Page 60 of Nineteen Letters

“Yes.”I’d do anything to see you, I want to add, but I don’t. Not expressing how we truly feel is something we haven’t done since we were kids, so it’s taking some getting used to.

“Great. We’ll wait until you get here before we start. I’m a little worried about how Christine is going to take it all.”

I agree, it could go either way, but it’s time she remembered the good times and stop focusing on the bad. That’s the only way I’m surviving my situation with Jem.

I leave Bella-Rose happily munching on a rawhide bone, and within half an hour I pull into Christine’s driveway.

“Hi,” Jemma whispers when she answers the door.

It’s so good to see her. “Hi.”

She moves to the side allowing me to enter. “Christine’s in the lounge room.”

“Why are we whispering?” I ask with a curious smirk.

She shrugs before answering. “I’m not sure if this is a good idea. She’s gone really quiet, and is just staring at the box on the table like it’s about to jump out and bite her.”

“This is a good thing, Jem … she might get upset, but I think it will do her the world of good to remember the positive times, and stop focusing on the negative ones.”

“You know, you’re right.” The corners of her lips curve up into a smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She reaches out and places her hand on my arm. One simple touch from her has the ability to awaken every nerve ending in my body.

“Hi, Christine,” I say as I enter the lounge room, making my way towards her. Jemma was right, she looks frightened. She remains seated when I come to a stop in front of her, so I lean down and kiss her cheek.

“I might make us all a coffee before we start,” Jemma says, rubbing her hands together nervously.

“Sounds great. Do you want a hand?”

“No. I can manage.” She gives me a tight smile before turning and leaving the room.

“How are you?” I ask Christine, taking a seat beside her.

“I’m not sure if I can do this,” she mumbles.

“You know you can.” I place my hand over the top of hers. “It’s time. Your parents wouldn’t want this. They’d want you to remember the good times, and there were so many of them.”

She turns her face towards me and I see the tears glistening in her eyes. I can sympathise with what she’s going through, I lost a parent as well. In a way, I’ve lost them both. I don’t think I’ll ever truly get over my mother’s death, but trying not to focus on that dreadful day, and instead remembering all that we were, has helped me live on.

“There were so many good times,” she agrees, with the beginnings of a smile.

“Don’t just do this for Jem, do it for yourself. Hold on to those wonderful memories because that’s all you have now. It helps … I know.”

“You’re right.”

I remove my hand from hers, and she leans forward, reaching for the large chocolate-coloured, leather-bound box on the table. She takes a deep breath, as she slowly removes the lid.

“My mother gave me this box the night before she died. I think she already knew that she was leaving us to be with my father. She handed it to me just before she went to bed.‘I want you to have this,’was all she said. She hugged me so tight and told me how much she loved me. I didn’t suspect for a moment it would be the last time I’d ever hear her say those words to me.” She places the lid down beside the box and wipes the tears from her eyes. “I don’t know what’s in here. I’ve never looked inside.”

“Well, maybe it’s time that you did. She gave it to you for a reason.”

“You’ve started without me?” Jemma says, entering the room carrying a large wooden tray with the coffees and a plate of biscuits on board.

“Let me help you.” Standing, I meet her halfway and take the tray out of her hands.

“I baked the cookies last night. They probably don’t hold a candle to Mrs Gardener’s, but I hope you like them.”

I’m so touched I barely sound normal when I reply. “I’m sure they’ll be delicious.”