Mine to Tell

by Donnelly, Colleen L

  “For love is as strong as death,

  jealousy is as severe as Sheol.”

  Kyle stopped reading and deciphering our long chain of letters and words, and I yanked my fingers from the keys. They hurt. I’d been typing her story with such fury that I’d beat the metal tabs as if I could destroy Isaac and his cold proposition.

  “I could hate him,” I whispered as I rubbed my fingers. I could hate him for binding me, my mother, and my great-grandmother in roles we may not have otherwise chosen. I looked at Kyle. He said nothing as I wondered if he would do the same thing to a woman someday, force her or allow her to think she was someone she wasn’t. I stood and went to heat some water. I needed something to drink, something hot to go with my ire.

  Kyle stood. I knew he was watching me as I made a ruckus of finding mugs and digging through my tin cabinet for teabags and honey.

  “She had good reason to leave for those two weeks,” he suggested behind my back.

  I whirled on him, angry he would take the low road this way. Blame Julianne as if Isaac’s chokehold on her heart was acceptable. He saw the fire in my eyes, but he didn’t back down, didn’t try to excuse his statement; he just looked at me.

  “But I don’t think that’s why she did,” he finished.

  I eyed him. “Because you’ve read the letters?” I jammed my fists on my hips and glared at him. “Because you know something that excuses her, but if you didn’t, you’d blame her because she didn’t fulfill her role? As if what Isaac did to her wasn’t significant?” My voice took on a tinny tremor. I was angry. Maybe not at him, but definitely at Isaac. And Trevor. And everyone else, including me, who had made me feel like a failure because I’d postponed our wedding.

  “No, Annabelle, not because of what I saw in the letters.”

  I could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth. He was forming a speculation from some inner sense that took him beyond the surface, not speaking from what he’d heard, what we’d both learned growing up. I took a deep breath and nodded. I turned to the heated water and made both of us mugs of strong tea.

  We returned to the table and took our seats, each of us stirring our tea even though we’d neither one added anything to it. The watery clink of spoons against hot ceramic filled the air, the whirring of metal against pottery.

  “There’s a letter that would fit next,” Kyle said into his mug. “Two, actually.” He stood and retrieved the stack of letters and sat back down. “These,” he said lifting two from the top.

  “Would you read them?” I asked, wrapping both of my hands around my mug, suddenly too exhausted.

  He smiled with one corner of his mouth, something he rarely did but I liked. He was becoming a friend now, not just someone who’d joined me on a mission. I smiled back as he opened the first envelope.

  ~*~

  October 7, 1907

  My dearest Julianne,

  Your absence has not been an absence at all, for my thoughts have been all about you. I still see you in my mind every day, you in that lovely lavender dress beside me as we pretended to marry. Arthur did such a wonderful job of making it seem real, don’t you think? Maybe it was because every word I spoke as I held your hands and looked into your eyes was from my heart. Just remember that what was done in an unofficial manner that day will be done as certainly as life and death when you return. And for that real ceremony you will be in white and I will be at your side for all eternity. I thanked Arthur for giving us such fun before you had to return to your home, and laughingly told him his experience as an attorney has taught him the order of ceremonies, if nothing else. He made only a few silly blunders. But oh, that it had been the real thing and you were here in my arms now and forever.

  Henrietta is working on your wedding dress. It’s her gift to us. I dare say it will be beautiful, but even more so when it’s on you.

  Tell your family Hen and I are looking forward to our visit there. I am certain they are excited at our news. I will bring them gifts, shower them with my gratefulness at being their son-in-law soon.

  Please hurry back to me. I am waiting. No more pretend. My heart is ready to be given to you forever.

  Love always,

  John

  ~*~

  October 12, 1907

  My dearest Julianne,

  The distress of your letter destroyed me. I tossed it aside and have packed a bag. I’m on my way as soon as I can get someone to manage my business. It won’t take more than two days, maybe three, to be there, so please, my dear, hold on.

  Don’t be rash, don’t fret, and don’t offend your poor parents, who are in a terrible position. I will come. I will offer them a settlement so they can release you from this ogre’s bid for your hand. My heart is forever yours and I know yours is forever mine. Be strong, my love, I will be there shortly. Together we will resolve this matter, and you will return to Chicago with me. I am so certain of this that I beg of you to be packed and ready.

  Worry not, you will be my bride soon.

  Love forever,

  John

  ~*~

  I watched Kyle fold and return the second letter to its envelope, his hands gentle with the yellowed and aged paper. He smoothed it when it was tucked inside and put it and the first one at the bottom of the stack. I shook my head as he picked up his mug and took his first sip of tea, his eyes far away, a soft sadness in their blue.

  “Is the tea good?” I asked, unable to say anything else, not trusting the wrath I’d felt earlier to not resurface.

  “Very,” he replied, setting his mug on the table.

  The room crawled with silence as we sat across from each other, Julianne’s life between us, spread across the table.

  “He was jealous,” I finally said. “Isaac was a bitter old man, and he was jealous of their youth because he was incapable of their kind of love.”

  Kyle didn’t readily agree. Apparently he wasn’t quick to hate just because it relieved some tension. His head moved from side to side in short little jags, telling me he thought not.

  “I don’t know if he meant it to be that way,” he said slowly. “We know Isaac was a widower, had sons, and wanted a wife. Maybe particularly a wife young enough to tend to his boys.” He looked thoughtful.

  “Maybe at first,” I conceded, grinding my teeth that Isaac would have thought that sufficient reason to take over someone’s life. “But if John came for her, surely Isaac saw something he couldn’t offer, something he couldn’t compete with, so he had to steal it.”

  “And even then, when he’d stolen her, he still couldn’t possess her heart,” Kyle finished. “And women have far more heart than body to offer. Is that what you think?”

  I did. He was right. That was exactly what I thought but hadn’t been able to put into words. Wasn’t that what I should have said to Trevor? I could go through the motions of a marriage with my body and be a good wife, but my heart knew there was more. Much more, and I guessed my great-grandmother had felt the same, even though she suffered for it in the end.

  I marveled how beautifully this nondescript boy who’d grown up invisibly beside me had evolved. We were sitting there, locked in a moment of mutual appreciation that went from his blue eyes to the hurt I carried, when my front door burst open and a hearty, “Surprise!” filled the house.

  Before we could stand, our table was flanked by Paul Junior and Trevor, boyish grins vanishing as they took in Kyle and me looking up from our broken tryst.

  My hands went to my typewriter, our notes, my eyes to Kyle as I scrambled to my feet wondering what I most needed to protect. I fumbled between the table and Trevor, between him and my privacy.

  “Trevor!” I was genuinely surprised and sounded that way. “I had no idea…” My hands worked behind me, scooting papers away, shuffling them into piles.

  “What are you two doing?” he asked, his eyes on Kyle, not even noticing what I had on the table.

  “I know what they’re doing,” Paul Junior said. I turned in time to see
him scowling at Kyle as his hand reached for our notes.

  “Leave those alone,” I snapped at Paul Junior. “Go sit in the other room while we clean this up, and I’ll bring both of you something to drink.”

  I scooped Julianne’s Bible, my notes, and her letters off the table while Kyle reached for my typewriter. We carried them to a small cupboard my father had let me borrow, and we set them on top of it in the steely silence.

  “What were you guys doing?” Trevor asked again, his voice cold and clanging as it pierced the quiet.

  Kyle stood beside me. Trevor’s hurt was ringing in my thoughts as Kyle and I glanced at each other, thinking together, both concerned about protecting Julianne.

  “He’s helping me with the articles I’m writing for my newspaper,” I said, keeping my voice calm so Trevor would be calm and his angst disappear.

  Trevor eyed Kyle skeptically.

  “Kyle ain’t smart enough to do something like that,” Paul Junior guffawed.

  I glanced at Kyle, wondering if he wanted to defend himself or if I should. I would be happy just kicking my brother, or yanking his hat off and pulling his hair like I’d done when we were kids. It was the only language my brother understood; civil debate and communication were lost on him. But Kyle wasn’t that way. I’d seen the passion behind his quiet demeanor today, the depth of his intuitiveness about me and Isaac and Julianne. His wasn’t the sort of passion that would retaliate by causing physical pain. It was passion that simmered down in the heart, and someday it would erupt in a love that some fortunate woman would flourish under.

  “I can leave, and maybe your brother can take over,” Kyle said, a tiny glitter dancing in the pools of blue.

  I nodded, not sure what to do. Kyle gave me a barely perceptible smile as he walked toward the door.

  “Would you please help Annabelle spell ‘cacophonous’?” Kyle paused near my brother. “It’s where we are leaving off.”

  Kyle turned and nodded at me as he slid past my brother’s gaping mouth and Trevor’s glare. I hid a grin as the door closed behind him and all eyes riveted on me.

  “I don’t like your new friend,” Trevor said icily.

  “He’s an old friend, actually, and the two of you asked for that,” I said smugly, impressed with Kyle’s backbone. “Now, do you want something to drink, or not?”

  “No, we don’t,” Trevor said before Paul Junior could gather his thoughts. “I’m sorry we interrupted whatever you have going here. I just wanted to surprise you, but I guess it’s me that was surprised, instead.”

  I knew it was hurt that sharpened his words, but it was anger in his eyes. He nodded toward Paul Junior and led him out my door with a yank of his head. There was no goodbye from either of them. Jealousy was too proud for that.

  Chapter 17

  “When you approach a city to fight against it,

  you shall offer it terms of peace.”

  Trevor stood at my door. I looked behind him, expecting Paul Junior to be there, the two of them back to see if Kyle had returned. They’d left not more than thirty minutes before, and I was letting the two of them simmer down before I followed them to my parents’ house, hoping I could talk to Trevor alone.

  “Come in,” I said, glad he was here by himself.

  He stood in the doorway and shoved a wad of paper at me, his eyes swimming in a watery gray sheen.

  “What’s that?” I asked, refusing to take the crumpled ball.

  “The wedding’s off. Not postponed, not rescheduled, just off.” He shoved the wadded paper at me again, but I wouldn’t take it.

  “Trevor, come in, please.” I stepped back and pulled the door open wider, encouraging him to follow.

  He tossed the paper past me into the house. I heard it hit Julianne’s wood floor and skitter across its dry surface in a sad whisper.

  “You don’t mean this,” I said, but the hurt in his eyes told me he did.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” he said, and I could see he wanted to cry. Trevor looked away, swiping his sleeve across his face. I stepped through the doorway and wrapped my arms around him. I pulled him close and held on, gentle sobs creating soft vibrations between us.

  “I can’t.” It came out hoarse as he broke free of my grasp. He backed away, his face taut as if I’d just insulted him. “You don’t know how much it has hurt to have you so far away. And then…and then to come here and find you with some other guy…”

  “It’s not ‘some other guy,’ ” I began, but he’d turned from me, his back to me as he held himself stiff, walking away. “It’s just Kyle, my neighbor,” I said. But he kept going. I could see the tension in his back. I could see it weaken as trembling took over his posture. He was struggling, fighting to go and let go when I knew he wanted to stay.

  “Trevor!” I shouted. He walked faster. He didn’t look back. He strode down the road, crumbling as he went.

  I backed against Julianne’s house and watched him. Surely he’d change his mind. Surely he’d go to my parents’ and they’d help him calm down. I backed through the doorway. He was nearly out of sight. A tiny figure melting into the dusty road, very little distinction between it and its background. I left the door open in case he returned. I looked at the wadded piece of paper on Julianne’s floor. Its haggard appearance reminded me of Trevor.

  I picked it up and carried it to my sofa. Dropping onto the cushion, I smoothed the page across my leg and saw Trevor’s handwriting, almost illegible abortions of his normally clear cursive.

  “I can’t go through this any more,” I read aloud. “It hurts too much to have you so far away, to have the wedding in limbo, and to see you changing. You’re not the girl I asked to marry me. I don’t even know who you are.”

  I looked around the room, tears filling my eyes. He was right. I didn’t know who I was, so how could he? I was trying to find out, though. Wasn’t it better to do that now, before two strangers tied the knot, rather than afterward? What if the person I truly was wasn’t someone Trevor would want to be married to? My logic was good, it was sane and sensible, but it didn’t erase the agony I saw on Trevor’s face. As I glanced back down at his letter, I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to be the girl we had both imagined me to be. He would be happy if I just acted like her so we could continue the way we had been, a comfortable life for him, his few needs being met. He didn’t understand that to marry now, as I was, would be a death blow to our marriage. He’d be married to a figment of his imagination and not a real person at all. He’d marry a Julianne. My logic was right, but it couldn’t stop the pain.

  “You can keep seeing that skinny guy who was at your house,” I read out loud again. “It breaks my heart, but you’ve left me no other recourse. Plenty of opportunities for both of us out there. Guess we should move on and find that special one who can make us happy, right? Yeah, right, I hope your new lover rots in…” I didn’t read the rest. I folded it the way he had, into a tight ball, and threw it across the room. I wasn’t angry at him. I was angry at me. I should have gone through Julianne’s life years ago. I should have answered these questions when I still lived at home, not now, not on the cusp of what was supposed to have been a marriage. I should have been Kyle’s friend as a child and asked and found answers then, with him.

  I leaned back on the sofa and let my new single status wash over me with the tears that were rolling down my face. Being without Trevor was terrifying, something I hadn’t really considered. A ripple of panic shot through me, a sudden urge to run to my parents’ house and plead with him. We were used to each other, knew each other’s patterns. We’d been a couple, and now I was just a half.

  I jumped to my feet. I slipped on my shoes and dashed out the door. It would be faster to drive, but I couldn’t. I had a head of steam from my panic, and I ran like I did in junior high track, pumping, worrying, hurrying down the road as if I could catch him, tell him “let’s try again,” and that I was sorry. Alarm mounted as my oxygen levels waned, my adrenal system giving me f
alse energy and negative emotions at the same time. My heart, which pounded furiously to keep my legs in motion, silently urged me to slow down, to stop, to go back to my house and think this through. I didn’t listen. I ran. Ran like a bear was behind me. Ran all the way to my parents’ house and into their yard.

  “Good going,” Paul Junior spat at me from the empty driveway.

  “Where’s Trevor?” I gasped through heavy breaths.

  “He’s gone. And if you think I’m upset, you should see Mom and Dad.”

  “He’s gone?” I bent over, dragging in wind and praying Paul Junior was wrong.

  “He’s history now. Hope you’re happy with Kyle the wienie. I warned him about Kyle. Now he’s seen for himself. You just remember Trevor’s still my friend, no matter what you did to him.” Paul Junior wheeled around and stormed toward the barn.

  I drew in a deep breath and ran to the house. Mama jumped as I pushed through the door. “Where’s Trevor?” I asked with short gasps. “Is he really gone?”

  She didn’t answer. She was patting her chest to still the fright I’d given her, but I could tell he was gone.

  “I need to use your phone,” I panted as I rushed past her and reached for the phone. I’ll leave a message at his apartment. He’ll get it. He’ll… My fingers were throbbing with the pulse of my heart, jittery from the panic, everything making Trevor’s number elusive. Mama recovered and grabbed the phone from my hand.

  “What in the world? Is your house on fire? Are you calling the police?”

  “No,” I sputtered, bending forward to lean on the table so I could breathe. “Trevor.”

  Her face changed, alarm subsided and judgment took its place. “I see,” she said coldly. “What were you doing with Kyle at your place?”

  “Nothing!” I tried to scream. “Just give me the phone.”

  She held it out of my reach and her eyes pinned me back. There it was. The look they got when they talked about Julianne. Only now it was for me. I’d done the unthinkable in their eyes, and they didn’t even know—or care—about the truth. I righted myself. My heart rate slowed as I stared back at her.