Page 6 of More Than Pen Pals

The mention of Arkansas unleashes a flood of memories of my childhood pen pal. I only did the pen pal thing because my fourth-grade teacher required it, but I ended up writing to Les for four years until I decided I was too old keep it up. In fact, I stopped partly because Randall made fun of me for it.

“Her name is Leslie,” he continues.

I whip my head toward my brother.

He cocks his head at me. “What?”

“Nothing. Her name reminded me of someone.”

“Oh yeeeah,” Randall says. “Your old friend Les. He was from Arkansas, too, wasn’t he? Maybe she knows him!” He chuckles. “Isn’t everybody in Arkansas related to each other?”

His statement irks me, though I’m not sure why. More than a decade has passed since Les and I last wrote to each other, so I shouldn’t care. But I have a rare soft spot for my old pen pal. He had a way of asking the right questions to draw things out of me, and I felt safe sharing my secrets with a virtual stranger.

Randall is mostly a great brother, but when we were younger, I could never talk about anything important—especially about girls—without him teasing me. So I told Les everything instead. It was easier writing about my feelings than talking about them anyway. But the one thing I never told him was I thought his twin sister was cute. I didn’t think he’d appreciate that level of honesty.

As I eat my minestrone, I wonder where Les is now. He always said he wanted to be a journalist, and I hope he made it happen.

“Earth to Ash.” Randall waves a hand in front of my face.

“Sorry.” I snap out of my reverie. “What are you guys talking about?”

“The Carruthers case,” Jay said. “Unless you’d rather talk about Wendy.”

“Not a chance.”

three

“When we leave,” Wendy says, “we’ll stop by their table and thank Randall one more time. And maybe I’ll get to talk to Ash.”

I almost choke again and take a sip of water to give myself time to come up with an acceptable response. “Let’s not make a big deal out of it,” I finally say, my heart racing.

“Not make a big deal out of a man saving your life? Ha!” She gives me a sly look. “What was it like having his strong arms around you? He’s a handsome one, too.” She frowns. “Though he has a girlfriend.”

“How do you know so much about the Hamilton brothers?” I ask, avoiding her question.

“I have my ways,” she says.

I raise an eyebrow at her.

“All right, fine. I made nice with Annette, the receptionist over at their office. Every few weeks, I invite her to lunch and grill her. Unfortunately, she doesn’t give me much. Something tells me she goes because she wants a free meal.”

“What else do you know about this Ash?”

Wendy narrows her eyes at me. “Why?”

“I’m curious.” I want to learn more about the man who was once the boy I wrote countless letters to—the boy I deceived.

“Don’t tell me you’re interested in him, too!” she wails. “Please don’t fall for the man at the top of my list. He’ll totally pick you.”

“Keep your voice down,” I say. “I’m not falling for anybody. I’m only asking. Plus, I haven’t gotten a good look at him.” Though I want to. If Ash has aged halfway as well as his brother, Wendy may indeed find herself with some competition.

No,I tell myself.He can’t find out who I am. He’ll never forgive me.

“Never mind,” I say. “I don’t need to know about him.” And I need to stay far away from him.

Wendy pouts. “But I want to tell you about him, as long as you promise to not snatch him out from under me.”

“I have no intention of doing so.”

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