Lost and Found: (A Ripple Effect Romance Novella) Page 6

  There was a small lavender and white striped box that said, “Griffin Shoe Wax.” Blake opened the lid and tipped its contents into his hand. It was a dried rose. It had probably been red at one time, but now it was a deep russet color. He put the rose back in the box and handed it to Lydia.

  Next, he brought out two black and white photographs. “Is that your grandpa?” Lydia asked, leaning in a little closer.

  “Yes.” Blake turned the first picture over.

  “Elliott Knowles and Gladys Renari. 1946,” Lydia read. They were standing, arms around each other, smiling in front of a sleek, two-door Studebaker. The second picture showed Blake’s grandpa in a graduation cap and gown, Gladys standing proudly beside him.

  “They look really happy,” Lydia said.

  The last thing Blake pulled out was a small fabric bag. Inside was a gold filigree ring with a single, small diamond in the center. Blake sighed and slid down in his seat. “What did he want me to have all this for?” he said, more to himself than to Lydia.

  “Maybe it’s in the letters.”

  Blake leaned his head back against the seat and rubbed his temples. “I’m tired.”

  Lydia turned sideways in her seat to face him. “It’s been a long day.” Blake was sitting so close she could see the little lines around his eyes. His dark hair brushed the top of his ears. She was surprised how much she wanted to touch it.

  “Hard to believe we jumped out of a plane this morning. It feels like that was a month ago,” he said turning his head toward her.

  “Plus your worries about work. And this.” She gestured toward the mementos spread out on the table. “No wonder you’re tired. Do you want me to drive?”

  “Do you mind?” he asked.

  “Not at all.” Lydia carefully put everything back in the box. As she put on the lid, Blake dug in his pocket and put a few bills on the table. He put out his hand and helped her out of the booth, then picked up the box and followed her out. Lydia wished her hand was still in his.

  “Look at that sky,” Lydia said when they walked out of the diner. Pink and orange clouds made ribbons that slashed the darkening blue sky. “It’s beautiful. Pink clouds at night, sailor’s delight. My dad used to say that. Not sure what the rest of it is.”

  “I guess tomorrow’s going to be a good day,” Blake said. He handed Lydia the car keys.

  “Can’t be much better than today. With the exception of the problems at your job,” she said.

  “And hopefully tomorrow I won’t have to worry about you committing a felony.”

  “I promise. I’ll be good.”

  “You’d better. Aren’t you supposed to set a good example for your students? Good citizenship, right?”

  “Right. I’ll tell them about skydiving, but I won’t tell them about Janet’s office.”

  The trees around them turned from green to black and stars appeared as they drove toward Charlotte. “Tell me about you,” Blake said. Lydia giggled. “I’m serious.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  He wanted to know everything, but saying that would probably scare her. “Whatever you want to tell me.”

  “Okay.” Lydia looked self-conscious. “I’ve lived in Colorado all my life. I have an older brother, Jace. I graduated from Colorado State, and this is my second year of teaching school. I live with my Grandpa. And I like to read. But you already know that.”

  “What makes you happy?”

  “That’s a Barbara Walters question. What makes you happy?”

  “You first.”

  “You just want me to sound corny.”

  “I’m sure I’ll sound corny, too,” Blake said.

  “Hmm. What makes me happy? A good book. Yellow flowers, especially tulips. Good music. I really like the old-fashioned stuff like Frank Sinatra and Johnny Mathis. Don’t laugh,” she said, laughing.

  “I’m not the one laughing.”

  “But I know you want to.”

  “No, I don’t. Keep going,” he said.

  “Cute notes from my students. And waterfalls. I have a thing for waterfalls. I love the way they sound and the mist on my face. Oh, and skydiving. That made me happy. Your turn. What makes you happy?”

  Blake thought for a moment. “Sundays. I like Sundays because it’s the one day I probably don’t have to work.”

  “Probably? You actually have to work some Sundays?”

  “When you’re trying to make partner, you work whenever there’s something that needs done. Most weeks I put in over eighty hours.”

  “Blake, that’s not even good for you,” Lydia said and he could tell she said it out of concern and not judgment. “No wonder you like Sundays. So what else? Makes you happy, I mean.”

  “My nephew, David. He’s two. He calls me Bake. And my mom’s pineapple upside down cake.”

  “Mmm. That sounds good.”

  “It is. I like golf. I used to play a lot with my dad. I don’t really have time now, but someday I’ll play again. I even like watching it. And skydiving doesn’t really make me happy.”

  “Really?”

  “Watching you skydive made me happy, but I don’t think I’d ever do it again. I prefer to be inside the plane or on the ground.”

  “So I guess you’re probably not interested in bungee jumping with me?”

  Blake laughed. “Probably not. I’ll watch you though, if you want to jump.”

  “I’m just kidding. I’d be afraid my cord would snap.”

  “But you weren’t afraid the parachute wouldn’t open?”

  “Of course I was. I know. It’s ridiculous. I guess it was less scary because if the bungee cord broke, I’d have no time to figure out how to survive. It’d just be, splat, you’re dead. But jumping out of a plane, if the parachute didn’t open, there’d be more time to figure out how to try to live through it.”

  “Yeah. Ridiculous. You’d just have more time to think about dying.”

  Lydia laughed. “Maybe it just sounds better because I’d have more time to confess all my sins before I died.”

  “You have sins?”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “I’m sure we do, but I can’t really picture you with any great vices.”

  “Maybe that’s because you don’t know me very well.”

  “Maybe.” It was strange to think that he’d known her for such a short time. It felt like they’d been friends forever.

  They talked all the way back to Charlotte.

  “You want to share a pizza?” Blake asked in the elevator. “I need something besides apple pie for dinner, and I thought maybe we could read a few of these letters tonight.”

  “Sure.”

  Blake ordered a pizza while Lydia laid the letters out according to postmark. After he hung up the phone, he retrieved a folder from his briefcase. “Here are the three letters she sent to Grandpa,” Blake said, taking them from the folder and handing them to Lydia. She checked the postmarks and placed them in order.

  “Here’s the first one. March 4, 1947. Do you want to read it?”

  “You go ahead,” Blake said.

  Lydia sat cross-legged on the bed. Blake sat back against the headboard, his hands behind his head.

  My dearest Gladys,

  I arrived on Friday night. The trip was uneventful except for a flat tire and a heavy snowstorm. I was grateful the flat tire didn’t happen during the storm. I made good time and the car proved to be reliable. The biggest problem I encountered on the trip wasn’t the storm or the tire, however. It was my loneliness for you. I had too many hours to miss you and wish you were with me.

  I’m sharing an apartment with three other doctors. They’re all fairly new. The old-timer of the bunch has only been here for fourteen months. They’re pleasant fellows. Harvey is from Palo Alto, California. Silas is from Gilbert, Arizona and John is from Spokane, Washington. I’m the only one from east of the Mississippi. I thought we might share meals, but they said we’re rarely here at the same time, so we each cook for
ourselves. I hope I don’t starve.

  Denver is larger than I thought it would be. I thought it was in the mountains, but the mountains are actually off in the distance. I drove to them today. It took me more than half an hour.

  I start working tomorrow. I’m excited to be a real doctor. There were many times I wondered if this day would arrive. Knowing we’ll be married within a year gives me the will to succeed. I want to buy you a beautiful house and take you out to fine restaurants.

  Lydia looked up at Blake. “Blake, you don’t have to share these with me. I’d totally understand if you want to just read them yourself.”

  “No. This is good. Keep going. We’ll take turns reading them.” Blake didn’t want to do this alone. He wanted to share it with her. He was already learning more about his grandfather’s life than he’d known before, and there was something reassuring about sharing it with someone else, sharing it with Lydia. She continued reading.

  It’s been less than a week and I miss you so much it hurts. It’s a physical pain in my heart and the only antidote will be letters and occasional phone calls. I miss your brown eyes. I miss your smile. I miss your laughter. I miss you calling me Dr. Knowles. I could go on and on, but I’d rather not have my roommates walk in and catch me crying like a baby.

  I love you.

  Yours, Elliott.

  The second letter was much like the first. They read several more letters. Each was full of love and excitement for the future. Most shared some of his experiences at the hospital. Some were funny stories, some sad, but all made Blake feel closer to his grandpa.

  It was Blake’s turn to read, so he picked up the next letter. He bent his legs and propped his forearms on his knees as he started to read.

  “This one is postmarked August 28, 1947.”

  My Dearest Gladys,

  It was with heavy heart that I read your last letter. I’d hoped we’d be getting married in December when I came home for Christmas. Hearing that you feel we should wait a little longer was a devastating disappointment. I don’t understand why you want to put it off.

  Let me reassure you of a few things. First, I hope you feel confident in my love for you. You’re my world and I won’t know true happiness until we’re together. Second, I’m doing my best to become established so you’ll feel confident in my position. I want my job to be secure and I want to buy you a beautiful home. I want to provide for you and our children. I don’t ever want you to have to worry about money. I want you to be a doctor’s wife who can go to lunch with friends and belong to the country club.

  If you have doubts about marrying so soon, please consider moving to Denver so we can spend more time together. We could rent a room for you and we’d be close to each other. That would make courting much easier, don’t you think? We could begin looking for a house to buy. In the spring, we could marry in Charlotte and return as husband and wife.

  Please say you’ll come.

  Yours always,

  Elliott

  The pizza had arrived while Blake was reading so when he finished the letter, they took a break and ate. Then Lydia opened the next letter and began reading.

  October 12, 1947

  Dear, Dear Gladys,

  I’ve been floating on air ever since I got your last letter. Even a little boy with a broken arm that wouldn’t stop screaming couldn’t dampen my spirits. He was crying and crying and it took two nurses and both his parents to hold him down so we could plaster it, but I just felt like whistling a tune. I had to work at making my face look solemn, and I’m afraid I wasn’t entirely successful because at one point his father said, ‘Why are you smiling? This is terrible for him.’ Of course I wasn’t smiling about his pain. I was smiling because you’re coming.

  You’re coming. You’re coming. We’ll be together soon. John says I’m turning his stomach with my endless crowing. His girl is in Gilbert, and he wishes she could come.

  It will be wonderful having you here. I looked in the paper and saw there was a job for a telephone operator for Mountain Bell and a file clerk at the Denver City Hall. I’m sure you’ll be able to find a position.

  I hope your parents are warming to the idea. I can certainly understand how they’ll miss you. I’ve been living without you for seven months now, and I don’t want it to go on a moment longer. Tell them I’m working hard so they’ll see what a good provider I’ll be for their daughter.

  I stopped by Chandler’s Boarding House on my last day off and spoke to a woman named Eloise. She said she’ll have an opening in November. I gave her a $25 deposit and $45 for November’s rent. I think you’ll like it there. It’s a lovely house, and it includes dinner. She said the décor in your room is pale green. I thought that was perfect for you.

  My beautiful Gladys will be here in just weeks.

  Soon I’ll be holding you in my arms, and we’ll be planning our wedding. I look forward to your arrival.

  I love you with all my heart,

  Elliott

  Blake reached for the next letter.

  December 6, 1947

  Dear Gladys,

  I still don’t know what happened. I went by Chandler’s to see you Friday afternoon and discovered you were gone. I called your house on Saturday, but your mother said you hadn’t arrived home yet. I’m trying to be understanding, but I’m hurt and angry.

  “Oh no,” Lydia said. “What happened?”

  Blake continued to read.

  I can’t believe you left with no goodbye and no explanation. I had to find out from Eloise Chandler. I’ve read your note again and again. As hard as I’m working for us, for you, I don’t understand how you could call me selfish. You say you’d rather have me work at a factory than see so little of me. That’s easy to say now, but what about when you want a new dress or a nicer car? What about the beautiful house we’ve dreamed of and planned for? I’ve never wanted to provide you with the lifestyle that would come from common labor. That’s why I took this job. I’m working all these hours for us, and you call me selfish and leave without a word.

  I’m sorry you felt lonely. I never want you to feel lonely, but please think of me. I’ve been here for nine months and most of it has been spent lonely and missing you. But I’d happily put up with all of it in order to give us the best possible life. When I asked your father for your hand, he told me he wanted the best for his daughter. I want the best for his daughter, as well.

  Please come back. None of this is worth it without you. Just be patient. It won’t always be like this.

  Love,

  Elliott

  “Poor Elliott,” Lydia said. “He’s so hurt and angry.” Blake leaned back his head and closed his eyes. “It’s after midnight, Blake. Do you want to finish these in the morning?”

  “No,” he said, his eyes still closed. “We’re almost finished. Unless you’re too tired, of course.” A solemn mood had fallen over the room. Both of them knew sadness was imminent, and they spoke a little softer, a little more carefully. “Would you read them?” Blake asked. He ached for the loneliness his grandfather had felt, the loss he’d endured. Lydia’s voice was soothing and the painful reproach he felt was coming would be easier to endure wrapped in her gentle delivery.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lydia opened the next letter. “This one is from December 26, 1947.”

  Darling Gladys,

  Christmas just wasn’t Christmas without you. I didn’t know if I’d hear from you, so I was surprised and pleased when I received your gift. I hope this means we’re not finished. I opened your present before I went to work at midnight Christmas Eve. Thank you for the lovely gifts. As you can see, I’m writing on the stationery you sent. The “Dr. Elliott Knowles” at the top of the page could only be improved if it said ”Dr. and Mrs. Elliott Knowles.” I wore the bowtie to work just to remind me of you.

  This was the week I thought we’d be getting married. But instead, I’m here in Denver and you’re back in Charlotte with your family. I
miss the days when I was doing my residency and you were going to school. I never imagined that I’d look back on my residency and long for it again. I’m still hopeful that this will be my last Christmas alone, that we’ll be together next year in our own home, with a tree we decorated together and our own snowy front yard, complete with a snowman like the one we built in Boston.

  Yesterday was difficult in many ways. A family that was traveling to visit their grandmother for Christmas dinner ended up in the emergency room after a terrible car accident. The roads were icy and their car went off the road and turned over onto its roof. What a sad way to celebrate the holiday. Even sadder, their three-year-old daughter didn’t survive. Christmas will forever be ruined for them. We tried our best to save her, but there was nothing we could do. I cried in front of Dr. Tate. He’s an older doctor who’s been here for nearly thirty years. I felt terrible and told him I was sorry for being so unprofessional, and he put his hand on my shoulder and said,” The most unprofessional thing we can do is stop feeling joy and grief with our patients.” It made me feel a little better.

  I wish I could come home at night to you instead of to three men. Silas snores and John’s feet smell so bad that sometimes I walk in the apartment and the stench nearly knocks me back out the door. It makes me miss the scent of your rose perfume.

  I love you, Gladys, and hope we still have a future together.

  All my love,

  Elliott

  Blake was quiet when Lydia finished the letter. He felt strangely exposed. Lydia hadn’t been there for all the missed family events. She hadn’t been affected by the long work days that often stretched into night. These were things he’d rather she didn’t see, especially in this context. Blake wanted to rationalize it away, just as his grandfather had tried to do in these letters. He wanted to defend himself from what felt like an accusation from beyond the grave. He didn’t want Lydia to think less of him.