Larkin's Letters (16 page)

“I’m trying, Larkin. I’m trying to let you go. I need to know you’re okay.”

“I am okay, Ryan. I’m at peace. I am happy. Heaven is everything I ever wanted it to be.”

He could hear her telling him she was okay, but it wasn’t good enough. He needed to see it. “I need to see that you are okay, Larkin. I want to be there with you to take care of you.”

She unburied her head from his chest and looked up into his watery eyes. “But you are there, Ryan. You’re with me every minute, every second. You never leave me.” She tried desperately to assure him.

“How, Larkin? How can I be there with you when I am here, alive and well?”

“Trust me, Ryan. Just trust me.” She moved her body up so her face was level with his. “I was right. Heaven is different for everyone. It is what I want it to be. It is everything that makes me happy. It’s amazing, Ryan. Do you trust me?” She pressed her lips against his.

“Yes,” he responded.

“Good.” She smiled at him. “Will you come meet me by the dune when the sun sets?”

“Yes, of course I will.”

She covered his eyes before kissing him again, and as he tried to put his hand over hers, it was no longer there.

The wind was unforgiving, and the sand whipped up from the dunes like a tornado. The wind was supposed to be breaking soon. The sky was gray and haunted by Larkin’s ghost, and her ghost had taken the place of the love he had lost. Just like the wind, Ryan hadn’t been able to forgive himself for breaking his vow, his promise, to her. He had promised he would never leave her alone, and that’s exactly what he did. He had promised her he would be back that morning. He had seen her when he was lying in that hospital bed. She told him everything was going to be okay. She had forgiven him. He knew and understood that. Her ghost was real. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her with every gust of the wind, with every raindrop that fell upon his skin. She had been leaving signs for him so he could remember, so he could move on. The manuscript and the incomplete screenplay in the nightstand drawer, the watch she had given him many years ago that mysteriously showed up in the drawer, the CD she had left in the broken stereo that would randomly start playing their favorite song, and the flowers she had Harry deliver every morning to him just like he had done for her. These were all signs. Her ghost was an angel, and she had been there the whole time trying to guide him to remember. He realized these letters were her wings, and they were going to be his strength from here on out. Her wings had carried him to this place, to these dunes so he could spread her ashes.

Larkin’s parents had given him her ashes after the memorial service, and the two of them had previously discussed where she wanted them spread. She wanted to be close to him, close to their home, and she had asked him to spread them with the wind blowing off the dunes on their private beach where they sat many times feeding the seagulls. It was that same day when Ian had given him her letters. She had the hospice nurse mail them to Ian when they got home from Hawaii.

Ryan remembered her memorial service and how everyone came to him to tell him how sorry they were and how nice the service was. He knew everyone was just trying to be nice and respectful, but he hadn’t wanted to hear it. It was the worst when people would say to him, “She’s with your father now.” It angered him to hear that. She was supposed to be alive and with him, not dead and with his father. The memorial service wasn’t nice, he thought. It was sad and unbearable. It was depressing and heartbreaking. When people got up to speak about Larkin and share their memories of her, he couldn’t even look at them. He just looked down at the floor the entire time as his mother and Sarah held his hands. He was still in pain from the accident, and the pain in his ribs was agonizing as he tried to hold back from crying. When it was Ian’s turn to give his eulogy, he couldn’t even tolerate to sit and listen to him as he spoke of the love between her and Ryan. He abruptly stood up from his chair and rushed to the bathroom. The pain in his ribs was even worse as he fell to his knees in front of the toilet, vomiting away his grief and guilt. Justin had come in to check on him, but Ryan had refused to come out until everyone left the service. And Justin had sat with him until he was ready.

In the past eighteen months, Larkin had been writing to him, telling him everything about her thoughts and feelings, and he never knew it. Her letters left him memories he could hold onto and relive anytime he missed her. And it was the best gift she could have given him. It just took him a while to realize it.

He wanted to give her what she had given him. He wanted her to know everything, everything he had been thinking and feeling. What he was about to do was the only way he knew how to do that.

The wind was starting to calm, and Ryan looked out toward the empty bay. There was a high-wind advisory warning boats to stay off the water. It was appropriate, he thought. Just like two days ago, when he came here to read her first letter. He didn’t want anyone else around. She had asked him to come meet her when the sun set, and all he could do was pray she would come.

The seagulls were happy to see their old friend again. With each toss of the bread, their cries of thanks proved comforting for Ryan. He soaked in the surroundings. The sun was getting heavy, and as he watched the sunset, he noticed the rays that were resting just above the horizon were slowly transforming the gray skies into a heavenly pink oasis. He noticed Lou next door strapping down his patio furniture, making sure they didn’t become the wind’s next casualties, and Alice two doors down, giving a last minute drink to her shrubs before the sun completely set. He could see people across the inlet on the Ocean City beaches, packing up their belongings after a day on the beach, and he could see the traffic building on the Longport Bridge as the weekend tourists were beginning their reluctant voyages home. All around him, life was happening, and it had been happening since Larkin died, but he had been an unwilling participant.

His attention was diverted as the cries of the seagulls had been replaced with cries of laughter and fireworks exploding off in the distant twilight. He looked just past the dunes where he was sitting, and he noticed a few old friends down by the water. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when he saw Sarah pushing Justin around after he playfully tackled her after scoring a touchdown in their makeshift end zone. Ryan smiled to himself as he watched Linda give Ian a peck on the cheek, congratulating him on his touchdown pass to Sarah.

And then he saw her.

Larkin had walked out from behind Ian and Linda, and she gracefully turned to look at him. She stopped for a moment as her eyes connected with his, and he couldn’t help but smile at her. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and her smile had assured him she was happy. Her smile had changed his world. Seeing her happy and healthy and smiling and laughing with friends was everything he had been needing to see. As they stared into each other’s eyes, he never once let his smile falter. He wanted her to know he was going to be okay.

He watched as Ian, Linda, and Amanda ran down the beach to join Sarah and Justin as they continued to playfully bicker over her touchdown, and then he quickly reverted his attention back to Larkin. She was still looking at him, but she wasn’t alone this time. He was there with her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, kissed her on the side of the head, and guided her into a jog down the beach to join their friends. As he watched himself run toward Sarah and pick her up over his shoulder, he noticed Larkin look back at him laughing. He couldn’t help but laugh back at her. She smiled one last smile at him, kissed her fingers as she brought them to her lips, and then she waved to him with a nod letting him know she was happy. He nodded back at her before bringing his fingers to his lips, and after he waved back, he watched her laugh as Ian and Justin picked her up and carried her toward the others, spinning her around and around before the seven of them finally faded into the wind.

She was finally on her own private island, an island where sickness and pain didn’t exist. Only strength, love, and friendship. An island where the seven of them play endless games of two-hand touch football and dance underneath the fireworks. She was in heaven. She was in her heaven.

Ryan pulled the letter he had written to her out of his sweatshirt pocket and walked down to the bonfire pit. The pit had provided them with so many nighttime fires when they would sit out on the beach for hours every night, sometimes alone, sometimes with their friends and family. He studied the sealed letter for a while, and he would find himself occasionally looking down the beach to see if he could see her again. To see if he could see them again. But he knew. He knew the wave and the nod she had given him had symbolized good-bye. He knew he wasn’t going to see her again. That was the good-bye he needed. That good-bye was his closure.

After he finished burning the letter he had written to her, he gathered its leftover ashes together and poured them into her urn.

“I’m ready, Larkin. I’m finally ready. Thank you for helping me to see you, to see the truth. Thank you for leading me out of the darkness. I love you so much. I will always love you.”

And just like that, as he went to release her and the letter’s ashes, a gust of wind swallowed them and carried them into the atmosphere. He was sure the gust of wind was Larkin. Her ghost had come back one last time. He couldn’t see her, but he could definitely feel her. And as he watched the wind take her ashes, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Nice ‘n’ Easy” from Frank Sinatra resounded over the surround-sound from the downstairs stereo, startling Ryan from his sleep. The time, 6:45 a.m., illuminated from the alarm clock, and as Ryan reached over the nightstand to turn the lamp on, he knocked over the
Invicta
. If he hadn’t truly thought the stereo randomly turning on was Larkin’s way of saying good morning, he would have thrown the darn thing out into the ocean by now. As he sat up on the edge of the bed, he leaned over to pick up the watch and caught a glimpse of Larkin’s letters sitting underneath her wedding band on top of the nightstand. It had been almost a week since he finished her letters, and every morning since, he would randomly choose a letter to read. This morning would be no different. He hadn’t seen her since that night when he spread her ashes, and he was slowly coming to the realization he probably wasn’t going to see her ever again.

Maybe it was reading the letter as the music played in the background, or maybe it was the way the early morning rays from the April sun caught the angle of the curtain in the bedroom window, or maybe it was the angelic presence of Larkin that Ryan had sensed, but as he folded the letter closed, he cleared the blurriness from his eyes, took a deep breath, and realized Larkin’s letters were indeed his little pieces of heaven. He was ready for her wings to carry him back to a normal life.

He opened the nightstand drawer and grabbed a pencil and Larkin’s incomplete screenplay and sat back against the head of the bed. He slowly studied the title page and brushed the page underneath his fingertips knowing her fingertips had once grazed that same piece of paper. He knew why she had left her manuscript and the unfinished screenplay there for him. She had made him promise her he would go back to work, and this was her way of getting him to do so. God he had loved her, and his love for her was stronger now than it was before she died. Ryan felt a sense of freedom as he crumbled up the title page of the screenplay that had read
“Jillian’s Touch,” Screenplay by Larkin James,
and threw it toward the end of the bed. He knew the only way he was going to be able to truly move on was to honor her memory, and he finally knew exactly how he wanted to do that. He reached into the drawer to pull out a blank, white page, slipped it underneath the paper clip, and guided the pencil to the paper.

“Jillian’s Touch.”

Screenplay by Larkin and Ryan Boone.

Here is a sneak peek at Ryan’s Letters, the sequel to Larkin’s Letters.  Available now at all major retailers.

Looking back.

That’s what Ryan Boone found himself doing since his wife Larkin’s death. Looking back at their time together. Every day, he looked back at all the letters she left behind. He had been going through the motions of moving forward, making everybody around him think he was okay. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t stop looking back.

But today, he found himself looking down. Down into the waters of the Great Egg Harbor Bay, watching the ripples in the water move back and forth as his boat rocked slowly against the current. Watching his reflection bounce up and down in rhythm with the rocking of the boat until it. Watching as his reflection started to become blurry before slowly disappearing. He watched until all he could see was nothing. Until complete darkness ensued.

“Don’t give up.” Her voice echoed off the salt water that was slowly filling his lungs. “Ryan, open your eyes. Open your eyes, Ryan.” That voice. He knew that voice.

Larkin.

Could it really be her? His eyes shot open, and he saw her blue eyes glaring at him through the foggy salt water that was swallowing his body. The rip current was fiercely pulling his legs down toward the bottom of the bay, but he could feel her fighting to keep him afloat.

“Stay with me, Ryan.” Her hands cupped his face, and he could see the worry in her eyes. “Please, don’t give up,” she pleaded. He pulled her hands away from his face and held them tight in his. He hadn’t seen her since that night on the beach – the night he spread her ashes – and he was not going to let go of her this time. He held onto her as tight as he could while they kicked up toward the surface. He could see the sun’s rays slice through the ocean’s layers as he got closer to the top. As his head broke through the water’s surface, he could feel her grasp diminish. He spun his battered body around and around, panicked, not exactly sure as to what just happened. Almost drowning had left him confused and disoriented, but the one thing he was sure of was she was there. He saw her. He felt her. But now she was gone. He had tried so hard to hold onto her, but she had slipped away again.