The Last Letter (Page 3)

Maisie nodded, her blond ponytail bobbing as she swiped the iPad open to find her favorite apps. How the heck a five-year-old navigated the thing better than I did was a mystery. Colt was a wiz on the thing, too, just not quite as tech savvy as Maisie. Mostly because he was too busy climbing whatever he wasn’t supposed to be.

My gaze darted up to the clock. Four p.m. The doc was already a half hour late for the appointment he’d asked me for. I knew Ada didn’t mind watching Colt, but I hated having to ask her. She was in her sixties and, while still spry, Colt was anything but easy to keep up with. She called him “lightning in a bottle,” and she wasn’t far off.

Maisie absentmindedly rubbed the spot on her hip she’d been complaining about. The complaint had gone from a twinge, to an ache, to the ever-present hurt that never quite left her.

Just before I was about to lose my temper and head for the receptionist, the doc knocked before coming in.

“Hey, Ella. How are you feeling, Margaret?” Doctor Franklin asked with a kind smile and a clipboard.

“Maisie,” she corrected him with serious eyes.

“Of course,” he agreed with a nod, shooting me a slight smile. No doubt I was still five years old in his eyes, considering Dr. Franklin had been my pediatrician, too. His hair had more gray, and there was an extra twenty pounds around his middle, but he was still the same as he was when my grandmother brought me to this office. Nothing much changed in our little town of Telluride. Sure, ski season came, the tourists flooding our streets with their Land Rovers, but the tide always receded, leaving behind the locals to resume life as usual.

“How’s the pain today?” he asked, coming down to her level.

She shrugged and focused on the iPad.

I tugged it free of her little hands and arched an eyebrow at her disapproving face.

She sighed, the sound way older than a five-year-old’s, but turned back to Dr. Franklin. “It always hurts. It hasn’t not hurt in forever.”

He looked over at me for clarification.

“It’s been at least six weeks.”

He nodded, then frowned as he stood, flipping the papers on the board.

“What?” Frustration twisted my stomach, but I bit my tongue. It wasn’t going to do Maisie any good for me to lose my temper.

“The bone scan results are clean.” He leaned against the exam table and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.

My shoulders sagged. It was the third test they’d run on Maisie and still nothing.

“Clean is good, right?” she asked.

I forced a smile for her benefit and handed the iPad back to her. “Honey, why don’t you play for a sec while I sneak a word with Dr. Franklin in the hallway?”

She nodded, eagerly getting back to whatever game she’d been in the middle of.

I met Dr. Franklin in the hall, leaving the door open just a smidge so I could keep an ear on Maisie.

“Ella, I don’t know what to tell you.” He folded his arms across his chest. “We’ve run X-rays, the scan, and if I thought she’d lie still long enough for an MRI, we could try that. But in all honesty, we’re not seeing anything physically wrong with her.”

The sympathetic look he gave me grated on my last nerve.

“She’s not making this up. Whatever pain she’s in is very real, and something is causing it.”

“I’m not saying the pain isn’t real. I’ve seen her often enough to know that something is up. Has anything changed at home? Any new stressors? I know it can’t be easy on you running that place by yourself with two little kids to take care of, especially at your age.”

My chin rose a good inch, just like it did any time someone brought up my kids and my age in the same sentence.

“The brain is a very powerful—”

“Are you suggesting that this is psychosomatic?” I snapped. “Because she’s having trouble walking now. Nothing has changed in our house. It’s the same as it has been since I brought them home from this very hospital, and she’s not under any undue stress in kindergarten, I assure you. This is not in her head; it’s in her hip.”

“Ella, there’s nothing there,” he said softly. “We’ve looked for breaks, ligament tears, everything. It might be a really bad case of growing pains.”

“That is not growing pains! There’s something you’re missing. I looked on the internet—”

“That was your first mistake.” He sighed. “Looking on the internet will convince you that a cold is meningitis and a leg pain is a giant blood clot ready to dislodge and kill you.”

My eyes widened.

“It’s not a blood clot, Ella. We did an ultrasound. There’s nothing there. We can’t fix a problem that we don’t see.”

Maisie wasn’t making it up. It wasn’t in her head. It wasn’t some symptom of being born to a young mom or not having a dad in the picture. She was in pain, and I couldn’t help her.

I was completely and utterly powerless.

“Then I guess I’ll take her home.”

…

I savored the walk from the county road back to the main house. Getting the mail this time of year was always my own little way of sneaking out, and I enjoyed it even more now that I had Chaos’s letters to look forward to. I was expecting number six any day now. The late October air was brisk, but we were still a good month away from the slopes opening. Then my small moments of serenity would be swallowed by the torrent of bookings.

Thank God, because we really needed the business. Not that I didn’t enjoy the slower pace of fall after the summer hikers went home, but it was our winters that kept Solitude in the black. And with our new, painful mortgage payments, the income was necessary.

But for now, this was perfect. The aspens had turned gold and were beginning to lose their leaves, which currently covered the tree-lined drive from the road to the house. It wasn’t far, only a hundred yards or so, but it was just enough distance to give visitors that feeling of seclusion they were looking for.

Our main house held a few guest rooms, the professional kitchen, dining room, and game rooms, plus a separate, small residential wing where I lived with the kids. It always teemed with life when someone wanted company. But Solitude got her name, and her reputation, from the fifteen secluded cabins that dotted our two hundred acres. If someone wanted the convenience of luxury accommodations and proximity to civilization, while still getting away from it all, we were the perfect spot.

Now if only I could afford the advertising to get the cabins booked. You could build it all day long; people only came if they knew you existed.

“Ella, you busy?” Larry asked from the front porch. His eyes danced under bushy gray eyebrows that seemed to curl in every direction.

“Nope. What’s up?” I fidgeted with the mail as I walked up the steps, pausing on a board that might need to be replaced. The thing about rebranding yourself as a luxury resort was that people expected perfection.

“There’s something waiting for you on the table.”

“Waiting?” I ignored his grin—the man was never going to be a poker player—and headed inside.

I kicked off my boots and slid them under one of the benches in the foyer. The newly refinished hardwood was warm under my feet as I crossed in front of the receptionist’s desk.

“Good walk?” Hailey looked up from her phone and smiled.

“Just got the mail, nothing special.” I gripped the stack of letters in my hand, prolonging the torture for a few more moments. Besides, that top envelope was a bill from Dr. Franklin, which I wasn’t in a hurry to open.

It had been almost a month since I’d taken Maisie to see him, and there was still no diagnosis for her worsening pain. This was just another bill to remind me that I’d dropped us to the lowest insurance premiums possible to get us through this year.

“Uh-huh. You’re not looking for a letter, are you?” Her brown eyes were wide with mock innocence.

“I shouldn’t have told you about him.” She was never going to let me hear the end of it, but I honestly didn’t mind. Those letters were the one thing I had just for me. The one place where I could be open and honest without judgment or expectation.

“Hey, it’s better than you living vicariously through my love life.”

“Your love life gives me whiplash. Besides, we’re just writing. There’s nothing romantic. Ryan needed a favor. That’s all.”

“Ryan. When is he coming home again?” She sighed that dreamy sigh most of the local girls let out whenever my brother was mentioned.

“Should be a little after Christmas, and seriously, you were what? Twelve when he left to join up?”

Hailey was only two years younger than me, but I felt infinitely older. Maybe I’d aged ten years per kid, or running Solitude had prematurely shoved me into middle age, but whatever it was, there was a lifetime between us.

“Stop dawdling!” Larry urged, nearly jumping up and down.

“What’s the big deal?”

“Ella, get in here!” Ada called from the dining room.

“Both of you are after me now?” I shook my head at Larry but followed him into the dining room.

“Ta-da!” Ada said, waving her arms in a flourish toward the dark farmhouse-style table.

I followed her motions, finding the magazine I’d been waiting for sitting there, its bright-blue cover standing out against the wood.

“When did it get here?” My voice dropped.

“This morning,” Ada answered.

“But…” I held up the stack of mail.

“Oh, I just left all that in there. I wasn’t going to deprive you of your favorite time of day.”

A few quiet, tense moments passed while I stared at the magazine. Mountain Vacations: Colorado’s Best of 2019. Winter edition.

“It’s not going to bite,” Ada said, scooting the magazine toward me.

“No, but it could make or break us.”

“Read it, Ella. Lord knows I already did,” she said, pushing her glasses back up her nose.

I snatched the magazine off the table, dropping the pile of mail in its place, and thumbed through it.