Her Last Letter (3 page)

“Yes, and I miss you too, but I can’t right now. I have a couple things I have to do.”

“But you’ll stop by soon?”

“Yes, as soon as I can.”

I hung up the phone and reached into the box I’d brought from the old house. I opened one of the journals and began to read. I could tell by the large cursive writing that Kelly hadn’t been very old when she’d penned this one.

Nicole sat next to Jennifer today. I think she likes Jennifer better than she likes me, but she said she didn’t. She told me I was her best friend at recess yesterday. I gave her a dirty look when she tried to talk to me when the bell rang. I wonder if they were talking about me? I hate the clothes Mom made me wear today and those old crummy shoes. Maybe if I lose them Mom will get me a new pair, but probably she’ll make me wear those icky loafers instead. I’m not going to talk to Nicole the rest of the day. I don’t like Jennifer. I don’t know why Nicole likes her. Oh well.

I finished the notebook and opened another, picturing my sister at that age, her hair short and boyish, always in need of combing. Her chestnut hair had been silky though, and as Kelly grew older, her hair was one of her most attractive features. When she wore it long or piled it up on her head, there was no doubt she was the best looking of us three girls.

I flipped through the pages, reading a paragraph here, another there. Nothing in these journals was going to help me very much. All appeared to have been written when Kelly was still in elementary school.

But there had been several boxes of notebooks tucked away in Kelly’s closet. The pages Linda and I briefly scanned during the cleanup after Kelly’s death appeared semi-recent, bits and pieces of half-finished stories and ideas for more. Neither of us had read very much of it though, not even a tenth of what was there. It was too depressing, and felt too personal.

When I stopped by Linda’s house the next day, her three-car garage was open. Fortunately, Wolfgang’s commercial van with the company logo on the side was nowhere to be seen. Linda’s Audi was there though, and their Subaru. I stared for a moment at the giant gingerbread house before exiting my Jeep. The idea to build this garishly overdone home could only have been Wolfgang’s. My best guess was that he’d been trying to recreate Victorian architecture, but it was an insult to the form, a crazy blend of styles I could only guess at. Though the house embraced the lacy ornamented detail of Victorian architecture, plus the towers and turrets often seen, two large Greek columns flanked the front door of the partly white, partly beige stucco exterior. Traces of Colonial, Gothic, even Modern were present. Wolfgang was a builder, not a designer. That was certain.

I walked through the garage and knocked loudly, then yelled out, “Linda, it’s me.” After a while, I heard footsteps approaching.

“Gwyn?” Linda asked before opening the door.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Wow,” she said, pulling the door wide. “I almost didn’t answer. Look at me.”

I stared, amused, at my sister’s purple head, the hair dye a slippery mess above her ears. “Guess my timing isn’t the greatest.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m still glad you’re here.” She tightened the towel she wore around her neck. “It’s almost time to rinse it out. I gave myself an emergency fix. You can tell me if I look awful or not.”

Linda parked me in the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee and some strudel she’d warmed in the microwave. “I’ll only be a minute,” she called back as she trotted down the hall and out of sight.

I nodded and busied myself with the strudel.

She was back a few minutes later, the towel now wrapped around her head. “It’s so good to
see
you,” she said, her voice rising high like a child’s as she seated herself across the table from me. “We’re terrible. We’re all we’ve got and we don’t get together enough. So what was it you wanted to talk about yesterday? I wish you would have come over. We would’ve had fun. Wolfgang certainly wasn’t much company.”

“I had stuff to do. But I’m here now.”

“We could have talked. What difference did it make that Wolfgang was there?”

“I just wasn’t comfortable with him listening in.”

Linda laughed. “He’s not interested in our conversations, believe me. He was in and out of the hot tub the whole time anyway. I don’t know why you let him bother you.”

“Can we drop it, please?”

She frowned, stopping her coffee cup in midair. “Sure, we can drop it. What’s with you?”

“Nothing.”

She gazed at me, then resumed drinking her coffee.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I have a headache.”

She nodded, but wouldn’t look at me.

I bit into the strudel. “This really tastes good. Where’d you get it?”

“In town. Wolfgang picked it up on his way home yesterday.” She chewed her lower lip, still avoiding eye contact.

“So how’s the redecorating project coming along?” I asked.

“It’s coming.”

“No, really, Linda. Tell me. I’m sorry, okay. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

She sighed loudly. “Like I said, it’s coming. But the whole thing’s a real pain in the ass. Just try to do anything your way when your husband’s a builder.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing huge. He just doesn’t care about any of it. I show him color swatches and everything, but I know he’s not paying attention. Then the paint comes out wrong and he just laughs and tells me his guys will redo it. I don’t want them to redo it. I want it done right the first time. It’s totally frustrating.”

I nodded.

“I wanted the new bathroom painted a light airy blue-green,” she said, “like you’re in a meadow or something. Instead I get this murky swamp color. I almost cried. And don’t say it. I know I could have hired a decorator for this, but I only wanted a few simple changes. Unfortunately, it’s never that easy.”

“Is it fixed now? Do you want to show me?”

“No, everything’s a mess up there, tarps and paint cans everywhere. I’d rather show you when it’s done. But enough about my stuff. How are things with you? How’s Trevor?”

“Good. I’m doing a new exhibition in a few weeks, and Trevor’s hot on some condo thing, a big project.”

“A new exhibition? Did you tell me about this one?”

“No, I don’t think so. It will be my biggest show to date. I’ll be the only artist there. I guess they plan to feature one new artist each month. I’ll be the first. I’m mentioned in their advertising too. Hopefully, this means I’ll sell something.”

“Of course you’ll sell something. Artists don’t get written up in the paper for no reason at all.”

“It was a local paper.”

“So what? You’re incredibly talented. I wish I had even a little of your gift. So where’s the exhibit going to be?”

“Denver, a new mall, Vista Meadows, real upscale so I’ve heard. I’ll go down there a day early and check it out. Do you want to go with me?”

“How long will you be there?”

“A couple days. It’s over the weekend.”

Linda pursed her lips. “No, I’d better not. I need to be here to supervise things.” She rolled her wrist between her fingers, then winced in pain.

“What?”

“Oh, I was trying to lift a chair by myself and hurt my wrist. I’m an idiot.”

“Did you sprain it?”

“No, I don’t think so, maybe a little. It’s nothing.” She rose from her chair and walked to the coffeepot. “I’m just glad it wasn’t my tennis arm. Then I would be pissed.”

“How’s that going?”

“The league? Pretty good, we’re moving up in the rankings. My backhand’s improving. Wolfgang thinks so anyway. It’s just hard to get over to the club and practice with all these workmen running in and out needing my approval, but I do. I have to work out just to preserve my sanity.” She gave me a look, refilling my cup. “Is … everything else okay?”

The
everything else
she was referring to was my depression and subsequent need for therapy.

“I stopped seeing Janet two months ago. Her idea. I’m doing lots better. I still have my moments, but they aren’t as bad.”

She stared at me for an instant, then smiled. “Good, I’m really glad to hear that.” She took another sip of coffee, then reached her free hand up and touched the towel on her head. “Are you in a hurry? Can you wait a couple minutes for me to blow dry my hair and see how this all came out? I won’t be long.”

“Sure, as long as I can have this last piece of strudel.”

“Please-enjoy. At least it won’t end up on your hips like it would on mine. God help me if I ever stop working out. Wolfgang would leave me.” She disappeared back down the hall.

I brought the strudel to my mouth and took a bite. If anything, Linda was getting too thin. She’d never been overweight really, but she did have a softer, more feminine look before Wolfgang came along. Now, her collarbones protruded and her face was much thinner. Despite the changes, she was still a beautiful woman, but she definitely didn’t need to lose any more weight. It wouldn’t do any good to mention this though. Linda would turn herself inside out if she thought it would please Wolfgang. Her love for him bordered on obsession. I would have to approach the subject of Kelly’s letter very carefully or Linda would throw open the gates of hell and let the demon’s fly.

“Ta-Da,” she said with a flourish of her arms, a smile lighting up her face. “Do you like?”

I couldn’t see a big difference, same blonde chin-length curls, but I hadn’t seen her for over a month. “Oh, it’s very pretty, very nice. I like the color.”

“Yes, thank God. I was worried. I couldn’t get an appointment with Audrey until tomorrow and I just had to do something about my roots. It’s like they grew an inch in a day.” Linda sat down, began tapping her nails on the table, then frowned. “I know this might sound a little weird, bringing this up now, but I was wondering, when exactly were you planning to get pregnant? I know you said you weren’t going to try right away, but how long were you planning to wait? Have you and Trevor talked about it at all?”

“Sure, we’ve talked about it, though not in a while. Did something happen? Why are you asking?”

“Nothing happened. I’ve just been thinking about it lately. And well, you are thirty-four and I’m thirty-two and it just seems like we should be thinking seriously about it if we really want children. I mean, what if we wait too long and can’t have them?”

“Are you pregnant?”

“No,” she said, throwing her head back with a laugh. “No, of course not.” But her smile faded and she began tapping her nails again. “The truth is, I’m not sure I want children. My life is so full. I just don’t know.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve got to decide tomorrow. But I don’t understand. You’ve always said that you did. I’ve put off thinking about it because, well, we’ve only been married a year and the way I’ve been since-”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“Does Wolfgang want children?”

“Oh, I’m sure he does. Not right away, but in the future. A boy probably, you know, someone to carry on the Lehman name. Lehman and Son’s Construction. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” She frowned, crinkling her brow. “Sorry I brought this up. It just popped into my head. Brain damage from the hair dye probably.” She glanced at the kitchen clock.

I took the hint. “I guess I should get going.”

“No hurry,” she said, but rose from her chair and took our cups and plates and stacked them in the sink.

“I need to ask you something before I go,” I said, “though I probably already know the answer.”

“What?”

“Have you been over to the house recently?”

“No, why?”

“I was over there taking a look around and thought things were out of place since I was there last. The ashtray next to Dad’s chair was turned around, facing in the wrong direction. There’s no way it could have gotten that way on its own. And I was down in the cellar and noticed that the boxes with Kelly’s journals seem to be missing too. The one box I did find was almost empty, and I don’t think any of them were like that before. Any chance you moved them?”

“No, I haven’t been over there. I certainly wouldn’t go down in that creepy old cellar anyway. Maybe someone broke in.”

“No, I don’t think so. I just thought-”

“We need to sell the house, Gwyn. You have to stop living so much in the past for God’s sake … reading her journals, wandering around over there. It’s not good for you and you know it. I doubt that you tell your therapist even half of what you do. I know you’d rather not hear this, but it’s true. We’re asking for trouble leaving the house empty like that. And it’s dangerous, you hanging out there all the time. Who knows when that Craig creep might come back?”

“I can’t get rid of the house, Linda. I can’t. Maybe someday. But don’t make me decide now. I just can’t do it.”

“I don’t know why I even bring it up. Well, actually, you brought it up.” She shook her head. “Stop going over to the house. It worries me. Or stop telling me about it.”

“Okay.”

“I didn’t mean that. Just don’t go over there. At least not alone.”

“Guess who I saw?”

It was Caroline on the phone, her voice mischievous and playful.

“I don’t know. Who?” I asked.

“I said you had to guess.”

“Okay. The Great Pumpkin.”

“No-o-o.”

“Witch Hazel.”

“Oh, come on, Gwyn, you’re not even trying. You’ll never guess.”

“Well, if I’ll never guess, why should I try? Okay, give me a second. I see. I see … a celebrity. Brad Pitt.”

“Not exactly, but just as cute. I saw Josh.”

“You saw Josh? Where?”

“In Aspen. I was over there yesterday hanging out with this guy I know. I guess there’s an art fair going on, and Josh is in town checking it out.”

“I know the fair you mean. I thought about going down there myself if I didn’t have so much work to finish. Did you talk to him?”

“Yeah, for a while. I ran into him on the street. He asked about you,” Caroline said slyly. “Said he might give you a call.”

“But he can’t. Our phone’s unlisted. But you probably gave him the number.”

“Well, he asked for it. It’s not like he hasn’t known you for most of your life. He would have got it anyway. Besides, I know you would have wanted me to give it to him.”