Letters Across the Sea by Genevieve Graham (best short novels of all time txt) 📗

His bright blue eyes shone. “It took me a little while, but then I couldn’t miss it.”

“You’ve been looking for a job? And you didn’t tell me?”

He shook his head. “No, Molly. It wasn’t that. It’s… I saw how you looked at Max, and how he looked at you. How could I not?”

My heart sank, hurting for both of us.

“I won’t say that it didn’t hurt. I’d never actually felt my heart break before. But I watched you both, and I listened. And as much as I didn’t want to, I came to understand. Max isn’t just your old friend. You’ve loved him your whole life.”

I bit my lower lip. I couldn’t deny a word of it.

“You and I,” he said gently, “we are the best of friends. Do you agree?”

“Absolutely,” I whispered.

“If we got married, I know we would be happy. Content.” He reached across the table and put his hand on mine. It was warm, familiar, and soft with love. “But you, Molly, you’re not an average girl. You’re something special. I knew that the minute you walked into the newsroom. And I think you deserve more than ‘content.’ ” He took another breath. “So I’m setting you free.”

I couldn’t breathe.

He squeezed my hand. “It’s your choice. Come to Boston with me, or stay here.”

If I’d ever truly loved him, it was in that moment. I saw the pain shining in his eyes, and I longed to soothe it. But he was waiting for my answer, and he’d sense if I was being honest. And that’s when I knew. You can never know until you know. Despite the affection Ian and I felt for each other, he wasn’t the one for me.

Gently, I withdrew my hand, and he closed his eyes, accepting my decision.

“I don’t even know if Max would want me, after all this,” I said after a silent moment.

“Molly, if there’s one thing I know, it’s how a man looks when he’s in love.” He managed a small smile, then his eyes fell to my hand. “But you’ll never know if you go in with my ring on your finger.”

“Oh, Ian!” He always knew how to make me laugh. Even through tears. “Our mothers are going to be so disappointed,” I said, placing the ring in his palm. I curled his fingers over it, then looked at my own hand. My finger looked so plain now. But it also looked right.

“They’ll be okay,” he said.

We looked at each other a long time, accepting what had just happened.

“I will miss you, Ian Collins.”

“And I will miss you.” He softly kissed the back of my knuckles. “Molly Ryan, I need you to promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Be happy. Do what makes you happy.”

twenty-nine MAX

Max hopped off the streetcar and made his way toward home, a lift to his step despite his limp. He’d been down to the Toronto General Hospital, where he’d met with the chief physician about a job. The chief had been impressed with his résumé and his references, and since the hospital was overflowing with patients and low on doctors, Max was feeling positive about his chances. It would be good to get back to work and leave the past five years behind.

He wasn’t the only one feeling better about the future. Since sharing Richie’s letter, things had warmed between the Ryans and the Dreyfuses. Both Molly’s mother and his had been over at each other’s houses, baking and sewing together, and one day when Max came downstairs, he’d walked in on a roomful of women and children. Richie’s wife, Barbara, had brought her two, Mark’s wife, Helen, had her new baby, and Hannah had her three. The grandmothers beamed over the whole brood. He was vaguely surprised to see Liam sitting in the corner of the room, smiling his odd little smile, but he knew the simplicity of the children calmed him. The poor man would never be able to walk down the street again without being stared at, but he was finally realizing he wasn’t the only one. They’d all come back with injuries, visible and invisible, and they found the most solace in sharing their stories. Just yesterday, Max and Jimmy had joined the Legion, where they met and remembered and played pool over beers. Liam was considering going with them next time.

At the end of the block, Max perked up a little, spotting Molly standing outside his house. She was wrapped in her black coat with a faded green scarf tied around her neck, and her nose was bright red from the chill. He could see her smile from five houses away.

“Hello, Miss Ryan,” he said, feeling a familiar pang of loss, remembering that name would change in just a few days.

“Hi,” she said, her eyes twinkling in the sunlight. “Where’ve you been?”

“I just applied for a job,” he told her. “What are you doing out here in the cold?”

“Waiting for you. I have something to show you,” she said, then she took off her mitts and handed him a folded newspaper.

He opened it up and gaped. There, on the front page, was her story. His story.

WE NEVER SURRENDERED

The Story of Canadian Soldiers in Hong Kong, and Their Brave Survival in Japanese POW Camps

“It’s just one column here,” she said quickly, bubbling with excitement. “But it continues on page six. Everyone’s going to read it, Max. They won’t know your name, but they’re all going to know you were heroes in Hong Kong.” She paused. “Even if you don’t believe it.”

He felt his eyes prick with tears as he read the first paragraph. “Molly,” he breathed. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said. “You were the one to encourage me to be a journalist in the very beginning. All these years later you trusted me to tell your story. Thank you. For trusting me.”

“I’m so, so proud of you.” His eye went to the byline.