#OriginalFiction – November 20, 21, 22
She gave her brother the top half of the stack. Her plan was to first do a quick glance through what was remaining in the hopes that maybe somewhere in the opening or closing there would be a name. But only a few letters down, she stopped. This one looked different than the others. Much of the ink seemed to be blotched. It was readable, but there were obvious small water stains covering the page.
November 1918
My Dearest,
I write this letter, likely my last to you, with tears of joy and sadness falling from my eyes. My heart is rejoicing that this terrible war is over, that you have come through it and will soon be home. But it is also breaking as I must tell you that we must cease our correspondence, and will likely never see each other again.
Just today, AF asked Father for my hand in marriage. Father was thrilled, of course. AF is exactly what he has always wanted for me, one step up the social ladder and sure to become quite wealthy. My opinion in the matter was not asked. It was presented to me as a done deal. Because really, that is all I am to Father, one more commodity to be dealt.
I was, quite honestly, too stunned to protest instantly. Up until that moment, my heart and hopes had been full of you, as I had seen the announcement in the newspaper that this awful war was ended. The shock of going from one set of emotions to another, I am afraid, caused me to nearly faint.
Mother, of course, passed it off as me being stunned by my good fortune. And before I was able to say a word, they were discussing dates. AF’s family has decided it is time for him to have the responsibility of running one of the family plants all on his own. And to that purpose, he will be moving South in the New Year. He wants me to come with him at that time, as his wife.
Mother, of course, lamented having such a short engagement, and that she would not be able to plan the wedding she dreamed of for me. I tried at that point to make the engagement longer, to give us some chance. I tried suggesting that we put the wedding off until this summer, or possibly even the one after, in order to give us the chance to plan a proper ceremony.
I had hoped to have Mother’s support in this matter. But she smiled and patted my hand, calling me a dear daughter for wanting to make her happy, but saying that she would not be a good mother if she allowed me to put off my happiness for her sake. No, it would be a winter wedding, small and tasteful.
I am afraid I went through the rest of the day in a haze. I was able to plead exhaustion after dinner and escape to my room to write this letter. It is likely that by the time you receive it, I will already be Mrs. AF.
Please do not reply. I do not think I could bear it.
You will forever be in my heart.
Your Darling Girl No Longer
She set the letter back down. Something about family plants tickled the back of her mind, but exactly what, she could not put her finger on. But if this were the last letter, what were all the other pages in her stack. She looked at the next one, but it appeared to still be another letter, written in the same hand. Before she had a chance to read it, though, she heard noises in the hallway. Their mother was finally up.
She glanced at the clock on her desk. Already 10am. She had the lunch shift at the diner today, which meant she had to be there in an hour.
“Crap. I’m going to be late.”
Dorian looked up from the papers in front of him. “Huh?”
“It’s already 10am. I expected Mom up an hour ago. At this rate, there’s no way she’s going to be ready in time to give me a ride. I’ve got to get out of here in the next half hour if I expect to even have a chance of making it to the diner on time on my bike.”
“Relax. I’ve got some things I want to get done in town today. I’ll give you a ride. Can you be ready in 40 minutes?”
Dorian had always loved to harass Aria about how much time it took her to get ready. Mina had taken that to heart, and could generally have herself presentable in 30 minutes or less. Dealing with the letters and lockbox would add a little bit of time, but she could manage it.
“I’ll be ready to go when you are.”
Forty minutes later they were in Dorian’s car, heading to the diner.
“You get anything more from the letters?” He kept his eyes on the road, but she could sense the curiosity in him.
She frowned. “The girl was being forced to marry some other guy. The last letter I read mentioned something about family plants and going down south to run one. The only thing I can think of is the Simon canning company, but this guy’s last initial was F.”
Dorian nodded. “Well, that’s something at least. I didn’t read any of the letters, just was glancing through them hoping for a name. But I didn’t see anything. Only that it seemed like this girl wrote the guy at least once a week. How the hell do you hide that?”
“I don’t know. But the worst part is, our best clue is to finding out who the girl was. But she moved. These letters had to have been left there by the guy. If they did keep this a secret, I have no idea how figuring out who she was is going to help us find him. And it’s not like we want to track down her relatives and say ‘Look, your grandmother was totally in love with a guy who wasn’t your grandfather.’”
