Chapter 7 - Hands That Remember
Crawford tried to run.
He reached the rear door of the trading post before Elias caught him.
Naira entered behind them.
“Letters.”
Crawford shook his head.
“I don't have—”
Elias shoved a cabinet aside.
A hidden compartment appeared.
Inside was a bundle tied with string.
Naira recognized the handwriting before touching it.
Her breath stopped.
She picked up the first letter.
Naira, I am alive.
Her knees weakened.
The second:
They will not let me leave.
The third:
Voss says you have forgotten me. I know this is a lie.
Naira covered her mouth.
There were seventeen letters.
Seventeen times Tomas had tried to reach her.
Seventeen times Crawford had chosen silence.
“Why?”
Crawford looked down.
“Money.”
The answer was almost unbearable in its simplicity.
Voss had paid him.
Naira slapped him.
Once.
Hard.
Then she stepped away.
“You stole years.”
Crawford said nothing.
That night she read every letter.
Elias remained outside.
Near dawn, Naira opened the door.
“He thought I abandoned him.”
Elias looked up.
“No.”
“He died thinking I didn't come.”
“You don't know that he's dead.”
Her eyes met his.
“Do you believe he's alive?”
Elias couldn't lie.
“I don't know.”
She sat beside him.
“My hands used to reach for him.”
Elias listened.
“Now I know his were reaching for me too.”
She began crying.
This time Elias didn't touch her until she reached for his hand first.
Their fingers closed.
No romance could erase Tomas.
Neither wanted it to.
But something new was forming beside the grief.
Not replacement.
Possibility.
Then Naira showed him the final letter.
It contained a location.
SAN PEDRO.
And beneath it:
If anything happens to me, find Lieutenant Elias Ward.
Elias stared at his own name.
Naira stared at him.
May you like
The world seemed to stop.
“Why,” she whispered, “did my husband know you?”
