One Last Letter

by Pema Donyo

  “Well, I did, but by then no one was in there. The hotel clerk was gone, and I waited for a while but no one came. I gave up and figured she’d be back out here in the town.”

  “That’s all?”

  “What else could I have done?”

  “You check every room in that hotel,” Jesse muttered.

  “Doesn’t make any sense to me. She’s probably out here in this town.”

  Jesse’s right hand twitched, as if resisting the urge to clench into a fist and deal a blow. Her eyes widened when she noticed and quickly set her hands on his folded arms. “We will all just look at this situation without being hasty.” She turned to Preston. “If you think she is here in the town, where might she be? Did she have any reason for choosing Harleigh?”

  “Said she wanted to buy some things from the general store, but I already checked that place.”

  “We’re never going to find her here.” Jesse rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes scanned the maze of stores of the town with a dismissive eye. “Lord knows she could be anywhere by now.”

  Preston’s eyes lit up. “Lord knows.” He kept repeating the phrase over and over, like a strange prayer of some sort. “Lord knows, that’s it! The Lord knows!”

  Evelyn bent her head toward Preston’s, eyebrows raised. “The Lord knows what?”

  Preston Dean grinned. “I think I know where she is.”

  • • •

  Jesse watched his sister for a few seconds, kneeling at the altar of the church. Her fingers were laced tightly together, and her elbows rested on the wooden pedestal in front of her. His sister’s hair fell in two long plaits down her white summer dress. Her closed eyes and wavy blond tendrils framing her face made her appear nearly angelic. She looked as innocent as a young girl in a small Texan town could ever be.

  He knew otherwise.

  “Loretta Greenwood, you are in trouble.”

  Her eyes snapped open. She stood up in a flash, her hands unclasped and all thoughts of prayer forgotten. “How did you find me?” Her lower lip quivered.

  “Preston told us. Evelyn’s waiting with him outside.” Jesse jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “He told us you might be here.”

  “Evelyn? How did she find out?” Loretta turned her eyes downward. “Not that it matters. She understands I love Preston. Unlike you.”

  He sighed. “No, I didn’t understand. But I do know that this is never going to happen again.”

  She gulped. With the backs of her hands, she swiped away the tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. “You must think me some great fool. He didn’t even want to elope. Said it would ruin me and you’d die of the worry—”

  “I nearly did.” He furrowed his brow. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, Loretta.”

  “This is the place, isn’t it?” A sob wracked her chest. Loretta gestured to the pews and the main aisle of the Harleigh church. “This is where I am going to be married.”

  “Yes, yes, it is.” He walked toward his sister and pointed to the altar. “This is where the preacher will stand as the wedding takes place. Then outside . . .” His index finger moved from the front of the church to the back door. “Outside is where the supper will be afterward, and everyone from the ranch is invited.”

  Her eyes remained downcast. “Even Preston?”

  Jesse cleared his throat. “Oh, I should reckon so. The wedding can’t happen without him.”

  “What?”

  He looked up at the rafters in a nonchalant manner. “Last time I checked, a wedding can’t happen without the groom.” He glanced back at Loretta, who grinned from ear to ear.

  “You don’t say! Oh, you don’t say!” Loretta ran up to him and threw her arms around her older brother. He stiffened at first, then patted her back. When she pulled away, the sides of her eyes were still moist. He was afraid she’d burst out crying again. “I can finally marry Preston?”

  “I shouldn’t have stopped you in the first place. Clearly, if you’re willing to risk your reputation to run away and to elope with him . . .” His voice trailed off as a sudden memory entered his mind. He swallowed hard. “Then clearly this is beyond my interference. You marry who you want, Loretta.”

  “Oh thank you! Thank you, thank you!” Loretta jumped up and down with childlike enthusiasm. He smiled in spite of himself. She turned to the door in a hesitant way, as if checking for affirmation from her brother again.

  “Go on,” he encouraged.

  She didn’t need to be told twice. He watched her run toward the door, throw open the entrance, and squeal as she jumped into Preston’s waiting arms. Preston twirled her around the end of the church aisle, then grabbed her hand and guided her away from the church. Their voices drifted off as he heard them talk animatedly about future plans and living arrangements.

  Once Preston and Loretta had passed from the door, he watched Evelyn walk up the length of the aisle. He still stood at the altar, rooted in place, as his gaze locked with hers. Even though she stood at the end of the pews, he could hear her approval.

  “Loretta’s beyond my control at this point.” He started to walk forward, mimicking her motion as the two of them strolled toward the center of the aisle.

  “No regrets?” His heart skipped as Evelyn’s smile broke into a grin.

  “None.”

  “You made the right choice. Loretta will be happy with Preston.” Her green eyes sparkled at her small victory. “You listened to me, after all.”

  “Wouldn’t have a lick of difference. No matter what I say to her, my sister has a will of her own.”

  “Still. Preston would not have agreed to marry her without your approval.”

  “True. At least one of them has some sense.”

  “She is too young for proper sense, Jesse. Give her time.” She had nearly reached him now, just a few feet away. “You were her age once.”

  “Didn’t have much sense then, did I?”

  Evelyn laughed, and the sound sent a thrill up his spine. He was surprised to discover he would still do anything to hear her laugh again. “Neither of us did.”

  “I seem to remember possessing more sense than you.”

  “That’s strange. Reckon it was the other way around. I might need proof.”

  “I can refresh your memory, if you would prefer.” Her teasing smile made his stomach tighten.

  He and Evelyn stood less than a foot apart. Her honeysuckle scent permeated the air between them, the familiarity nearly overwhelming him with its sinister sweetness. Silence fell between the both of them.

  She lifted her hand to grasp his.

  “Evelyn!”

  Her hand dropped from his.

  The call hadn’t come from Jesse. It came from the end of the aisle.

  She spun around. She dropped his hand and pressed both of her arms against her sides. His palm still tingled where she’d touched him.

  He watched John Cooper stride up the aisle. Glide was a better description. His coat looked more like a cape, and his shoes created a clipping sound against the wooden floorboards. The paleness of his cheeks made Jesse wonder if the judge’s son had ever spent a day outdoors doing physical labor. He doubted John Cooper ever would.

  He gritted his teeth when John stopped at Evelyn’s side. He slipped his hand into hers—freely, openly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She flinched at first, but she didn’t pull away.

  The sight made Jesse want to vomit.

  “Evelyn, you have not introduced me to all your friends.” John stuck out his free hand. “I am John Cooper, the judge’s son.”

  He stared at the hand instead. Even John’s palm was white as a ghost’s, contrasting Jesse’s own deep tan from days under the sun.

  John looked down at his lonely, outstretched gesture, then tucked his hand away into his pocket as if he’d never offered it. “Well.” John tried to meet Evelyn’s eyes, but hers were averted to the floor. “Pleasure to meet you, Mister . . .”

  “Greenwood. Jesse Gree
nwood.” He inclined his head toward John. “I’m one of the ranch hands at Breighton.”

  “He has truly helped the ranch to recover again,” Evelyn added. Any small surge of pride Jesse had felt at her compliment was quickly squashed when John squeezed Evelyn’s hand.

  “Of course. Anyone helps my sweetheart is a friend of mine.” John flashed him that white-toothed grin he hated so much.

  Sweetheart?

  Jesse didn’t realize he’d asked the question out loud until John answered. “She has given me permission to court her, Mr. Greenwood.” John gave her a look as adoring as it was horrifying. “My persistence seems to have paid off. She is the only one I have wanted to marry since I laid my eyes on her.”

  “John, stop.” Evelyn’s voice had an edge to it.

  “Why, I can show you off if I like. I do not deserve you, and I do not care who knows it.”

  The only thing Jesse deserved was to wake up from the terrible dream. But Evelyn wasn’t protesting. She just tensed her shoulders at John’s words. Probably because she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. She grabbed men’s hands out of friendship. The near-kiss had only existed in his imagination.

  What wasn’t confined to his imagination, though, was John Cooper turning away from Jesse with Evelyn’s arm looped around his. She looked over her shoulder as she moved down the aisle with John. Her expression seemed to be apologizing.

  Jesse swallowed hard. To think he’d actually believed she cared for him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Is there something wrong?”

  Yes. Yes, everything was wrong. Nothing was right. The man whom she thought she loved had let her walk away despite her repeated attempts to hold his hand and talk to him.

  The man who did love her and wrote her letters of affection blinked back at her from across the restaurant table. She refocused her vision on John and smiled. “Yes, yes, of course everything is simply fine.” As if the action could disguise her lie, she brushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “I was just thinking about the ranch. Nothing else.”

  John’s eyes clouded over with understanding. Or, as much as a man who’d spent his entire life indoors and out of business could wrap his mind around worrying about a ranch. “I understand the farm is doing much better. How is your father, by the way? Is he still ill?”

  “He seems to be doing better now, thank you,” she replied for the fifteenth time.

  “That is wonderful news.”

  She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I told you so yesterday.” And you said the same response yesterday as well.

  “Yes, well, his status could have changed. He could have taken a turn for the worse.” John patted his hand on hers.

  She drew her hand away. The same way Jesse had recoiled from her touch when she’d tried to hold his hand the first time.

  John waved his hand, dismissing the topic. “Did you know San Francisco uses a cable car now? Imagine! Just think of a cable car in every city.”

  Evelyn couldn’t have cared less about cable cars, or about anything John Cooper ever had to say. There was such a contrast between him and Jesse. While she and Jesse could settle into comfortable silences, John seemed to hurry to fill all the quiet moments with conversation, as if talking about rubbish would deepen their relationship.

  She ignored the slight ache in her chest when she thought of Jesse. He’d been ignoring her again ever since he’d talked to John in the church. He didn’t even go out of his way to avoid her, like he had before. This time it was just polite hellos and good evenings, which was even worse.

  She found herself drifting out of the conversation. By the time she realized John was still speaking, she had no idea where his turn of conversation had come from.

  “When we are married and live at my house, of course, we should have a telegraph in the parlor . . .”

  Marriage?

  Evelyn managed a tight smile, her endurance flagging. “You have put a lot of thought into these plans. But surely it is too early in our courtship to talk of our married life.”

  John leaned forward so much that she was afraid he would knock over his bowl and spill his mutton stew all over the table. “When can we talk about it, Evelyn?”

  She grabbed her glass of water and took a long sip from it, as if gulping would give the answer to his question. The idea of marrying John filled her heart with unease. Why was he so insistent?

  “Surely you must understand how I care for you. You plan to live the remainder of your life alone and die all by yourself with no one else around you?”

  Goodness, she had never considered being single that way. She set down the glass. “Someday, I suppose I will—”

  He clapped his hands together as if the matter were already settled. “Then I will do everything within my power to convince you of marriage as soon as possible. You will love married life.”

  Her shoulders sagged. His optimism made her want to agree with him. She struggled to find solace in the idea of a future with John. He did love her, after all. He’d sent the letters. She turned toward him. “I miss the letters. You have stopped sending them.”

  He coughed. “Why would I? They no longer appear necessary now, my dear.”

  She shot him a quizzical expression. He shifted in his seat. Why did John look so uncomfortable all of a sudden?

  “Those letters were to help me get close to you, dearest Evelyn.” John placed a hand over his heart. “I was expressing my honest feelings for you.”

  She wished he would stop giving her endearments. “But surely you could leave another letter again, even if we are courting formally.”

  “Is there another man?”

  She blinked. An image of Jesse flashed through her mind. “What?”

  “There is another man, is there not? Another man you prefer over me?”

  “I . . . I do not know what you are talking about.”

  “I am handsome, brave, and wealthy. But that seems to not be enough for you. You seem to want me to prove my feelings for you further. Am I competing against someone?” John lifted a brow. He clasped his hands over his bowl, elbows propped up on the table.

  She remained silent, and he sighed. “Has he asked to court you as well?”

  “No, no, he has not.” Her mouth felt dry. “I was under the delusion that he cared for me, but I do not think so anymore.”

  He clucked his tongue. “This gentleman is missing out on a wonderful woman. Did he ever express his feelings for you?”

  “Once. A long time ago.” Memories of a brown-haired cowboy drifted to the top of her mind.

  “Does he still feel the same way?”

  “No, he does not.”

  John placed his palms on the table and sighed again, as if the world was a great mystery to him and he couldn’t be bothered with it. “I am deeply humbled that he would forsake such a beautiful treasure for me, a simple man.”

  Evelyn nearly rolled her eyes again at his theatrics. “No one is competing with you.”

  “How he ever gave up on you, I shall never understand.”

  She bit her lower lip. Had Jesse given up on her? He had never shown romantic interest in her, really. He’d never kissed her, never reached to hold her hand . . . never wrote the letters.

  The letters were what she missed above all. Even if the notes did not come from him, the words were so genuine and touching. There were no theatrics or polish. It was odd, really, that John’s written words were so wonderful and simple, yet his spoken words seemed meaningless and empty.

  No one loved her as much as the author of the letters. Evelyn tried to shake off the unsettling feeling in her chest. She had to face the facts—John Cooper had written the letters, and not Jesse Greenwood.

  John lifted his glass. “May I propose a toast?”

  “To what?”

  He eyes softened. “To the beginning of our relationship.”

  She always imagined when she’d finally heard those words, she’d feel a sense of joy and excitement. But
John’s words only made her wish she was back at Breighton instead of sitting in the restaurant with him. Evelyn snapped out of her reverie when she felt John’s hand cover hers again. There was no comfort in the gesture, like when she’d held hands with Jesse in the church.

  There was only a dull weight over her palm, and a sinking feeling in her heart.

  • • •

  Jesse ran through the list one more time with the general store manager, checking to make sure everything had been ordered for the wedding. He didn’t understand why she couldn’t send one of her friends down to the store instead, but Loretta had insisted she trusted only him to make sure everything on the list was taken care of.

  He figured she’d probably done so partly out of guilt, since he was paying for all the items. She’d assured him before he left that if there was anything on the list that was too expensive, he did not have to place the order. After checking the purchases twice, he folded the list into his pocket. She still didn’t seem to register that money wasn’t an obstacle anymore.

  As he walked away, the general store owner called after him that the items would be ready to pick up a day before the wedding. Jesse thanked him, and opened the doors of the store—bumping into a woman passing along the street. Her packages fell, tumbling to the floorboards with a clatter. Guilt wracked his chest. He kneeled down to help her.

  “Oh, it’s quite all right, I’ll be just fine . . .” The woman’s voice trailed off, and her hands stilled over one of the packages.

  Jesse looked up at the familiar redhead. He inclined the tall crown of his hat toward her. “Hello, Annie.”

  Annie Inglewood looked like she’d just seen a ghost. He’d never really known her growing up; he only knew her as Evelyn’s friend now. The few times he had seen her growing up, she’d never looked this surprised. Her jaw dropped, and her blue eyes bored straight into his. He placed the last package into her hands, but her limp arm barely held it as she continued to stare.

  He stood, and she did the same. Suddenly she didn’t look so shocked anymore. Her chapped lips curved into a smile, and she seemed to be blinking faster than normal.

  “Is there something in your eye?” He pointed to her eye but dropped his hand when the blinking stopped.