Dear Sir, I'm Yours (15 page)

“Right before Julie left for work one night, they had a particularly nasty fight. Just a few hours later, she was killed on a routine traffic stop. She’d stopped to help a family in a stalled vehicle, and a passing car struck her.” His voice tightened along with his fingers. “Mason fell apart. His worst fear had happened, and I think he felt guilty. Their last moments had been an ugly fight, and he could never take back the hurtful words.”

Conn parked the car in front of Dooley’s, an old-fashioned pub where graduate students and professors usually hung out. “I’ll be right back.”

Sitting in the dark, Rae thought she heard whispering from the back seat. She shifted in the leather seat as quietly as possible. Miss Belle leaned to the side, whispering quietly as though she had someone sitting right beside her.

Chills raced down Rae’s spine. She opened her mouth to ask if the old lady was okay, but the back car door opened.

“It’s going to be okay, Mason. I’ll take you home and you can sleep it off.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you had company. I wondered why you weren’t in your Mustang.”

Looking from Miss Belle to Rae in the front, the man straightened, visibly trying to bring himself together for the ladies in the car. “Oh hell, that’s why you’re dressed up. I forgot about the award! Damn it, Conn, why didn’t you tell me to buzz off when I called?”

His voice was slurred and thick, but Rae suspected he was more upset than drunk, although the fumes of alcohol definitely wafted into the car.

“You’re more important than an award. Of course I came when you called.”

“I shouldn’t have called,” Mason muttered, swiping a hand across his face wearily. He let Conn help him into the back seat. “You’re too good a friend.”

“You should always call. That’s what friends are for.” Conn hurried around the car and slid into the driver’s seat. “Don’t you remember how many times I called you in the middle of the night, and what did you always tell me?”

“It’s going to get better,” he whispered. His gaze locked on Rae, sharpening with interest despite his condition. Then his eyes swam with tears and he shuddered, closing his eyes. “But your love didn’t die.”

“Mason Wykes.” Even Rae flinched at the intensity in Miss Belle’s voice. Reluctantly, Mason looked up at the old lady beside him. “Your love has been very patient with you, but now it’s time to let her go.”

The hair on the back of Rae’s neck stood straight up. The old lady’s voice was hollow and distant, and the temperature inside the car plummeted at least ten degrees.

“Why are you being so selfish?”

Mason spluttered, but Miss Belle pushed onward with the strength and determination of a cavalry charge.

“She’s waiting for you to accept her death before she can leave. She lingers with you, unable to move on, mourning your grief. She hates what you’re doing to yourself. She rails at you, but you can’t hear. You’re blind and deaf to everything but yourself. Until you fix the breach in your heart and accept her passing, she cannot rest in peace.”

Despite the harsh reality in the old lady’s words, her eyes were kind and she patted Mason’s shaking hand.

“She’s here with us, right this very moment, and she says she needs you to forgive yourself. Her death was not your fault.”

Shoulders shaking and hands fisted, Mason made a low growling moan through clenched teeth. “It
is
my fault. We argued all the time about her job, and that night… She said she was leaving me.”

Conn shifted, drawing Rae’s attention. The muscles in his cheeks flexed, but his fingers were gentle on hers. He must not have known the extent of his friend’s marital problems.

“She’s laughing. She said to tell you that not even your mumblings about Runge Kutta could make her leave, whatever that means.”

Mason choked back a laugh and tears ran freely down his cheeks. “A joke she always made. My doctorate thesis was on different methods of numerical analysis. She’s here? Truly?”

“Yes,” Miss Belle answered softly. “She says she would never have left you in a million years. Those words were spoken in anger. Even now, she’s still here with you, waiting until you can say goodbye. Don’t you want her to have the peace she deserves? She’ll wait for you on the other side, but you’ve got to let her go.”

“How?” Mason’s voice broke. “How do I say goodbye to someone when losing her ripped my heart out of my chest?”

“What’s the number one thing you want to say to her?”

Pressure built in the car, the air thick and cold. Shivering, Rae, held onto Conn’s hand and tried to tell herself nothing odd was happening. He turned off the tree-lined side street into a driveway of a modest-sized family home, and parked. Nobody moved.

“Tell her, Mason,” Miss Belle urged. “Now’s the time to say what you didn’t say to her that night. This is your last chance to make things right.”

Chills erupted down Rae’s arms at the words of her motto. What if Conn had died in an accident before she’d ever had the chance to explain why she’d run? If she’d never had the chance to kiss him and feel his strength wrapped around her? Her throat hurt and tears burned her eyes.

“I’ll always love you, Julie,” Mason whispered. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry about everything.”

“She loves you, too, and she wants you to let her go. She wants you to live. Put away your grief, especially your guilt, and live again, Mason.”

“Julie,” Mason whispered, his ragged voice shaking in the silence. “I love you, baby.

Goodbye.”

The last word hung on the air, vibrating, and the tension suddenly popped. Rae jumped, and Conn’s hand tightened convulsively on hers.

Miss Belle’s voice sounded tired. “Help him to bed, Conn.”

Muttering and crying, although he’d surely deny it later, Mason proved to be a handful for Conn to wrestle out of the car. His friend was never going to forget that people had seen him like this, falling down drunk and morose. Conn finally got him up out of the car and headed for the house. Mason stumbled into him and they both nearly went down in a heap.

Rae appeared, taking Mason’s other arm and hauling some of his weight up across her shoulders.

“Thank you, kind lady.” Mason stared at her like he’d never seen her before. “You’re Conn’s Rae, right?”

She shot a wry glance at Conn. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Conn’s Rae.
He liked the sound of that.

Huffing and puffing, they struggled to get him up the steps. Conn propped his friend up against the wall and dug in his coat pockets to find his keys.

Mason squealed like a little girl and squirmed against her. “Sorry, ticklish,” he gasped out, laughing. “Don’t bother. It’s not locked.”

Conn tested the door handle. “Son of a bitch. Why not hang a ‘Come on in’ sign for all the burglars in the neighborhood?”

He pushed the door open and heaved Mason back up from the wall.

“Nothing to steal. Anyway, I don’t care.” His voice caught and a shudder went through him. “I haven’t cared in a long time, have I?”

“You care about a lot of things, buddy. You care about your students, and you certainly care about me.”

“I don’t give a damn about you,” Mason muttered, but he rubbed his eyes and sagged against him.

“The hell you don’t. Why else do you drag yourself out of bed at six a.m. to bang swords with me?”

“Because I’m a geek who loves the Renaissance Period almost as much as differential equations.”

Instead of dragging him up the flight of stairs, Conn chose the couch in the den. He knew Mason often slept there because he couldn’t bear the memories. He’d threatened to light up the whole place and burn it to the ground, but Conn knew the memories would still eat him up.

“Speaking of the Renaissance, did you know that only the
Bible
has more editions than Euclid’s
Elements
? I love the simplicity of his geometry.”

Laughing, Conn tugged Mason’s shoes off. “Did you finish grading your midterms, Dr.

Wykes?”

“Oh God, no. I should have the grades ready for the students tomorrow, too.”

With a groan, Conn shot a rueful gaze at Rae. He’d hoped to ask her to the cottage after dinner tonight, but if he had to grade calculus midterms, he’d be up half the night. “How many do you have left to grade?”

“Just a few, probably twenty or so. You don’t have to grade them, Conn, really. I’ll get up early in the morning and finish.”

By his muddled words, Mason was already half asleep. “You’re going to be lucky to make it to class at all in the morning. What time’s your first class?”

“Mmm, nine o’clock. Plenty of time. I’ll just—” A snore escaped.

“I’ll call you, okay? Just to make sure you’re up.”

The lucky bastard didn’t make a response other than deeper breathing. It was going to take Conn at least three times as long to finish those blasted tests, assuming he understood the answer key. Digging around on the cluttered coffee table, he found the stack of tests.

Shit, twenty my ass.
Aloud, he muttered, “I’m going to be up all night.”

Mason stirred and tried to lift his head but fell back against the cushion. “You’re a good friend.” Then he lapsed back into la-la-land.

“You are a good friend,” Rae whispered.

Raising his gaze to her face, he felt his heart stutter and die in his chest. He loved her more than he’d ever thought possible. She’d only been back in his life for a few days, but it didn’t matter. He wanted her more than anything he’d ever wanted in his entire life. If he lost her…

Mason was an oak compared to how he’d react if he lost her again.

“I wish—” She sighed, turning her face aside.

No hiding, not from him. He strode over and gently turned her face back to him. He kept his fingers on her face, gentle but firm, stroking over her cheek until she spoke again.

“I wish I’d called you. I mean, before, when I was scared. I was afraid to hear your voice, afraid you’d talk me into doing something I wasn’t ready for, but now…” Her delicate face strained beneath his fingers with regret.

“Anyplace, anytime, you call me, Rae. I’ll be there for you. I swear it.” He drew her against him, offering the shelter of his body and the strength of his embrace. “I won’t ever coerce you into something. If you’re in doubt, scared, or in trouble, call me. I’d do anything for Mason, but for you…”

His voice trembled with emotion. She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist and tried to lighten the mood. “Slay dragons? Endure torture? Walk the plank?”

Keeping his face somber, he said, “I’d even surf the net.”

“My God,” Mason said, pushing up on his elbows. “You do love her. You won’t even read my e-mail.”

“No, but I’ll grade your calculus tests, so we’re even.”

“Get out of here and let me get some sleep.”

“You’ve been asleep twice already.”

Mason grouched, rolling over onto his side and throwing his arm up over his head. “If you two love birds would leave me alone, I’d stay asleep. Call me around eight a.m.”

“Will do.” Conn headed for the door, his arm around Rae.

“Conn?”

He paused, looking back over his shoulder, but Mason hadn’t raised up again.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, Mason. Anytime.”

Dear Dr. Connagher:

I’m feeling rather beaten down today. So of course I felt like I should write to you.

On our first anniversary, Richard gave me a puppy, a cute little miniature poodle mix I
named Buddy. I adored the little dog. He went everywhere with me during the day, hanging
around at Daddy’s office, riding in the truck with me to jobsites. He was always perfectly
mannered for me.

Until Richard came home.

Buddy recognized what kind of man he was, much quicker than I did. He growled at
Richard whenever he raised his voice. He chewed on only Richard’s shoes. He started
marking the house. I think Buddy was trying to protect me, but Richard saw only the mess. He
took everything so personally, and his temper…

I started to fear for Buddy’s life. I couldn’t protect him twenty-four/seven. I put him in
the kennel more when Richard was home, but that’s no life for a dog. I couldn’t put him
outside—he’s an indoor dog. He wanted to be with me, his family.

We fought over Buddy more and more. Richard couldn’t stand that I loved a dog more
than him.

This shames me, Conn, but I let Buddy go. I let Richard take him to the local vet clinic
and they found a new home for him. I tried to tell myself it was the best thing all around for
Buddy, and I’m sure he is happy. He’s safe. Safe from Richard. Safer than me.

I should have fought for my dog. But how could I, when I don’t fight for myself?

If Richard only knew…how much more I loved you.

~ Rae

Rae ripped up another section of shingle and tossed it to the bin below. The crew was making good time, but of course, she never called in anyone but the best. Randy swore he’d get the roof done today, as long as they didn’t find rotted plywood underneath. So far, so good. In fact, the shingles were in excellent shape.

She gripped the asphalt tile in both gloved hands and twisted it. Still very strong, barely a few years old, she guessed. Strong winds likely pulled them up, and rather recently since there wasn’t any water damage.

“Oh, yeah, we’ll be done by lunch, Rae.” Randy walked across the slanted roof as easily as a monkey in a tree. “The only damage is here on the front of the house.”

“Right where we’d see it.” Rae mused. She had a nasty feeling that maybe a ghostly wind had done this damage. Was that possible? After last night… Goose bumps crawled down her arms despite the sweat dampening her brow. “Do you know if there were any bad storms in the last few weeks?”

“I’ve been on Taneycomo fishing every single day I wasn’t on a roof.”