Her Last Letter

by Nancy C. Johnson

  He waited, as if I might have more to say on the subject. “Oh, well.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  “Couldn’t be helped.”

  He was obviously upset, but I decided not to comment on it. “Did you find some skis?” I asked.

  “Yes, as a matter-of-fact, I did. And I found some for you too. I’ve got them on hold for you to look at, if you’re done with your-browsing.”

  “What are they?”

  “Actually, I found two pair you might like, but the graphics are a little bolder on one. You can see them after we eat.”

  The waiter appeared and we ordered. I complained of a nervous stomach and chose a small salad and decaf coffee. Trevor chose a steak sandwich, soup, and dessert.

  “So, who were you talking to over there?” I asked finally.

  “Maybe a potential client. She might be looking to buy a place in Aspen. Might be bullshit too.”

  “I’m sorry I was late.”

  “It’s over. Forget it.”

  He smiled more on the ride back to Glenwood. We had visited the ski shop, purchased the skis, along with two ski sweaters and a one piece ski outfit for Trevor that he seemed interested in. He joined me at the art fair and I took him through it. I ended up making a few minor purchases, but decided to wait on the LaRoche, though I knew that would probably be a mistake. At six, I changed into the good skirt and leather boots I’d left in the car and we walked to The Chart House and had dinner. I didn’t see Josh again, and was thankful I wouldn’t have to explain anything to Trevor.

  “So, it was a good day?” he asked as we pulled into the driveway, the garage door rolling upwards as the Cadillac neared.

  “Yes, I enjoyed it. Did you?”

  “Yeah, can’t wait to go there again and ski. We’ll need snow first.”

  He closed the driver’s door and walked with me to the side entrance. “I saw Joshua Newbury today,” he said.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, this morning after I dropped you off. I don’t think he saw me though. Did you run into him?”

  “Yes, I did see him, but we barely talked. I guess he’s visiting his family.”

  Trevor yawned and covered his mouth. “I almost didn’t recognize the guy. The beard’s gone. It never looked good on him anyway.”

  I shrugged noncommittally, then started for the stairs and bed. Trevor moved in behind me, pulling me backwards into his arms. “You’re not tired tonight, are you?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Good.”

  But as we walked up the stairs, I had the uneasy feeling that Trevor could see right through me.

  Chapter 4

  “Thanks for getting me in on such short notice, Janet,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem at all. I’ve been meaning to call and say hello anyway. It’s good to see you, Gwyn.”

  I hung up my coat and took a seat in one of the comfortable chairs that faced each other, my usual spot near the window.

  “You’ve made a few changes,” I said. I noted a new lamp on a corner table, some chocolate-brown throw rugs on the wood floor, and updated pictures of her teenaged children, Ben and Sarah, atop her desk.

  “Yes. Small improvements. Thanks for noticing.”

  Janet herself had not changed, a wisp of a woman, wide-eyed with a warm engaging smile. She barely looked thirty, though I knew for a fact she would be celebrating her forty-second birthday in December. I found her easy to talk to, extremely likeable, and worldly savvy in a way that couldn’t be taught. Though I’d never asked, I’d sometimes wondered what life experiences might have drawn her to this particular profession.

  She took a seat opposite me, crossing her ankles, mirroring my own. “We haven’t seen each other in a while, not for a few months. What brings you here today?”

  “Well, I needed to talk to someone I trusted, someone who would keep my secrets,” I said with a short laugh.

  “Oh. Secrets. Well, this is serious.”

  “Actually, it’s not so much secrets. It’s more-things I can’t talk to anyone else about right now.” I took a deep breath, folding my hands one into the other. “I’ve been having some issues concerning Trevor. I haven’t been treating him all that well lately, but every time I think I should be more … truthful with him, I back off. He tried to make love to me the other night and I just couldn’t connect, and that’s not usually a problem for me at all.”

  “So, what is it you’re not being truthful about?”

  “Well, I ran into Josh, my old boyfriend, in Aspen this past weekend. He’s in town, just visiting. It was an accidental meeting. We bumped into each other at an art fair, but I felt guilty about it and didn’t say anything to Trevor. The problem is, I enjoyed seeing Josh-a little too much, I think-and might want to see him again.”

  “And why does that worry you? What do you think will happen if you see him again?”

  “I don’t know. Actually, I don’t think anything will happen. I just want to see him again. It’s almost like I need to. I hated the way we broke up. Our relationship ended so quickly. After all the time we’d been together, Josh just took off and left the state, disappeared from my life completely. My fault, of course.” I glanced up, but Janet’s expression hadn’t changed. “I don’t want to lead him on, but if I start to see him again, of course, I will be. It’s totally selfish. I’ll be hurting Josh, and I could end up hurting Trevor too, severely damage what we have. It’s crazy.”

  “So, knowing this, why do you think you’re still willing to take the chance?”

  “I think I need closure with Josh. I need to try and explain to him why I left. He was more than a boyfriend to me, he was a friend. I miss him … a lot. As for Trevor, I don’t want to talk to him about this because he’s the reason I left Josh. And I still have a lot of mixed emotions about that. As much as I blame myself, I blame Trevor more. Recently, I’ve been questioning his reasons for marrying me.”

  Janet reached for her glass, took a sip of water. “Go on.”

  “I really didn’t get to know Trevor all that well before I became involved with him. I was seeing Josh, in love with him-not wildly anymore, we’d been seeing each other for so long-but it was love. Then Trevor came along and I wanted him so badly I couldn’t think of anything, but him. I literally forgot about Josh-just threw him away-for a man I barely knew. Now, looking back, I’m wondering if the money had more to do with Trevor’s decision to marry me than I thought. He likes having money. He enjoys spending it and he does, though not … excessively. Oh … what am I saying? He’s not bad about it. I encourage him to spend on himself. I spend money on him. I want to. I mean, what is it for if not to make the people you love happy? The thing is, with Josh I always knew I was loved for me. I didn’t have a dime when Josh loved me. I barely had two cents in my savings account.”

  “So, seeing Josh has made you question your relationship with Trevor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has anything else happened that would make you feel this way? Besides, Josh, I mean.”

  “No … well, maybe some little things. Trevor has been working a lot lately. That bothers me. I don’t get to see him as much.”

  “Have you talked to him about it?”

  “No.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “I don’t think it would do any good.”

  “Hmm. I’m sensing some anger here.” Janet stared at me, waiting for me to respond. Finally, after what felt like an interminable silence, I did.

  “If I’m angry, I’d have to say that I’m mostly angry at myself. I’m stupidly naive when it comes to the people I care about. I blindly accept whatever they put in front of me, when instead I should take a step back and see what’s really going on.”

  “Are you still talking about Trevor here?”

  “Trevor, sure.”

  “Not Kelly?”

  “Well, yes, Kelly too. I was certainly stupid with her. If I hadn’t been so
stupidly naive, maybe she’d still be alive.” I had to stop talking for a moment, reign in all the old feelings that engulfed me whenever I spoke her name. “I didn’t know her either. I really didn’t. When you love someone that much, you can’t see them. I couldn’t anyway. And maybe I didn’t want to see who she really was, because then I’d be forced to admit she wasn’t everything I wanted her to be. Still … why couldn’t she trust me? If she had a drug problem, why couldn’t she tell me about it? I could have helped her. I wouldn’t have stopped loving her. Didn’t she know that? I never would have stopped loving her.”

  “But maybe she wasn’t willing to let you. Unfortunately, we’ll never know why she was reluctant to seek help.”

  “I wish so much that I could talk to her. I do, sometimes, when I’m alone. I want so much to know what happened … why it happened. How could anyone do that to her? Only a monster could have slaughtered her like that. He ran her down-like she was nothing-like she was dirt. I swear if I could, I’d kill him. I’d kill him and never regret it for a single moment.” My stomach rolled and I felt the searing hatred rise in my throat, bubbling up its caustic acid.

  “Linda told me Kelly was on drugs, said it was obvious, but I didn’t believe her. I even took Kelly aside one day and stood her in front of me and asked her point blank, ‘Are you taking drugs? I don’t want to think so, but if you are I need to know. So please, tell me the truth.’ Do you know what she said? Right to my face she said, ‘I’m not doing drugs, Gwyn. I wouldn’t do that. God, I can’t believe you’re asking me this.’ I told her I had to ask because I was worried about her, that she didn’t seem … right. She got a little angry, then told me I shouldn’t worry about her, that I worried about everything, that I’ve always worried too much and maybe I was the one with the problem. Then she took that back and apologized, told me again that, no, she didn’t do drugs. Well, maybe a little weed, when she was in school, but that was stupid and she knew it, so she’d quit. She had me convinced that Linda was absolutely wrong. It was a real relief at the time. But then, of course, they found cocaine in her system, and other drugs I can’t even pronounce were stashed in her medicine chest disguised as cold medicine or cough drops or whatever. God, it hurt. It hurt so much to think she would lie to me like that.”

  Janet sat quiet, then finally spoke.

  “You can’t blame yourself, Gwyn. We’ll never know exactly why Kelly felt she had to lie. But you do have to stop thinking you could have changed her.”

  Numbly, I brushed away tears with the back of my hand.

  “I know how very much you loved Kelly, and I believe she knew that too. Maybe she felt you were the only one left who still believed in her, who saw something in her that was truly special. Maybe she wasn’t willing to let that go. Though I’ve never spoken to her, I think from what you’ve told me that she must have loved you too, very much. After all, you looked after her after your mother died.”

  “Well, my father was there too.”

  “Yes, but from what you’ve told me, he wasn’t around too much.”

  “No.” I took a deep breath, finally shaking myself of the bizarre feeling that had taken hold of me a while ago. “You are right, of course. Kelly couldn’t have handled the thought of losing me too, losing my love. She’d lost Mom, then Dad. And Linda, well … Kelly and Linda weren’t exactly best friends. I suppose Kelly couldn’t take the chance that maybe she’d mess things up with me too.… It’s so strange. I’ve had dreams since she died where I died too, where I lost my footing and fell into this cold dark bottomless crevasse, and for one horrible instant, I feel my insides shrivel, because I know this is it. No one can save me. I can’t even scream I’m so terrified. Maybe that’s how it was for her that night. I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know, because if it’s as bad as it must have been, how can I …?” I stopped abruptly, sat very still. Finally, I looked up at her. “I have said all this before, haven’t I?”

  “Gwyn, you are not at fault. You are not the one to blame.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “You’re right. He is.”

  “I’m going to give you a referral to that psychiatrist friend of mine, just for some medication, something to help you relax, nothing heavy duty. I want you to-”

  “No, I don’t want to take anything. I’m okay.”

  “Of course. But you can always call me if you change your mind. I do think we should see each other again. Maybe next week, if that’s all right.”

  “Sure.”

  “Talk to Rachel on your way out. Tell her I said to fit you in.”

  “All right.”

  I stood and my knees buckled slightly. I hoped Janet hadn’t noticed, but she glanced down, then back up into my eyes. “You’re certain you’re okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  I bypassed Rachel. I just wanted out of there. I’d call and make the appointment later on … or maybe not.

  I was consumed with thoughts of Kelly on the drive home.

  Initially, police surmised she’d been a random victim of a drunk driver who’d swerved out onto the gravel shoulder, hit her, then panicked and fled. But no one could supply the answer to one important question. What was Kelly doing walking alone on a deserted road so late at night?

  The morning after she died, reeling from the news, I drove over to the old house. When I opened the garage door, I found Kelly’s pickup parked inside. She’d almost never bothered to pull her truck in, so I’d inspected further. Her right front headlight was smashed and the fender creased. Dried blood stained both the glass and metal.

  Her killer had taken the time to drive her truck back to the house, pull it into the garage, and close the door. Everyone had assumed it was Craig Foster. He didn’t have an alibi, and he did have a record, drug offenses and other assorted crimes. He must have known they wouldn’t look any further. After he ran, the police had focused entirely on him.

  As soon as I got home, I walked into the studio and checked my answering machine, which flashed ominously with seven messages. I started to play them back, but cut them off after the first one, from Linda.

  I nervously dialed her number.

  “Linda, I just got home. Are you all right? Why aren’t you at the hospital?”

  “I think I’m okay now, well sort of, and I tried to call Wolfgang, but he hasn’t called back.”

  “Call an ambulance-right now-or I will.”

  “No, Gwyn, don’t. Please, you come and take me there. I’m only a little dizzy now. I don’t want an ambulance in the driveway flashing its lights. I don’t want to explain to the neighbors, okay? I swear. I’m not that bad.”

  “I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t hang up.”

  I drove with reckless speed, hoping Linda was telling the truth, that she wasn’t hurt badly. But how can you fall down a flight of stairs and judge that for yourself? And who the hell cared what the neighbors thought?

  I rushed through the front door calling her name. She was laid out on the couch, eyes shut, and for a second I wasn’t sure if she was conscious. Then she turned her head and tried to smile.

  “God, Linda, don’t scare me like this.” I knelt beside her. “You look awful. Is anything broken? How’s your head?”

  “I don’t know. I tried to get up and I felt nauseous, a little dizzy.”

  “Let me call an ambulance. This is ridiculous.”

  “No, don’t. I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

  Slowly, Linda tried to rise, easing her legs off the couch and gradually coming to a sitting position. “Whew-okay. One second, then we’ll try it.”

  “Linda, this is really stupid. What if you faint and I drop you? It’s a long way to the Jeep.”

  “No, we’re going to do this.”

  I helped her up, supporting her under the arms as she attempted to come to her feet. Holding her tightly across the back and shoulders, I felt her legs shake from the effort to take her own weight.

  “Are you
sure you’re okay? You’re not going to pass out?”

  “No. I’m okay.”

  We carefully made our way out the front door and down the concrete walk to the driveway. Still holding Linda tightly, I struggled to open the car door. Finally, I managed to unlatch it and push it open with my knee. I stopped to take a breath, knowing this was one of the dumbest things I’d ever let Linda talk me into. “Okay, can you get in the car?”

  “Wait,” she said, and I could almost see the nausea roll over her deathly white face.

  “God, Linda. What are we doing?”

  She lifted one foot onto the floor of the Jeep, then reached up for the seat. Lifting and pushing, I shoved her inside, then fastened her seat belt.

  I scrambled to the driver’s side, jammed the Jeep into reverse and backed onto the road. Linda groaned, then coughed, her head listing toward the window. I watched from the corner of my eye, experiencing a wave of panic so strong I felt close to passing out myself.

  I barely remember the drive to the hospital, but the look on my face must have been something because two orderlies rushed out to help me get Linda into the emergency room.

  The doctor, a silver-haired gentleman with a dimple in his chin, seemed to take it all in stride. I watched as he went about his preliminary examination of Linda.

  “She wouldn’t let me call an ambulance,” I added quietly as the doctor held her chin up and shined a small beamed instrument into her eye.

  “And do you always do what your sister says?” he asked, never taking his eyes off his patient, who appeared too sick to say a word.

  I stood there, shamefaced and silent, knowing he’d assessed the situation exactly.

  “We’ll need to keep her overnight for observation,” he said. “She has a concussion. That’s the most serious issue, and some contusions, scrapes. We’ll check her out thoroughly for any internal problems. Do you know how this happened?”

  “She fell down the basement stairs. I don’t know the details. She called me and-”

  “I tripped,” Linda breathed softly.

  “That’s okay,” said the doctor. “Don’t talk if it’s difficult for you.” He turned to me. “We’ll get her into a room as soon as we finish here and receive the results of the tests. You can take a seat outside now and we’ll call you when she’s settled in.” He smiled briefly.