Safe Haven(40)
Author: Nicholas Sparks

There was something else nagging at her, though, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She wasforgetting about something. Something important.

As much as she tried, she couldn’t seem to place it. The events of the past few days had left her feeling drainedand jittery. She looked up. Dusk was beginning to spread across the sky and the temperature was falling. Near thetrees, a mist was starting to roll in.

Looking away from Jo’s house—which was how she’d always refer to it, regardless of the state of mind itimplied—Katie reached for the letter and examined it. The outer envelope was blank.

There was something frightening about the unopened letter, even though she wasn’t sure why. It might havebeen Alex’s expression as he’d handed it over… somehow she knew it was not only serious, but also important tohim, and she wondered why he hadn’t told her anything about it.

She didn’t know, but it would be getting dark soon and she knew she was running out of time. Turning theenvelope over, she lifted the seal. In the waning light, she ran her finger over the yellow legal paper beforeunfolding the pages. Finally, she began to read.

To the woman my husband loves,

If it seems odd for you to read these words, please believe me when I tell you that it feels just as odd to

write them. Then again, nothing about this letter feels normal. There’s so much I want to say, so much I

want to tell you, and when I first put pen to paper, everything was clear in my mind. Now, however, I find

myself struggling and I’m not sure where to begin.

I can start by saying this: I’ve come to believe that in everyone’s life, there’s one undeniable moment of

change, a set of circumstances that suddenly alters everything. For me, that moment was meeting Alex.

Though I don’t know when or where you’re reading this, I know it means he loves you. It also means he

wants to share his life with you, and if nothing else, we will always have that in common.

My name, as you probably know, is Carly, but for most of my life, my friends called me Jo…

Katie stopped reading and looked at the letter in her hands, unable to absorb its words. Taking a deep breath,she reread those words: for most of my life, my friends called me Jo…

She gripped the pages, feeling the memory she’d been struggling to retrieve come into focus at last. Suddenly,she was back in the master bedroom on the night of the fire. She felt the strain in her arms and back as sheheaved the rocking chair through the window, felt the surge of panic as she wrapped Josh and Kristen in theheaved the rocking chair through the window, felt the surge of panic as she wrapped Josh and Kristen in thecomforter, only to hear the loud splintering sound behind her. With sudden clarity, she remembered whirlingaround and seeing the portrait hanging on the wall, the portrait of Alex’s wife. At the time, she’d been confused,her nerves short-circuiting in the hell of smoke and fear.

But she’d seen the face. Yes, she’d even taken a step closer to get a better look.

That looks a lot like Jo, she remembered thinking, even if her mind hadn’t been able to process it. But now, asshe sat on the porch beneath a slowly darkening sky, she knew with certainty that she was wrong. Wrong abouteverything. She raised her eyes to gaze at Jo’s cottage again.

It looked like Jo, she suddenly realized, because it wasJo. Unbidden, she felt another memory float free, fromthe first morning that Jo had come over.

My friends call me Jo, she had said by way of introduction.

Oh, my God.

Katie paled.

…Jo…

She hadn’t imagined Jo, she suddenly knew. She hadn’t made her up.

Jo hadbeen here, and she felt her throat begin to tighten. Not because she didn’t believe it, but because shesuddenly understood that her friend Jo—her only real friend, her wise adviser, her supporter and confidante

—would never come back.

They would never have coffee, they would never share another bottle of wine, they would never visit on theporch out front. She’d never hear the sound of Jo’s laughter or watch the way she arched her eyebrow. She wouldnever hear Jo complain about having to do manual labor, and she began to cry, mourning the wonderful friendshe’d never had the chance to meet in life.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed before she was able to begin reading again. It was getting dark, and with asigh, she stood and unlocked the front door. Inside, she took a seat at the kitchen table. Jo, she remembered, hadonce sat in the opposite chair, and for a reason she couldn’t explain, Katie felt herself begin to relax.

Okay, she thought to herself. I’m ready to hear what you have to say.

…but for most of my life, my friends called me Jo. Please feel free to call me either, and just so you

know, I already consider you a friend. I hope by the end of this letter, you’ll feel the same about me.

Dying is a strange business, and I’m not going to bore you with the details. I might have weeks or I

might have months and though it’s a cliché, it’s true that so many of the things I once believed to be

important no longer are. I don’t read the newspaper anymore, or care about the stock market, or worry

whether it’s going to rain while I’m on vacation. Instead, I find myself reflecting on the essential moments

of my life. I think about Alex and how handsome he looked on the day we were married. I remember my

exhausted elation when I first held Josh and Kristen in my arms. They were wonderful babies, and I used

to lay them in my lap and stare at them while they slept. I could do that for hours, trying to figure out

whether they had my nose or Alex’s, his eyes or mine. Sometimes, while they were dreaming, their little

fists would curl around my finger, and I can remember thinking that I’d never experienced a purer form of

joy.

It wasn’t until I had children that I really understood what love meant. Don’t get me wrong. I love Alex

deeply, but it’s different from the love I feel for Josh and Kristen. I don’t know how to explain it and I don’t

know that I need to. All I know is that despite my illness, I nonetheless feel blessed, because I’ve been able

to experience both. I’ve lived a full, happy life and experienced the kind of love that many people will

never know.

But my prognosis scares me. I try to be brave around Alex, and the kids are still too young to

understand what’s really happening, but in quiet moments when I’m alone, the tears come readily, and

sometimes I wonder if they’re ever going to stop. Though I know I shouldn’t, I’ll find myself dwelling on

the fact that I’m never going to walk my children to school or that I’ll never get another chance to witness

their excitement on Christmas morning. I’ll never help Kristen shop for a prom dress or watch Josh play

baseball. There is so much I will never see and do with them, and sometimes I despair that I’ll be nothing

but a distant memory by the time they get married.

How can I tell them that I love them if I’m no longer there?

And Alex. He’s my dream and my companion, my lover and my friend. He’s a devoted father, but more

than that, he’s my ideal husband. I can’t describe the comfort I feel when he takes me in his arms, or how I

look forward to lying down beside him at night. There’s an unshakable humanity about him, a faith in the

goodness of life, and it breaks my heart to imagine him alone. That’s why I’ve asked him to give you this

letter; I thought of it as a way of making him keep his promise that he would find someone special again

—someone who loves him, and someone he could love. He needs that.

I was blessed to be married to him for five years and I’ve mothered my children for less time than that.

Now, my life is almost over and you are going to take my place. You’ll become the wife who grows old with

Alex, and you’ll become the only mother my children will ever know. You can’t imagine how terrible it is to

lie in bed, staring at my family and knowing these things, and realizing there’s nothing I can do to change

them. Sometimes, I dream that I’ll find a way to come back, that I can find a way to ensure they’re going to

be all right. I like to believe that I’ll watch over them from heaven, or that I can visit them in their dreams. I

want to pretend that my journey isn’t over and I pray that the boundless love I feel for them will somehow

make it possible.

This is where you come in. I want you to do something for me.

If you love Alex now, then love him forever. Make him laugh again, and cherish the time you spend together. Take walks and ride your bikes, curl up on the couch and watch movies beneath a blanket. Make him breakfast, but don’t spoil him. Let him make breakfast for you as well, so he can show you he thinks you’re special. Kiss him and make love to him, and consider yourself lucky for having met him, for he’s the kind of man who’ll prove you right.

I also want you to love my children in the same way I do. Help them with their homework and kiss their scraped elbows and knees when they fall. Run your hand through their hair and assure them they can do anything they put their mind to. Tuck them in at night and help them say their prayers. Make their lunches; support them in their friendships. Adore them, laugh with them, help them grow into kind, independent adults. What you give them in love, they’ll return tenfold in time, if only because Alex is their father.

Please. I beg you, do these things for me. After all, they are your family now, not mine.

I’m not jealous or angry that I’ve been replaced by you; as I mentioned already, I consider you a friend.

You’ve made my husband and children happy, and I wish I were around to be able to thank you in person.

Instead, all I can do is assure you that you have my everlasting gratitude.

If Alex has chosen you, then I want you to believe that I have chosen you as well.

Your friend in spirit,

Carly Jo

When Katie finished reading the letter, she wiped her tears and ran her finger over the pages before slippingthem back into the envelope. She sat quietly, thinking about the words that Jo had written, already knowing shewould do exactly as Jo had asked.

Not because of the letter, she thought, but because she knew that in some inexplicable way, Jo was the onewho’d gently urged her to give Alex a chance in the first place.

She smiled. “Thank you for trusting me,” she whispered, and she knew that Jo had been right all along. She’dfallen in love with Alex and she’d fallen in love with the children and she already knew that she couldn’t imagine afuture without them. It was time to go home, she thought, it was time to see her family.

Outside, the moon was a brilliant white disk that guided her as she made her way toward the jeep. But beforeclimbing in, she glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Jo’s.

The lights were on and the windows of the cottage were glowing yellow. In the painted kitchen, she saw Jostanding near the window. Though she was too far away to make out much more than that, Katie had the senseshe was smiling. Jo raised a hand in a friendly farewell, and Katie was reminded again that love can sometimesachieve the impossible.

When Katie blinked, however, the cottage was dark again. No lights were on and Jo had vanished, but shethought she could hear the words in the letter being carried on the gentle breeze.

If Alex has chosen you, then I want you to believe that I have chosen you as well.

Katie smiled and turned away, knowing it wasn’t an illusion or a figment of her imagination. She knew what shesaw.

She knew what she believed.