“I’m sure. Martha and Josh have gone out for breakfast and to explore some of the local sights recommended in the guidebook, so I have this time undisturbed.”
Liza opened the first letter. It was dated September 1960.
“Dearest Kate,
I’m not sure if you’ll read this. I won’t blame you if you don’t, but I’m writing it anyway. There are things I need to say even if you’re not going to hear them. It’s ironic, isn’t it, that the one person I was always able to say anything to (you!) is now no longer here to listen. It is a great loss, and the blame for that loss lies entirely with me. You’ve been the very best friend to me since that very first day at college, and you stayed that way until the end.
This should never have happened of course, and if I had been as good a friend to you as you have always been to me, then I would not find myself in the position of having to write these words. But I am not you, no matter how many times in the past I have wished to be blessed with even a few of your qualities.
I should be wishing this had never happened, and yet how can I? I cannot begin to explain the emotional turmoil and confusion that comes from knowing that my greatest joy came at the expense of your happiness, and our friendship. The knowledge that I hurt you deeply is something I live with every day.
I know that my feelings for Adam vastly eclipse his for me. Perhaps I should care more about that than I do, but unlike you I never had expectations of grand passion or romance. I know he is marrying me because he feels driven by obligation. His feelings for me are a fraction of his feelings for you, and we would not have found ourselves in this position were it not for the
baby...”
Liza stopped. Baby? Baby?
“Liza?” Her mother’s voice came down the phone. “Why have you stopped?”
“Ruth was pregnant?”
“Yes. Please keep reading. I want to hear all of it.”
Pregnant.
No wonder her mother had walked away and not tried to fix it.
Liza forced herself to carry on reading.
“You know that all I ever wanted was a child, and a family of my own. You used to tease me about it. What was the point of a college education if I had no intention of putting it to good use? Where was my ambition? But I was never like you. I know that Adam came to see you after he found out—” Liza heard her mother’s indrawn breath. That part obviously came as a shock. Should she pause? No. Not unless she was asked to. “He told me that he went to you and begged you to take him back. To forgive. And he told me that you refused to listen and that you told him to live up to his responsibilities. He tried to see you again, but you’d left. You walked away to give us a chance. You removed yourself as an option. Even in our parting you were a better friend to me than I was to you.”
Liza broke off, her throat thick with tears. “Mum—”
“Don’t stop, Liza. It’s hard to hear and I’d like to get through it as fast as I can. You have no idea how relieved I am you’re the one reading them.”
Liza swallowed. Her job wasn’t to judge or ask for more detail. Her mother needed her to read the letters.
She wiped tears from her cheeks and focused on the words.
“And now he resents me, and for that I don’t blame him even though he is at least half responsible for this child we made. I have no expectations that he will be faithful, and next time I write to you—and I will write, even if you don’t read these letters—I may well be a single mother.”
Liza cleared her throat. “He wanted you back. You loved him, and you could have had him back.”
“I loved him more than anything, and I was heartbroken, but I knew I would survive without him. I wasn’t so sure about Ruth. She was always vulnerable. From that first day we met in college, I protected her.”
Did her mother want to say more? This type of conversation was new to both of them.
“It must have been a special friendship.” Liza trod carefully, wanting to be sensitive. “What was she like?”
“She’d had a difficult childhood. Lonely. Very strict parents. They were older, I believe, although I never met them. They didn’t visit her.”
Liza put the letters down. “How did you meet Adam?”
“At drama club. I dragged Ruth along with me. Adam was there. He was a medical student and rather full of himself I suppose, but I found him entertaining.” She paused. “I’ve never told this story to anyone before.”
Liza heard the uncertainty in her mother’s voice. “I’m glad you’re sharing it with me.”
There was a pressure in her chest, a swell of emotion that threatened to overwhelm.