If I were to have a man, he would need to be very gentle and understanding, patient and kind, thoughtful, softhearted, and yes, maybe dashing and refined, definitely intelligent and successful.
All of these things and the last mostly because I would wish him to have his own diversions for I wouldn’t wish him to need to spend too much time with me. This is because I like being alone. I like my own company.
This isn’t to say I didn’t sometimes long for a gentle touch, a man’s eyes falling on me appreciatively, building a shared history where we might one day simply gaze at each other, understand and smile.
But I long ago gave up these yearnings. I meet many men and this man, this man that I would need to share my life with, he doesn’t exist, Gran. I’ve come to understand that and it’s settled in me. I’ve built a life I enjoy, one that keeps me busy, and I’m happy with that.
Truly.
I find it remarkable, after all that you endured, that you’d still believe in love. In romance. In all that heady possibility. And I adore it that you want that for me.
What I wish you to understand in your heart is that, although it feels lovely you wish for me to have all kinds of beauty, I’m perfectly happy without it.
I have your love and that’s all I need.
And you have my love too.
Forever and completely.
Yours,
Josie
Jake took a sip from his beer, set it aside and brought the pink paper to the front.
He tagged his beer and tipped his eyes down to the untidy, scrolled girlish letters.
Granny!
Oh my goodness! You would not believe!
Alicia heard it from Tiffany so she told me and I didn’t believe her and then he came up to me at lunch!
Andy Collins!
It was amazing. He sat and talked with me all during lunch. And he said he’d see me there tomorrow!
Now, you know, I’m not going to settle for anything but the best. My man is going to be strong and tall and handsome and smart and protective and fierce, so very FIERCE, and wonderful and he’s going to adore me. Then he’s going to let me talk him into moving to Maine and living at Lavender House and having three babies (two girls, one boy, the boy the oldest, of course, so he can look after his sisters) and I’m going to garden and tend the lavender and cook at the Aga and he’s going to be, I don’t know, a fisherman or whatever.
I’m not sure Andy’s up to all that, although he’s strong and tall (he’s on the football team!) and very cute.
I wish I could show you his picture.
Of course, Dad says I can’t date until I’m seventeen which is bizarre and mean because most of my friends started dating at fifteen (just not car dates) and I’m already sixteen (and have my own driver’s license, for goodness sakes!) and I’ve already had to say no to two boys! It was a disaster! I hated it! And everyone thinks I’m a big priss, which is terrible!
But neither of them were Andy, the cutest boy in school!
I’ll write again tomorrow and let you know if he sits with me at lunch.
I wish you were talking to Dad. Maybe you could talk him into not only letting me come to Lavender House this summer but also allowing me to go out on a date with Andy (if he asks and just in case you didn’t get it, I hope he asks!!!!!!!!!).
OK. Well, I should go. I have homework to do (Algebra. Blech. Mr. Powell is such a bore!). I just wanted you to know that. Now, I have to go steal a couple of stamps from Dad’s desk. One for this and one for the letter I hope to write you tomorrow that tells you Andy sat with me again.
I love you. I hope you’re doing good. I miss you.
Start to talk to Dad again. Please? I missed Lavender House last summer.
But mostly, I missed you.
All my love, forever and completely,
Josie
Jake set the letters aside and looked out the window at the sea knowing that Andy sat with her again the next day.
And he knew Andy did more.
He beat her, lamb.
He closed his eyes as Lydie’s words hit his brain but that didn’t stop them from coming.
She wanted to go out with that boy so badly, she snuck out. She did it for over a year. When she got home one night, he’d found out and he beat her, lamb. Her father beat her so badly, she was in the hospital for a week.
Jake opened his eyes and took another drag from the bottle.
He beat her, lamb.
He drew in breath.
Beat her so badly, she was in the hospital for a week.
He stared out the window, not seeing anything.
My man is going to be strong and tall and handsome and smart and protective and fierce, so very FIERCE, and wonderful and he’s going to adore me.
That he could do.
He would need to be very gentle and understanding, patient and kind, thoughtful, softhearted, and yes, maybe dashing and refined, definitely intelligent and successful.
That he couldn’t.
Jake took another pull from his beer.
He beat her, lamb.
He felt his jaw get tight even as his fingers gripped the beer hard to stop himself from throwing it. If he did, he’d have to clean that shit up and it might wake the kids.
Instead, he put the letters back in their envelopes, got up and took his beer with him as he moved back to the desk. He put Josie’s letters that Lydie had given him back together and tied them with the ribbon.
Then he opened the drawer and was about to toss the pile in when he saw it at the bottom.
He set the letters on top of the desk, reached into the drawer and pulled out the frame.
It was of Josie.
She was on a beach. Her skin was tan. The breeze blowing so much at her long blonde hair, she had her hand lifted in it, pulling it away and holding it at her crown, but tendrils were captured by the lens arrested in flying around her face. Her other hand was resting on her hip. She was standing, smiling into the distance, a scarf blowing back from her neck, sunglasses on her eyes, her sundress plastered against her tall, slim but curvy body.
That shit for brains photographer boss of hers took that picture, gave it to Lydie and Lydie had given it to Jake.
It looked like a shot from the ‘50’s of some Italian bombshell. Italian because Josie looked sophisticated. Exotic. Glamorous. Classy. So much of all those, she couldn’t be American but something foreign, unknown, unobtainable.
Impossible.
So I’m going to go sit with her while he spends a few hours in the office.
Jake didn’t take his eyes from the picture even as he belted back more beer.
And trust me, you have a fabulous figure. You’ve made two mentions of losing weight and you’ve barely been here an hour. Cease doing that. It’s ridiculous. And if someone tells you differently, simply inform them of that ridiculousness.