I’d forgotten all about that trip. In a way, after the Copenhavers’ fatal accident, I ended up siding with Charlie, whereas Zack chose Anabelle. We were all close growing up, and then we weren’t.
“I have to get back to the house.” She wiped her tears. “There’s a lot of work to be done before it’s ready.”
“Right.” I stood. I didn’t dare ask why the house needed to be ready. “There’s another matter I’d like to discuss with you.”
She pursed her lips. “Back to business mode. Okay. What is it?”
“My brother Derek is interested in the Copenhaver estate. He’s made an offer. I think you should consider it.”
Derek was prepared to pay premium price for the lands adjacent to the Cole estate. He wanted the place where we spent so many summers when we were young to be better and bigger than it was when Grams was alive. Part of that plan included Fox’s Bank.
“I’m sorry, what?” She glared at me.
How was this beautiful woman the Sweet Ana from eight years ago? Anabelle was a completely different person now. “It’s a good offer. Double what you’ll get anywhere else.”
“I’m not selling my home. Tell him no. I just got back. I’m not leaving again.”
Her tone was final. I glanced down and sighed in relief. My brother wanted the property. I could have declined on her behalf, but the choice to stay or leave was all hers. I shouldn’t be happy that she wanted to stay, that we would be neighbors again, with only the woods to separate our houses.
Dear Anabelle,
Congratulations on making Barnard College. That’s a tough school. I’m proud of you for getting there all on your own. I’m sorry I haven’t answered any of your letters. I wish I had a real reason. But the truth is, I’m an asshole. You’re an adult now, you’re fine with cursing, right?
Love,
C
At the time, I thought I had answered because I felt sorry for her. Because I was mad at Charlie for being such an asshole to her after the accident. But in truth, I did it because I felt as left out as she had. Or maybe just aimless. Zack had just started medical school, and Charlie and I had had the brilliant idea of joining the Marine Corps right after college. I wanted to save lives and do things that mattered, same as Zack, only I didn’t have the patience for four more years of studying and bullshit residencies. I wanted to start making a difference immediately.
“Please tell me you don’t have the authority to sell my house against my will.” Her voice snapped me out of my reverie.
“I don’t. But even I did, I would never do that to you. Not when it’s obvious Fox’s Bank means so much to you.”
A dimple appeared on the side of her mouth, and I had to look away. The memory of more of her letters came rushing back. I raked a hand through my hair and made it all go away. “That’s all I had for you. I should get back to work.” I gestured toward the door.
The smile fell from her lips. “Sure. Um, I’ll go. Thank you for telling me the truth.”
“I’m here for whatever you need.”
“I might take you up on that offer. The house needs a lot of work.”
I nodded. “I’m just across the creek.”
“Wait—you’re living next door?”
“For a while. I haven’t had time to look for a place.”
“I’ll see you around, then.” She waved goodbye and ambled out of my office.
I fought the urge to walk her to the door. I had to let her be. The best way to help her was to ignore whatever crazy feelings I thought I had. Protecting her was the least I could do for Charlie after I left him in the jungle, after he sacrificed himself to save me and my brothers.
My watch showed I still had another fifteen minutes before my next meeting. Shaking my head, I flipped opened Anabelle’s folder, which contained all the letters she’d written to Charlie over the past eight years. Most of them I’d rescued from the waste bin after he’d ripped them to pieces. He didn’t care that she was hurting and alone.
The first year, her notes were mostly her apologizing to Charlie for killing their parents, as she’d put it. I’d been there the day she came home after being in the hospital. Charlie had just been told his parents hadn’t made it. She put all the blame on herself, and he believed her.
I skipped past all the taped sheets of paper to the first letter she wrote in response to mine. My eyes watered when I glanced down at her signature with the A smudged, as if one of her tears had soaked the ink.
Dear Charlie,