The Return

“I’m going to keep the letter you wrote to me,” she told him. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I wrote it for you.”

She wrapped the scarf around her neck. “Why didn’t you mention in the letter that you were still here? You could have simply written, wait for me.”

“I wasn’t exactly sure how long I was going to stay in the area. When I wrote to you, I didn’t know the date that you would be here, and the original letter you wrote was no longer in the mailbox when I arrived.”

She tilted her head. “How long were you thinking you’d stay?”

“Through the end of the year.”

At first, not sure she’d heard him right, she couldn’t respond. Then: “You were planning to come here every day until January? And then go back to Africa?”

“You’re half-correct. I was planning to stay through January. But no, even then, I wasn’t going to return to Africa. Not immediately, anyway.”

“Where were you planning to go?”

“I intended to stay here in the States.”

“Why?”

He seemed puzzled by the question. “So I could look for you,” he finally answered.

She opened her mouth, trying to respond, but again, no words would come. It made no sense at all, she thought. She didn’t deserve this devotion. She’d left him. She’d seen him break down and continued to drive away; she’d chosen to destroy his hopes and make a life with Josh instead.

And yet, as he gazed at her, she realized that his love remained undimmed, even if he hadn’t yet grasped how much she’d missed him. Or how much she still cared for him now. In her mind, she heard a voice warning her to be careful, to be completely honest about everything so he wouldn’t be hurt again. But in the throes of their reunion, the voice seemed distant, an echo that faded away to a whisper.

“What are you doing this afternoon?” she asked.

“Nothing. What did you have in mind?”

Instead of answering, she smiled, knowing exactly where to go.

* * *

 

They started back the way they’d come, eventually reaching the sandy gully that separated Bird Island from Sunset Beach. In the distance they could see the outline of the pier, its details lost in the glare off the water. The waves were long and gentle, rolling toward the shore in steady rhythm. Up ahead, Hope noted that there were more people on the beach now, tiny figures moving along the water’s edge. The air was sharp, carrying with it the scent of pine and wind, and in the chill she felt her fingers beginning to tingle.

They moved at a leisurely pace, though Tru didn’t seem to mind. She caught the hint of a limp in his stride, noticeable enough to make her wonder what had happened to him. It might be nothing—perhaps a touch of arthritis, or simply the by-product of an active life—but it reminded her that despite their shared history, they were in many ways strangers. She’d cherished a memory, but that wasn’t necessarily the man he was today.

Or was it?

Walking beside him, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that being with him felt as easy and comforting as it had back then, and glancing over at Tru, she suspected he felt the same way. Like her, he’d tucked his hands into his pockets, his cheeks turning pink in the chill, and there was a contented air about him, like a man just returned home after a long journey. Because the tide was slowly coming in, they walked at the very edge of the hard-packed sand, both of them watching for waves that might soak their shoes.

They drifted into conversation, the words flowing unchecked, like an old habit rediscovered. She did most of the talking. She told him about the deaths of her parents, touched briefly on work, along with her marriage and subsequent divorce from Josh, but mainly found herself telling him about Jacob and Rachel. She told countless stories about their childhoods and their teen years, and admitted how terrified she’d been when Rachel had her open-heart surgery. Often she read reactions of warmth or concern on Tru’s face, his empathy plain. She couldn’t recall everything, of course; some of the details of her life were lost to her, but she felt that Tru instinctively grasped the patterns and threads of her past. By the time they’d passed beneath the pier, she suspected there was little about her life as a mother that he didn’t already know.

As they moved through the softer sand and began to angle toward the path that led through the dunes, she walked ahead of him, realizing that unlike the arduous hike out to Kindred Spirit, she’d barely noticed the trek back. Her fingers felt warm and supple in her pockets, and despite doing almost all of the talking, she wasn’t winded.

After skirting the path, they reached the street and she noticed a car parked in the spot next to hers.

“Yours?” she asked, pointing.

“A rental,” he said.

It made sense that he’d rented a car, she supposed, but she couldn’t help but realize that their cars were close to each other, as if drawn together by the same magical forces that had allowed Hope and Tru to reunite. She found that oddly touching.

“How about you follow me?” she offered. “It’s a bit of a drive.”

“Lead the way.”

She hit the button to unlock the doors and slipped behind the wheel. The car was cold, and after starting the engine, she cranked the heater to maximum. Beyond the glass, Tru got into his rental. She backed out, then stopped in the street to wait for him. When he was ready, she removed her foot from the brake and the car began to roll forward, toward an afternoon she couldn’t have foreseen and a future she couldn’t imagine.

Alone in the car, her thoughts began to wander and she continued to peek in the rearview mirror, making sure Tru didn’t disappear. Making sure she hadn’t been hallucinating, because part of her still couldn’t believe that he’d learned of her letter.

But he had learned of it, she thought.

He was here. He’d come back because she’d wanted him to. And he still cared for her.

She took a breath, steadying herself as the car finally began to warm. His car trailed behind hers through the turns and over the bridge. Onto the highway, where, thankfully, most of the lights were green, then finally toward the turnoff that led to Carolina Beach. Another small bridge and a few turns later, she pulled into the driveway of the cottage she’d rented.

She left room for Tru to pull in alongside her, watching as he finally came to a stop. She stepped out, listening to the ticking of her engine as it cooled. In his car, Tru was turned around, reaching for something in the back seat, his hair silver through the glass.

As she waited, thin strands of clouds drifted overhead, softening the glare. The breeze was steady, and after the warmth of the car, she felt herself suddenly shiver. As she crossed her arms, she heard a cardinal call from the trees, and when she spotted it, she flashed to the memory of Joe’s letter to Lena that Tru had read to her when they’d visited Kindred Spirit long ago. Cardinals, she thought, mate for life. The idea made her smile.

Tru stepped out of the car, moving as gracefully as he had in the past. Holding a canvas bag in his hand, he squinted toward the cottage.

“Is this where you’re staying?”

“I rented it for a week.”

He scrutinized the cottage again, then turned back to her. “It reminds me of your parents’ cottage.”