Page 46 of Nineteen Letters
I lied. I was carving my heart into that trunk. My deepest, darkest secret—my fear of losing you was what stopped me from ever telling you how I truly felt.
In reality, it was probably only ten minutes, but to me, it felt like a lifetime had passed. And you were growing impatient. “Come on, Brax. I want my kite.”
“Okay.” I folded my knife away and slipped it back into my pocket. Then I took a deep breath and willed myself to move, as I lay face down onto the branch. Don’t look down … don’t look down I continued to chant.
I’d only made it about a metre along when I heard the first crack. My heart was beating so fast I could hear it thumping in my ears.
“Please be careful,” you called out again.
I could hear the fear in your voice and it only intensified my panic. I took another deep breath and continued to snake forward, one terrifying inch at a time. I was only about five metres off the ground, but it felt like a hundred.
I heard another crack, followed closely by another. My grip on the branch tightened and before I even realised what was happening, I was falling. “Braaaaax!” I heard you scream moments before I hit the ground hard.
I don’t remember much after that.
My father was at work, but your parents rushed me to the hospital. My injuries weren’t serious, but my arm was broken in two places. On a positive note, your kite came down with me in the fall.
The hospital kept me in for a few hours for observation because I’d also hit my head in the fall. You sat by my bed in emergency and held my hand while they plastered my arm. I lost count of how many times you apologised.
My dad closed his store and came straight to my bedside when your parents called him. I felt bad when I saw the anguish on his face.
You refused to leave with your parents, just like I had years earlier when you’d been stung by that bluebottle. You remained by my side the entire time.
As soon as we arrived home, my father ordered me to lie down. Apart from the dull ache in my arm, I felt fine, but I did as I was told. I could tell he was angry with me for recklessly climbing the tree, but also incredibly relieved I was okay. I understand it more now; with everything that had happened with my mum, I was all he had left.
You followed us up to my room and when my father suggested you go home so I could rest, you refused. I was grateful he let you stay. You sat on the edge of my bedwhile my father fussed over me, but the moment he left the room, you pulled back my covers and climbed into bed beside me. You’d never done anything like that before.
“I’m so sorry, Brax,” you said for the hundred-millionth time as you slid your arm around my waist and snuggled into my chest. When I heard you sniffle I knew you were crying, so I pulled your body closer to mine.
“Stop apologising, Jem. It’s not your fault, it was an accident.”
“When you fell from that tree … I … I … I thought I was going to lose you,” you sobbed. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“Don’t cry.” I ran my hand up and down your back to soothe you.
“I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it, Braxton Spencer,” you whispered.
I couldn’t imagine my life without you either, I still can’t. You’re my life, Jem.
I held you tightly until you were sound asleep. It was the first time you’d ever slept in my arms.
Before I closed my eyes, I planted a soft kiss on your hair, and only then did I dare say the words I’d never been able to voice out loud: “I love you with all my heart, Jemma Isabella Rosalie Robinson.”
What we had is far too beautiful to be forgotten.
Yours always,
Braxton
I fold the letter and place it in the envelope, adding the tiny tree charm. I tried to get her a kite as well, but the jeweller didn’t have any in stock.
It’s almost midnight when I log off from my laptop and grab my briefcase from beside my desk, turning off the lights as I leave the office. The thought of going home to an empty house, without Jem there waiting for me, is something I don’t think I’ll ever get used to.
I’m almost home when I decide to take a detour. I know she’ll already be in bed, but the urge I have to be near her is overwhelming.
I place the letter inside the letterbox, then stand back and look up at Jemma’s bedroom window. I’m not sure how long I stand on the footpath outside Christine’s house, but it’s a while.
Even though my heart is heavy, I smile as I think back to that very first day I saw her pressed up against the glass watching me. I never could have predicted how close we would become in the years that followed.
