Chapter Forty-Two
Keeley
My brother rounds on me as we walk towards his SUV.
“You’re in love?” he demands.
“Shh,” I tell him, digging in my purse.
I finally pull out the letter and stare at it for a moment, taking in the foreign stamp that says “Eire.”
The Gaelic word for Ireland. Beckett taught me that this summer.
My stomach flips. The letter’s from Noeleen. It has to be.
I just know it, in the very depths of me.
“What is it, Keels?” Ezra asks with a frown.
“I think it’s from Beckett’s grandmother.”
His eyes flicker with interest, but he seems to read the room remarkably well, because he points down the street at Serendipi-Tea. “I’ll get us coffees, give you a moment.”
“Thanks.”
I sink down on a bench and flip over the envelope to examine the postmark. It’s dated 1970—a few years after Noeleen left town. With trembling fingers, I carefully take a piece of paper out of the envelope.
It’s thin, worn where it folds.
My dearest Douglas,
It’s been a few years since we’ve spoken, but I hope you know that I still think of you fondly. I have your ring tucked in the back of a drawer, as a memory of you.
The time we spent with each other was nothing short of magical, and I truly believe it was ordained by fate. Our time together is a cherished memory I will carry with me forever—close to my heart, for only myself, because speaking aloud about what we had would never do it justice.
Leaving you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. But your father made it clear that there was no future for us together, and I would have never wanted to put you in an uncomfortable position with your family…
I gasp in horror at the words I’ve just read.
This was not, in any world, an ending I could have imagined.
Reading on is no easier, as Noeleen’s words communicate that my great-grandfather did not view an Irishwoman from a working-class family to be a suitable wife for his only son, whom he intended to be the future mayor of our town.
So, Noeleen left. She couldn’t bear to cause any fuss with the Roberts family. And that way, my grandfather would never be forced to choose between love and duty to his family.
She mentioned that she heard from Sissy that Gramps had, indeed, eventually been elected mayor, and was loved by the people of our town. She said she was happy to hear he had married. And that she had married too.
She concluded by saying that she sent this letter as closure. To let him know that she was happy, and now that she’d had word he was happy too, she knew that all’s well that ends well, essentially.
Although the phrase Noeleen used was “what’s for you won’t pass you.”
By the time I’m finished reading the letter, tears are streaming down my face.
It’s a lot to process, and when Ezra comes back, he takes one look at me and my tear-stained expression, then drops to a seat beside me. Hands me a takeout cup. “Two pumps of caramel syrup and a splash of heavy cream.”
“You’re the best, Ez. Thanks,” I say through a sniffle.
He smiles at me. Nods towards the letter. “Was it from Noeleen?”
“It was. Sent in 1970, a few years after she lived here.”
“Whoa. That’s crazy. I don’t think Dad was even born yet.” My brother hesitates, his tattooed forearms flexing as he grips his coffee cup. “Do you… want to talk about it?”
“According to this,” I say as I hold up the letter, “she left because our great-grandfather didn’t approve of her as a potential wife for his son.”
“What? That’s insane.”
“I know, right?” I finger the letter. “I guess it was a different time back then, but still… I can’t believe that our great-grandfather got involved to that extent. All to apparently help Gramps’s chances at being voted mayor.” I shake my head. “In the letter, Noeleen said that she didn’t want Gramps to have to choose between her and the life he had in front of him. She thought that wouldn’t be fair, so she left.”
“She didn’t give him a choice in the matter?”
I shake my head. “Don’t think so.”
“Can I read it?”
“Sure.” Noeleen and Douglas are as much a part of Ezra’s history as mine.
My brother skims the letter quickly, then turns to me with an incredulous look on his face. “And you say I’m the one who knows nothing.”
“Pardon?”
Ezra’s still staring at me like I’ve metamorphosed into the literal swamp monster. “Did you and I read the same letter?”
“I believe so.”
“Because what I got from that was that Noeleen was scared she wouldn’t be enough for Gramps. That he’d regret his choice if he stayed with her.” Ezra grimaces at me.
My heart picks up speed as his words hit shockingly close to home. “I didn’t think of it that way…”
“Because you were so focused on her leaving.”
“I guess.” My heart is truly pounding now.
Ezra pauses. “Maybe that drew your attention because of a certain someone else who’s leaving later today…”
It’s my turn to grimace.
“What happened with you and Becks, Keels?” Ez asks as he studies my face.
“Sometimes, love’s meant to be temporary.” I say aloud the spiel I’ve been repeating in my head all night. Swallow thickly before I continue. “And while it might not have been meant to be between Gramps and Noeleen, it all worked out for everyone in the end. And things will work out for me and Becks, too. We’ll each go back to our separate lives, and this hurt will be a happy memory one day.”
“Okay, that’s one take.” Ezra gives his head a shake, looking a little baffled. “But sometimes it’s meant to be , period. Forget all the circumstances surrounding it. Look at Mae and me. When I met her, I had no idea it would lead to her being my wife and the mother of my child. I was on vacation in Seoul, for goodness sakes, I wasn’t searching for a wife. But there she was. And because it was meant to be, we worked to get ourselves to where we are today. We knew we were meant to be together, against all odds.”
“But how did you know that? How did you know she’d love you and never leave?”
He stares at me for a minute, and a flicker shoots through his eyes that I’ve never seen before. He looks… pained.
“Jeez, Keels. When you said earlier that you and Beckett were over, I thought it had to do with you and Andrew breaking up so recently and you being gun-shy to jump into a new relationship, especially one with complications given where you both live. But this is about Mom, isn’t it?”
I don’t answer his question directly. Instead, I say, “Beckett told me he was thinking about staying here. But if he did stay, he would eventually leave. Just like Mom. Just like Noeleen. Hell, even Andrew left and he’s from here. Lives in the same building as me.”
There it is. My darkest shame: I’m fundamentally leaveable.
“Stop it!”
“Stop what?”
“Wallowing like that,” Ezra says. Firmly. “Andrew didn’t leave you, and you know it. You guys grew apart because you weren’t meant to be together. You had no future together. And Mom… well, you can’t let the past dictate the future. Mom did a terrible thing when she left us. But she made her choice, and now, she has to live with the consequences.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean she doesn’t have me, or you, or Mae, or Everett in her life. And man, is she ever missing out by not having Everett around.”
“Big time,” I agree as Ezra’s words sink in.
“Keels,” he says, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. “Mom made a bad choice. And Noeleen made a choice, too. And sure, it worked out in the end for everyone, but it didn’t have to work out that way. Fate brought her and our Gramps together for a time, or whatever it was she said in the letter. But to make it work past that, they both had to choose each other.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Simple. But not easy,” he corrects. “It sounds to me like Noeleen didn’t let herself choose Gramps in case the circumstances around their relationship ended up crushing it. And it sounds like Gramps was too proud to go after her when she took that worst-case scenario and ran with it.”
Don’t let your circumstances dictate your heart.
I stare at Ezra as he continues, “If Beckett is telling you that he’s choosing you, you have the option to choose him back, instead of just leaving him before he can leave you. Because if you live your whole life that way, sure you might have a bunch of happy memories at the end of it… but you’ll be remembering them alone. Like Mom. It’s not about leaving or not leaving, it’s about running away or else choosing to stay and fight for what— who —you love.”
His words sting like a slap to the face.
I’m a total hypocrite.
I’ve let my circumstances dictate my heart in every way, putting up protective barriers to try and control the narrative. I’ve tried to shape my situation so I don’t get hurt again.
This summer, I came up with the idea that the ending doesn’t matter as a shield. An attempt to live in the moment and not worry about the potential of getting hurt. To control the potential of getting hurt.
But what I’ve effectively done is placed conditions on my feelings for Beckett. And that’s just not the truth of how I feel about him at all.
I still stand by what I wrote in my article—that sometimes with love, the beginning or end doesn’t matter, but the journey—but I no longer stand by that being mine and Beckett’s love story.
Because what we’ve got? I never want it to end.
“I don’t want to run away from love,” I say miserably. “I’m just so scared of having to live through that feeling, that rejection again. And the fear is so strong, it’s been overshadowing all my choices.”
Ezra pauses. And then, he smiles. “You asked me a moment ago how I know that Mae will never leave me, and the simple answer is: I don’t. I don’t know what the future holds. But I wake up every single day and choose her, and will continue to choose her, even when the going gets tough—because it does—because I love her. And when you really love someone, they will always be worth choosing. To the point that your fears of what you could lose in the process will come second to making that choice. So, make the right choice, Keeley.”
“There’s only one choice,” I reply, jumping up from the bench. There’s no time to waste.
It’s Beckett.
I choose Beckett.
And I choose him knowing that I can’t control how it looks or where we live or what tomorrow might bring.
I’m going to cut that lifeline and let myself truly fall. And instead of constantly bracing for impact, I’ll live in the knowledge that whatever the cost, I’ve made the right decision for me.
For us.
Beckett deserves no less in life than to be loved unconditionally.
And you know what? Neither do I.