All right. Would you like something to drink?”

Claire shook her head. “I have water.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Do you remember Grayson?”

Her mother’s face went blank. How could she not remember Grayson? Claire had been going to marry him.

“Of course,” Betty said.

“He said he called.”

Betty didn’t even pretend not to know what Claire was talking about. Betty looked away, seeming to gaze at a bouquet on her desk.

“Did he?” Claire asked, her voice soft.

“He did. He called collect a few times. I didn’t take the calls. Then he stopped.”

“Mother. Why did you refuse his calls?”

“He was military,” her mother said, turning back to face Claire. “You would have been part of another lifestyle. I didn’t want that for you.”

“Another lifestyle?”

“The military. I didn’t think you would fit in.”

Claire scoffed. “Shouldn’t I have been the one to decide that?”

Betty sighed. “Probably. But I knew you weren’t in a place to decide. You were too in love.”

“Mom.” Claire leaned forward in her chair. “What’s wrong with love?”

Betty leaned away. “Do you remember I had a sister?”

“Of course. Aunt Mary. She died when I was… six? I was in first grade.”

“Yes. She was older than I was. 8 years older. She was in love with a boy in the Army. He was drafted and they were married immediately.” Betty took a deep breath. Kept going. “She got pregnant. Her husband was killed over there. In Vietnam. It broke Mary’s heart. She took her own life and that of the child.”

“Oh no,” Claire pressed her fingertips against her forehead. Remembered all the forms she’d lied on. In both Ft. Worth and here. Has anyone in your family ever committed suicide?

She’d answered no on each and every one. How many staff members had mentioned that suicide runs in families? “What didn’t you tell me?” she asked and looked up at her mother, knowing the hurt was naked in her eyes. “Danielle…”

“I thought that if no one knew, it would be better.”

“But when Danielle…”

“I know. I didn’t say anything. I know they say it runs in families. But my therapist told me that it wasn’t genetic. It was learned through environment. He said it was better if I didn’t say anything.”

“Danielle doesn’t stand a chance.”

“No! Don’t think like that.”

Claire straightened in her chair. Lifted her chin. “What does this have to do with Grayson?”

“Oh.” Her mother fiddled with the handle on her desk drawer. “Every time I thought about the Army, I got sick to my stomach. Still do.”

“So you punished me?”

“When Grayson said he was going into the Air Force, I couldn’t stomach the thought of you being part of that world. I couldn’t stand the thought of you living your life in misery.”

“But you encouraged me to marry Noah.” Claire said. Would her mother get the implication that she’d ended up in misery after all.

Her mother paled. “Yes,” she uttered.

Claire shook her head and turned away. She fought the host of conflicted emotions that threated to overwhelm her.

“Was it really that bad?” Betty asked.

“No,” Claire admitted. “It wasn’t that bad being with Noah. We hardly ever saw each other. But, Mother, you kept me away from Grayson.”

Her mother slowly reached for the bottom desk drawer handle and pulled it open. “I was going to wait and let you find these after I was gone.” She reached into the back of the drawer. “But I have a feeling you need these now.” She pulled out a two-inch stack of letters tied together with a ribbon and set them on the edge of the desk in front of Claire.

Claire stared at the stack of letters – at her name and parents’ address scrawled across the front. And Grayson’s name at the top. The letters were unopened. A weight sat in the pit of her stomach. A weight that carried regret and sadness. As the emotions settled in her gut, they released a new emotion.

Hope.

“Hi.”

Grayson was in the middle of a department meeting when Claire called. They were discussing the summer advising schedule. None of the full-time faculty really wanted to be there. As the visiting faculty member, Grayson was sure he’d draw the short straw anyway, so when Claire’s name came up on his phone, he stepped out.

“Is this convenient?”

“Sure,” he lied. It had been just over two weeks since he’d sent her the painting.

“I won’t keep you long. I was just wondering if you’d like to meet.” She paused. “For that drink.”

“Sure,” he said. “When?”

“How about tonight?”

He had so much to do this weekend, it was going to be impossible for him to even come close to catching up. “Okay,” he said. “Want me to pick you up?”

“No,” she said. “I’ll meet you. How about D’Vine’s at seven o’clock?”

“I’ll be there,” he said.

He went back into the conference room and he was the only one smiling through the rest of the meeting. He ended up taking the most summer office hours, but not even that could spoil his good mood.

After the meeting, he googled the address for D’Vine’s before swinging by his apartment for a quick shower and change of clothes.

He got to the D’Vine lounge at six and found a bistro table toward the back so he could watch the door for Claire. He ordered some bread and a glass of wine while he waited.

He’d almost given up on hearing from Claire. He’d been toying with the idea of calling her. To take her up on that comment she’d made about having a drink with him. He certainly wasn’t going to let her go that easily. In fact, his resolve to not push at her had been quickly fading.

There had been something in her voice when she’d called that he couldn’t put his finger on. She sounded… serious. If he’d been contacting her, he would have worried that she wanted him to leave her alone. She’d sounded that serious. Right now, he was thankful he hadn’t pushed at her.

Other than that, he was at a loss. Perhaps she was a much more serious person than before. When they dated in high school, she’d always had a smile in her voice. Except for the day before he left. In retrospect, sleeping together the night before he shipped out probably hadn’t been the best idea.

He’d often wondered if that was why she didn’t take his calls or answer his letters.

He’d done the math. Danielle was definitely not his child.

She walked in the door fifteen minutes early. It was going to take awhile to get used to her being brunette. She carried herself with different kind of confidence she’d had in high school. In school she’d been a bubbly majorette. Now she was a confident businesswoman.

He stood up so she would see him. She smiled and walked toward him. His attraction for her had never dimmed. He wondered how much his life was about to change with just this one meeting.

He held the bar stool while she climbed up, then sat next to her. “What would you like to drink?” he asked.

“A glass of chardonnay,” she said.

He ordered her drink and another one for himself. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes before she lifted her gaze to his.

“I finished reading your letters,” she said.

A jolt of surprise and trepidation shot through him. Surely she wouldn’t hold something he’d written twenty years ago against him.

“But… you said you never got them.”

“I didn’t. But my mother did.”

It had been her mother all along. He’d suspected her father, but it hadn’t really occurred to him that her mother might be the one against him.

“She decided I wouldn’t make a good military wife,” she scoffed.

“Wow,” he said.

She lifted her eyes, wide with unshed tears. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he said.

A single tear dripped down her cheek. He reached out and gently swept it away with a finger. “Don’t be sad,” he said.

“Your letters,” she said. “What you wrote was so very heart wrenching. You must have been devastated when you didn’t hear from me.”

“You could say that,” he said. “But it was a long time ago. Time heals.”

She took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“You must have been deeply hurt when you didn’t hear from me.”

She nodded. “I was. My parents convinced me that I would never hear from you again and that I should move on.”

“They made sure you didn’t hear from me,” he said.

“It was a terrible thing they did.”

The server brought their wine. Claire sipped, then set her glass down.

“I don’t hold it against them, he said. “They were only looking out for you.”

“Ha. Sometimes it’s better if parents don’t interfere.” She rested her hands on the table, running her fingertip along a crack in the wood.

He reached out and put his hand over hers. “You have Danielle,” he said. “And the future is bright.”

Claire wondered that either of them was willing to talk to the other. He believed that she hadn’t responded to his letters while she believed he hadn’t bothered to write or call. All this happened when they were most vulnerable. They had been young and had just slept together for the first time.

Both of them stabbed in the heart. But twenty years had passed. And Grayson was right. Time did heal. If it didn’t heal, it did at least dull.

Had they been given a second chance? Claire wondered.

“Danielle said you recently retired from the Air Force. Have you been in this whole time?”

“I did twenty years. I won’t say I loved every minute of it, but I got a college degree out of it and a nice retirement.”

“You said you spent a lot of time overseas.”

“A lot.”

“What was your job?”

“I was a PJ,” he said, then clarified. “Pararescue. Search and rescue.”

“Impressive,” she said.

“It was different.”

“I can’t even imagine.”

“I wouldn’t want you to. In some ways, your mother was right. The military is no place for having a family.”

“Maybe,” she said, still lost in the haze of his letters.

“Does the painting fit with your décor or is it a sore thumb?”

“It fits,” she said, tapping her wine glass with a well-manicured fingernail. “Unfortunately, it’s still sitting on the floor.”

“It is kind of big,” he agreed. “Would you like me to hang it for you?”

“Sure,” she said. “But I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s not an imposition, I promise,” he assured her. “Have you eaten?”

“I had a snack,” she said.

“Me too. Want to get dinner?”

She searched his eyes. Seemed to contemplate her answer. “Okay. I can do that,” she said.

He laughed. “Nothing like a little enthusiasm.”

She chuckled with him. “I’m sorry. I’m not the best of company right now. I just read two year’s worth of letters from an old boyfriend.”

“Prolific little guy wasn’t he?”

“Maybe he should have been a writer,” Claire said.

“I do write my share of research papers.”

“A little different, I hope.”

“A whole lot different.”

She took a second sip of wine. “I’m sure your papers are well written.”

“Yeah.” He, too, sipped his wine, set down the glass, and kept his eyes down. His forehead was creased right in the middle. Worry lines that were in the process of etching a permanent home.

Even now, after twenty years, she knew him well enough to know something was troubling him. “What’s bothering you?” she asked.

He shook his head. Glanced at her, then scoffed, and held her gaze. “I need to tell you something.”

“That sounds ominous,” she said and braced herself for whatever it was that had him in knots. Perhaps he had a terminal illness or perhaps he was gay. Whatever it was, she had a feeling it didn’t bode well.

“It’s about my job,” he said.

She relaxed a bit.

“I have a master’s degree in social work which allows me to teach psychology, but it’s hard for me to find a full-time teaching position.”

“I’m listening,” she said.

“This job at UCLA is what they call a visiting professorship which is a nice way to say I get to work full-time but only for a year. I’ve managed to land a full-time teaching position.”

“Congratulations!” she said.

“Thank you,” he said.

“But…”

He scrubbed a hand across his chin. “It’s in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.”

Claire kept her emotions in check. On the outside. On the inside, her little bubble of hope burst, splattering her dreams and sending her thoughts down a familiar path.

They’d been sitting outside, at the park. It was early Spring, so the weather had been cool. Claire had been content, sitting there on a blanket, reading, with Grayson stretched out beside her. She’d thought he was sleeping.

“I’m going to be leaving soon,” he had said.

“What?” She’d put her book aside and looked down at him. His eyes were closed.

“For Basic Training.”

What felt like a knife had stabbed through her heart. She still remembered that feeling. She knew he’d joined the Air Force, but was hoping that he wouldn’t have to actually go anywhere. “Where?” She asked.

“San Antonio.”

She remembered staring straight ahead. Telling herself not to react. She’d been schooled in keeping her emotions in check.

But he was going away and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The same feelings washed over her now. Grayson was going away and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

“When do you leave?” She asked, the déjà vu clogging her throat.

“August 3.”

She swallowed, allowing the sadness to wash over her. It would pass.

But she needed to get away. She slipped off the bar stool, grabbed her handbag, and straightened her jacket. “I ‘um. I need to go,” she said, simply.

She rushed outside, dodging people, she barely saw. The only thought that consumed her was the need to get away.

She got into her car and sat, staring blankly ahead.

The tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Something wasn’t right. She hadn’t felt this intensity of emotion even through her divorce.

There had been only two times in her life that she’d felt this way. When Danielle attempted suicide and the day Grayson left over twenty years ago.

Grayson paid the check and walked out onto the street.

When he’d entered the Air Force all those years ago, he’d been excited. He’d expected to finish up boot camp, then tech school, then get Claire, marry her, and take her wherever he went next. Six months at the most away from her.

Such was the innocence of youth.

He’d done everything he knew to do at the time to keep her. But he’d been so wrapped up in his career. Once he’d become pararescue, he hadn’t had the time to think about much of anything else. The job had consumed his life.

He couldn’t shake the feeling, however, that he’d let Claire slip through his fingers.

In the back of his mind, he’d always thought he would someday come back to her and whisk her away. He supposed to be honest with himself, he’d imagined her waiting for him.

All that had changed when he’d gotten the newsletter article about her marriage. He’d thrown himself into work even more then.

He’d gotten a Silver Star and a host of other awards. Awards that didn’t mean anything at the end of the day. He’d been awarded for doing his job.

And now what did he have to show for it?

What he didn’t have was Claire.

And now history was repeating itself. His job was taking him away from her.

And just like last time, he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could before he left.

It was selfish, yes. But he was drawn to her.

Now that they were adults, there would be no parents keeping them apart. They had cell phones. He could text her and know that she got the message. Or he could pick up the phone and call her.

It wouldn’t be like last time.

He got into his car and buckled up. He couldn’t let her slip through his fingers again.

Seeing her was a sign. A sign that they still had a chance.

He typed the address that he had memorized into his GPS and headed toward her house.

As he went through the gates into her community, he was reminded that he may have a Silver Star awarded by the President of the United States, a master’s degree, and a respected job in the community, but he would never live in her world.

He pulled into her circle drive and sat. This is where he could walk away. Go on about his life and let her go on with hers. It was the easy, uncomplicated thing to do.

Or… he could get out, walk up to her door, and complicate things for both of them.

Grayson groaned. He’d never chosen the easy way to do anything.

The least he could do was to hang the damn painting he’d bought for her.