Shelter

by Stephanie Fournet

  I hadn’t had many occasions to see Cole’s handwriting back then. I’d glimpsed it on the pages of his notebooks when he was in school or when he’d leave notes for Mama in the old kitchen, but when I flipped over the envelope, it was as though I’d read his slanted cursive every day of my life. It leapt off the page, almost shouting my name.

  I swallowed, because even though the envelope’s stock was weighty and thick, what it held was thick too. Cole had things to say. To me. And I didn’t even consider not reading it. Not for a second.

  “I think I need to take a break.” My voice came out dry as a husk. I barely threw Ed a glance as I headed to the back and found my boss grinning like a fiend. He could laugh at me if he wanted to. I couldn’t spare him a thought. I pushed my way out the back door and found myself in the little alley behind the shopping center. If I got here before Ed opened up, I came in this way, and if I stayed after hours, I left this way, too, which meant I’d been in the outdoor space at least a hundred times.

  But today it looked different. The light even looked different. Like someone had put an Instagram filter over the sun. I leaned back against the brick wall of the building and held the envelope in my shaking hands. Before I let myself tear into it, I made my breath slow. This could be anything. An invitation to a party. A greeting card. It could mean nothing.

  I nodded to myself and slid the nail of my index finger under the flap and carefully tore it open. It wasn’t a card or an invitation. Matching, heavyweight, ivory stationery lay inside, and as I drew it out, my eye landed on a short set of instructions written across the back of the outer page.

  Read this page first. It should have been written on July 19, 2010.

  I sucked in my breath at the date. Clasping that sheet, I tugged it away from a second page. That, too, held instructions.

  Read this one second. It’s from today.

  I unfolded the first page and fell into his words.

  My Elise,

  Getting your letter today was the best thing to happen to me in months. You might as well know I think of you every day, and I’m so ashamed of the way I left things between us. I’m beyond sorry. Please forgive me. I’ve blamed myself for what happened to my mother that night, but I never blamed you. I wanted to punish someone, and I was the only one left.

  Let me make something very clear. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. You were my beacon — even before I longed to kiss you. You saved Ava and me so many times. And no matter what happened to us, I knew yours was the one clean, innocent, undamaged soul that would come out of that place. That alone gave me hope. You gave me hope. Even when we were kids.

  And then one day, I came home from Tulane, and you’d grown up. God, from the moment I saw you sitting at my kitchen table in that orange bikini, I was finished. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I tried. And I tried, Elise. Because, despite appearances, you were just fifteen then. I had no business chasing after you.

  When I came home for Christmas after you turned sixteen, I had to have your attention. I had no peace without it. That’s why I teased you and bugged you and waited for you in the cold for hours. And when you kissed me the next day, I had no peace at all. It may be hard to believe it now, but, before what happened, I had plans for us. I was coming back for you. I would have come back.

  That doesn’t mean I thought you would wait. It was only my hope that when the time came, we’d have a chance. What happened that night made me believe I didn’t deserve that chance, and the way I treated you before I left… Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you agreed.

  I still want that chance. But, as much as I want it, I still don’t deserve it. In about five minutes, I’m going to walk into Ava’s room, and find her shooting up for the first time. I’m going to lose my shit, Elise. I’m going to scream at Ava. I’m going to give her boyfriend a bloody nose and throw him out of the apartment. In the next few weeks and months, I’m going to try to control everything Ava does. Where she goes. Who she sees. What she spends money on and if she has any money to spend. And it’s going to backfire. Spectacularly.

  This will go on and on. And one day, almost six years from now, I’m going to find her on the living room floor. Her lips will be blue. I will press my ear to her mouth, and I won’t hear her breath. I’ll try to find her pulse, and it will be so faint, I’ll think I’m imagining it. I’ll call 911, pinch her nose, tilt back her head, and seal my mouth over hers. Hers will be dry and pasty as I push my breath into her, and it will feel like an eternity before the paramedics burst through the door and take over.

  And only then, when I’ve come as close as I possibly can to losing what’s left of my family, will I understand that Ava and I need to come home, even if I won’t comprehend exactly why. That is, I won’t begin to comprehend why until I see you again four weeks later.

  So, I know I have no right to ask for it, but I beg for your pardon. And, most of all, I beg for your patience. I’m coming. I’m coming back for you, Elise.

  Yours to do with as you wish,

  Cole

  By the time my eyes reached the bottom of the page, my face was soaked. My tears started when I’d read the first two words. My Elise. By the time I got to Ava’s overdose, I could barely read. I was a slow reader on a good day. Whole passages I had to read two or three times just to make sure my brain hadn’t shuffled the letters around or that whole words hadn’t swum away on my tears.

  But after I read parts of it aloud, whispering and hiccupping as I did, I knew I’d understood him. He’d finally answered my letter. It felt like a gift. Like a cure. Like it healed an old wound. And more than that, it made me desperate to talk to him. I had the bizarre urge to check him for injuries. How had he come through these last few years unscathed?

  Remembering the second page, I wiped my eyes and tucked the first letter behind its mate. This one bore only a few lines, and I devoured them greedily.

  Dear Elise,

  My plan was to find you at work and hand deliver that first letter. I wanted you to read it before I brought you home with me. But Ava said that sounded like kidnapping, and you would think I was crazy. Maybe I am a little crazy because I’m still really tempted to do that. But Ava says my biggest problem is that I don’t listen, so I’m listening to her now and hoping like hell you’ll read this and come to me.

  I want to make dinner for you tonight. Ava wants me to tell you that she’ll be here the entire time to chaperone me. Please come. I have to see you.

  I know your store closes at five. What about six-thirty for dinner? We live on the corner of St. John and Calder. 1380 St. John. Put me out of my misery and let me know one way or the other.

  With hope,

  Cole

  I sniffled and blinked, my eyes now dry. The urgency in his second note left me a little stunned.

  The jewelry store opened at ten. I’d gotten in an hour early, but since I’d come in through the back entrance and Cole had left his note at the front, I had no idea how long he’d been waiting to hear back from me. I checked my phone. It was just after ten now.

  I tapped his contact. No matter what I’d told myself an hour ago, putting Cole Whitehurst out of mind was impossible now. And even if I wanted to, I’d never be able to ignore what he’d written — on either page. But I didn’t want to.

  My hands shook as I tapped out the message.

  Me: I’ll be there at 6:30.

  I was good for nothing the rest of the day. After I charged a customer a hundred dollars — instead of ten dollars — for cleaning her wedding ring, Ed sent me home. That was at three o’clock, which still gave me three and a half hours to obsess. And three and half hours is plenty of time to obsess about anything.

  It was going to be beyond awkward to talk to Cole after all these years. And, as he’d promised, Ava would be there the entire time. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or if it was disastrous. Maybe her presence would smooth out the edges. Or maybe she’d be one more person to make me
feel self-conscious.

  Or worse. Would she and Cole do what they did when we were kids and talk around me like I wasn’t there?

  I realized this worry was an unwelcome vestige of my childhood and shook it off. Cole and Ava were not inviting me over to be rude to me. If the words in Cole’s letter were to be believed, they both cared about and missed me.

  It was when I remembered the letters — both of them — that I relaxed for a few minutes. Cole had wanted to see me long ago, and he still wanted to now.

  I had to admit that a part of my nerves — and not a small part — was because I felt the same.

  Alberta had taken a half-day at work so she and Ross could go camping up at Kisatchie National Forest. I’d sent a flurry of texts her way earlier in the day, and she’d responded with her initial shock followed by messages of reassurance, but she’d dropped off the radar before four o’clock. Clearly, the patch of wilderness where Ross had ferried my best friend did not have cell service.

  Just my luck.

  As evening approached, I was pretty sure Ross Wilson was my least favorite person ever. I stopped at Champagne’s before heading over to their house. It wasn’t on the way, but I didn’t want to arrive for dinner empty-handed. My first instinct was to pick up a bottle of wine, but then I remembered Ava. I couldn’t very well bring alcohol into the home of someone in recovery, but I didn’t know what to bring instead.

  Flowers seemed wrong. Even looking at the bouquets on display made my heartrate climb. The lilies looked too hopeful. The roses too passionate. The freesia too wistful. I couldn’t walk in carrying any of them. It would feel like walking in naked.

  I needed Alberta’s advice. Calling Mama was not an option. At all. As soon as she heard where I was going, the questions would start, and they wouldn’t stop. I had enough to worry about without having to face Mama’s inquisition afterward.

  I beelined to the bakery. Mama would die if she knew I was even considering bringing a store-bought dessert to my hosts. And seeing what was left on a Friday night under the fluorescent store lighting didn’t inspire my confidence. The cakes looked over-iced, the brownies dry, and the pies soggy.

  Maybe going empty-handed wouldn’t be so bad. I turned to head to the exit and found myself on the coffee and tea aisle. And I stopped in my tracks when I spotted an intricate grass green and white label. I picked up the bag of imported coffee, admiring the winding river on the label that seemed to tell a story. The brand was Gevalia, and I’d never heard of it before, but the stylized drawing of flowers, bunnies, fish, and trees all balanced between a cheerful sun in the top right corner and a swirling cup of coffee on the bottom left was too pretty to resist. I had no idea how it would taste, but it looked amazing, and, even better, it was fair trade.

  Gourmet coffee. Perfect. I breathed my relief and was through the checkout and back in my car in three minutes flat.

  Their new house was easy enough to find, and I pulled up only about ten minutes late. Alberta was always on me about being late, and as I stepped up the brick walkway, I found myself relieved that she couldn’t text me now to scold me.

  My relief wasn’t strong enough to settle my nerves, of course. I clutched the pouch of coffee with shaking hands as I climbed the brick steps reached the front door. I hesitated for just a second before I knocked. And a squeal pealed from inside.

  Ava.

  I was smiling as I heard the bolt knock back. The door opened, and Ava — blond and beautiful like a fairy — greeted me with another squeal.

  Actually, it was more like a scream. She rushed me, and at once, I was surrounded in a bouncing, deafening hug. But I gave as good as I got, squeezing her tight, the lump in my throat snuffing out my own squeal.

  When I could push air past it, my words came out in a whisper. “Oh my God, Ava.” Tears stung my eyes. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “You too, girl.”

  She hugged me tighter, and I hooked my chin over her shoulder, clamping my eyes shut to keep the wetness right where it was. But at the sound of heavy footfalls on the wood floor, I opened them.

  And he was there.

  Cole’s winter-blue eyes flamed with a light I’d never seen. If I had to name what burned in them, I’d say need. And desire. And, without a doubt, restraint.

  He stopped in the middle of the room, as though my focus on his made him cautious. And I was grateful for the distance. Cole up close, especially with that look in his eyes, spelled emotional peril for me. I didn’t trust myself not to lose it, and if he hugged me now the way Ava was hugging me, I’d fall apart.

  He gave me time to take him in, and I needed it. I hadn’t imagined it before. I hadn’t idealized him. Cole Whitehurst was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. He stood across from me in a gray silk shirt, tailored to perfection. The light fabric hugged his shoulders, chest and waist, proving Cole still spent hours in the pool or at the gym. Every day, by the looks of it.

  His light brown hair was still cropped short and bore the marks of time spent in the sun. I had the sudden urge to touch it. Run my fingers through it. And then I’d trace them down the sandpaper of his five o’clock shadow. Down to the tempting lines of his lips. Time and maturity had defined his features. Would they still feel the same?

  I forced myself to look away, drawing back from Ava’s embrace but catching her hands in mine. I gave them a squeeze. “You look just the same,” I said. And in many ways, she did. Mama had said she was too thin, and I agreed, but other than that, she was the girl I remembered.

  Ava rolled her eyes. “I need to spend more time with you,” she said, her voice lilting with delight. “When I look in the mirror, I’m sure I’ve walked the last eight years on my face.”

  A startled laugh escaped me. When had I ever heard Ava joke about her appearance? Never. When we were teenagers, she wouldn’t leave the house without a patina of makeup and her hair flat-ironed so smooth sunlight slipped right off it.

  At my laughter, Ava tipped back her head and joined me, and this was new too. “Come in and sit down,” she said, pulling me deeper into the living room. Closer to Cole.

  The peppery scent of oregano and the bite of fresh basil tickled my nose, and it wasn’t until Ava stepped aside that I saw Cole held a dish towel. He gripped it between both hands, his knuckles white. When I looked up at him, he gave me a tight smile.

  Cole was nervous.

  I’d never seen him nervous. And, oddly, seeing this made me feel calmer. Because it meant my presence was important to him. I mean, yeah, his letters told me as much, but now I felt it. I felt how much I mattered.

  So, I relaxed and smiled at him. “Hi, Cole.”

  I watched his shoulders rise and fall with his breath, and his tight smile loosened into a true one. “Hi, Elise. Thank you for coming.”

  We stood there, silent and staring at each other, for a long moment — one that thankfully, Ava rescued us from.

  She took my offered coffee. “Ooh. This looks good. We’ll brew some with dessert. For now, what can I get you to drink?” she asked, walking backward into the living room. I followed. “Cole made you some sweet tea, but we have ginger ale, Coke, and sparkling water.”

  My eyes flicked to Cole’s. Was that a blush high on his cheeks? “I’ll have some sweet tea, thanks.”

  Cole nodded before looking to his sister. “What’ll you have, Ava? I’ll get it. You two have a seat and catch up.”

  “Yay!” Ava cheered. “Ginger ale. Thanks.”

  She then pulled me to the large sectional, toed off her flats and tucked her legs beneath her as she sat. I settled next to her and smoothed out my flared skirt over my thighs. The room was an open concept that led from the living area to a dining table that seated six and finally to the kitchen. I felt Cole’s eyes on me as he moved through the space.

  “It’s so good to see you,” Ava trilled. “Did Flora tell you we stopped by her café on Monday?”

  “She did,” I said, nodding. “She was thrilled. Mama’s so
excited you two have moved back—” Suddenly uncertain, I closed my mouth and drew in my lips. I had no idea what was a safe topic and what wasn’t. Should I skirt anything that had to do with their parents and the past?

  But Ava just nodded with vigor. “Yeah, it was definitely time to come home.” She held my gaze, and in her eyes I saw a certainty. A stillness. “Running away only works for so long.”

  It was the last thing I expected her to say, and my face must have shown it because she let out a chuckle. “I’m sorry if that shocks you,” she said, giving me a sage smile, “but you know better than almost anyone that Cole and I have work to do. We can’t pretend our pasts didn’t happen.”

  Her eyes left mine, and when I glanced over my shoulder to follow her gaze, I found hers locked with that of her brother’s. Cole’s expression wasn’t nearly as sure as Ava’s, but his mouth and jaw were soft with what I guessed was acceptance.

  For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I looked between her and Cole, these two beautiful, young people who had suffered so much and deserved so much better, and the words came to me.

  “Anyone who went through what the two of you did would want to run away. Pretending — or denying something like that — well, sometimes that’s just the only way to cope.” My gaze bounced from one Whitehurst to the other. A look of relief seemed to pass over Cole, and Ava’s smile grew.

  She gave a slow nod. “Until you’re strong enough to deal with it,” she said softly.

  Back when I had known them, I would have said that Cole was, by far, the stronger of the two — strong enough to handle anything. Ava was the one who’d needed protection and rescuing. But now, with the course their lives had taken, I was no longer so sure.