Page 32 of The Pink House

“She handed me the envelope. I saw my name.” Hannah’s lips wanted to tremble, but she pressed them together until they steadied. “Look at it, Charlie. It’s Brian’s handwriting.”

His gaze dropped to the envelope, and she heard his quick inhale.

“You see it, too.” Her heart fluttered. “Brian had a distinctive way of making his H’s.”

“He did. That’s his handwriting.” Charlie lifted his head and met her gaze. “How can this be?”

For someone who normally had all the answers, Charlie appeared equally thunderstruck.

“I asked Maisie where she got it. She said something like, ‘Does it matter? You’ve got it now.’” Hannah raked a hand through her hair. “I probably should have pressed, but once I saw it was Brian’s handwriting, I found it hard to think.”

“What happened then?” he prompted.

“I came home. I opened the envelope and read the letter.”

“I’m sorry you had to face this alone.” His voice held a gravelly quality she hadn’t heard before.

She lifted her chin. “I can handle it.”

“I have no doubt of that.” His matter-of-fact tone was just what she needed. “But being there during tough times is what friends are for.”

Was Charlie a friend? Yes, she concluded, he was. And, of all her friends, she was glad he was the one with her now.

Charlie continued to hold the paper loosely in his large hand. “Is it okay with you if I read this?”

There were words of love in the letter as well as regret. But Charlie had been Brian’s best friend since childhood. If anyone could give her insight, it would be him.

“‘My dearest Hannah,’” he read, then looked up. “This letter is clearly meant for you. No doubt there.”

She nodded, hoping he wasn’t planning on reading the entire letter aloud. Hearing Brian’s words on his lips would seem wrong somehow. If he began to read aloud, she’d stop him.

It wasn’t necessary.

Hannah watched Charlie’s gaze move down the letter. His expression remained serious, then his lips curved.

“What’s making you smile?”

He pointed with one finger to the letter. “I was remembering how much he enjoyed fishing.” When he looked up, his expression turned bleak. “And snowballs.”

Hannah had grown up around snowballs, the refreshing treat made of finely shaved ice and syrup. Not until she’d gone away to college had she encountered snow cones, similar but made with crushed instead of shaved ice.

“He never mentioned fishing when we were together.” Hannah paused and fought to recall. “Heck, I didn’t even know he liked snowballs.”

“What about Devil’s Bathtub?” Charlie cocked his head. “Did you ever go there?”

Hannah shook her head. Was he forgetting that this Devil’s Bathtub was on private property? “There are all those No Trespassing signs posted everywhere.”

Charlie emitted an unexpected chuckle. “As if that stopped anyone.”

“It stopped me.”

“Okay, so it stops some.” His tone gentled. “This is an amazing letter, Hannah. It’s a gift.”

She nodded.

He handed her the letter. “What are you going to do?”

Reverently, she put it back into the envelope and set it on the coffee table. “What do you mean?”

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