Ульяна Солнечная – Its Never Too Late - As Long As Youre Alive (страница 9)

And started again.

Jacob,

I happened to come across your photographs online. They are beautiful. You always used to say you’d become a photographer, remember? Back in school. I thought you were joking. But you weren’t.

I’m not writing because I want to ask for anything or change anything. It’s just that after all these years, I suddenly realized there was one important thing I never said to you.

You used to tell me I had eyes the color of the ocean. In Oklahoma, where there is no ocean. And back then I thought: what a fool you are, Jacob Sullivan. But years later, I realized it was the most beautiful compliment anyone had ever given me. Because you saw something in me no one else ever did.

I loved you. Truly. Deeply. The way one only ever loves the first time.

And I’m grateful to you for that time. For the books. For the conversations. For the fact that you existed.

Take care of yourself.

Kate

She reread it three times.

Her heart was beating so hard that the ringing in her ears drowned out the cat’s purring.

No requests.

No expectations.

Just the truth.

Her finger hovered over Send.

She could still close the laptop.

Go into the kitchen to Barbara.

Drink tea.

Pretend none of this had happened.

Become careful Kate Morgan again:

widow,

retiree,

mother,

grandmother.

But suddenly she knew:

if she didn’t send it, it would become just another postcard hidden in a magazine.

Another unlived life.

She clicked.

The screen flickered.

The message was gone.

Nothing happened.

The world did not collapse.

Garfield continued snoring on the couch.

Somewhere in the kitchen, Barbara clinked teacups together.

Kate sat very still.

And for the first time in years, she felt light.

Not joy.

Not hope.

Release.

She walked into the kitchen.

Barbara turned around and looked at her closely.

“Did you send it?”

“I sent it.”

“Good for you. Want peppermint tea? It’s homemade — from the garden.”

Kate nodded and sat down at the table.

Her hands were still trembling, but inside her, things were beginning to settle.

“And if he writes back?” Barbara asked carefully.

Kate thought for a moment.

“I don’t know. I suppose… it won’t really matter. The important thing is that I said it.”

Barbara set a cup in front of her.

“Good for you,” she said. “You know, I never said it either. To one man. Back in ’61. He went to Vietnam and never came back. I kept thinking I’d tell him someday. And then it was too late.”

They sat there in silence, drinking tea, each woman lost in her own thoughts.

The cats wound around their ankles.

Outside, it was getting dark.

And suddenly Kate realized that this kitchen, these two cats, this strange woman with dyed red streaks in her hair had all become dear to her.

“Thank you, Barbara,” she said simply.

“For what? The tea? Nonsense.”

“For not asking why.”

Barbara smiled.

“Darling, at our age, asking why is the last thing we should be doing. The only question worth asking is why not?”

Three days passed.

Kate checked her email every morning.

At first — with her heart in her throat.

Then — with a flicker of disappointment.

Then, eventually — calmly.