Page 111 of Always to Remember
He started to stalk away.
“I read Kirk’s letter last night.”
He came to an abrupt halt.
“You told me he gave you the pouch of letters a few months before he died.”
“That’s right.”
“He dated his letter June 30—the eve of the Battle of Gettysburg.”
He bowed his head. “I searched his pockets before I buried him. That was all I took.”
Hesitantly, she walked across the shed and placed her palm on his back. She felt him stiffen. “The letter isn’t very long.” She withdrew the letter from her pocket and extended it toward him. “I’d like for you to read it.”
He shook his head. “It’s not mine to read.”
“I’m giving you permission to read his thoughts before he was taken from us.”
His jaw tensed, and she watched him swallow. She removed the letter from the envelope and unfolded it. “Please,” she said quietly.
Slowly, he took the letter from her. Breathing deeply, he lowered his gaze to the letter. Meg didn’t have to see the words to know what he read. She’d memorized the letter during the night.
June 30, 1863
My dearest Meg,
I should be sleeping, but the night sky beckons to me. I look at it and think of you as you were the day I rode away. How proud I was, Meg, to know the beautiful woman waving me bravely, on was my love.
I spoke with Clay recently. I told him if he should ever carve again, to carve my beloved as she looked when last I gazed upon her.
I will take you with me now into my dreams. Sleep well, my love, and know that the happiness you have brought me knows no bounds.
Affectionately yours,
Kirk
Dropping his hand to his side, Clay squeezed his eyes shut. She watched his throat work and knew he was fighting the same emotions she’d fought during the night.
She’d expected the letter to be different, written as though Kirk knew it was the last time he’d have an opportunity to write her, but he’d written it as though he would write another letter, as though he would again gaze upon the night sky and carry memories of her into his dreams.
“You chose to capture the moment he left because he asked you to carve me. You’re not making a monument to honor those who rode away. You’re making a monument to honor those who watched them go.”
“Courage is shown in different ways. That’s what I was hoping to show.”
“And it’s what you are showing. The monument will be in memory of those who died, and it’ll honor so many more. You have to finish it.”
He spun around and glared at her, holding up his hand as though it were a claw. “I can’t!”
“We had an agreement, an understanding. You gave me your word that you’d make the monument if I purchased the stone. I purchased the stone. Now, you’re going back on your word when you told me you’d die first.”
“I’ve got no choice,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“Yes, you do.” She walked to the table and picked up the smaller chisel. “I’ve been thinking about the monument. I take it this portion you haven’t touched yet is going to be my backside when you’re done.”
He furrowed his brow and took a step nearer. “Yeah,” he admitted cautiously.
“Well, I figure it’ll take us a while to get used to working together so this is where we’d begin. The worst thing that can happen is that we’ll chip away too much, and I’ll have a smaller backside. I wouldn’t mind that.”
