Lost and Found: (A Ripple Effect Romance Novella)

by Karey White

  The thing that kept him quiet was the knowledge that his grandpa had loved him. He’d sent Blake to find this box because he had thought it would teach him something. He couldn’t ignore it, even if it made him uncomfortable. What he’d do with it, he wasn’t sure.

  Blake looked at Lydia. She was leaning over the letters, carefully putting the ones they’d read back in the box. Her strawberry blond hair fell in front of her face, and she tucked it behind her ear. Blake resisted the urge to pull her close to him, to touch her face, to hold her hand. She probably wouldn’t want him to. She was reading these letters and seeing what Elliott had done to his relationship. She knew Blake was like his grandfather, that he’d made the same mistakes as Elliott. He had put work before family. He’d let his job keep him from this message from his grandfather. Blake felt a strange sadness that this thing that had started with Lydia, whatever it was, was probably over before it had even begun.

  Blake was visibly upset, and Lydia didn’t know what to do about it. She couldn’t gloss it over. These letters were a message from his grandfather, a lesson he’d felt was important enough to send Blake across the country. To tell him it was no big deal and everything was fine would be to undermine his grandfather, and she wouldn’t do that.

  “Do you want to read now or would you like me to keep going?” she asked quietly.

  “Could you?” he asked.

  “Yes. The next two are from Gladys’s to Elliott. Do you want me to read them in order or just finish his?”

  “Let’s finish them all.”

  “Okay. Gladys wrote this to Elliott on January 22, 1948.”

  Dear Elliott,

  I know how disappointed you are, and I hate being the cause, but I’m just so torn. I love you so much and can’t picture my life with anyone but you, but I also can’t picture my life living so far from my family and being married to someone who’s never home.

  I know it’s hard for you to understand. You’re a man, and you had no trouble picking up your life and moving to a faraway city, but you’ve got your job. You’re at work every day doing important things like saving people’s lives. The month I was there was the loneliest month of my life. I think I missed you even more while I was there than I had when I was here in Charlotte. At least when I was here, there was a reason to miss you. There, it felt like I should see you more than just a few scattered hours here and there.

  Maybe I’m just immature and childish. Maybe you were right when you called me spoiled and selfish, but I can’t help how I feel. I was terribly hurt when you’d take extra shifts when you could have been with me. Over and over, Eloise called me to the phone so you could tell me you wouldn’t be coming by because you’d picked up another shift. I just kept thinking the people you were working for were going home and you weren’t. It wasn’t what I expected when I came to Denver, and I was miserable.

  I love you, Elliott Knowles, and I know you love me. I just don’t know if I want to live with the kind of love you want to give me. I don’t know if I want to have children whose father is gone when they get up and doesn’t come home until long after they’re in bed. It hurts me to say these things to you. I’m sorry.

  Gladys

  Blake’s face looked pained. Lydia wanted to be done with it, but she didn’t want to leave him to finish alone, so she hurried to the next one.“This one is also from Gladys. She wrote it on April 24, 1948.”

  Dear Elliott,

  I don’t know how to tell you this without it breaking your heart, but I’ve met someone. It’s still pretty new, and I don’t know where it will lead, but I don’t want to keep secrets from you. He’s not as handsome as you, although he is pleasant enough, and he’ll never be as successful as you will be. I know if I marry him, I’ll be giving up many of the things you wanted to give me, but I think I’m fine with that. He works at an insurance company. It isn’t fancy work, but he leaves it behind at the end of the day and is home every night before six. It’s a stable job, and a family with him would be more like my family was, more like the family I’ve always wanted.

  My heart breaks when I think of you. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I did when we were together. You’ll probably say I’m settling for less than I should, and maybe I am, but I feel comfortable and peaceful, and I’m not lonely.

  I do hope you’re well. You’re in my thoughts every day.

  I’m sorry, Elliott.

  Gladys.

  “Just two left. This one is from Elliott. June 19, 1948.”

  Dear Gladys,

  I haven’t heard from you for a while, so I decided to give myself a birthday present and call you on June 17. Your mother said you were on your honeymoon.

  I don’t know what to say. I didn’t know things had progressed to that point. I know it has been a long time since I’ve heard from you, but I still had hopes that eventually you’d come back to Denver. I still pictured a happily ever after for us, but I guess that’s not to be.

  I still don’t understand why you didn’t want what I had to offer, but I’ll do my best to accept things as they are. I don’t know if I’ll ever love someone the way I love you. I fear I’ll love you and miss you every day of my life.

  Be happy and have a good life.

  Elliott

  “This is the last letter,” Lydia said. “It’s from Gladys. It’s dated July 9, 1948.”

  Dear Elliott,

  Mother didn’t tell me you called on your birthday until after I received your last letter. I’m sorry you found out I was married that way. That was very unkind of me. I just didn’t know how to tell you.

  Elliott, please try to understand. I wanted to be someone’s world, and I think your world is your hospital.

  I hope you find someone wonderful and that you have a happy life. I pray you don’t hate me.

  Gladys

  Lydia folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. Blake’s eyes were closed, his head propped up on pillows against the headboard, and his fingers laced across his stomach. She’d thought he was attractive when she’d first met him at the airport, but tonight he looked even better. He still looked like a movie-star, but there was more to him now. His long legs stretched the length of the bed. If she reached out her hand, she could touch them. He had good hands, long and lean, but strong. They’d encouraged her on their sky dive, they’d comforted her after they left Shady Days.

  Right now there was no dimple. Worry lines etched his forehead. Lydia wished she could wipe them away. Tonight hadn’t been easy for him. The message from his grandfather, a man he loved and admired, was pretty clear, and it cast a shadow over Blake and his entire life. That had to have been hard to hear. She wanted to offer him comfort but there wasn’t much she could say. She could only hope these letters would help Blake avoid the heartbreak his grandfather had endured.

  Lydia moved to the end of the bed, careful not to bounce the mattress. “I’m not asleep,” Blake said, opening his eyes. “Just thinking.”

  Lydia looked at him, and his eyes held hers. An ache started deep inside her and wrapped itself around her heart. Maybe he felt it too, or maybe they were just too tired to drag their eyes somewhere else, but even though the look lasted longer than should have been comfortable, neither of them looked away.

  “Are you okay?” Lydia whispered.

  Blake gave a small nod. “Not a very happy ending.”

  “It’s heartbreaking,” she said. Blake’s eyes moved to her lips. Only then did Lydia look down at her hands, color rising in her cheeks.

  “Come on. I’ll walk you to your room,” Blake said.

  Lydia struggled to keep her breathing steady as she followed Blake to the door. He grabbed his keycard and her purse off the dresser and held the door open above her head. She ducked under his arm, and the door swung shut behind them.

  Lydia pulled her keycard out of her bag, but instead of unlocking the door, she turned to Blake. “Do you think he regretted not going after her?”

  Blake shrugged and lean
ed a shoulder against the wall. “I don’t know. Maybe it was too late to change her mind. Even if he’d been willing to change.”

  “Are you glad you found the box, or do you wish you hadn’t?” She wanted him to feel okay about it. She’d suggested he stay. Maybe it would have been better if he’d boarded that plane and never found out about the doomed relationship between Elliott and Gladys. But that would have meant their time together wouldn’t have happened, and Lydia almost couldn’t bear that thought.

  Blake smiled. He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed against her cheek, sending shivers down her back. Then his hand traveled slowly to her shoulder and down her arm until he took her hand and held it in his. “It was hard to read, but I feel closer to Grandpa, and I understand him better.” His thumb moved over the back of her hand. She watched his face as he looked down at their hands. His strong jaw with a day’s scruff and the small scar on his chin. She noticed a tiny freckle on the side of his nose.

  And suddenly Lydia wanted more than to hold his hand. She wanted more time than tomorrow. She wished they could stay suspended here forever.

  “I’m not sorry at all,” Blake said, meeting her eyes. His gaze moved to her lips and Lydia thought he might kiss her, but then Blake squeezed her hand and let it go. He smiled back at her before they entered their separate rooms. “I’ll see you in the morning, Lydia.”

  Blake brushed his teeth slowly. He wanted to think about Lydia. She was charming and sweet and bashful. He wanted to picture her cute nose, scrunching up when she laughed. He wanted to think about their day and imagine kissing her goodnight instead of lamely saying he’d see her in the morning.

  The problem was that his mind kept getting trapped in his grandfather’s tragedy. He couldn’t stop thinking about the pain his grandfather had endured because of his relentless pursuit of his career. Even though part of him felt disloyal to the grandmother he’d never known, Blake couldn’t help feeling sad for Elliott and Gladys and the loss of their dreams. Had his grandfather been wrong? Maybe, but Blake understood his motivation, his drive to be successful. He loved the feeling that came with success, the rush when he handled a case successfully. He wanted to be free of financial worries.

  Blake opened his briefcase and took out the letter his grandfather had written to him. He probably should have read it with Lydia. She’d just lived through Elliott and Gladys’s entire doomed relationship, after all. But he worried the letter might hold too strong a reproach and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be scolded in front of her. He turned on the lamp and got into bed.

  The letter was three hand-written pages. After reading so many letters in his grandfather’s youthful hand, it was surprising to see the shaky lines of an elderly man. The letterhead said “Dr. Elliott Knowles” at the top. It was identical to the letterhead he’d used after Christmas all those years ago.

  Dear Blake,

  I hope since you’re reading this, that you’ve met Gladys and read the letters I sent her. I thought hearing the words of my thirty-year-old self would have more impact than the words of an old man saying “slow down” or “you work too much.”

  Before I go any further, it’s important that I tell you that I loved your grandmother with all my heart. She saved me. I was a broken, lonely man and somehow your grandmother put me back together. She gave me your father and you and your brother. She brought me laughter and joy and love. She was my world.

  But Gladys was my first great love. I met her in the fall of 1945. I was a resident at Boston Medical Center, and Gladys came to the emergency room with her roommate. They were students at Boston College and her roommate (I don’t remember her name) had cut her hand fixing dinner and needed stitches. I took care of her friend, but Gladys is the one that caught my eye.

  When I lost her, I thought I’d lost it all. For many years, I thought she’d destroyed me. It wasn’t until I was almost forty years old that I realized I’d destroyed myself. I spent years telling myself I was noble and good because I was so devoted to my work. But I wasn’t noble and good. I was selfish and arrogant. I told myself I wanted to be successful because of what it would let me do for those I loved, but when I looked at my heart, I knew I was doing it for me. Those I loved would have been perfectly happy even if I hadn’t become the Chief of Staff. Gladys married an insurance salesman who made less than half what I did, and she went on to have a happy life.

  Blake, your father wasn’t like me. He’s a successful man and a good provider, but he was never driven to work the way I was. Neither is Pete. They’ve both found balance in their lives. But you aren’t like them, my dear grandson. Sadly, you’re too much like me. I see you breaking your back, putting in ridiculous hours, missing important things, permanent things, all so you can be successful, so you can become a partner and make more money.

  Please stop. Let this old man teach you a lesson while you’re still young enough not to be ruined by the drive that almost ruined me. It doesn’t matter if you’re a partner. I know you think it does, but it doesn’t. You’re sacrificing permanent things—family, memories, peace—for temporary things—accolades, money, power. Those things don’t make you happy, Blake, and when you’re an old man, you’ll realize how empty they are.

  You’re on a path that leads to disappointment, and you’re running as fast as you can. If you keep going down that path, you’ll surely reach it.

  I hope when you meet Gladys, you’ll recognize what I gave up. I hope when you read my letters, you’ll see some of the pain I caused Gladys and myself. I was angry at her for a long time, but she did the right thing by leaving me. A good woman doesn’t want or deserve what I was trying to give. A good woman just wants a good man and a happy family.

  Be a good man, Blake. Find a good woman. Love her. Work to provide for your family, not for honors and accolades. The people telling you what you’re worth at your office would gladly rob you of the joy of pushing your child on a swing. The clients you devote your life to won’t make you soup when you’re sick and go grocery shopping with you. They won’t sleep beside you at night. Don’t live your life for the wrong people.

  And most of all, don’t confuse the worth of a career with the worth of relationships. Your career will never deserve more of you than the people you love who love you back. Don’t learn these lessons the hard way.

  I love you, Blake. It’s my family that made my life worth something.

  Love,

  Grandpa Knowles

  The letter sounded just like Grandpa. The words pierced Blake in his heart. He wiped his eyes and put it away. Grandpa had said he and Blake were the most alike. It was true. Blake had always looked up to him, had channeled his drive as he went through school and started at the firm. But after reading the letters tonight, Blake felt both honored and scared. Grandpa had been a good man, but his wisdom had taken time and had cost him plenty of heartache. He’d wasted many years and hurt people, including himself, before the wisdom came.

  Blake turned off the light, but he didn’t fall asleep. He thought of Lydia who slept on the other side of the wall. He’d only known her for two days, but it felt like so much longer. It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to be interested in a woman. He’d figured he’d do that after he made partner. But what if the right woman was here now?

  Blake felt sick inside. Even though he might be interested in Lydia, why would she give him a second thought? She’d just spent the last few hours reading letters that let her know exactly why she should turn and run from Blake. Gladys had showed Lydia what it took to find happiness. It took leaving.

  He wasn’t sure how to do it, but Blake wanted to make his grandpa proud of him. He wanted balance and peace, but he wasn’t sure how to create it. Tomorrow, he’d spend the day with Lydia, but what about Wednesday when Brynn and Mary Challis and David Austin and Pryce Van Wagoner and a dozen other people made their demands? Once he tore himself into chunks and gave everyone their piece, what would be left for anyone
else? Probably nothing worth having.

  He and Lydia had one more day. One more day for him to enjoy her smile and share a laugh. One more day for adventure. One more day before the real world charged in and took them hostage. Blake got up and opened his laptop. After a quick search, he wrote down an address and phone number. When he got back in bed, he was finally able to fall asleep.

  Shortly after eight the next morning, Blake was packing up his toiletries when he heard a soft knock on the door. “Good morning,” he said when he opened it to Lydia.

  “Oh good. You’re up. We got to bed so late, I didn’t want to bother you if you were still sleeping,” she said.

  “Funny. I thought the same thing. If you weren’t up, I was just going to bring you back a muffin and some juice.”

  “So you haven’t gone down to breakfast yet?” she asked, looking at his bare feet.

  “Not yet. Let me put on some shoes, and we can go down together.”

  Lydia stepped into his room and let the door close behind her, but didn’t come any farther inside.

  She looked beautiful today. Her hair hung in loose waves that grazed her collarbone, her green peasant dress fit perfectly. “Nice dress,” he said, his voice teasing.

  “So it’s okay if I wear this today?” she asked.

  “It’s certainly okay with me. But do you think you could wear those close-toed shoes you wore yesterday?”

  Lydia groaned. “Are you serious?”

  Blake laughed. “Yep. The dress is great, but we can’t wear sandals.”

  “What are we doing today?” Lydia looked suspicious, and Blake laughed.