PART 2 — THE SECRET CLAIRE HAD CARRIED FOR FORTY YEARS
I stepped inside Claire’s house and immediately felt as though I had walked into another life.
There were photographs everywhere.
A wedding picture.
Children.
Grandchildren.
A Christmas tree standing in the corner even though Christmas was still weeks away.
Claire noticed me staring.
“I have two daughters,” she said quietly. “And four grandchildren.”
I smiled politely.
“That’s wonderful.”
She looked at me for several seconds.
Then her expression changed.
“Do you remember the summer of 1988?”
My heart stopped.
Of course I remembered.
That was the summer Claire and I had planned to get married.
The summer everything fell apart.
“I remember,” I whispered.
Claire sat down.
“So do I.”
She folded her hands in her lap.
“After you left for another state, I wrote to you.”
“I never received anything.”
“I know.”
I frowned.
“You wrote to me?”
“Seven letters.”
I stared at her.
“Seven?”
She nodded.
“And I called your old apartment twice.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
Claire looked down.
“Because Margaret made sure you didn’t.”
The room suddenly seemed very quiet.
“What are you saying?”
Claire took a deep breath.
“Margaret came to see me.”
PART 3 — THE WOMAN WHO STOOD BETWEEN US
Claire told me that about six months after I moved away, Margaret had appeared at her apartment.
At that time, Margaret and I were only friends.
At least, that’s what I had believed.
“She told me you were miserable,” Claire said.
“She told me you were struggling at work and wanted nothing to do with me.”
I shook my head.
“That isn’t true.”
“I know that now.”
Claire’s eyes filled with tears.
“But back then, I believed her.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me you had met someone else.”
My stomach turned.
“Someone else?”
Claire nodded.
“She said you were planning to marry another woman.”
I sat down across from her.
“Why would Margaret say that?”
Claire looked directly into my eyes.
“Because she was already in love with you.”
I couldn’t speak.
She continued.
“She said if I truly loved you, I would let you go.”
I stared at the floor.
“Did you believe her?”
“I did.”
Claire wiped a tear from her cheek.
“So I stopped writing.”
I closed my eyes.
For forty years, I had believed Claire had simply chosen not to fight for us.
But she hadn’t.
She had been lied to.
And so had I.
PART 4 — THE LETTERS
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