Author's Note: I am so grateful to all you loyal readers for sticking with me through TEN CHAPTERS of India! I know I have many readers because my hit count is very high. I hope you enjoy reading this fiction as much as I enjoy writing it. Thank you for taking time out of your day to read my work, and extra special thanks to the faithful few who I can always count on for support and quality reviews. Hope you enjoy the tenth installment!

Correspondence

Two weeks. Two weeks had passed since Grey's departure from Atlanta and India had received no word from him. Her days had slipped back into their former mild mediocrity, her life into a hard, bitter clandestineness. She chided herself harshly for caring so much, for wondering what Grey's life was like back in Baton Rouge. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not erase the thought of him from her mind. Walking past the Grand Hotel was well-near painful for her; she just couldn't let go.

She tried to keep herself occupied every moment of every day. She never let herself sit idle for fear that her thoughts might drift back to those first days of spring. Sometimes, however, as she read silently to herself, the words on the pages before her slipped away incomprehensibly and lost all meaning. Somehow her thoughts always returned to Grey.

She didn't know quite what she'd expected to find in the tall, handsome stranger from Louisiana. She reminded herself constantly that he had only been passing through, and that the confident, relaxed demeanor he'd shown her was probably the same toward every female he knew. India sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging in defeat. The life of a spinster was her destiny, she supposed. No use fighting it any longer.

Spring was in full swing in Atlanta. Flowers had begun to bloom and the skies were filled with singing birds. India noticed that Beau Wilkes was growing, too, shooting up like a weed in a well-kept garden. She had braved the undertaking of sewing Beau some new clothes, and despite a few imperfections, the wardrobe had turned out quite nicely. Ashley had ordered him a new suit as well as a pair of new shoes, so India and Beau walked to the post office daily to inquire after the new items. Although India knew the order would take several days, if not weeks, to arrive, her nephew's excitement persuaded her to make a daily trip into town.

"Good morning, Mrs. Trammell," India greeted as she and Beau entered the post office one warm spring morning.

Mrs. Trammell, the lady who worked behind the desk, smiled knowingly at India as if she was keeping some kind of secret from her. Mrs. Trammell was notorious for keeping Atlanta supplied with juicy tidbits of gossip, and no one questioned her position or attempted to usurp her job simply because the little woman was getting on in years. She looked as if she was in her late seventies to early eighties, her hair had once been golden, but had since turned white with a yellowish hue. Her eyes were deep blue and protruded a bit above her sunken-in cheekbones. She had a tiny frame with small hands that people shook delicately for fear they might crush one. Her skin looked very thin, with bluish veins showing beneath its surface. Mrs. Trammell had lost two sons in the war, and had taken the job at the post office to keep her mind off things.

"Good morning, India," Mrs. Trammell said. She knew what they'd come looking for. "No package today, I'm afraid."

Beau's lips immediately went into a pout. He crossed his arms and furrowed his tiny brow for added effect.

"Don't fret now, Beau," India encouraged him. "Your new things will arrive very soon." She looked up at the old lady behind the desk. "Thank you, Mrs. Trammell." She guided Beau toward the door.

"Just a moment, India," Mrs. Trammell said. India turned and looked at her quizzically. "A letter's come for you, dear." Mrs. Trammell held an envelope out to her. "It's all the way from Louisiana!"

India's heart leapt for a moment, but she composed herself well enough to thank Mrs. Trammell cordially and escort Beau outside. She tucked the envelope into a pocket on her dress and walked silently alongside Beau until they arrived back at Ashley's. "Beau, you can play for a while if you like. Aunt India's going to start lunch."

"All right, Aunt India," Beau responded. He hurried to the nursery, leaving India alone. Standing just inside the front door, she eagerly pulled the envelope from her pocket and tore it open. Inside was a beautifully engraved card. It read:

Mrs. Sarah McAllister
requests your presence at the marriage
of her daughter,
Miss Margaret McAllister
to
Mr. James T. Scott,
on Wednesday, June 6th, at
12 o'clock
First United Methodist Church
Laurel Street.

India was unsure whether to be overjoyed or disappointed. While the thought of seeing Grey again excited her, she was unclear as to why he'd sent the invitation to her at all. She explained away his reasoning as common courtesy. After all, India had been the one who'd helped Grey choose the lovely combing shawl for the bridal trousseau. Perhaps this was his way of saying thank you. She ran her fingers along the sweeping font, secretly jealous of the bride-to-be. A beautiful gown, a honeymoon to an exciting new place far away, gifts and flowers…India had always imagined the excitement of her own wedding. It simply wasn't fair that some girls got all that was good in life while others…

Her moping was interrupted by a quiet fluttering sound beneath her. She took a step back and peered down to find a small, thin, square sheet of white paper lying at her feet. She knelt and picked it up, staring at the slanting script on it. The words were written in a bold, deliberate hand. India smiled when she realized it was Grey's handwriting.

I wanted to extend an invitation for your family to join mine in the celebration of my sister's wedding. I thoroughly enjoyed my stay in Atlanta and wanted to express my gratitude by welcoming the Wilkes family into my own home. I understand that I am taking a risk by inviting you, considering I have received no response from you in regards to my previous letter. Whatever your decision, you have my fervent respect and gratitude. Sincerely, Greyson McAllister

"Previous letter?" India questioned, not intending to speak aloud. She looked inside the envelope again, ensuring that she had removed all its contents. Perplexed, she set to work preparing Beau's lunch; her mind worked frantically in an attempt to remember another letter Grey had written her or even anything Grey had written at all, for that matter. She couldn't remember seeing him write anything during his time in Atlanta. Maybe something had come for her at the post office, something Mrs. Trammell had neglected to give her.

After lunch she took Beau back to the post office, making the excuse that she'd seen another coach in town, more than likely making a mail delivery. Mrs. Trammell was busy sliding envelopes into the rows of wooden slots on the wall and didn't see them come in. India cleared her throat to get the attention of the elderly lady.

"Why, India! I didn't expect to see you again until tomorrow! You, ah…have a response to that letter from Louisiana, do you?" Mrs. Trammell motioned to take the nonexistent response from India's hands.

"No, ma'am, I don't. I wondered if there might have been any other mail for me? Something you might have missed?" India worked to control her impatient tone.

"No, dear, I'm afraid I don't," Mrs. Trammell confessed after conducting a brief search through the unsorted mail.

"Oh. Well, thank you anyway, Mrs. Trammell." India took Beau's hand and exited the post office, more confused now than before. Instead of turning back toward Ashley's house, India and Beau continued to walk toward Aunt Pitty's. Once they'd arrived, Beau exchanged niceties with his great aunt and was soon napping on the nearby settee. India smiled at him softly, almost ashamed of dragging the poor child around Atlanta and wearing him out so.

"India, dear, how nice it was of you to bring little Beau for a visit," Aunt Pittypat smiled, gazing at the boy's angelic face as he slept. "You'll let him stay for supper, won't you?"

"Yes, Auntie, of course. I'll have to run down to the mill and tell Ashley, though. He doesn't know we're out visiting." India patted her pocket to make sure Grey's note was still there. She resisted the temptation to pull it out in front of Aunt Pitty, knowing full well that her Aunt was relentless when it came to gossip, and would prod and nudge not-so-subtly until India told her what she wanted to know. "Aunt Pittypat, has there been any mail for me recently?"

"No, there hasn't, India." Aunt Pitty eyed her suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"

"I…just wondered, that's all," India replied. "I think I'll go down to the mill now and tell Ashley about supper. Can Beau stay with you until I get back?"

"Will he sleep a while?" Aunt Pittypat questioned nervously.

"He should," India replied. "If he wakes you could have Martha look after him until I get back." She smiled as she turned her back to Aunt Pittypat. The poor old soul would be a nervous wreck until she returned.

India could always tell when she was getting close to the lumber mill. The air always smelled of fresh-cut pine, and the sound of saws slicing through pieces of wood filled her ears. Ashley hung over a ledger as she entered the office. He looked startled when he saw her, obviously alarmed as to why she didn't have Beau with her.

"India, my dear," Ashley greeted her. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, of course, Ashley. Everything's fine."

"And Beau is…?"

"He's with Aunt Pitty at her house. She's invited the two of you for supper, I wanted to come down and tell you myself." India was relieved to see Ashley's worried demeanor change.

"How kind of you to extend an invitation to us! How did all this come about?" Ashley asked.

"Do you remember Greyson McAllister? The gentleman from Louisiana who bought all that lumber a few weeks ago?" India inquired.

Ashley's eyes darted away from hers, his face reddened instantly at the mention of Grey's name. "Yes. Yes, of course I remember," he said.

India stared at him for a moment, a look of concern covering her face, but continued on with her explanation. "Mr. McAllister has extended us an invitation to visit him in Baton Rouge, for his sister's wedding next month. He enclosed a note mentioning something about a previous letter, but I'd never received anything from him before today."

"Really." Ashley stared hard at the floor as India continued.

"I inquired about the letter at the post office but Mrs. Trammell knew nothing about it. So Beau and I stopped at Aunt Pitty's for a visit. Funny, Aunt Pitty knew nothing about a letter, either. I'm not sure what Mr. McAllister was alluding to, I know nothing about a previous letter. You haven't received any kind of correspondence from him, have you Ashley?"

Ashley said nothing for several seconds. He crossed his arms over his chest and touched a fist to his chin as if he were thinking very hard. He sighed heavily, as if suddenly acknowledging defeat by some unknown foe. "India, dear," he began, touching her arm gently. "Please don't be angry with me, there's something I must confess to you…"