“It’s perfect,” I said.
I loved my gift, and I’d fallen in love with my Secret Santa.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I know I’m not supposed to give you anything today,” Theo said. “You know, since I drew Danielle’s name for Secret Santa.”
“What are you up to?” I asked, looking up from the picture I’d secured on the wall. It was the first personal touch I’d added to my bedroom since arriving in Morgantown.
Theo came into the room and shut the door behind him, changing the tone with that one simple gesture. We’d gone from happy and carefree out there in the common room to shutting doors for privacy.
Whatever he was about to say meant no one else could hear.
“What’s going on?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“It’s not much of a gift,” Theo said. “But I can offer you something you’ve wanted since you got here.”
“What?” I asked, and my lips parted. Was he sending me away? Sending me home? Telling me that I couldn’t stay? Had I messed up? Done something wrong? Had something happened back home?
“We have a correspondence program you can take advantage of,” he said, passing me a journal and a set of ink pens.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “What’s that?”
“Essentially, you can write letters home,” he said. “We usually don’t allow the witnesses to take advantage of the system unless their relocation is permanent, but you’re younger, settled in, waiting for whatever comes next. We don’t know how long you’ll be here, so we’re making an exception. If you want the liberty, you’re welcome to take advantage of it.”
“I can write home?” I asked. “I can contact Rosa and Carrie?”
“Not Rosa,” he said. “Right now, you need to keep your contact limited to—”
“The people who aren’t suspected of killing my dad,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Right.”
“This freedom doesn’t come without a catch.”
“Of course not.”
“For your safety, and for the safety of your loved ones, your letters undergo screenings,” he said. “I’ll read them before they’re sent. I’ll send them to an undisclosed location where they’ll be opened, read again, and packed in a new envelope. That will happen a few times, and eventually, your letter will make it to your recipient with a return address if they choose to write back. Their letters will undergo several screenings before they arrive here. It’s not a lot of privacy, I understand, but some contact is better than none.”
“I agree.”
“Take your time coming up with something,” he said. “Let me know when you’re ready, whether it be hours, days, or weeks from now.”
“Weeks?” I asked. “You think I’ll still be here weeks from now?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Little Bird,” he said, giving me a halfhearted grin. “I have to head out now. Have a good day, okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “We’ll see you tomorrow for Christmas, right?”
“I’ll be here,” he promised.
I waited for him to leave, to turn out of the room, and my eyes trailed over to the window. The snow had started falling, heavier now than it had since I’d arrived in Morgantown.
I wondered if it was snowing back home, and if Carrie and Rosa were enjoying their holidays. It wouldn’t do me any good to steal a look at Chris’s phone again to find out. Rosa wasn’t online, and I’d eventually hear back from Carrie if I wrote her a letter.
I sat down on my bed, pulling the journal onto my lap. The pen hovered over the page.
What would I say? What would suffice?
I couldn’t tell her where I was, who I was with, or what was going on.
I could only say what I was feeling, what was coming from the heart.
I wished I could tell her the whole story, something akin to the truth.
Carrie,
I’m writing this letter from a small town in the middle of nowhere. I know it’s been weeks since you’ve heard from me, and I wish I could tell you everything, explain all the things that you need to understand.
For now, all I can tell you is that I’m safe. Ohio was too dangerous. The man who killed my father came after me, the only witness to the murder. He’s a known mass-shooter, and his capture could mean a death sentence if he’s ever caught and prosecuted. I’m the only person who can identify him.
I’ve been relocated as part of the Witness Protection Program. The federal marshals sent me away, where I lived in a motel room for seemingly countless days before relocating to a small B&B in a charming town states and states away.
There are two men here. The first is a retired marshal, someone who is acting as my guardian, playing the role of an uncle. He’s kept me safe and sane, and I’m grateful for him. The other . . . he owns the B&B where I live. He’s the only saving grace I’ve had in the past weeks, the only motivation I’ve had to keep moving forward. I don’t know how it happened, but I fell in love with this man. I love him, and I pray that even after he learns my secrets, that he won’t feel as if I’ve betrayed him with every lie I’ve told.
I don’t know when I’m coming home. Honestly, I don’t know that I ever will. Without a suspect in custody, the world is a dangerous place for someone like me. But I’m safe here.
I hope that you’re safe, too.
I love you, and I miss you more than you could ever know.
Your best friend,
Sydney
I couldn’t write the words. I’d only gotten as far as writing her name.
“You okay?” Chris asked, popping his head in the door. “What are you concentrating so hard on?”
“I’m writing a letter home, or at least I’m trying to,” I said, managing a grin. “It’s hard to find the words.”
“You know we have a phone,” he said. “You can call.”
“It’s better this way,” I said, lifting the notebook. “Going old school.”
“Let me know if you need a stamp,” he said, starting away, but then he came back and stood in the doorframe, staring at the picture on my wall.
“You put it up.”
“It looks good, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” he said, looking from the picture back to me, and his gaze held tight to me for a few solid seconds.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m thinking.”
“About?”
“What are you doing New Year’s Eve?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “What’d you have in mind?”
“Let’s throw a party.”
“You’re serious?”
“We’ll invite everyone,” he said. “Make it a huge affair.”
“But that’s only a week away,” I said. “Do we have time to plan something like that?”
“We do if we start now,” he said. “Let’s cohost this bad boy. A Chris and Sydney affair, the first of many. What do you say?”
“The first of many?” I asked.
“Listen,” he said, shaking his head. “The holidays were difficult last year without Gran, so much that I couldn’t imagine celebrating. I didn’t celebrate. Without Danielle and Theo, there wouldn’t have been any kind of holiday cheer at the B&B last year at all, and that would’ve been a devastating loss. This year should’ve been as hard, but . . . it was easier, somehow. With you. Because of you, I think.”
I managed a small smile.
“I know you’re still stuck and trying to figure out where life’s taking you,” he continued. “And I can’t ask you to stay forever if that’s not what you want. But you’re here now, and as long as you’re here, let’s make the most of it. Let’s celebrate that we have something to celebrate. What do you say?”
“Okay, yeah,” I said. “I’d love to.”
“Great,” he said. “Finish your letter, and meet me in the dining room. I’ll make a guest list and we can start planning this.”
“Deal,” I said, and he smiled and turned out.
I looked down to the blank piece of paper and thought again.
This was my chance.
I would send a letter and give my best friend some semblance of peace. I needed it. No doubt she needed it, too.
It had to be done . . . but what would I write?
***
Carrie,
I miss you. God, I miss you.
I think about you every day, and I pray you’re safe and well.
I can’t wait to hear about the winter formal. I’m sure it was everything we ever dreamed it could be.
As for me? Please don’t worry.
I’m alive . . . and living. I promise they’re two different things.
Every day is a little easier, and I’m learning to get by.
There are so many things I need to tell you, and when the time is right, I won’t leave out a single detail.
Above all else, and until that moment comes, please know that I’m okay. Happiness felt so far away, but I’m beginning to feel hopeful again.
It took some time to get here, but I’m seeing things a little clearer now.
I’m going to be okay, and I’m missing you every day.
Please write back.
I love you.
Sydney
###
Running Scared (Letters From Morgantown Book 1) Page 22
