Page 48 of The Last Letter of Rachel Ellsworth
Chapter Forty
Instead of a night of juicy sex, Veronica slept like the dead in the cool room, dark and insulated. It was, in fact, one of the best sleeps she’d had on the entire trip.
In the between time before she fully awakened, images from Rachel’s letters wafted over her imagination. The boy with dark eyes, the eagle, the sense of being so in love all wound around her mind, giving her a fuller picture of Rachel as a young woman, just becoming herself.
Mariah was still buried in the covers when Veronica got up, so she pulled on yoga pants and a sweatshirt to slip out to the courtyard.
Henry was already there, dressed and ready, reading on his tablet while he drank coffee.
A cat, not the same one from yesterday, sat on the back of the chair, tenderly sniffing his earlobe.
He looked as graceful and at ease as a cat himself. His feet were bare.
“Good morning,” she said, combing her fingers through her hair self-consciously. “Is there enough for me?”
“Yes. I can call for more fruit and bread if you like.”
It was so weirdly luxurious and not like her real life at all to be waited on all the time, but a person could get used to it. Sitting on the velvet love seat with her own tablet, she nodded. “Yes, please.”
She’d left her phone in the other room, but that didn’t save her from a barrage of texts.
They popped up in a long green line on her tablet, and she sighed, scrolling through them with as much indifference as she could summon.
It struck her that it was Christmas Eve today, here, so middle of the night there, but still, by now the family had gathered in Breckenridge to ski.
It seemed very far away, a diorama of a time she’d read about.
In texts, Ben complained that his dad had made him go, even though he couldn’t ski.
Jenna complained that Fiona was too precious and picky.
She also apologized for the fight they’d had, but notably didn’t offer a time to clear the apartment.
Spence complained that the kids were being awful and spoiling Christmas.
She looked up, tossing the tablet aside with a noise of annoyance. So much complaining!
Instead of engaging with any of them, she poured a cup of coffee from a silver pot, stirred in chunks of amber sugar and cream, and took a sip. A bird sang somewhere, the fountain tumbled musically, and everything else was completely quiet. She let go of a breath. “This place is magical,” she said.
“It is. I’ve been coming here for a long time,” Henry said. He passed a small plate of pastries and orange sections to her, and she took it gratefully.
“How did you find it?”
He looked up, admiring the bright falls of bougainvillea. “On a holiday from a pretty bad stretch of reporting. I stayed for three weeks, and by the time I left, I was knitted back together.” He paused. “For a time.”
She wondered what that would have been like, to face the worst of humanity, rest from all the seeing, then go back. “Such a hard job.”
He nodded. “In some ways.”
“Important, too.”
“I hope it was.”
Nibbling the edge of a slice of grapefruit, she said, “I read the new crop of Rachel’s letters. She clearly fell in love while she was in India. Did she ever talk about that?”
“No. She didn’t really talk about her past.”
For a moment, Veronica measured him. “Maybe I’m naive but that seems like something you eventually share with your lover, right?”
“It does.”
“Was she hiding something, maybe?”
He tipped his head in consideration. The cat’s tail swung around his neck, and he reached up to give her a scratch. “Maybe.”
“Maybe you should read the letters. Maybe you’ll see something I haven’t.”
He looked away for a moment. Frowned. Then a nod. “All right.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Do I strike you as someone who says yes when he means no?”
She raised her brows. “No. Give me your address.” She opened her email, tucked a bite of date into her mouth, and nodded, hands ready. She typed in his email, clicked on the first set of letters, forwarded, then the second and third. “Done.”
Mariah stumbled out of Veronica’s room, her hair a tangle. “I’m going to my room,” she said. “I think I have food poisoning.”
“Oh no!” Veronica leaped to her feet. “What can we do for you?”
Mariah’s face was the soft green of a snake’s belly. She waved them off. “Nothing. Nothing. Leave me alone. Urk. I can’t talk.” She ran into her room and slammed the door.
Veronica looked after her, worried. “Should we do something?”
“She told you what she wants.”
“But—” Veronica thought of one of her kids and how she would react.
She would hover. She always hovered.
Maybe she could learn something new. “I guess she did.”
“I’ll check on her in an hour or so, but she’s been through this before.” He looked at her. “Why don’t you get dressed? I’ll make sure she has what she needs, and we can go explore.”
“Okay.”
He stood, loose limbed and easy in his body. She liked the silver bracelet he wore around one strong wrist, his big hands. When he saw her watching, he raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”
“So many things,” she said.
An arrow of sunlight warmed the air between them, the silence full of possibility.
“I’ll get ready.”