Every Breath

After skirting the path, they reached the street and she noticed a car parked in the spot next to hers.

“Yours?” she asked, pointing.

“A rental,” he said.

It made sense that he’d rented a car, she supposed, but she couldn’t help but realize that their cars were close to each other, as if drawn together by the same magical forces that had allowed Hope and Tru to reunite. She found that oddly touching.

“How about you follow me?” she offered. “It’s a bit of a drive.”

“Lead the way.”

She hit the button to unlock the doors and slipped behind the wheel. The car was cold, and after starting the engine, she cranked the heater to maximum. Beyond the glass, Tru got into his rental. She backed out, then stopped in the street to wait for him. When he was ready, she removed her foot from the brake and the car began to roll forward, toward an afternoon she couldn’t have foreseen and a future she couldn’t imagine.

Alone in the car, her thoughts began to wander and she continued to peek in the rearview mirror, making sure Tru didn’t disappear. Making sure she hadn’t been hallucinating, because part of her still couldn’t believe that he’d learned of her letter.

But he had learned of it, she thought.

He was here. He’d come back because she’d wanted him to. And he still cared for her.

She took a breath, steadying herself as the car finally began to warm. His car trailed behind hers through the turns and over the bridge. Onto the highway, where, thankfully, most of the lights were green, then finally toward the turnoff that led to Carolina Beach. Another small bridge and a few turns later, she pulled into the driveway of the cottage she’d rented.

She left room for Tru to pull in alongside her, watching as he finally came to a stop. She stepped out, listening to the ticking of her engine as it cooled. In his car, Tru was turned around, reaching for something in the back seat, his hair silver through the glass.

As she waited, thin strands of clouds drifted overhead, softening the glare. The breeze was steady, and after the warmth of the car, she felt herself suddenly shiver. As she crossed her arms, she heard a cardinal call from the trees, and when she spotted it, she flashed to the memory of Joe’s letter to Lena that Tru had read to her when they’d visited Kindred Spirit long ago. Cardinals, she thought, mate for life. The idea made her smile.

Tru stepped out of the car, moving as gracefully as he had in the past. Holding a canvas bag in his hand, he squinted toward the cottage.

“Is this where you’re staying?”

“I rented it for a week.”

He scrutinized the cottage again, then turned back to her. “It reminds me of your parents’ cottage.”

She smiled, feeling a sense of déjà vu. “That’s exactly what I thought when I first saw it, too.”

The autumn sun slanted down on them as Tru followed her to the front door. Once inside, Hope set her hat, gloves, and scarf on the end table and hung her jacket in the closet. Tru hung his jacket beside hers. The canvas bag went onto the end table, next to her things. There was something reassuringly domestic about the ease with which they entered the house, she thought, as if they’d been doing it together all their lives.

She could feel a draft coming through the windows. Though she’d adjusted the thermostat earlier, the house was struggling against the elements, and she rubbed her arms to keep the blood flowing. She watched as Tru took in the surroundings, and she had the sense that his eyes still missed nothing.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she said. “I never thought in a million years you’d come.”

“And yet, you were waiting for me at the mailbox.”

She acknowledged his observation with a sheepish smile, combing her fingers through her windblown hair. “I’ve done most of the talking, so now I want to hear about you.”

“My life hasn’t been all that interesting.”

“So you say,” she said, her expression skeptical. She touched his arm. “Are you hungry? Can I make you some lunch?’

“Only if you’ll join me. I had a late breakfast, so I’m not famished.”

“Then how about a glass of wine? I think this calls for a little celebration.”

“I agree,” he said. “Do you need help?”

“No, but if you wouldn’t mind getting the fire going, that would be great. Just flip the switch near the mantel. It’s automatic. And then make yourself at home. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Hope went to the kitchen and peered into the refrigerator. Pulling out the bottle of wine, she poured two glasses and returned to the living room. By then, the fire was going and Tru was on the couch. After handing him a glass, she set hers on the coffee table.

“Do you need a blanket? Even with the fire going, I’m still kind of chilled.”

“I’m all right,” he said.

She gathered up a throw from the bed in her room, then took a seat on the couch, adjusting the blanket over herself before reaching for her glass. The heat from the fireplace was already seeping into the room.

“This is nice,” she commented, thinking he was as handsome as when they’d first met. “Wildly unbelievable, but nice.”

He laughed, a familiar rumble. “It’s more than nice. It’s miraculous.” Lifting his glass, he said, “To…Kindred Spirit.”

After clinking glasses, they both took a sip. When Tru lowered his glass, he gave a faint smile.

“I’m surprised that you’re not staying at Sunset Beach.”

“It’s not the same,” she said. Nor has it been since I met you, she added silently.

“Have you been here before?”

She nodded. “I came here the first time after I separated from Josh.” She told him a bit about what she’d been going through back then and how much the visit had helped her clear her mind, before going on. “At the time, it was all I could do to keep a lid on all the emotions I was experiencing. But the time alone also reminded me how much the kids were struggling with the divorce, too, even if they weren’t showing it. They really needed me, and it helped me refocus on that.”

“You sound like you were a great mother.”

“I tried.” She shrugged. “But I made mistakes, too.”

“I think that’s part of the description. At least when it comes to being a parent. I still wonder whether I should have spent more time with Andrew.”

“Has he said anything?”

“No, but he wouldn’t. And yet, the years went by too quickly. One day, he was a little boy, and the next thing I knew, he was heading off to Oxford.”

“Did you stay at Hwange until then?”

“I did.”

“But then you left.”

“How did you know that?”

“I looked for you,” she said. “Before putting the letter in the mailbox, I mean.”

“When?”

“In 2006. After I divorced from Josh, probably a year after my first visit to Carolina Beach. I remembered where you worked and I contacted the lodge. Other places, too. But I couldn’t find you.”

He seemed to contemplate that, his eyes unfocused for a few seconds. She had the sense there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t. Instead, after a few beats, he offered a gentle smile. “I wish I’d known,” he said finally. “And I wish you would have.”

Me too, she thought. “What happened? I thought you liked working at Hwange.”

“I did,” he said. “But I was there for a long time and it was time to move on.”

“Why?”

“There was new management at the camp, and a lot of the other guides had left, including my friend Romy. He’d retired a couple of years earlier. The lodge was going through a transition period, and with Andrew off to college, there was really nothing to keep me in the area. I thought that if I wanted to start over someplace else, it was better sooner rather than later. So I sold my place in Bulawayo and moved to Botswana. I’d found a job at a camp that sounded interesting.”

So he went to Botswana after all, she thought.