Page 90 of His Loving Wife

I leave the letter on the table, not yet wanting to touch it.

“What would you do?”

“After what your family has been through? I wouldn’t let me, Paul Gunter, lawyers or anyone else sway your decision. You’ve got a clear head on your shoulders. I trust whatever call you make will be the right one.”

“Should I even read it?”

“Read it, trash it.” She stands, tucking her hands into her pockets. “Good seeing you again, Kate. Take care of yourself.”

I finish the rest of my coffee, swirling the tepid liquid around my mouth. I keep my gaze on the crowded students walking across the quad, but every so often, my eyes land back on the letter. I pick it up and begin to read.

Dear Kate,

I appreciate you taking the time to read this. I know you must have conflicted feelings about me and everything I put your family through. I promise this will be my only correspondence with you, but I felt it was necessary to give you an explanation, regardless of whether or not you choose to accept it.

I don’t have any excuse for why I treated you the way I did. I realize now it was my own insecurities rising up. You weren’t the only person I hurt, but I fear what I put your family through that night was the worst of my actions.

I want you to know how very sorry I am for treating you the way I have; nothing you’ve ever done to me deserved such behavior. You have no reason to believe me when I say I’m improving, but I finally have found the right resources to help me cope. I’m confident that moving forward I won’t put you or any other person at risk. I hope you find comfort in that. I know I have.

Sincerely,

Paul

I fold the letter and place it back on the table. After another minute of thought, I stick it into my purse. It doesn’t hurt to have a written reminder that Paul has admitted to what he’s done. I know now he never tried to contact me after his arrest—that was all the work of Andrew and his friends. They wanted to fill me with fear, force me to rely on Andrew, so he could carry out the plan.

I can’t say this letter has completely wiped my fears concerning Paul or dampened the terrifying memories of that night, but I do feel a sense of peace knowing he has at least acknowledged his mistakes and is committed to getting better. I may never forgive Paul for what he’s done, but I’m not above giving him a second chance.

Then again, maybe that’s not the best phrase to use.

I stand, pushing my chair under the table. As I’m walking out of the coffee shop, I catch sight of a man standing by the counter. It’s a familiar profile. The corner of a jaw, the glimpse of a hairline. I move toward the register, my heart beginning to race.

When I approach, the man turns. He’s a stranger. A person I’ve never seen before. My pulse settles.

The wreckage from the rental boat was found in the days following the storm. As Vincent had intended, the craft eventually capsized, losing its battle with the tempestuous sea. Andrew’s body, however, was never found. I understand the chances of him surviving the storm are improbable, if not impossible. Besides, when he left us alone on the raft, it appeared he too was at peace with his fate.

There is no evidence that the sea got him like it did the rental boat, or the sharks got him like they did Vincent. There’s no confirmation that the man I once loved, the father to our two children, is gone forever, although I believe he withered away long before last August.

Still, without proof, I sometimes wonder.

I may always be looking over my shoulder, trying to prepare for the next threat, but there will be no more running.

There will be no more hiding.

There will be no more fear.

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