Page 90 of The Ghost of Ellwood

Groggily, I left the library and moved down the corridor. Just as I was about to go up the stairs, I noticed someone outside on the front porch. I grabbed my jacket from the coatrack and opened the door, sucking in a breath as cold air nipped at my skin.

Theo sat on the top step, staring up at the sky. As I closed the door, he turned his head toward me.

“Evening.”

“Why are you out here?” I sat beside him on the steps.

The full moon showered Theo in a silver glow, touching his features beautifully.

“I read them all,” he whispered, fixating on the tree as the wind upset the branches. “Every page. He wrote our poem thirty-two times.”

Our poem.The words were like a stab to the gut.

“And the other pages?”

Theo was quiet a moment. “I never knew he was such a poet. He wrote about missing me, mostly, and some letters were conversational as he told me about his day. Other letters were angry.” His smooth voice faltered, growing raspier. “He was mad at me for leaving him.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” I went to grab his hand but stopped myself.

He grabbed mine instead, his cold fingers sending another shiver through me. He didn’t say a word.

“Do you know what happened to Harvey?” I asked. “Like when he died? Carter said he never heard anything.”

“No.” Theo released my hand and stood from the porch, moving slowly down the steps. He touched a low-hanging branch, and his body appeared more translucent, shimmering in the night. “However, he wrote a goodbye letter. It was hidden at the bottom of the box.”

“What did it say?”

He withdrew a page from the inside of his vest and walked back over to hand it to me.

I grabbed my phone and clicked on the flashlight app to read it.

Dearest love,

Nearly seven years have passed since I last saw your face. Since I heard your voice. I try to remember every detail about you, yet my memory slips. Much has changed since you’ve been gone.

My children are beautiful. The love you have for your children is one I never understood until I had mine. Michael asks so many questions and Little Lilly is as sweet as a rosebud. She loves to sing and dance, and I twirl her in circles in the parlor. Michael asked me once who he was named after, and I said he was named after the best man I ever knew.

I wish more than anything you could’ve met them.

Lillian wants a divorce. She’s met a gentleman, a real businessman she says, who will take care of her and the children. He doesn’t mind that she’s already married, which tells me much about his character. Lillian grew tired of me. Frustrated. She and I have not been intimate since Lilly was born.

I cannot bear it, my love. I cannot bear to touch her when I’d rather touch you.

You told me once that being with you would force me to live a half-life. Well, darling, that’s precisely what I’m living now. My life was never ‘half’ with you. You made it whole.

I’m leaving Ivy Grove. There’s nothing here for me now. Lillian is taking my children, threatening to tell my secret if I fight her decision. I hope to still see them, but my heart aches with the truth that I won’t. It’s best for all parties if I leave. Perhaps I’ll go to the city. Or maybe I’ll journey south and buy a farm.

Oh, my love, I wish I knew what became of you. Your father is to blame; I feel it in my bones. He fled town years ago like a coward. I would never wish ill of anyone, but I do hope he is brought to justice someday. Somehow.

Blackwell Manor sits empty and alone, and it pains me to look upon it. Sometimes when I stare up at your bedroom window, I feel as if you’re still there just waiting for someone to find you. I searched everywhere for you.

It’s as if you just vanished, darling, like a shooting star, here one moment and gone the next.

Do you remember the time we snuck out of the house and made love under the moonlight? I’ve forgotten many things over the years, but not that night. I wanted to give you the moon and the stars.

Do you sleep under them now?

As long as breath fills my lungs, I will never forget you.