A Bad Boy is Good to Find - By Jennifer Lewis Page 0,74

hopes to buy his own shrimp boat soon. There’s a lot of money to be made in shrimp and crabs, not that money is important to me. There’s a lot more to life than having money and holding on to it, and I do wish you understood that.

But I didn’t write to scold, just to say that I miss you and I hope one day soon we’ll be friends again.

K

Yeesh. Maybe opening these letters wasn’t such a great idea after all. A black hole had opened up in Lizzie’s stomach.

She glanced up at Con. His shoulders moved slightly with each long, slow breath. Asleep.

She spread the letters out on the floor. There were six of them altogether, and it suddenly seemed important to read them in order. By chance—or because it was on top—she’d started with the first one. She studied the postmarks and noticed with alarm that there was more than ten years between the first and the last.

Someone here had received letters for ten years and never opened them?

Her scalp prickled and goose bumps rose on her arms. Part of her wanted to gather the letters up, put them on top of the dresser and…what? Throw them away? Hand them over to Maisie?

Like someone who can’t take her eyes off a car wreck—because the car looked so much like her own—she picked up the next envelope and slit it open.

Dear Father,

I never received a reply to my last letter, so I thought I’d write again, just to let you know that things are fine with us. It’s odd to be so nearby, yet it’s as if there were a thousand miles between us. Things have been hard lately, due to a poor shrimp harvest caused by bad weather conditions and buyers refusing to pay full price for the shrimp that is caught. I don’t really understand the business but it looks like my husband will have to wait to buy his own boat. Anyway, we’re managing.

I have some wonderful news, I’m pregnant! I’m expecting my baby in spring, which is such a perfect time of year for a new life to enter the world. I just wanted to let you know that you’re going to be a grandfather.

Always your daughter,

K

Oh dear, it was going to be a sob story. Had she expected anything different? Didn’t anyone ever run off with the man they loved and live happily ever after, for crying out loud? Was that too much to ask?

Lizzie glanced back at Con. His shoulders moved slightly with the easy breaths of deep sleep.

Did she really want to see the rest of this car wreck?

She looked at the envelopes. They were all the same kind, as if taken from the same box. Who kept the same box of envelopes for ten whole years? This whole thing made her flesh crawl.

Come on, Lizzie. Maybe he gets his shrimp boat after all! Maybe he became shrimp king of the bayou and she was his queen?

She picked up the next envelope in date order. It had dirt on it, possibly from the cataclysm involving the bedpost. She brushed it off, and ripped it open with her nail file.

Dear Father,

I wonder if the magnolias bloomed well this year after all the cool weather? Did John ever paint the arbor green the way you planned? I always thought that would look so beautiful, like the honeysuckle was floating right in mid air.

Is your gout still bothering you? It’s so odd not to have talked to you in so long, and I do wonder often about how you’re doing. Two years is a long time.

My baby is so beautiful. We named him Conroy Anthony—

Lizzie heard a screeching sound in her head and black spots danced in front of her eyes. Conroy? How many Conroys could there be in this part of the world? She whipped her head around, breath coming fast, and was relieved to see Con still asleep. Now she really was prying. She read on greedily, holding her breath.

We named him Conroy Anthony after the sailor in that book I used to love when I was a girl. He has black hair just like mine and he’s just the sweetest, smartest baby. He laughed yesterday for the first time, and I’ve never heard such a beautiful sound. My husband is having to deal with the pressure of being a family man. Diapers are so expensive, and the baby will only settle when he’s cuddled up in bed next to me, which makes