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Bryan Mooney

 

Love Letters

by

Bryan Mooney
(An excerpt)

"My Dearest Darling," the love letters began, and try as she might, she could not stop reading the letters she found in the old books. After reading one she was compelled to reach for another. Her curiosity urged her on. She could not stop…  

If you found a love letter in an old book, would you read it?

Suppose you purchased some books from a bookseller at a flea market and upon returning home discovered love letters inside, what would you do?  Would you read the letters? Would you try to return them? Would you destroy them?

That is the dilemma that Katie Kosgrove finds herself in when she discovers love letters written by the man she knows only as Jack. Curious but unable to locate him to return the love letters, she begins to read.

The letters all begin with the same greeting, "My Dearest Darling," and they each end with, "Forever Jack". The letters start to transform her life in ways that she never would have imagined. She is thankful to the handsome stranger she met only once.

Katie knows exactly what she would say to him if she were to ever see him again, until one day he reappears, back in her life. Their world begins to change once more, but the letters have an awesome power over both of them, until…

Chapter One

Katherine Kosgrove locked the front door of her secondhand bookstore and pushed the large boxes of books over to the sofa in front of the fireplace. She made herself comfortable on the old green sofa, sitting back with a large glass of wine, music playing in the background and her cat Felix snuggling beside her. Katie had saved Felix from certain destruction at an animal shelter in Boca Raton. Apparently nobody else wanted a one eyed cat but he was her buddy. Independent as hell, like her, but her buddy nonetheless.

Even though it was late, she began to search through the boxes of books she purchased at the flea market that day. She needed to catalog her new purchases for tomorrow.  Felix purred for more cat food but soon dozed off to sleep. Katie had to be ready for her early regular Monday morning customers, who would be eager to search through any new books she placed on her "Just Arrived" rack.  

While sorting through the first box of books, she could not help but be reminded of the ruggedly handsome doctor at the flea market who sold them to her. He said his name was Jack and that he was downsizing to a smaller house because his wife recently passed away. Jack told her the books belonged to his wife.

The used bookstore, aptly named Second Hand Rose, was housed in a former two-story general store. The downstairs main floor was her bookstore and the second floor was her apartment. The place had tons of space and the rent was cheap, perfect for her purposes. At the rear of the store was a rustic old stone fireplace. Katie made this area cozy and inviting for her customers. Bookshelves lined the walls and a sofa faced the working fireplace. It wasn't just pretty, it was functional as well.

Katie's customers could peruse the books they were considering or wait out any of the frequent Florida rainstorms in front of the fireplace, drinking her freshly brewed Tandian Orange Indian Tea.

She would sometimes light the fireplace during the rare, cool Florida winter days when the temperature dropped into the chilly range. Sitting there on the sofa she could still smell the woodsy smoke from the last time she lit the fireplace. But most of all, Katie enjoyed the stack of white birch logs she usually left on the open grate. The soft luminous logs reminded her of home and the sofa made a great place to curl up with a good book.

She sorted through the first box, taking the books out and arranging them by category, condition and genre. The books in the first box were mostly romance novels, which were her customers' favorites. She found books written by authors such as Jackie Steil, Robin Macy, Maureen Hare and Francesca Delarina among countless others.

There were also books of poetry by Keats, Browning, Frost and a book of poetry by an unfamiliar poet named Allison White, which she found buried in the bottom of the box. She placed the poetry books in her personal "To Be Read" pile.

Katie started forming other piles and was nearly done with the first box, when she found the classic, Rebecca, by Daphne Du Maurier, the twisted classic love story her mother enjoyed reading. Her mother loved the book so much she had wanted to name her daughter either Rebecca or Daphne, but Katie's father would have none of it. Her mom lost that battle and she was named Katherine, after her paternal grandmother.

Her mother, the ballet dancer Roberta Casina, grew up outside the town of Big Sky, Wyoming on a large cattle ranch and would spend most of her idle time reading. Katie went back to the ranch many times with her mother when her parents fought. She loved its wide open spaces and undisturbed view of the heavenly stars. The ranch was sold at her father's insistence when he ran into financial troubles. Her mother never said a word about it but Katie always knew she resented the loss. The last time she was there was to scatter her mother's ashes across the wildflower fields near the ranch.   

Next she came across her favorite, Wuthering Heights by Charlotte Bronte. "Heathcliff," she murmured out loud, her voice emulating the tone of the novel. "Heathcliff," she sighed again, an impassioned memory, causing Felix to raise his sleepy head and glance at her.

"Go back to sleep," she said to her feline fur ball, caressing his forehead. "Back, back to sleep, back to sleep," she soothed and he was soon purring again, dreaming whatever it was that cats dreamt. 

Her mind wandered back to the man at the flea market. He reminded her of some Hollywood movie star, rugged good looks, tall, broad shoulders and an easy smile. He was the type you would recognize in an instant but could not place his name.

She glanced through the Bronte book and even though she'd read it countless times she always found the classic love story mesmerizing. She smiled to herself, holding the cherished book in her hand. Jack's wife had very good taste. She tossed the book onto her growing personal "To Be Read" pile.

The book bounced off the sofa and landed on the floor, spilling out what appeared to be a handwritten note onto the carpet in front of her. Katie reached for the book and the piece of paper lying beside it.

She unfolded the blue lined note paper and read the first line of the letter, My Dearest Darling.

Katie's eyes widened. Whoa. Oh my god, this is a treat and a treasure. Most women don't get to read love letters and far fewer have love letters written to them. What do we have here?

She clutched the letter tightly to her chest, looking around to see if anyone saw her reading someone else's love letter. It was a reflex reaction. Of course there's no one here. It's one a.m. Just Felix and me. Curious, she had to read more.

Katie glanced at the blue paper. This could be a very private letter but she could not resist reading on. Her curiosity got the better of her, as Felix yawned in his sleep. "I know, I know what curiosity has done to cats," she whispered, then began to read.

March, 2007

My Dearest Darling;

I saw a sunset today, a beautiful sunset. It reminded me of you and of us. Do you recall how we would measure our days by the sunsets we saw? We would always take the time to stop and watch them, no matter where we were.

Remember the orange and red sunset over the plains of the Serengeti—we held hands like school kids and drew each other close, hearing the lions roar just beyond our fires. Remember the awe inspiring sunset on the Greek island of Syros? Do you recall the marvelous sunset from the top of the hills overlooking Molokai? Oh, that magical Hawaiian island, shrouded in rainbows every day, from the wondrous mornings until the cool nightfall. And remember the sunrises on the beach in Panama? But the ones I recall most fondly were the morning sunrises on Delray Beach. It was always enough to take my breath away, as long as I was there with you, my love.

Breathtaking! The simple silent beauty, there is nothing on earth like it and to spend it with you was like gold.

My favorite sunset of all time was on our cruise and we were dining on board, sailing the blue green waters of the Caribbean. From our window table we could faintly see the soft yellow rays of the setting sun. Together we grabbed our champagne glasses and left our dinner to be alone. We watched the most gorgeous sunset of all. I cherish times such as those, my love.

 Every time I see a sunset, I think of you and remember your beauty and what you mean to me. Each sunrise and sunset brings us closer together. Which sunsets do you recall as your favorite? Which sunrises do you cherish? I count the sunsets until we are together again.

I love you and miss you.

Forever,

Jack

"Wow, how romantic can you get?" Katie took a large, loud, gulp of wine. The letter was signed simply, Jack. No last name. It had to be the same good looking Jack she bought the books from. He must have written these letters to his wife.

 That was some letter. Jack and his Dearest Darling really loved each other. Then Katie remembered he'd told her his wife died a while back.

This fellow Jack, he really loved her. He knew what his wife wanted. She wanted what every woman wants. Simple really, Katie thought, we want love and happiness, coupled with trust and respect. Everything else is just fluff. Nothing else matters.

She gazed at the love letter she held in her hand. Why didn't he keep the letter? Maybe he didn't know it was in the book? He would most likely want the letter back if he knew about it. That she was sure of. Sort of.

I should read the letter again to see if there are any clues, like his last name or contact information, then I could return the letter. Yes, that's what I'll do. She reread the letter—twice. Nothing. It was a letter he wrote to someone else and Katie had no right to read it. She refolded it and set it next to her.

Somehow, this letter made her think about her relationship with her ex-husband, Richard. He could have never written a letter such as this one. He was incapable of that kind of passion, that kind of tenderness. Richard could never be that open or vulnerable. There was raw emotion pouring from this man's heart. Jack's wife had been a very lucky woman. The letter gave her hope that there were still some good men out there.

Reluctantly, she pushed the letter further away from her. She still had two more large boxes of books to sort through and it was getting late. She pulled out the last book from the first box. It was a very large medical surgery book. Would any of her customers buy a medical book? She tossed it into her miscellaneous book pile.

The large book hit the pile with a thud, rolling over on its side. Something stuck out from the bottom of the book. A bookmark? Or another letter?  She retrieved the book from the pile, opened it to the marked page and found a one hundred dollar bill.

Her mouth fell open in shock. What the heck is going on here? Didn't people check these things before they brought them to a flea market? She scrambled to her knees, now determined to go through every book she purchased at the flea market. Katie was on a mission.

She searched through all the books from the first box, examining each book, turning them upside down and shaking them to see if anything came out before moving on to the next box of books. The second and third box yielded more money and other letters, each written on different colored paper.

When she opened the other letters she noticed each one had the same handwriting, signature, Forever Jack and the same opening, My Dearest Darling. All love letters written by Jack.

By the time she was finished, Katie had found in excess of three hundred dollars in cash and over thirty love letters. She could not believe all the money she had found but even so, the letters were more precious than money.

Katie sat there, with her found money in one hand and the love letters in the other. Taking the money, she put the bills into a plain white envelope and after sealing it, she wrote on the outside of the envelope one word, Jack. She tucked it inside her cash register.            

She sat down, made herself comfortable and took a deep breath. She found she was unable to move, holding the treasured stack of love letters. She had read only one letter completely but felt something happening inside of her, in her heart, something good.

Why didn't he just send his wife an email? A handwritten letter was much more romantic. But with an email it would get there faster, she debated with herself.

Katie arranged the letters by date, starting with the first one, dated February 2007. It was then she noticed that they all only included the month and year at the top of the page. Picking up another letter she realized the letter she had read first was actually the second letter he wrote.

 Should she read them all now or ration them like her chocolates? Or should she just bundle them away? She was only going to read just the one letter, but her curiosity got the better of her.  She took another large sip of wine and settled in to read his first letter.

Maybe I can find out more about him, like his name and where he lives, and then I could return these letters to him, she reasoned.

Katie stopped for a moment but try as she might, she could not stop reading. After reading one letter she was compelled to reach for another. Her curiosity urged her on, she could not stop.

February, 2007

My Dearest Darling,

I miss you.  I wish…