by Melissa Hill
The thinking behind the TV piece was that they’d run a heart-warming story about undelivered mail from a man called Nathan searching for his lost love Helena and with such exposure, maybe somebody who knew (or had known) either one of them would see it, realise the significance and arrange to contact the station.
‘We should use some of these,’ Sylvester said, flicking through the letters that Alex showed him. ‘The fancy handwriting’s good – it’ll fit with the slushy theme. They’ll have to be subtitled though.’
‘Wouldn’t we need to get copyright permission to do that?’
‘How can you, if there’s no return address? Anyway, for all we know, it could have been the guy himself who sent those letters to us in the hope that we’d put them on TV. If you’re worried, I’ll talk to the lawyers about it, but as the letters were sent to us, I’m pretty sure it’s legal,’ he went on, and Alex gulped.
Having got the go-ahead from Sylvester, the piece was due to go out the following week. While Leonie had reservations about how much personal information they should disclose in the report, she and Alex had both agreed that getting some form of result was more important.
‘We’ll only use first names and leave out the Green Street address too,’ Alex agreed with her, while putting the piece together in its early stages. She also agreed to leave out of the piece (and in the initial pitch to Sylvester) their suspicions that Nathan may have been writing the letters from a prison cell.
‘It’s the sort of thing that will bring all kinds of whackos out of the woodwork,’ Alex told Leonie. ‘And not only that but it runs the risk of alienating the public or frightening either one of them away too.’
‘Do you really think there’s a chance they might see it?’ Leonie couldn’t contain her excitement about it all. Alex knew her remark about putting out a full-page ad was borne more out of desperation than anything else, so when she’d come up with the idea of appealing for them on TV, Leonie too couldn’t believe they hadn’t thought of it before.
‘Who knows?’ Alex replied. But it was the last throw of the dice as far as she was concerned and if nothing else, it would make damn good TV.
The following Thursday evening Leonie sat glued to the telly, waiting for the six o’clock news to hurry up and finish, so that the Today by the Bay slot could air.
But even better, and much to her delight, all throughout the lead-up SFTV news kept running ‘teaser’ spots about the upcoming story, which meant that by the time the piece about the letters did appear, there was an even greater likelihood of a captive audience.
Alex had explained that there was a possibility the station would in fact do this, but she couldn’t be sure. ‘It depends on how much of an impact they expect it to make,’ she’d told Leonie beforehand, when the slot was recorded and the finishing touches being put to it. ‘And of course on whether or not it gets bumped for some whacko with a shot of a UFO hovering over the Golden Gate,’ she added dryly.
But it was obviously a quiet day for the whackos, as before every ad break the station ran during the news was the teaser preview of the upcoming Today By the Bay piece, which they’d entitled ‘Please Forgive Me’.
‘It’s coming up soon, so stay tuned to SFTV News,’ the news anchor repeated for the umpteenth time. Leonie still found it hard to get to grips with the way the TV stations seemed to assume that all viewers had the attention span of a goldfish. Why else did they feel the need to bombard people with teasers and practically beg them to ‘stay tuned’?
It was frustrating, because she had to sit through almost a full hour of irrelevant guff before the Today by The Bay slot finally appeared.
Leonie hugged herself and felt a shiver up her spine as the piece began with a gentle female voiceover against a background of tear jerking, Oprah-style piano music.
‘With today’s dependence on email, cell-phones and all kinds of quick fix modern communications technology, it’s heartening to find that some of the old-fashioned methods of reaching someone still exist.’
The voice paused for a moment, while the music cranked up and onscreen a blurry montage of faceless people in the physical act of writing letters was displayed. Leonie smiled, amused at the idea of Alex being associated with something so utterly devoid of subtlety. Yet she knew it would be compelling to anyone watching; hell the piece was compelling to her and she already knew every last detail!
‘But this old-fashioned and very simple act of writing letters might just be the final act in one particular love story,’ she continued, and at this, Leonie felt a lump in her throat.
‘Meet Nathan,’ the breathy voice intoned, as one of his letters appeared onscreen, the distinctive ink handwriting immediately recognisable to Leonie, but illegible to most other people – which was why his words were helpfully subtitled underneath.
In my head I can still see your smile, hear your laugh and feel your arms around me … It’s driving me crazy to think that I might never see you again. I’m so sorry for what I did…I never meant to hurt you. Please forgive me.
‘Touching words, I’m sure you’ll agree. But the problem?’ the voice paused for dramatic effect. ‘None of the letters have actually reached the person they’re addressed to. It’s kind of like a modern-day version of that old Elvis classic, except these letters weren’t returned to sender, they were sent to us here at SFTV.’
Leonie realised she was holding her breath as the voice went on to explain how there were in fact ten letters, all addressed to a woman called Helena whose whereabouts appeared unknown.
‘So how she can forgive Nathan if she doesn’t know he wants her to?’ The speaker paused so viewers could consider this very important question. ‘Well, we at Today By the Bay think this man deserves another chance. So Helena, if you’re out there, and you recognise Nathan’s handwriting, or maybe even his words, get in touch with us at this number.’ An eighteen hundred number flashed across the bottom of the screen ‘We’ve got a pile of love letters just for you.’
The brief but Leonie had to admit, very moving piece cut back to the studio, where the presenters were both wearing ‘aw shucks’ smiles.
‘Well I don’t know about you Ken, but I’ve forgiven him already,’ the blonde co-anchor commented to her colleague. ‘
‘Yes, he certainly sounds like a keeper, Megan. Let’s just hope she gets in touch before it’s too late.’
Chapter 30
A day later and the response to the slot could only be described as overwhelming.
Telephone calls and emails to the station were coming in by the bucket load, the majority of which were from women claiming to be Helena and declaring everlasting love for Nathan ‘no matter what.’
Others were from viewers who insisted that if Helena wouldn’t forgive him then they would, and one woman even asked that SFTV News put forward a marriage proposal to him. Almost everyone had been touched by the letters and especially moved by Nathan’s fruitless pleas for absolution.
A few responses also came from men who insisted the letters belonged to them and who were planning to sue the station for broadcasting them without permission. While Alex had known in advance that they were likely to get some unusual and downright wacky responses, she was now especially glad that they’d withheld the fact that they didn’t have Nathan’s permission to run this piece, to say nothing of letting them know where they suspected his location to be.
Unlike Leonie, she was sceptical that either one of the couple would see it (personally believing that Helena was in fact dead), but at the same time, was content to go through the motions. Which was why Alex spent much of the following morning at the station returning calls to the various women claiming to be Helena. She’d also forwarded some emails to her personal email account so that she and Leonie could go through them in their own time, and weed out the whackos from those who looked any way promising.
Midway through that morning, she got a surprise call from Seth.
‘Interesting piece yesterday,’ he sa
id, without preamble. ‘Did you find your guy then?’
‘Not quite but I doubt he was scuba diving last year, not unless he was trying out an escape route,’ she joked, filling him in on their suspicions about Nathan’s whereabouts.
His reaction was predictable, which was exactly why Alex had mentioned it. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me! The guy could be a freakin’ psycho for all you know!’ Seth exclaimed horrified, and she smiled, absurdly pleased she’d got a rise out of him.
‘Seth, remind me again why this is any of your business?’
‘Because I don’t want you involved in that kind of trouble! If the guy’s banged up, then who knows what you’re getting into?’
‘How touching. But like I said before, this is none of your business, so keep out of it.’
‘It is when my wife is getting herself mixed up with a bunch of cons -’
‘Ex-wife.’ Alex retorted through gritted teeth. ‘Despite what you think I don’t actually need a piece of paper to tell me that.’ Unfortunately she did of course need that, but she wasn’t going to admit as much to him.
‘Just remember, that this is classic con stuff Alex, you know – manipulating people to feel sorry for them…’
‘And what would you know about it?’
‘I just know what these kinda guys are capable of. How else do you think they get where they are?’
‘Again, I’m touched by your concern but we’re doing just fine, thanks.’
‘Alex, just be serious for a second, OK? You’re right, this isn’t any of my business, but I still can’t help but worry about you – and Leonie. You two really don’t know what you’re getting into.’
‘Seth, like I said, butt out.’
‘How can I butt out when my wife is getting involved with dangerous stuff like –’
‘For the last time Seth, I am not your wife!’ Alex cried exasperated. Where did he get off patronising her like this? ‘Don’t you get it? You and me are over, the divorce is going through as we speak, and there are no more last minute stunts for you to pull.’
‘Really.’ Seth’s tone was flat.
‘Yes, really. You lost Seth, deal with it!’ Then Alex put her hand over the mouthpiece when out of the corner of her eye she could see one of the girls in the office waving frantically at her. ‘What?’ she asked Jill.
‘There’s a women on line three who says she wants to talk to someone about the letters, and this one sounds like she really knows what she’s talking about.’
‘How so?’
‘She passed not one but two of the checks you gave us,’ Jill said eagerly, referring to the criteria Alex had set down for separating the crank calls from potentially genuine ones. ‘A surname called Abbott and an address on Green Street.’
What? Alex wanted to whoop for joy. The TV slot hadn’t given out either piece of information so this sounded very promising. ‘Seth, gotta go. I don’t have time for any more of your games just now, OK?’ she muttered into the phone and without waiting for his reply, immediately hit the flashing button for line three.
‘Hello?’ she said, trying not to sound too eager. The majority of crank callers could smell desperation a mile off.
The voice on the other end sounded small and nervous. ‘Hello, um, I saw the piece on TV about the letters to Helena from Nathan. I used to know a man called Nathan you see and I just wondered…’ she sounded almost apologetic.
‘I’m sorry Ma’am but is it OK if I ask you your name? Mine’s Alex,’ she added warmly, trying to put the woman at ease.
‘Oh yes, I’m so sorry.’ Unfortunately this seemed to have the opposite effect and now she sounded flustered. ‘Silly me, of course I should have said so before. It’s Helena Freeman here, although Nathan would have known it as Abbott.’
Alex’s dark eyes widened. Helena Abbott? Was she still alive? Well if this woman on the phone was who she said she was then …
‘Nice talking to you Ms Freeman. And how can I help you today?’ Then she frowned, remembering that she and Leonie had deduced from the letters that Helena’s married name was Abbott? So where on earth did Freeman come from? Unless, Alex wondered, her mind scrambling to try and put the pieces together, the woman had since got divorced and reverted to her maiden name? No wonder they’d had no luck finding her!
‘Well, it’s Mrs Freeman actually,’ she corrected, sending Alex’s assumptions flying all over again. ‘Like I said, I thought I recognised some of those letters you showed. At least, I thought I recognised the handwriting…’
Alex was perplexed. ‘You mentioned to reception something about Green Street?’
‘That’s right yes. It’s the family home – well it was, we sold it recently after my mother died and –
At this Alex’s ears pricked up. The family home? And recently sold too – the executor sale the landlord told Leonie about. So if this woman was in fact Helena, then it was not her but her mother who had died. Alex’s mind was doing cartwheels now.
Could this finally be the Helena Abbott they were looking for? Not dead, not living in Green Street anymore but still alive and well in –
‘Mrs Freeman, do you still happen to live in the Bay area?’
‘No, I’m in Santa Barbara now actually, why do you ask?’
‘Well, I think maybe we should meet up and talk some more.’ She smiled, knowing that Leonie would be over the moon with this development. ‘And if you are who you say are, then I believe we have some things that belong to you.’
‘I still can’t believe we actually found her!’ As expected, Leonie was beside herself with excitement when later that evening she and Alex met up after work at The Crab Shack to discuss the day’s developments.
Having spoken to her on the phone for a while longer, Helena Abbott had agreed to travel to the city to meet with Alex on Monday, and collect the letters in person.
‘I don’t want to hand them over until I’m a hundred percent sure it is her, although from what she told me over the phone, I’m pretty confident.’
Their conversation had indeed convinced her; who else would have known the details about Green Street or that the letters were addressed to not just Helena but Helena Abbott?
‘So, did she say anything else about Nathan, or have any idea about where he might be now?’ Leonie asked.
Alex shook her head. ‘I got the impression that they haven’t been in contact for some time and it sounds like she’s married to someone else.’
‘So she did stay married to that other guy then,’ Leonie said, and Alex sensed she was somewhat disappointed on Nathan’s behalf. ‘So what will you say when you do meet her?’ her friend mused then. ‘Are you going to tell her where we think Nathan is, or…’
‘I don’t know Leonie. If we do establish it is in fact the right Helena, then it’s not really any of our business after that. We just pass on the letters that are rightfully hers and then it’s really up to her what she wants to do with them, don’t you think?’
She knew Leonie couldn’t figure out how she could be so blasé about it all, considering all the effort they’d put into finding the couple, whereas Alex knew that for her part Leonie was simply dying to find out what Nathan had done. Well it had always been more her baby than Alex’s, for reasons that were still unknown. Why had she been so dogged about this along? Was Seth right, had something similar happened to Leonie, something she was projecting onto this situation?
Thinking of Seth, Alex now felt a little bad about the way she’d spoken to him that morning. It was kinda out of line, given that he’d sounded so concerned about her, and she probably shouldn’t have said some of those things. Then again she mused, annoyed with herself for worrying about it, chances were most of it would have just bounced off Seth, he had such a damn thick skin …
A few minutes later, she and Leonie paid the check and headed back towards Green Street, their conversation still full of Helena Abbott and what she would be like.
‘Well, I really think I should come along o
n Monday too,’ Leonie said and Alex knew it wasn’t a suggestion. ‘Just in case you’re not sure if it is her; at least if we’re both there we can decide for sure, as the last thing we want to do is give the letters to the wrong person.’
‘Yes, I kind of guessed you would.’ At this stage, Alex couldn’t really care less who they gave the letters to, she was that tired of the whole thing. ‘Which is why I told her there’d probably be two of us – ‘
‘Who’s that?’ Leonie asked, cutting her off. They’d turned onto Green Street and were approaching the house when something or actually someone standing on the steps outside their place caught their attention.
‘I don’t know,’ Alex said, and as she tried to make out the solemn looking figure standing on the sidewalk, she suddenly felt an inexplicable shudder.
And when she looked further down and spotted the flashing lights of an SFPD cruiser parked alongside the curb, she realised that she was right.
Something was wrong.
‘What’s going on?’ Leonie asked, seeing it too.
Quickening her pace, Alex approached the figure, which they could now plainly see was a uniformed police officer.
‘Are you a resident of this building Ma’am?’ he asked, without preamble.
‘Yes,’ she replied, in a suspicious tone.
He looked down at his notebook. ‘I’m looking for Alex …?
‘That’s me,’ she said, understanding immediately that whatever was going on, it was bad.
‘You’re listed here as spouse and next of kin for Mr Seth Rogers?’
Alex tried to force air into her lungs, and stop the ground from moving beneath her feet. ‘I’m his … wife yes,’ she spluttered, barely able to keep her composure.
‘What’s happened?’ Leonie managed to utter the words she couldn’t, and for this, Alex was grateful.
‘I’m afraid I have some bad news, Ma’am. Earlier this afternoon, Mr Rogers was airlifted from the waters beneath the Golden Gate bridge.’
