Page 55 of Pages of My Heart
Placing them carefully back in the box, he settles under the covers and closes his eyes. Visions of Charlie smiling and laughing flicker across the back of his eyelids.
“Thank you, my darling,” he whispers, box held tight to his chest.
Charlie
The trip to Camp Ellis is almost five hours, so Charlie waits until everyone is settled and occupied before he opens Thomas’s letter. Fortunately, he has the seat to himself and feels safe that no one is close enough to read it over his shoulder. He’s glad Thomas found the strength to come to the bus station, but he wouldn’t have held any ill feelings toward him if he hadn’t. God knows, all this is more than any person should have to endure.
As he unfolds the letter, he smiles at Thomas’s writing—normally so neat and elegant, this time a frenzied scribble as he clearly battled against time. The letter isn’t long, but still the words manage to ease his grieving heart.
Charlie, my best friend, my husband, my love,
I have only minutes to write this if I’m not to miss you.
I’m sorry I’m not stronger, but for you I will try my best. Please know how proud I am of you—of the man you are. You will always be the better of us.
You are my everything, and I will count the days, hours, and minutes until we are reunited.
I love you forever and always, my darling.
Eternally your sweetheart, Red x
Chapter 29
May 9th, 1944
My dearest Red,
Happy birthday, sweetheart.
All I can think about is how it’s been an entire year since I’ve seen you. Do you still remember our weekend in Bloomington? It seems like another lifetime now, lived by another man. Someone different from me. Someone happy. Someone who still had a life in front of him and hope and light inside of him. Now all that feels lost forever.
You feel lost to me.
I’ve forgotten your smell and how my skin feels when you touch me. I’m not sure I can even hear your voice clearly in my mind anymore. I feel all hallowed out and empty. My heart fucking bleeds—I’m desperate, Red. What vile and evil things I would do, just to spend 5 minutes with you. To remember.
Have you left me? I ain’t received a letter from you since you wrote back in December. Did you grow tired of waiting and find someone else to take my place in our bed? Is another man keepingyou warm at night? Some days I’m filled with such rage, thinking about this faceless man who’s taken my sweetheart away from me. I want to kill him. I want to strangle the life out of him and rip him apart with my bare hands.
Have you left me, Red? Have you?
In case I don’t make it home, I want to tell you why I called off the wedding to Ruthie—why I chose you. Why I chose me. Us.
That day after our first weekend together, when I pushed you away and ran, I came home to find my father in a drunken haze. Nothing new. The bastard was slapping my ma around, and she was holding still and just taking it. Nothing new there either, but for the first time I clearly realized that her strength was her weakness. The thought made my head spin. I moved forward to intervene, but before I could, he hit her hard in the stomach. A closed fist. Her legs buckled under her and she collapsed like a house of cards, gasping for air when there was none to be had. I knew in that moment that my future would be one of two things—I’d become a sick, twisted drunkard like my pops, beating on poor Ruthie simply for not being you. Or I’d become my mother and let myself be beaten down time and time again until I became a shell of a man.
You, my sweetheart, with your flaming red hair and your radiant smile. With your innocent green eyes and your sweet, freckled face. You came into my life full of light. Full of hope. I knew that you were my one chance to experience true love. A love that nurtures. A love that protects. I wanted it, and I found my strength, and I chose you. I nearly lost my life that day, but I want you to know that I don’t regret it for one second.For you, I’d gladly risk my life a thousand times. I would die for you. Remember that, Red. Remember me.
I will remain yours in this life and all those that follow.
Love,
C x
Chapter 30
May 1943
Charlie
Charlie climbs onto the bus outside Camp Ellis, bag slung over one shoulder, barely hanging on to his composure. If anyone bothered to look, they would see that the hand not gripping the strap of his bag is shaking and his breathing is shallow. His skin shines with droplets of perspiration and his heart pounds against this ribcage, like it’s grown too big for his chest.
