found, but you see the date, so you’ll guess—and I needed you to be able to contact me, just in case. I need you to know where I am. If you want to find me, I’m here. I’ll wait for you. I won’t leave. And don’t worry about me wasting my life waiting. I love you, there is nothing else for me to do.
I hope it all worked, I like to imagine you happy. And I’m happy here, whenever I think of you. I look up at the stars at night, when you might be doing the same, or the sunset—I remember how you always loved all those colors—and I imagine you next to me. I talk to you. We have wonderful conversations and hardly ever argue. On your birthday I read our favorite book aloud, from beginning to end. Perhaps you hear me. If not, I hope he reads to you, I remember how much you love to be read to.
I know you won’t write back to me. Don’t worry, I don’t expect it. But I do hope you’ll keep the letter, hide it somewhere safe for one day, a maybe day, a just-in-case day . . . And if that day comes, I will be here, waiting for you.
Forever, Albert
He must have known about her, Alba thinks. The date, her seventh birthday, is surely too much of a coincidence? But perhaps it was something else: their anniversary, the day they met, kissed, or made love for the first time. How can she know for certain, unless she goes to Scotland to find him? But what if he doesn’t want to see her? Could she stand the rejection? After the betrayal of the unmentionable one, would her heart finally snap in half and never beat properly again? It’s possible.
Alba’s thoughts are interrupted by a rapid staccato knocking on her bedroom door. She sits up. No one has knocked since she moved in, nearly six weeks ago. Then, with a sigh, she remembers. It’s tonight, the promised trip to The Archer. Now it’s too late to come up with excuses. Alba swears under her breath, jumps off the bed and dashes to the door, finding Carmen and Greer on the other side.
“Oh,” Alba says, her heart sinking even lower, “is this a group outing?”
“No.” Carmen smiles. “Greer’s just here to make you beautiful and dress you up.”
Alba grimaces at the thought of what this might entail. “Is this really necessary?”
“Don’t worry.” Greer takes her hand. “Wait until you see my wardrobe. By the time we’re done you’ll be a showstopper.”
Alba suppresses a tiny scream. She can’t imagine anything worse.
—
Two hours later Alba and Carmen are clattering across the cobblestones in their heels. “We will be late,” Carmen says. “We must go faster.”
“It’s okay, it’s only ten to eight.” Alba wobbles, feeling her left ankle nearly give way, wondering what the hell she’s doing. She’s never worn high heels before in her life and feels tall and exposed. For the first time, too, she’s wearing makeup: black mascara with heavily kohled eyes which, even Alba was surprised to see, give her a striking, sparkling blue stare. Her lips are highlighted in dark red, her skin powder-white with a little blush on her cheeks. A sapphire silk dress matches Alba’s eyes. Finished off with blue velvet shoes, the effect, much to Alba’s shock and embarrassment, is quite breathtaking.
“Here we are.” Carmen slides to a stop on the pavement. A few moments later, Alba, heart beating fast, arrives at her side. She glances at the door, painted the color of her lips, before Carmen pushes it open and steps into the darkness.
Alba is grateful for the candlelight. She can hardly see the faces of the people darting around her, flitting in and out of view like butterflies, and they can hardly see her. When they reach the bar Carmen turns to Alba. “What you want first? I will pay.”
“Just a glass of water, please.”
Carmen frowns.
Alba shrugs. “I’m hot.”
“What about wine?”
“I don’t drink,” Alba admits, feeling like a child. “I don’t really like the taste.”
“Okay.” Carmen turns to the tall barman with big green eyes. “Red wine, please, Blake, and one water for my beautiful friend.”
“My pleasure.” He flashes Alba a smile. “Anything else I can get you?”
Alba shakes her head, unable, for a moment, to form words.
“Well, I’m here all night, at your beck and call.” Blake puts down the drink, the glass slipping soundlessly across the marble countertop. Then, with a wink,