Page 57 of Persuading Penny
Jutting out his hand, he held the letter up to me. “Here. Read for yourself. I’m sure it’s from that Seagram boy. I told you. Well-bred. He went to the best schools. The boy has traveled the world and now...now he has his heart set on you, my dear. Don’t screw this up.”
I glanced at Aunt Sally as I took the envelope from my father’s hand.
“Boris,” she said with a gentle, motherly tone. “I think we need to talk.”
With a hand on his shoulder, she guided him back to the house, their heads hung low as she told him what a scoundrel Steve Seagram really was.
SEVENTEEN
The envelope was thick. I held it in my hand, turned it over, weighed it and turned it over again. I was once again transported to a time long ago when letters such as this arrived on a regular basis. A time when Cliff sent me letters that were several pages long, and yet never long enough.
He'd give me detailed accounts of his days in school, would describe the beauty of a sunset or a bird or a flower. He would write a line of poetry and pick it apart, showing me how every line described us. He would tell me of the future we’d have together, the park where we would walk, the bistro where we would eat, the part of town we might live in.
All of it.
Was Steve the same? Did he, too, enjoy the process of letter writing? Was this envelope filled with the promises of our life to come? Our life together? Did he sprinkle in poetry, knowing just how much I loved it.
My hand shook. I took a deep breath.
I opened the flap of the envelope and pulled out the thick folds of paper. On the first fold, before unfolding the sheets, I noticed the daisy drawn there in pencil, lightly shaded in the middle of the flower.
My heart pounded like never before and I had to sit down. I looked around then rushed to the nearby bench and sat. Staring at the daisy, the same daisy Cliff always drew on the outer portion of his letters, my vision was suddenly blurred with tears.
What were the chances that Steve used the same motif to personalize his letters?
None. No chance in hell. The letter was from Cliff. I hugged it to my chest as I had all the letters he’d sent so long ago.
Closing my eyes, I opened the pages, a silent prayer on my lips.
Penelope,
I don’t even know where to begin. It seems like I may have lost the ability to write a proper letter. Do I address you as My Dearest Penelope? My Lovely Penny? My Love? What are you to me now except a long lost love?
How long has it been since I last wrote to you, since I last took pen to paper with thoughts of you, with longing for you. It seems like a lifetime ago.
How we’ve changed since then. It seems as if there’s something broken in each of us. When I saw you, when Keely introduced us...I can’t even express the emotions I felt. I can barely understand them myself.
