Page 21 of Pages of My Heart

To my beloved Charlie,

I’m so sorry to have caused you to worry.

I’m fine, darling. Please believe me. Maybe I worded it poorly in my letter.

I do talk to you out loud as I go about the house, but I’m not any more unstable than I was before you left.

I’m simply trying anything to bring myself some comfort, and talking to you, even just imagining it, helps.

Please stop worrying, my love. I don’t want you to be distracted and tired because of me.

I promise if I feel I’m slipping, I’ll stay with Bridget until it passes. I promise, Charlie.

God, I cannot wait for you to meet baby Jonathan—he remains a shining light in this dark world.

I get so sentimental when I look into his blue eyes and see him smile.

I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes I think that if we could have a child, he might look like Jonathan—although, I know you would wish for a red-haired little girl to dote on.

You may try to pretend otherwise, but I know you, Charlie Miller. You’re a real softie.

As for Evie, I too wonder if she suspects.

Perhaps when you get home, we could make up some story about someone like us, just to gauge her reaction.

That could give us some sense of whether we could risk telling her.

The idea scares me, though. I would never want to lose her from our lives—the two of you are so close, and she is my dearest friend.

I’m relieved your platoon has had a bit of a reprieve and I will pray that it continues.

The news coming out of Italy this past month .

. . I can only hope you are nowhere near that hell.

As for getting into a fight over Johnson, the only surprise is that you held out so long.

I will not chastise you, love—just don’t do it again!

! But I am so damn proud of you for standing up for what is right.

Michael is talking about enlisting and won’t listen to reason. He tells me it’s a man’s duty to serve his country and doesn’t want to hear anything I have to say. With Eddie already gone, I don’t have enough strength left to worry about Michael, too.

It’s Christmas Eve tonight. I put up a small tree and placed a gift for you under it, like we always do.

I won’t tell you what it is—you’ll have to come home to find out.

Evie invited me to spend the evening with your family, and of course Bridget became exasperated when I declined her own offer.

But Christmas Eve has always been our time together—the tradition we began once we moved into our own house.

I didn’t want to break it, nor did I want to face anyone without you.

Do you remember last year? When we drank too much and built a snowman in the backyard at midnight?

It was the perfect Christmas. Making love in front of the fire and sleeping naked right next to the tree.

When we woke on Christmas morning, the fire had burned out and I was shivering, but you built a new fire and made us hot cocoa, and we opened our gifts wrapped up in a blanket on the sitting room floor.

I keep relaying it in my mind. It was so romantic.

Let’s add that to our tradition. Starting next Christmas, when you will surely be back home where you belong, we’ll make love in front of the fire on Christmas Eve, okay?

I hope you are somewhere safe tonight and that you have some type of celebration for Christmas.

I hope you are warm enough, and have food in your stomach, and friends who can make you laugh.

These holidays are the hardest to get through, making me feel very much alone.

But I know you are out there thinking of me just as I am thinking of you.

I am going to build our fire now, and tonight when I dream, I’ll dream of you, my darling. Merry Christmas, Charlie.

All my love,

Red x

P.S. You are far more poetic and romantic than you give yourself credit for. I read your words many times. Your love leaps off the pages and touches my heart.