Page 112 of Nineteen Letters
“I’m sorry I’m late. I had to swing past the shops and grab some things.”
She lifts the arm that’s holding her shopping bags.
“Let me take those.” I reach for them. “You didn’t need to bring anything. I’ve already organised lunch.”
“This is dinner,” she says with a smile. “In one of your letters, you mentioned how your mum would cook a roast on Sundays. It’s Sunday, so I thought I’d cook one for you … that’s if you want me to, of course.”
My smile is as bright as hers. “I’d love that.” Leaning forward, I place a soft kiss on the side of her face. “Thank you.”
Once the groceries are packed away, we head out into the yard, where I have her gardening tools and bucket waiting.
Gardening is not something I ever enjoyed, but Jemma loved being out here; she found it therapeutic.
“I might get started on the lawns then, if that’s okay.”
“Go,” she says. “I’m fine. This is actually relaxing.”
I duck into the house quickly, grabbing her iPod from our room. She used to love listening to music while she gardened.
“What’s that?” she asks when I hand it to her.
“Your iPod. It has all your favourite songs on it. You used to listen to music while you were out here. Sometimes you’d eventake it when you went for a run. I’ve been meaning to give it to you.” There are so many of her things still here at the house, but I’ve been reluctant to let them go. “You can choose what playlist you want to listen to by scrolling up and down. Then just press play. You can attach the iPod to your clothes … here.” I take it from her hand and clip it onto her T-shirt. “That way, your hands are free.”
“Thanks,” she says, smiling.
She goes back to her gardening, and I retrieve the mower and edger from the garage. I have never looked forward to doing the lawn so much in my life.
“That looks scrumptious,” she says when I place the prawn-and-avocado salad in the middle of the table. “It’s one of your favourites.”
It looks more like rabbit food to me, but Jemma used to love this before the accident. I bought some crusty rolls to go with it for myself, to make the meal more hearty.
The gardens and lawn are all done, and everything looks great again, just like it used to.
Jemma places the plates and cutlery on the table before taking a seat. “I Skyped with Rachel this morning,” she says.
“I’m glad you two are doing that again. You used to Skype all the time before the …” I let my words drift off.
Picking up the tongs, I scoop some salad onto her plate.
She pops a prawn into her mouth before continuing. “Anyway, I mentioned Lucas. I never got a chance to bring it up when she came over for the farewell dinner.”
That comment gets my attention. “And?”
“She burst into tears. Oh, Braxton, it was awful,” she says with a sigh.
“You didn’t tell her what Lucas told me, did you?”
“No. I’d never betray your trust like that. I brought up the shopping centre you guys designed. But as soon as I mentioned his name, she lost it. When she finally stopped crying, she told me everything.”
I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t.
“You don’t have to tell me what she said if you don’t want to.” As much as I’m curious to know, I don’t want to put her in an awkward position.
“I trust you won’t relay any of it to Lucas.”
“You know I’d never do that. Whatever we discuss has always stayed between us. I’d never do anything to jeopardise your friendship with Rachel.”
“I’d never do anything to jeopardise your friendship with Lucas, either.”
