Page 29 of The Beast's Heart

“But there’s no signal here.”

“Precisely. I agreed to come help Beast out since Davy would be away over this time. And here’s me, thinking it will be romantic to write letters like it’s olden times. I don’t know where my mind was at.”

I cringe. “Takes long distance to a new level.”

“Tell me about it. Here’s the problem, though. Turns out Davy’s excellent at it. Like, the man canwrite. I never knew. I’ve been married to him for sixteen years and I never knew. And he writes these… these masterpieces. Love letters like I’ve never seen in my life. And me? I’m like: Today I made onion soup. The eldest child liked it. Oh, and we had a storm again. The Beast is grouchy. The sky is blue. Lots of love!”

They chuck the pad across the table. I retrieve it. “I’m sure he loves those updates. He won’t mind how they’re written. All he wants is to hear from you.”

“His letter is eight pages. With apoem.” Ray whimpers and buries their head in their hands.

“What if I help you?”

They peek out. “This sounds like the plot of one of those romance novels.”

“I promise not to fall in love with Davy.” I offer a smile. “And you can always be upfront and say you got help. Come on, what did you want to say? The thing about the onion soup?”

“It’s terrible.”

“No it’s not. All you need to do is elaborate.” I start writing and push the pad back to Ray.

Ray squints at it. “It rained today for the third time this week. I made a hearty onion soup using some new spices I ordered online. It was received particularly well by Alisha, our eldest foster. I can’t wait to make it for you when you return.” They look up at me. “This isn’t terrible.”

“If you wanted to make it even more romantic, you could say how much the rainy weather made you wish Davy was here so you could enjoy it together, cuddled by the fire. You could make him his favorite dish and?—”

Adam walks in. He stops abruptly in the doorway upon seeing me. “I, uh.” He points at the coffee machine.

“Yes, yes, go ahead,” Ray says. They lean forward towards me. “Will you write that down?”

I accept the pad back. “What’s his favorite dish?”

“Man likes oysters. Can you believe?”

“Hmm, oysters by the fire. Not much of a ring. Anything else?”

“Oh! Irish coffee. He loves a good Irish coffee.”

“Perfect.” I try to ignore Adam’s presence behind me as he moves around, making himself a drink. “How’s this? ‘It’s been raining every day this week and I can’t stop thinking about you and imagining you’re here with me. There’s this fireplace in the kitchen. In the quiet hours, when the children are otherwise occupied and I am left alone with my thoughts, my mind turns to you and I imagine us sitting there, wrapped up together, sipping Irish coffees like we used to.’”

“Holy shit,” Ray says. “Keep going. I want to read this letter.”

I laugh. “You’ll have to customize it. Add in some specific memories. What else do you want to tell him about?”

“Well, I don’t know. It’s not like there’s much variety in our days here.”

“See, that’s your content right there. ‘Do you ever feel like you’re living the same day over on repeat? Without you here, there isn’t much to mark the passage of time. I long for your touch in a way I can’t express in words.’ You could use an analogy to bring in the weather again. Something along the lines of, ‘As winter melts from the Scottish peaks and spring sweeps the land with color and warmth, I cannot help but feel envious.Life without you is like the harsh Highlands winter, barren and cold.”

Adam drops something. I jump in my seat, heart jerking as I realize what I’ve said.I wasn’t thinking. If I’d crafted a letter with the precise aim of needling at his grief, I could not have done so more effectively.

Zane’s package is a blessing. Not only did he send books on trauma-informed teaching, but he also included some bright posters for the classroom, printed worksheets, books for the children, stickers and a handwritten letter.

Jonathan,

I’ve been thinking about your situation with The Beast and, in short, fuck him.

I blink at the page, heart skipping and cheeks heating.

He clearly knows nothing about kids. You do. I’ve seen you in the classroom and you have good instincts. You should trust them.

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