by Wade, Becky
Bagels and corporate glory are (and will always be) calling me east.
Respectfully,
Kathleen
Unsent Letter from Kathleen to Garner
Garner,
Here’s something you should know about me. I’ve had boyfriends over the years, but I’ve never taken any of them seriously because I don’t want to settle down. I’m not the domestic type. My mother was and is the domestic type and I want this apple of mine to fall very, very far from her tree.
Marriage didn’t work out that well for my mom. She’d tell you differently because she loved my dad. She loved him so much that when he died, she was wrecked. She lost not only her husband, but a big part of her job because her job was to care for him and for us. She responded to his death by grieving and suffocating her kids. Suffocating her kids and grieving. In ways that are hard to explain, my dad’s death ended up hardening sections of my mom’s heart.
I want to accomplish things completely separate from family. I want to travel and have adventures and see the world. I don’t want to need people as much as my mom needs my brother and me. I don’t want to base my life on a man who can die or divorce me.
You know all about losing people, Garner. So I’m certain you can understand my reluctance to depend too much on others.
I simply cannot fall for you.
Kathleen
Phone Conversation between Kathleen and Her Friend Rose
KATHLEEN: I think I’m falling for Garner Bradford.
ROSE: What! Hang on a minute. Let me pass the baby to Henry so I can concentrate on this conversation. One sec. Okay. I’m in my bedroom with the door closed. You’re falling for Garner Bradford?
KATHLEEN: I’ve been trying hard not to and I’ve been doing an okay job of it, but the company held one of its family barbecue picnics this afternoon. I went and he was there with his girls and it melted me. Seeing him with them.
ROSE: More details, please.
KATHLEEN: I was talking with one of the women from accounting when I spotted him getting into the food line with the girls. I excused myself and hurried over because it looked like he could use an extra hand. He can’t very well hold three plates at once, right?
ROSE: Right.
KATHLEEN: I ended up filling his daughter Willow’s plate.
ROSE: Which one is Willow?
KATHLEEN: The older one. She’s four. Nora, the younger one, is two. After I carried Willow’s plate to their table, Garner was sort of honor-bound to invite me to join them. So I sat down, and when I looked across the table, I saw that Garner had a burger exactly like mine. We both chose the bun with sesame seeds. We both put tomatoes and pickles and grilled onions and ketchup and mustard on ours.
ROSE: Let me guess. Neither one of your burgers had lettuce.
KATHLEEN: Exactly! No lettuce.
ROSE: It sounds like fate.
KATHLEEN: That’s what I thought. It felt more and more like fate the longer I sat there. Willow is serious and quiet. Nora is sweet and busy. They’re gorgeous little girls, Rose.
ROSE: I’m sure they are.
KATHLEEN: And Garner was wonderful with them. He used a wet wipe to clean their hands. He cut their hot dogs into tiny pieces. He brought their sippy cups out of his bag. He redid Willow’s ponytail when it started to sag. The girls look at him like he hung the moon.
ROSE: And by the time you finished your lettuce-free hamburger, you were looking at him like he hung the moon, too.
KATHLEEN: Yes.
ROSE: Mm-hmm.
KATHLEEN: The girls finished before we did. He unhooked balloons from the center of our table and tied them around their wrists. They ran around on the grass next to the table with their balloons while we finished. I told him how great they were. He asked me what I was like when I was little and I found myself telling him, Rose. About how my knees were always scraped and my shoes were always scuffed. About how I believed that if I practiced hard enough, I could be better than the boys at soccer. About how I agreed to let my mom dress me in a ruffly dress and take me to a cotillion so that in return she’d take me to the stable for horseback riding lessons.
ROSE: And how did he respond?
KATHLEEN: He listened and asked questions and seemed to understand. We talked about his childhood in Merryweather. Then about what it’s like to lose a dad, since we’ve both been through that.
ROSE: Wow.
KATHLEEN: Falling for him is not in my plan, Rose!
ROSE: Maybe it’s not in your plan, but does it have to be a bad thing?
KATHLEEN: It’s a terrible thing.
ROSE: Why?
KATHLEEN: He’s not interested in me, for starters. Also, he’s my boss. Also, my job at Bradford Shipping is just a consolation prize until Estée Lauder comes through. I’m not staying in Washington. You know I’m not.
ROSE: Okay, so since this crush of yours isn’t going anywhere, there’s no need to panic.
KATHLEEN: All of a sudden, though, I really wish it was going somewhere.
ROSE: It can’t until he decides he’s interested in you, too. My advice is to go on doing what you’ve been doing—working hard and being professional. Be patient. Good things come . . .
KATHLEEN: . . . to those who wait.
Unsent Letter from Kathleen to Garner
Garner,
It’s been a week since the picnic. It’s as if our conversation that day gave me a ticket, a ticket that now allows me to talk with you about things other than Bradford Shipping and the task force.
We chatted about Nora’s love of board books in the break room over coffee. I joked about my mother in the hallway. You told me about your sister when we were the first two to arrive in the conference room.
It’s been delightful. I only wish I could be fully content with the ticket I’ve been given. I do value it. A lot. I realize that it’s probably a very rare ticket.
Yet instead of being fully content with it, I find myself looking at you and wondering what you’d do if I ran a fingertip down your wrist. Or kissed the side of your neck. Or ruffled your hair.
You are a very controlled man. I admire that about you. At the same time, I’m becoming almost desperate to test your control.
What happened to the reckless young man you once were? The one who had a tempestuous love affair with a French artist named Sylvie Rolland? (Yes, I’ve done my research. Sue me.)
What happened to the man who was so given to emotion or attraction or destiny or whatever that he walked down the aisle to marry Robin Bowman just twelve months after Sylvie left?
I suspect that Robin’s death hammered the spontaneity and what was left of your youth out of you. I wonder if there’s still passion in you, though. Deep emotion. Love?
I want to know. I want to be the one to stir those things in you. I want to see if your reserve can crack. I want to kiss you.
I won’t.
But I want to. It’s the worst thing in the world to like someone who doesn’t like you in return. But it’s the best thing, too. It’s a sweet, hot, tingly, aching, delicious pain.
Phone Message from Kathleen to Her Friend Rose
Where are you? I need you to answer. Of all the times for you not to answer, this is the worst.
I just kissed Garner.
Oh my gosh. Rose! What am I going to do?
Today was a long, hard, long—did I already say long?—day. I was working here at my desk and I was incredibly frustrated because I was having to fix a mistake one of the financial analysts made, when I heard a knock. I looked up and Garner was standing just inside my doorway, with his suit jacket over his arm. My heart squeezed because . . . you know why. This thing I have for him.
He asked me why I always work so late. I explained about the mistake I was fixing and then told him about all the other things I still have to finish before I can call it a night.
He said he thought it was dangerous for me to remain on our floor after hours, to walk to my car alone, to arrive at my apartmen
t alone. He told me he was concerned that I’m being careless with my safety.
I stared at him, speechless, because lots of people work late. Almost all of them are men, so the only thing I could figure was that he was basically scolding me for working late because I’m female. Which is completely sexist and infuriating. But hold the phone. It gets worse.
“Going home earlier will be better for you in other ways,” he said. “It’ll help you balance things out. Get more sleep. More rest.” And then this is the kicker. He said, “It might be time for you to get a life, Kathleen.”
He said it nicely. There was humor in his eyes, there was. But I knew . . . I knew, Rose, that he was serious. That he really does think I need to get a life.
And it just . . . it sparked something inside me because here I am working my butt off for Bradford Shipping, spending my time at the office, because I’m trying to save his company. He’s the one leaving to go home and he has the audacity to tell me to get a life!
I stood and came around my desk as I told him all of that. Everything I just told you. I didn’t scream it. I spoke it quickly and I think, quietly. But I said it like I meant it. Because I did mean it. I was upset.
How dare he! Get a life! From the man who’s not exactly known for making the best life decisions. I found myself standing right in front of him.
He raised an eyebrow slightly. That’s it! That’s all he did.
He was totally unmoved by my speech. He looked calm. He looked like someone I could never have. Plus, his eyes are ridiculous.
My destructive streak surfaced and I stepped forward and I put my palms on his cheeks and I kissed him. Just a press of lips to lips. That’s it. I waited for maybe one whole second, which felt like ten, for him to kiss me back, to put his arms around me. Something! Instead he moved backward.
Oh, Rose. It was horrible.
His gaze narrowed on me and his chest expanded with his breath a few times, but otherwise he stood there like a statue. And I stood there like a statue. Then he turned and left.
I could die. I’ve locked my office door and closed my blinds and I’m sitting on the floor behind my desk. How am I supposed to face him now? I’m sure he thinks I’m insane.
Why did I kiss him? I can’t believe I did that. I kissed him, Rose! He’s my boss. And he doesn’t like me. And I kissed him.
I’m in deep, deep trouble.
Handwritten Note Left on Garner’s Desk
Dear Garner,
I’m sorry for my actions last night. I can’t explain or justify what I did. There’s no excuse for my behavior. It was unprofessional, and I deeply regret it.
I hope that you’ll be able to forgive me and that we can proceed forward with our working relationship and friendship.
I apologize.
Respectfully,
Kathleen E. Burke
Typed Letter on Bradford Shipping Letterhead Left on Kathleen’s Desk
Kathleen,
I accept your apology. I value your work ethic and the contributions you’ve made to Bradford Shipping. This company is facing a great many challenges. I think we can both agree that it would be wise to focus all our attention and efforts on meeting those challenges.
Sincerely,
Garner
CHAPTER
Eleven
Garner’s Journal Entry
Kathleen kissed me.
I know she thinks I’m stuffy. That I didn’t like the kiss. That I was offended by it.
I’m going to let her think those things because I wish they were true and because they’ve created a wall between us and I need a wall. What’s true—what she doesn’t know—is that she set off a thunderstorm of need inside me.
God, I don’t understand you. I’ve prayed and prayed for you to take her or these feelings for her away. But you haven’t.
Why?
Why are you allowing me to feel this way for Kathleen?
Garner’s Journal Entry
Two weeks have passed since Kathleen kissed me. It’s been tense and awkward between us. We don’t talk unless it’s necessary for work purposes.
I’m still praying. But instead of going away, the chemistry between us is only intensifying.
God, don’t you hear me?
Please. I only want to live my life in peace.
CHAPTER
Twelve
Letter from Kathleen to Estée Lauder, Inc.
Dear Ms. Jenkins,
It is with great anticipation that I’m applying for the position of Account Representative in Estée Lauder, Inc.’s Customer Service Department. I’ve studied the job description, and I believe that I have the skills required.
Since graduating from Gonzaga University, I’ve accrued four and a half years of work experience at Bradford Shipping, America’s premier Pacific shipping company.
It is my hope that after reviewing the newly updated résumé I’ve included, that you’ll agree that I am the experienced, hard-working, and reliable employee you’re looking for.
I’m grateful for the correspondence we’ve shared over the years, Ms. Jenkins. I’m looking forward to discussing the possibility of an interview with you, during which I’d be glad to further elaborate on how my abilities might benefit your organization. Thank you for your consideration. I look forward to your call.
Respectfully,
Kathleen E. Burke
Letter from Estée Lauder, Inc. to Kathleen
Dear Ms. Burke,
Thank you for contacting me. I’m sorry, but I filled the position of Account Representative just last week. I appreciate your continued interest in securing a job with Estée Lauder, and I admire your persistence.
I will certainly keep you in mind should other roles within the Customer Service Department become open.
Sincerely,
Susan Jenkins
Unsent Letter from Kathleen to Garner
Garner,
Do good things really come to those who wait? Or is that saying just a bunch of baloney someone made up so that inactive people could feel better about themselves? It seems to me that good things are far more likely to come to those who bulldoze ahead and make things happen.
I’ve been alternately waiting and trying to bulldoze my way into a job in New York for a long time. So far, no good thing has come my way on that front.
I can’t figure out why God placed this dream in my heart if He plans to let it go unfulfilled.
Since I’ll be staying at Bradford Shipping for the foreseeable future, I’m going to have to fix things between you and me, Garner, because I can’t stand to feel this rigid and embarrassed every time our paths cross.
It’s been three weeks since I kissed you. Three weeks may not be a long enough penance for an uninvited kiss. Nevertheless, I’m pronouncing it sufficient because this awful strain between us cannot continue.
It just can’t, Garner. Okay?
CHAPTER
Thirteen
Garner’s Journal Entry
I was finishing lunch at Orton’s today when Kathleen came in. The minute I saw her, I started gathering up the papers I’d been reading, in preparation to leave. Before I had them in a stack, she sat down across from me at my table.
I didn’t know what to say, so I said, “How can I help you?”
I sounded and probably looked like an uptight old man. But again, my exterior and interior were nothing alike. I was rattled. By her direct eye contact and by her beauty and by her silky shirt. I’ve had it with her silky shirts. Today’s shirt was ice blue.
“Listen,” she said. “Things have been uncomfortable between us lately. It’s all my fault and I’m really, really sorry. I’d like it if we could talk like two normal people from now on. Can I bribe you into that by buying you dessert?” And then she smiled. Her smile was full of self-deprecation and persuasiveness.
I told her there was no need to bribe me, that talking to her like a normal person sounded fine to me.
“I demand a chance to bribe you,�
�� she said. “What’s your favorite dessert?”
I told her it was chocolate cake. Then I tried to convince her that she didn’t need to buy me chocolate cake, but she was already out of her chair and hurrying to the counter. She came back with a to-go box. She said she’d gotten the cake to go because she could see I was headed back to the office and didn’t want to keep me. “Maybe this’ll be just the thing when midafternoon exhaustion hits you,” she said. Then she smiled again.
Clearly, I remember every word she said.
I found myself smiling back at her over the box of cake. In fact, I smiled all the way back to Bradford Shipping, a two-block walk.
The cake was delicious.
Garner’s Journal Entry
It’s been a month since I’ve written, since Kathleen bribed me with chocolate cake. Her bribe worked.
She was real and honest with me at Orton’s, which has allowed me to let my guard down slightly with her. Since that day at Orton’s, we’ve gotten along well. We’re friends. And everything would be fine if my feelings for her were only friendly. Instead attraction rushes to life, powerful and insistent, every single time we’re together. I can’t ignore it. I can’t move past it.
Kathleen makes me laugh. She frustrates me. She pushes me to defend the business decisions I make.
I want to be more to her than her friend. Here’s why that can’t happen:
1) I can’t keep Kathleen safe. I’m not interested in adding a woman to my life and to my girls’ lives who could be taken from us violently. The girls and I could not survive that again.
