I found a box of letters he’d never bothered to mail. It seemed that for all of my brother’s toughness and aloofness, he had a soft spot for a girl from our childhood. Her father volunteered at a Boys and Girls Club near our apartment. He was a doctor and counselor, and always supportive. She was a blue-eyed girl who came from much more than we had. Yet she never acted that way. She was always kind. There was a time I considered her a friend. And then life happened.
Mason went off to the army, Laurel went to college, our mother left for the final time, and I moved on.
Yesterday, using the information on the last letter Mason had written, I asked Reid to help me find her current address. She lived in Indiana, not far and yet a lifetime away. I wrote the only letter to tell anyone about Mason’s death. I didn’t share details, only that he was gone and he’d never forgotten her. I hesitated but then decided to sign my name.
Reid promised the correspondence would get delivered. He said the USPS was too risky. He didn’t want to take the chance that I could be found. What he didn’t know was that I wouldn’t. I’d soon be gone.
I woke three days ago to an airline ticket and information on an apartment in Stratford-upon-Avon, England. Being the birthplace of William Shakespeare, it was a tourist town, one where I was sure to be able to find a job. I could clean bed and breakfasts or wait tables. My apartment was paid in full for a year and along with the airline ticket, there was an envelope filled with over a thousand of both American dollars and British pounds. There was also information to a bank account in my name, in Warwick, with fifty thousand pounds.
Though the rest was up to me, I wasn’t given much choice.
The ticket and information came with a note containing the most words Mr. Sparrow had spared me—ever. He asked me to not share my plans with anyone. He said this arrangement would keep me safe, as Mason had wanted. Those words broke my heart and at the same time, offered me a future, one free of the baggage of my life.
In England, I would be me. I wouldn’t be a sister or a daughter. I wouldn’t be a secret lover or a distraction. As the last seventy-two hours played out, I told myself that I was thankful Mr. Sparrow had chosen a country with a language I could understand.
Mason was the one born with an uncanny ability with languages and linguistics, not me.
My plane was set to leave in five hours.
My ticket was first class.
And I was to meet a car in two hours.
While I didn’t own luggage, Mason did. I believe he’d used it to return from his third tour. Truly, it wasn’t much, but it was capable of holding my meager belongings. Those suitcases were now packed as I made another trek around the apartment, determined to take whatever I could to keep my brother with me. Maybe one day he’d stop glaring and instead, I’d see his green eyes and shining smile.
As I checked my purse for the one hundredth time for my ticket and all Mr. Sparrow had given me, there was a knock on Mason’s door.
There were only two people who could be on the other side of the door. Mr. Sparrow wasn’t an option; he’d said his piece in the form of my eviction notice. That wasn’t fair. He wasn’t sending me to the street. He’d been extremely generous in his offer.
How could I not take it?
That left the possibilities of Reid or Patrick.
As tears prickled the backs of my eyes, I prayed it was Patrick. I’d already said goodbye to Reid, without letting him know I was. I didn’t think my heart could take an encore.
The knock came again.
“Lorna, I know you’re in there. Open the damn door.”
I took a haggard breath as Reid’s deep baritone voice filtered through the door.
“I will fucking break down the damn door.”
He sounded—angry?
I had never heard that tone from him before.
My gaze went to the three suitcases lined along the breakfast bar.
The knock turned to pounding.
“Damn it, Lorna. This is your last warning.”
Leaving the suitcases where they were, I straightened my neck and shoulders, lifted my chin, and walked to the door. Opening it only enough to catch sight of the man I’d deemed my prince, I feigned strength