Twelve days?
Had he been twelve days early?
She didn’t understand, and her confusion led to even more questions. Had he gotten the date wrong? Had he learned of her letter, or was the whole thing a coincidence? Was the letter even for her? Had she really recognized the handwriting? And if so…
Where was he?
Where was he?
Where was he?
Her hands began to shake and she closed her eyes, trying to slow her thoughts and the cascade of questions. She drew several long, deep breaths, telling herself that she’d been imagining all of it. When she opened her eyes, there would be a different name at the top; when she really examined the letter, she would see that the handwriting didn’t match at all.
When she had regained a semblance of self-control, she lowered her gaze to the page.
Hope
Nor, she realized, had she been mistaken about the handwriting. It was his, no one’s but his, and she felt a catch in her throat as she finally began to read.
Hope,
The destiny that matters most in life is the one concerning love.
I write those words as I sit in a room where I’ve been staying for more than a month. It’s a bed and breakfast called the Stanley House, and it’s located in the historic district of Wilmington. The owners are very kind, it’s quiet most of the time, and the food is good.
I know these details may feel irrelevant, but I’m nervous, so let me start with the obvious: I learned about your letter on August 23, and I flew to North Carolina two days later. I knew where you wanted to meet me and guessed that you would visit at low tide, but for reasons I can best explain later, I didn’t know the exact date you would be there. I had only vague references to work from, which is why I chose to stay at a bed and breakfast. If I was going to be in North Carolina for a while, I wanted someplace more comfortable than a hotel, but I didn’t want the trouble of renting a place. I wasn’t even sure how to go about something like that in a foreign country, to tell you the truth. All I knew was that I had to come, since I’d promised you that I would.
Despite the lack of particulars, I assumed that you’d picked a date in September. That’s when we met, after all. I’ve visited Kindred Spirit every day this past month. I watched and waited for you without success, all the while wondering whether I’d missed you, or whether you had changed your mind. I wondered if fate had conspired to keep us apart once more. When September gave way to October, I made the decision to leave you a letter, with the hope that you may one day learn of it in the same inexplicable way I had learned of yours.
You see, I also learned that you wanted to apologize for what had happened between us, for making the decision that you did so long ago. I told you then, and I still believe now, that no apology is necessary. Meeting you and falling in love with you was an experience I would relive a thousand times in a thousand different lives, if I was ever given that chance.
You are, and always have been, forgiven.
Tru
After finishing the letter, Hope continued to stare at the page, her heart pounding in her chest. The world seemed to be closing in, collapsing from all sides. The letter offered no clues as to whether he’d stayed, no means of contacting him if he’d returned to Africa…
“Did you leave?” she cried aloud. “Please don’t tell me you’ve already left…”
As she spoke the words, she lifted her eyes from the page and caught sight of a man standing no more than ten feet away. The sun cast him in shadow, making it hard to see his features, but she had visualized his image so many thousands of times over the years that she recognized him anyway. Her mouth opened, and as he took a hesitant step toward her, she saw that he’d begun to smile.
“I didn’t leave,” Tru said to her. “I’m still here.”
REUNION
Staring at him, Hope felt frozen to the bench. It couldn’t be happening—there was no way that Tru could really be here—and yet she couldn’t hold back the avalanche of emotions that crashed over her. Wonder and joy were coupled with absolute shock, making it impossible for her to speak, and a tiny part of her feared that if she did, the illusion would be shattered.
He was here. She could see him. She’d heard him speak, and with the sound of his voice, the memories of their time together materialized with vivid force. Her first thought was that he’d changed little in the years since she’d seen him last. He was still lean, his broad shoulders unbent by age, and while his hair had thinned and turned silver-gray, it had the same careless, tousled look she’d always adored. He was dressed the same as he’d dressed back then, in a neatly tucked-in button-up shirt, jeans, and boots; she remembered him being impervious to the cold, but today he was wearing a jacket that reached his hips, though he hadn’t bothered to zip it up.
He hadn’t moved any closer, seemingly as stunned as she. Eventually he broke the spell.
“Hello, Hope.”
Hearing him say her name made her heart slam in her chest. “Tru?” she breathed.
He started toward her. “I see you found the letter I left you.”
Only then did she realize she was still holding it.
“I did.” She nodded. She folded it and absently slipped it into the pocket of her jacket, her mind a jumble of colliding images, past and present. “Were you behind me on the beach? I didn’t see you.”
He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I walked over from Sunset Beach, but I didn’t see you, either. Not until the mailbox came into view, anyway. I’m sorry if I startled you.”
She shook her head as she rose from the bench. “I still can’t believe you’re here…I feel like I’m dreaming.”
“You’re not dreaming.”
“How do you know?”
“Because,” he responded gently, his accent exactly as she remembered, “both of us can’t be dreaming.
“It’s been a long time,” he added.
“Yes, it has.”
“You’re still beautiful,” he said, a note of wonder in his voice.
She felt the blood rise in her cheeks, a sensation she’d almost forgotten. “Hardly…” She pushed a windblown lock of hair out of her face. “But thank you.”
He closed the gap between them and gently took her hand in his. The warmth of his grip spread throughout her, and while he was close enough to kiss her, he didn’t. Instead, he traced his thumb slowly across her skin, the feeling electric.
“How are you?” he asked.
Every cell in her body seemed to be vibrating. “I’m…” She brought her lips together before going on. “Actually, I don’t know how I’m doing. Other than feeling…shell-shocked.”
His eyes captured hers, collapsing the years they’d lost. “There’s so much I want to ask you,” he said.
“Me too,” she whispered.
“It’s so good to see you again.”
As he spoke, her vision began to telescope, the wider world shrinking to the dimensions of that singular moment: Tru suddenly standing before her after so many years apart, and without another word, they went together. He put his arms around her, drawing her close, and all at once, she felt as if she were thirty-six again, dissolving in the shelter of his body as the autumn sunlight streamed down around them.
They stayed like that for a long time, until she finally pulled back to look at him. Really look. Though the lines had grown deeper in his face, the dimple on his chin and the color of his eyes were the same as she remembered. She found herself foolishly relieved that she’d had her hair done recently, and that she’d taken time with her appearance this morning. The clash of memory and immediate sensation was roiling her thoughts, and she felt her eyes inexplicably well with tears. She swiped at them, embarrassed.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She sniffed. “I’m sorry for crying, but I…I just…I never really believed that you would be here.”
He offered a wry smile. “I’ll admit that it was a fairly extraordinary sequence of events that led me back to you.”
Despite her tears, she laughed under her breath at the phrasing. He sounded like he always had, making it a bit easier to regain her bearings.
Had he been twelve days early?
She didn’t understand, and her confusion led to even more questions. Had he gotten the date wrong? Had he learned of her letter, or was the whole thing a coincidence? Was the letter even for her? Had she really recognized the handwriting? And if so…
Where was he?
Where was he?
Where was he?
Her hands began to shake and she closed her eyes, trying to slow her thoughts and the cascade of questions. She drew several long, deep breaths, telling herself that she’d been imagining all of it. When she opened her eyes, there would be a different name at the top; when she really examined the letter, she would see that the handwriting didn’t match at all.
When she had regained a semblance of self-control, she lowered her gaze to the page.
Hope
Nor, she realized, had she been mistaken about the handwriting. It was his, no one’s but his, and she felt a catch in her throat as she finally began to read.
Hope,
The destiny that matters most in life is the one concerning love.
I write those words as I sit in a room where I’ve been staying for more than a month. It’s a bed and breakfast called the Stanley House, and it’s located in the historic district of Wilmington. The owners are very kind, it’s quiet most of the time, and the food is good.
I know these details may feel irrelevant, but I’m nervous, so let me start with the obvious: I learned about your letter on August 23, and I flew to North Carolina two days later. I knew where you wanted to meet me and guessed that you would visit at low tide, but for reasons I can best explain later, I didn’t know the exact date you would be there. I had only vague references to work from, which is why I chose to stay at a bed and breakfast. If I was going to be in North Carolina for a while, I wanted someplace more comfortable than a hotel, but I didn’t want the trouble of renting a place. I wasn’t even sure how to go about something like that in a foreign country, to tell you the truth. All I knew was that I had to come, since I’d promised you that I would.
Despite the lack of particulars, I assumed that you’d picked a date in September. That’s when we met, after all. I’ve visited Kindred Spirit every day this past month. I watched and waited for you without success, all the while wondering whether I’d missed you, or whether you had changed your mind. I wondered if fate had conspired to keep us apart once more. When September gave way to October, I made the decision to leave you a letter, with the hope that you may one day learn of it in the same inexplicable way I had learned of yours.
You see, I also learned that you wanted to apologize for what had happened between us, for making the decision that you did so long ago. I told you then, and I still believe now, that no apology is necessary. Meeting you and falling in love with you was an experience I would relive a thousand times in a thousand different lives, if I was ever given that chance.
You are, and always have been, forgiven.
Tru
After finishing the letter, Hope continued to stare at the page, her heart pounding in her chest. The world seemed to be closing in, collapsing from all sides. The letter offered no clues as to whether he’d stayed, no means of contacting him if he’d returned to Africa…
“Did you leave?” she cried aloud. “Please don’t tell me you’ve already left…”
As she spoke the words, she lifted her eyes from the page and caught sight of a man standing no more than ten feet away. The sun cast him in shadow, making it hard to see his features, but she had visualized his image so many thousands of times over the years that she recognized him anyway. Her mouth opened, and as he took a hesitant step toward her, she saw that he’d begun to smile.
“I didn’t leave,” Tru said to her. “I’m still here.”
REUNION
Staring at him, Hope felt frozen to the bench. It couldn’t be happening—there was no way that Tru could really be here—and yet she couldn’t hold back the avalanche of emotions that crashed over her. Wonder and joy were coupled with absolute shock, making it impossible for her to speak, and a tiny part of her feared that if she did, the illusion would be shattered.
He was here. She could see him. She’d heard him speak, and with the sound of his voice, the memories of their time together materialized with vivid force. Her first thought was that he’d changed little in the years since she’d seen him last. He was still lean, his broad shoulders unbent by age, and while his hair had thinned and turned silver-gray, it had the same careless, tousled look she’d always adored. He was dressed the same as he’d dressed back then, in a neatly tucked-in button-up shirt, jeans, and boots; she remembered him being impervious to the cold, but today he was wearing a jacket that reached his hips, though he hadn’t bothered to zip it up.
He hadn’t moved any closer, seemingly as stunned as she. Eventually he broke the spell.
“Hello, Hope.”
Hearing him say her name made her heart slam in her chest. “Tru?” she breathed.
He started toward her. “I see you found the letter I left you.”
Only then did she realize she was still holding it.
“I did.” She nodded. She folded it and absently slipped it into the pocket of her jacket, her mind a jumble of colliding images, past and present. “Were you behind me on the beach? I didn’t see you.”
He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I walked over from Sunset Beach, but I didn’t see you, either. Not until the mailbox came into view, anyway. I’m sorry if I startled you.”
She shook her head as she rose from the bench. “I still can’t believe you’re here…I feel like I’m dreaming.”
“You’re not dreaming.”
“How do you know?”
“Because,” he responded gently, his accent exactly as she remembered, “both of us can’t be dreaming.
“It’s been a long time,” he added.
“Yes, it has.”
“You’re still beautiful,” he said, a note of wonder in his voice.
She felt the blood rise in her cheeks, a sensation she’d almost forgotten. “Hardly…” She pushed a windblown lock of hair out of her face. “But thank you.”
He closed the gap between them and gently took her hand in his. The warmth of his grip spread throughout her, and while he was close enough to kiss her, he didn’t. Instead, he traced his thumb slowly across her skin, the feeling electric.
“How are you?” he asked.
Every cell in her body seemed to be vibrating. “I’m…” She brought her lips together before going on. “Actually, I don’t know how I’m doing. Other than feeling…shell-shocked.”
His eyes captured hers, collapsing the years they’d lost. “There’s so much I want to ask you,” he said.
“Me too,” she whispered.
“It’s so good to see you again.”
As he spoke, her vision began to telescope, the wider world shrinking to the dimensions of that singular moment: Tru suddenly standing before her after so many years apart, and without another word, they went together. He put his arms around her, drawing her close, and all at once, she felt as if she were thirty-six again, dissolving in the shelter of his body as the autumn sunlight streamed down around them.
They stayed like that for a long time, until she finally pulled back to look at him. Really look. Though the lines had grown deeper in his face, the dimple on his chin and the color of his eyes were the same as she remembered. She found herself foolishly relieved that she’d had her hair done recently, and that she’d taken time with her appearance this morning. The clash of memory and immediate sensation was roiling her thoughts, and she felt her eyes inexplicably well with tears. She swiped at them, embarrassed.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She sniffed. “I’m sorry for crying, but I…I just…I never really believed that you would be here.”
He offered a wry smile. “I’ll admit that it was a fairly extraordinary sequence of events that led me back to you.”
Despite her tears, she laughed under her breath at the phrasing. He sounded like he always had, making it a bit easier to regain her bearings.
