Chapter 72
It was the third letter in ten days—and it arrived the day before Christmas.
Henry had given it to Grace early because she was off for Christmas until the Pearl Gala.
I both loved and hated Henry’s letters. Every time Grace pulled a black envelope from her bag, my heart began to race, and my hands started sweating.
I had hesitated before opening the first letter, but now I could hardly break the wax seal fast enough to see what he had written.
The first letter had made me sad.
The second had stirred longing in me.
The third made me doubt my decision to leave Henry.
It would have been easier for him to forget me, but he refused to give up. He kept fighting for me despite all the hurdles, and his loving words got under my skin—just like his relentless determination to win me back.
Looking back, I had to admit that I had acted more emotionally than rationally on the day I’d found his pills.
I had been so afraid of someone I loved choosing drugs over me for the second time that I had lashed out in panic.
It hadn’t been fair to Henry. Until the moment I had discovered the Vitalyn, he had never given me a reason to doubt him.
Every day, he had made me feel how important I was to him—with his words, actions, touches, and kisses.
They had flowed through me, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes and straight into my heart.
I rubbed my chest. My heart was beating hard—because of Henry, for Henry.
I felt a strong impulse to go to The Darlington and not leave him waiting any longer.
I wanted to hold him in my arms and talk to him: to try, together with Henry, to rebuild the trust he had broken.
After my discovery, that had felt impossible, but that had changed with a little distance.
If Henry was serious—and it seemed he was—we could overcome his addiction. Together.
I flinched as my phone rang, and I felt a surge of hope that it might be Henry. But it couldn’t be—I still had his number blocked.
I grabbed my phone and saw Tilly’s name on the display. “Hey, Tilly!”
“Hi, Kate. Do you have a moment?”
“For you, always,” I replied eagerly. I had been waiting for her to get back to me for days, and had almost given up hope of hearing from her before the end of the year. “Please tell me you have good news.”
She hesitated, and my heart stopped. “I have . . . news.”
“Okaaaaay,” I drew out the word. “What kind of news?”
“I had to do quite a bit of convincing, but after some back-and-forth, the main office agreed to create a position for you.”
My heart started up again.
“You can start working at Hope Harbour in January.”
I squealed with excitement. For a brief moment, I had been genuinely afraid. “Oh my god! Thank you, Tilly. Thank you, thank you, thank you. A thousand times, thank you! I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll work harder than anyone you’ve ever seen.”
“I believe you. But there’s one more thing.”
“What is it?” I asked, although I didn’t really care. I had a job. A real job with proper pay. I wouldn’t have to go back to living on the streets or start pickpocketing again!
Tilly took a deep breath. “The job comes with a condition . . .”