Page 43 of Postmarked December

“It’s the key to the family cabin,” she replied, more to her own introspection than to Marion’s question. “It’s in Wears Valley—over three hours’ drive away.”

Marion looked at her in confusion. “You have a cabin?”

She ran her finger over the address printed at the bottom of the note. “It’s Toby’s. He inherited it from his grandparents. It sits on a mountaintop overlooking the valley. We renovated it with some of the money he got from his first big royalty payout, but we never had time to visit. As it was, we didn’t go enough, even before the renovations. We thought we were so busy… If only we’d slowed down.”

“Wears Valley—that sounds wonderful.”

“I wish you could go with me, but I know tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah, I’d have a hard time convincing Anthony to let me have a girls’ trip on the biggest holiday of the year. Probably wouldn’t look too good, given our attempt to work through our issues.” She twisted toward her. “Think you’ll be okay out there by yourself?”

“He wouldn’t send me if it wasn’t safe, right?”

Marion sucked in a breath. “Wait a minute. Remember, we’re assuming Toby set all this up. But what if he didn’t—can I remind you of that possibility? I’m not crazy about the idea of you being all alone in some remote cabin in the woods. Especially on Christmas when everything’s closed and people are all with their families. The town will be empty. It sounds like an abduction plot if you ask me.”

“Thank you for that. I feel much better about going now,” she said, the sarcasm heavy.

“The whole thing doesn’t sit well with me.”

“If someone wanted to abduct me, they could’ve done it in South Carolina—or anywhere along the way—but they didn’t. And when we tried to chase their car, they fled. I think I’ll be fine.”

“It weirds me out that the white-SUV guy probably knows you’ll be there.” Marion made a face. “But it’s your call.”

After dropping Marion at home, and picking up a sandwich for dinner, Heather returned to her apartment. She set the flower arrangement on the coffee table in the living room then stood there for a long time without really seeing the bouquet, her mind swirling.

If it was Toby sending the notes, which she was convinced it was, he’d put a lot of effort into this little Christmas miracle. In his final months before getting really sick, he’d spent a considerable amount of time tying up loose ends, making sure everything was ready for the day he left them. She’d hated the preparation for doomsday, and she’d often tried to sway him to stop. But he didn’t want to leave her with it all. So she’d asked that he do it when she wasn’t around, the ache that it caused too much for her to bear. She’d wanted her last moments with him to build lasting memories she could hold onto. Little did she know, he’d probably been planning through this year just to be sure she’d be okay. She’d take this time at the cabin to honor him. Even in death, he was putting her first.

She went into her bedroom and got her new journal, opening it to a clean page. The journal was starting to feel like a line to Toby, a place outside of reality where the two could meet. The blank page, her thoughts, and her moving pen allowed her to access him in ways she no longer could in the regular world.

Hey Toby. I’m struggling at the moment, but not in the way you might have guessed. I know you’d never require I ask for permission to move on with life, but even still, you gave it to me. And your Christmas notes have helped me to see how much you want me to do that…

Out of nowhere, a tear slipped down her cheek. She let it fall.

You’ve gotten me out of the house, into a world where my past is intertwined with reality. But by following your notes, I’ve met someone. His name is Nick Monroe. Our meeting hit me like a flash, blindsiding me. I never saw it coming. One day I was overwhelmed by the loss of our life and the next minute, I was hoping Nick would call. I’m plagued with a strange mixture of guilt and anticipation. The thing is, if you were still here, I’d be snuggled up next to you without a care in the world. But now that you’re gone, I have to see what’s next, you know? Happiness is a two-edged sword sometimes.

She wiped her tears and shut the journal.

Holding her breath, she got her phone and opened the text she’d sent to Nick. Still nothing. Did she have the wrong number or something? She’d double-checked it when he gave it to her. Was he ghosting her? She went back through her wonderful memories with him and couldn’t imagine he would. Maybe she’d have to make the first move. Before she could change her mind or overthink it, she fired off another message to him.

Hey Nick! I hope you got home okay. I was wondering what you were doing over Christmas. Call me.

The answer to her internal questions could come through his response. She was sure he’d quickly respond now. She’d sent two texts, so it was definitely his turn.

She set her phone with the open screen on the table. No dots to alert her he was replying. Maybe he was one of those people who never kept his phone near him. After all, she’d hardly seen him with it the entire time they were together. Her screen eventually went dark.

It had been a long day. Time to get some sleep. She could wake up to the thrill of his response in the morning.

Chapter Eighteen

To Heather’s utter disappointment, early the next morning, Nick still hadn’t texted. Her mind raced with reasons he hadn’t even acknowledged her. They’d had such a nice time all weekend… She inwardly scrambled for some inkling that he hadn’t been sincere, but she couldn’t find anything. Was there some sort of family emergency? Had something happened to him or Ophelia? She hoped he was okay. Had he lost his phone? If so, he wouldn’t have her number…

Should she try to call him? No, certainly not. If he had the phone, he’d have received her texts, and—it had not even been two days—she’d look desperate or clingy. Maybe she was.

But no matter what might be going on, after the weekend they’d had together, wouldn’t he have wanted to reach out to let her know why he couldn’t respond? It didn’t seem like him to just leave her hanging.

She tried to rationalize his behavior. It is Christmas. Maybe he’s traveling or with family, running through airports with spotty Wi-Fi. She wanted to believe anything other than the fact that he was receiving her texts and purposely not responding.

Needing a distraction, she opened her laptop and searched for Wears Valley to see what was going on during the holidays. She and Toby hadn’t ever been there over Christmas, so taking part in their festivities would be a nice diversion. She opened the first article.