But wait…there’s more.She typed the rest, and it felt good to lay it out.2day, found all the letters. Unopened. In my dad’s stuff. 167 of them.
This time, it wasn’t a return text. The phone rang in her hand. Ellis. “Hey,” she said as an answer.
“Where are you?” Ellis asked.
“Home.”
“Tell me the address. I’m coming over.”
It wasn’t presumptuous. It wasn’t bossy. It was comforting, and as soon as Ellis said the words, Cherry knew that’s exactly what she wanted. She rattled off the address, and Ellis promised to be there in twenty.
When the doorbell buzzed, Cherry was still sitting on the floor in her room, and she looked up in surprise. Had twenty minutes gone by already? A glance at her phone said yes, in fact seventeen of them had. And she’d just sat there, lost in her own thoughts, clearly zoned the hell out.
She jumped up and went to the door, buzzed Ellis in, unlocked her door, and waited. When it pushed open and Ellis stood there, Cherry’s breath left her lungs. Just left without a parting word or a good-bye.
“Hi,” she said, and she scanned Ellis’s form without actually meaning to, taking in the cropped jeans, washed-out light blue tank top, her blond hair in a ponytail. She smelled like warm peaches, and Cherry didn’t even try to be subtle about inhaling her scent.
Ellis said nothing. She simply opened her arms and held them out for Cherry to walk into.
Which she did. Because hello? Of course she did.
And Ellis held her.
The circle of Ellis’s arms was warm and soft, and Cherry felt safe there. That was a realization that surprised her because when was the last time somebody had made her feel safe? Ever? She inhaled deeply, and when she spoke, her words were muffled by Ellis’s shoulder. “I feel like I’ve been doing some sort of losing time thing. I thought I’d just hung up from you, and the doorbell rang. I sat there for seventeen minutes and totally spaced out.”
Ellis released her from the hug, but held her upper arms as she looked her in the eye. “Well, how could you not? This is big stuff.” She blinked. “A hundred and sixty-seven letters? Seriously?”
“Seriously. I counted them.” She grasped one of Ellis’s hands and led her to the bedroom where the fan of envelopes still sat on the floor. “She left me roughly twenty-nine years ago and, from what I can tell, averaged about six letters a year.” She waved vaguely at them.
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
Ellis looked from the letters to her. “Are you okay? How did you find these? I assume you didn’t know about them, right?” She frowned. “I’m sorry. That’s a lot of questions, and if you want to tell me to mind my own business, I get that.”
“Ellis.” Cherry felt herself soften, just from saying her name out loud. “We have things to talk about, but right now? I’m really,reallyglad you’re here.” She gestured to the envelopes. “I’ve only opened a few so far.” Then she gritted her teeth and grimaced.
“Do you want to open the rest?”
“I do. I also don’t.”
“Perfectly understandable.” Ellis pursed her lips in obviousthought, and Cherry smiled. Squeezed the hand she still held. “Want coffee?” Ellis asked.
“I want alcohol,” was Cherry’s reply.
Ellis grinned. “I figured. Just wanted to make sure it was your idea and not mine.” She glanced over her shoulder into the apartment. “Whaddaya got?”
A few minutes later, they were both seated on the floor with glasses of Shea’s white wine. She wouldn’t mind. In fact, she’d have insisted. Cherry took a healthy sip, set the glass down, and shook out her body.
“Ready?” Ellis asked. She’d taken the fan of envelopes and neatened them into a pile that she now had on the floor near her.
Cherry nodded. Ellis handed her the top envelope. A deep breath and Cherry sliced it open.
They took their time. Cherry opening one letter at a time, reading it to herself, then handing it over to Ellis—who clearly wasn’t going to read them, judging by the way she folded the first one up. “You can read them.”
“It’s okay,” Ellis said. “This is your private stuff between you and your mom. And I know you and I have been…” She shrugged, maybe not wanting to put a label on what they’d been.
“You can read them,” she said again. “I trust you.”
