May 21
Dearest Danny,
I'm coming to you. You're right; if God can forgive us both, we can surely forgive one another. Please don't go. Please don't choose the world over me, even after what I've done. What you did with Rachel, you hadn't planned. What I did with Bobby was intentional. I was terribly wrong. I love you. I know you love me. Write back. Tell me you'll wait for me, Danny. Tell me exactly where to come. Wait. Please.
A sob wrenched my throat. I snatched up the envelope, searching for a postmark, knowing I wouldn't find it. I reached into the second envelope. His letter trembled in my fingers as I read it.
June 30
Dear Celia,
I can't live like this, without you. Please forgive my last hurtful letter. I've made a terrible mistake by coming here to Greece. I don't want to be anywhere unless you're with me. I should never have gotten on the ship. I should have gone back to Bradleyville and made you want me again, even after all that's happened. Are you with Bobby now? Is that why you didn't write me back? You must have chosen him but I just can't believe that. I know you love me like I love you. I'm begging you again, let's put everything behind us and start over. I've hurt you, you've hurt me, we're even, okay? I don't know how I'll do it, but I'll save every penny and get back home to you, even if it means leaving Mama behind. She already loves it here anyway and wouldn't want to leave. Just write me. I can't give up on us. I'm waiting for your letter. I'll come back to you. Do you hear me pleading, Celia? I love you. I'll always love you. Write, please. I'm waiting.
I clutched the envelopes and letters, Daddy asking me what was wrong, my mind flying into a million pieces as I sorted through the misunderstandings, the waste of years. Danny had written to me the very day Kevy died. It was more than I could bear to think about, his pain and mine, the love that had crossed continents, unknown and unreached. My agonizing wait to receive his reply to a letter never read. The years I longed for him, wondering why he'd left me.
“Oh, Danny, Danny.” Hot tears flowed from my eyes as I began to cry desperately, the thought that he believed I'd left him sending a knife through my stomach.
“Cela, what . . .”
Daddy's voice thickened with fright but I couldn't answer. I rose, feeling the carpet beneath my feet, the floor of the hallway, as I ran into the living room yelling for Mama. Somewhere along the way my knees buckled and I fell; I pushed myself up again, not stopping, the envelopes and letters still in my hands. She appeared from the kitchen, wide-eyed, her face pale.
“What's happened?” She looked past me, thinking it was Daddy. Then she saw the white of the papers, the black of her deceit. And she froze.
“Why? Dear God, why?” I held up both hands, shaking the proof at her, wanting her to tell me it was all a bad joke, a mistake. “Why did youâhow could you do it?”
She searched for an answer, fingers splayed across her throat. “Oh, Celia, I was going to tell youâ”
“But why? Do you understand what you did?” I could barely squeeze out the words. “He thought I didn't want him! All these years!” Sinking to my knees, I sobbed wildly. She hurried over to comfort me but I pushed her away. “No, don't! How could you? You took my life away!”
“Celia, listen to me.” I heard the intensity in her voice. “I didn't know how important your letter was when I kept it. I was just tryin' to keep you from getting hurt. With all those letters flying, I had to see for myself what was happening. And the very worst thing I feared, I saw in that letter. The next thing I knew, he was writin' from Greece.”
“Mrs. B. helped you, didn't she?” I said, sobbing. “She saw my letter in the post office and gave it to you!”
“She was worried about you, too.”
“Worried!” I laughed scornfully. “What about worrying about me all these years I've been alone? All the years I've believed a lie and Danny's believed a lie?”
“Celia, please,” she begged, reaching for me again. I wrenched away. “By the time that letter came from Greece and I realized what I'd done, you were gone! I kept thinkin' that as soon as you came back, I'd show you the letters; why else would I keep them? But you never did, and by the time you finally called, six years had passed. I didn't think it would still matter.”
“You should have known!” I screamed. “Because you felt the same way about Henry! You just didn't want to admit you were wrong about Danny.” I sobbed harder. “I can't believe it now, after all that's happened. After you've supposedly turned back to God. I was amazed how fast you'd changed but now I see the truth. You haven't really changed at all! You were just lying! I just don't understand how you could have done this, and now it's too late, it really is too late!” The sobs hurled from my throat, my chest on fire.
“I tried to tell you, Celia,” she said, pleading for my understanding. “I came so close. I have changed. But I was afraid you wouldn't be able to forgive me, and I couldn't bear to lose you again. And I didn't know till just yesterday how mâ”
“You're so good at closing your eyes when you don't want to see!” My voice was acrid.
“Celia, don't, please.” Mama began to cry. “I tried to do what was best.”
“Cela, Estelle! What? What?” Daddy stood with his walker at the hall entrance, face drawn.
Mama sucked in a breath. “Oh, William, don'tâ”
“Daddy!” I flung out my arms. “Tell me you didn't know! She took Danny away from me. She took Danny!”
“Cela, whâ”
Mama cut in harshly. “Leave him out of this, Celia; he never knew a thing, for heaven's sake! William, sit down; your face is gray.” I heard the rustle of her clothes as she hastened to him. “Tell him you're all right, Celia,” she commanded. “Tell him so he'll sit down; you're worrying him.”
“I'm not all right!” I swayed to my feet. “I'll never be all right again! How can I be? And I'll never forgive you for what you've done, you hear me?
Never!”
“No, Celaâ”
“William, sit
down!
Celiaâ”
Bending over, I swept the papers from the floor, pressing them against my chest as I ran to my bedroom, Danny's letter, his love to me, burning a hole through my heart.
I
could not stand the shrinking walls of my bedroom for long and soon slipped out to my car. My eyes blurred with my renewed losses as I drove randomly through the Bradleyville streets.
How could you let this happen, Jesus? I asked, weeping. Where were you then? And where are you now? After I've obeyed you and stayed away from John. After you gave me Mama back. Why should I listen to you now?
After some time I found myself downtown, crossing the railroad tracks. Of their own accord my wheels put me on a winding course, spinning me again toward the field where Danny and I had parked his Impala so long ago. I stopped the car at the field and got out to walk, watching the riverbank draw nearer, drinking in the boulders and water as I approached, imagining the roar of the rapids.
Nothing at the riverbank had changed.
For all its appearance, Danny could have come walking through the daisy field, fishing pole in hand. I could picture him so clearly, could feel his hair sifting through my fingers, smell his sun-drenched skin.
God, why?
I turned up the riverbank, remembering the day it had poured rain and we first ran to our trees. The setting sun fizzled embers of burnt orange upon the water. When I saw the trees in the distance, I broke into a run, stumbling over rocks and onto the deep grass, the canopy wrapping around my shoulders. There stood the trunks; there was where we first sat side by side, hesitant and fearful.
I threw myself down, clutching an exposed tree root, its surface worn smooth, crying until I could cry no more. I hurled more accusations at God until I found myself turning to him out of sheer despair. I couldn't lose the hope I'd found in him, I
couldn't.
But pray as I might, I could find no sense in all this. On my knees, I begged him to help me understand.
I had no recognition of time, looking up suddenly to find darkness engulfing the river. Fear of being drenched in blackness flushed through me, and I heaved myself from the ground and walked away swiftly.
I drove again, my headlights washing over the gloominess of downtown, pulling me up Main Street. On sudden impulse I turned left to the Hardings' house, warm light through their windows beckoning me to their front door. Miss Jessie took one look at my puffy face and pulled me inside, eyes wide. “Is it William?” Lee appeared, still a big bear of a man, his black hair grayed at the temples, his mustache now shaved. I hugged him wordlessly, then pulled the letters out of my pocket.
“Look what they've done,” I said thickly, giving them to Miss Jessie.
“I found them in Mama's drawer.”
She glanced at them, startled, then read, her mouth falling slack. “Aunt Eva?”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “I mailed my letter at the post office. She held it back.”
She stared, meanings and consequences moving across her face.
“Let me see,” Lee broke in, grabbing the letters.
“This is what you meant, wasn't it?” The words poured from me. “When you said I left him? You didn't mean what I did with Bobby; you meant that I never wrote Danny back. But I did! No wonder he was so sad when he first went to Greece! Why didn't you tell me?”
“Celia,” she said, her expression still one of astonishment, “how could I have known?”
“Maybe not about the letters, but you must have known how hurt he was over me.”
“You disappeared, Celia; nobody knew where you were!” She ran a hand across her cheek. “By the time we heard from you, years had gone by. If I'd known you still cared, I'd have told you long ago.”
My knees trembled. “Oh, Miss Jessie, what do I do?”
“Talk to him,” Lee said with a shrug, as if it were obvious. “He'll be in New York in a few days.”
I laughed hoarsely. “Just like that, after seventeen years. Sure, Lee.” “But you should,” Miss Jessie agreed. “He'd want to know.”
“He's in love with someone else.”
“He's waited all this time,” she returned. “I don't think he's ever really wanted to marry anyone but you.”
“How can you say that, when he's ready to become engaged? I can't just pick up the phone and tell him this now, after all these years!”
Miss Jessie thought for a moment, her face working. “Maybe not. It's a lot to say over the phone. Maybe you should go see him. I know what hotel he'll be staying in. Go soon, be there when he arrives.”
I fell into a chair, dropping my head into my hands. “That's crazy. Absolutely crazy. For all the same reasons. And besides, I can't leave Bradleyville yet; I promised Daddy.”
“Promised what? You came to help him get better, and he is.”
“No, I've promised I'd see him back to work. Just a few hours ago I told him that again.” Had it really been only a few hours? It seemed a lifetime ago. “It's so important to him. I can't go and leave things to Mama; she obviously can't be trusted.”
“Celia, I don't mean to belittle your promise, but this is so important to you,” Miss Jessie argued. “Your daddy will understand; he'd want you to go. And besides, you can come back. Just talk to Danny, see if you can get things straightened out. I know it's been a long time, and I know his life is about to take another course, but if you don't do it, won't you always wonder?” She dropped to her knees beside me. “Oh, Celia, you'll manage. Go. If you're afraid of surprising him, you can call him in Greece, tell him you're comin'. I know he'd want you to.”
I bounced my head against the back of the chair and gazed at the ceiling. “But I promised Daddy. He's got a meeting with his boss Tuesday. If that doesn't go well, I should be here to push things with Mr. Sledge. It may not sound like such a big deal to you, but it is to me. I can't run out on him again, don't you see? I did that once before. He's counting on me. I can't stand to think of hurting him again.”
Miss Jessie exchanged a stymied look with Lee. “Why did Estelle ask Aunt Eva to do this?” she wondered aloud.
“She wanted to keep me from getting hurt,” I told her. “How's that for laughs?”
“I'll bet that's why they argued,” Lee commented.
I frowned at him. “Who?”
“It's nothin', Celia.” Miss Jessie waved a hand. “Your mama just had a little tiff with Aunt Eva, that's all.”
“What do you mean, that's all? Those two have never argued in their lives. I suppose you know all about that relationship, too.” My tone sounded too harsh and I was instantly sorry. Miss Jessie looked at her lap. “What did they argue about?”
“You. When Aunt Eva and Uncle Frank visited, your mama told her not to come back as long as you were there.”
I gazed at her in astonishment. “Why?”
She shook her head. “Evidently after they saw you, Aunt Eva made some remark about you still being single, and your mama told her she was in no position to judge.”
Mama fighting with Mrs. B. over me. Eva Bellingham, her closest link to Henry. “I can't believe that,” I whispered and then thought, Yes, I can. Mama felt so guilty over what they'd done that her first instinct had been to defend me, even against her closest friend and cohort. I turned this over in my mind, imagining the instant flare of her temper at Mrs. B.'s offhand comment and seeing in its blaze the illumination of her love for me.
God, help me hang on to this.
“I have to get back,” I exclaimed suddenly. “I have to talk to them about Danny. Maybe I can go, crazy as it is. Maybe they'll understand.” Vacantly I stared through the front window, unable to think clearly. “I would have to pack and figure out . . . everything. How to fly there and get to the hotel. I should call Danny first; you're right.” I rose from the chair, picking up the letters from the couch. “Thank you both so much; it's good I came. I'll have to call you later. For how to get in touch with Danny. In Greece, I mean. And the hotel. I don't want to take the time right now; I've got to get back.”