moment that Marsha pulled away from her house heading north, Cindy and Bree did the same thing heading east. Cindy drove, leaving Bree free to look back at the home where she and Paul had spent their lives together.
Bree watched her house shrink in the distance, telling herself that she had done her best to rid herself of any ties to the place so that nothing would remain of her and Paul. It would be a memory frozen in time, with no power over her and the new life she would make for herself.
Except Bree knew she was lying to herself. This place would always pull her back, whether or not she lived there. The trees they had planted together would grow more beautiful each year. Their carefully planned garden would remind her of the hours they had spent together, making it better.
The garden had been her escape from hours of writing. Results from hours of gardening were something she could tangibly see. Not like words that went out into the world with no way to physically see their impact. A book was tangible in some ways, but not the same way a seed planted and tended to in all seasons was to her.
When she was writing, she lived in an invisible world of her own making. Gardening was visible, engaged all the senses, and gave back more than it took. Because, after all these years, Bree wasn’t so sure that writing gave back what it took from her.
Moving away and making a new life would help her decide if writing was something she wanted to continue or not.
At least I could make a story out of it, Bree thought to herself, and then smiled at the idea, realizing that she was fooling herself, thinking she could stop writing. But if she wrote again, she would write something other than romance.
“Are you okay?” Cindy asked, glancing over at Bree. She could almost feel the sadness radiating off of her.
“Yes.”
“Nothing you want to do before leaving town?”
“Well, maybe eat?”
“Just what I was thinking,” Cindy said.
“Well then, why didn’t you say so?” Bree asked, more snap in her voice than she meant there to be. It was the part of her she didn’t like.
She always tried to make things perfect and became resentful when they weren’t. Bree knew that wasn’t really who she was, just behavior she could eliminate, and over the years, she had worked hard at doing that, Paul didn’t like that part of her any more than she did.
But he wasn’t perfect either, Bree said to herself. Never out loud. Not then, not now.
When Cindy didn’t answer, just looked away for a second, Bree added, “Sorry.”
“Don’t fret about it,” Cindy answered, turning to smile at Bree. “Where shall we eat?”
“The Waffle House,” they both said together and then laughed, for the moment wiping away Bree’s past and her pain.
An hour later, two pecan waffles later, they were on the road, Bree driving this time, the map to where they were going showing on the car’s GPS. It was the first time that Cindy knew where they were going.
“That’s where we are going?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“What was the clue?”
Bree sighed. Perhaps she should have shown Cindy the letter rather than keeping it to herself. But for now, Bree was trying to keep Paul’s memory pure, as if that was possible.
While they were together, she hadn’t noticed how much she had changed. But Paul’s letter had made her look at everything in a new light.
Yes, in the letter he told her he loved her, always loved her, always would love her. And then he apologized for taking her away.
She had stopped reading the letter at that point, gone into the kitchen, made a cup of coffee, and tried to stop her mind from racing. Yes, Paul had taken her away. But not because he wanted to. It was her idea, and he did what she asked.
What kind of idiot had she been? She had given up her friends and the life she thought she wanted to live because she had a secret, and he agreed to protect it.
At least that was what she thought had happened.
But Paul’s apology in the letter made her question her memory. Why was he so agreeable about keeping her secret? Was her secret the only one they were protecting? Did he have one too?
Bree had believed that Paul had given up on the life he wanted because of her. But what if that wasn’t the entire truth? What if her insistence on hiding suited him? Maybe he kept her secret because he had one too.
All those thoughts raced through her mind as she drank her coffee. It took a few hours before she returned to the letter, finally reading Paul’s request that she go on a type of scavenger hunt with one or more of her friends from Spring Falls. It was his last gift to her.
“The trip will do you good,” the letter said. “And along the way, you’ll find yourself again.
“My only hope,” he had closed with, “is that you don’t hate me for what you find.”
That last line was the line that tore her heart apart. The fear of what it meant had kept her silent. What would she find? Would she end up hating him? Was he not who she thought he was? Did they leave Spring Falls for a reason other than to protect her secret?
She almost tore up the letter. Instead, she kept it, reading it over and over again, and in the process realized that her heart had been closed for many years, thinking it kept her safe. From what, she didn’t know, but obviously, that had worked. Perhaps their life had been an illusion.
What Bree decided was that it was time to breathe again. To do what Paul asked of her and get on with it.
Cindy waited, watching Bree breathe in and out, knowing that she was reliving a decision.
Finally, Bree sighed again and said, “There was no clue. He just told me to start where we had stopped.”
“Sounds like a clue to me?” Cindy said. “Stopped when?”
“We took a road trip once. I was restless. Paul was between jobs. It seemed like a good idea. And it was. Both of us loved that trip. That last day we stopped at a rest stop, and Paul asked me if I would like to keep on driving east.
“Part of me wanted to say yes. Perhaps we could travel forever, never settling down. But I said no. It was time to return to real life, whatever I thought that was.
“Now, looking back, I realize he wanted me to say yes. I don’t know why, and I don’t know what we will find there, but I know that is where he wants me to begin.”