The woman looked past him at me.
"They told me to put this in your hands and not his."
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Nora," she said. "His sister."
Harold’s voice sharpened.
"Leave."
She held out the envelope.
Nora ignored him and came straight toward me. Her hand was shaking so badly the envelope rattled.
"I had not spoken to Harold in two years," she said. "Then your daughter sent me your engagement photo. I went to his trailer to find proof of where he had really been living. I found more than that."
She held out the envelope.
"Please read it before you marry him."
I took it.
I knew the handwriting before I unfolded the first one.
Inside was a bundle of old letters tied with faded blue ribbon.
I knew the handwriting before I unfolded the first one.
Daniel.
My bouquet slipped from my fingers.
The first letter was written directly to Harold when they were young men. Daniel was away for reserve training, writing to his friend the way men do when they are too full of love and nowhere near the woman causing it.
