Author's note: Thank you to partygirl98, NicoleR85, NotMarge, and StarlitStar for your reviews! Look at Hank, being all brave, right?

Letters to You

On Tuesday Zoey had a letter for Billy to deliver to me. We pulled the same maneuver as before- waiting for one gentleman to get up and go to the counter, and then Billy sneaking the letter to me at some later point.

"Dear Admirer,

If you hoped somehow that your warnings of a secret more terrible than my own would dissuade me from my resolve to meet you, you are gravely mistaken. The sentiments you expressed in your letter have only made me more determined to speak to you someday! But as I said, I can be patient.

I thought I would try to tell you a little about myself. I don't know how much you know from the Rivers', or from watching me (sometimes I can feel your gaze, though I never seem to catch you. My applause to your surveillance skills), but I thought it would be a good start. Then maybe you can share something about yourself?

I'm eighteen years old and quite close to Billy and Marceline, if you haven't been able to guess. They are my godparents, and I feel lucky to have them. My mother was best friends with Marcy growing up in France, and my father and Billy were buddies in the 101st. They all ended up settling in Westchester County when the war ended. It's a very sweet story that I heard a hundred times growing up. I won't bore you with it now. Suffice to say that my godparents have been there my entire life, especially now that my parents are gone. My mother died when I was two. Daddy passed on last July.

My father was the one who always told me I could be anything I wanted to be. He didn't believe in females being demure, helpless creatures. He encouraged me to go into genetics. Now I'm studying the X-gene- something I'm sure you've heard of, if Billy was telling the truth about your occupation.

I also have an older sister, and a niece who you may have seen at some point. Olivia is seven. I love her desperately- she means the world to me. Sometimes I feel like an older sister to her, rather than an aunt because I was only twelve when she was born. I'm a terrible authority figure, but my sister Chloe still keeps asking me to baby-sit.

I feel like I could ramble for pages on end, hoping that if I shared enough you would do the same. Please feel free to write me back. I enjoyed hearing from you immensely, warnings or not. Until Thursday...

Sincerely,

Zoey Dubois"

It was hard to keep a grin off my face as I pocketed the letter and moved back to my table once more. Zoey was so determined and sincere- it made my feelings for her even deeper.

On Thursday my reply was waiting for her, under a bouquet of primroses on her usual table. Just like last week Zoey chose to read my letter before buying her book of the week. At least this time she remembered to greet Billy.

"Dear Zoey,

I both appreciate and admire your forbearance with me. I feel it is more than I deserve. I was sorry to hear that both of your parents have passed on. I know my sentiments are like nothing in the face of such a loss. No one can truly replace a parent, though you clearly still have people around who love and support you just as your father did. As you said, you are lucky to have them. I would love to hear the story of your parents' meeting one day.

Mr. Rivers was correct in what he told you about my occupation. He asked me the other day, because Mrs. Rivers, I quote, 'didn't want some homeless bum romancing our goddaughter.' I assure you that I am no such thing. I mostly study the X-gene as well, though I research other things, like gene expression in general too.

I'm afraid there are many things I cannot tell you without giving myself away. I promise I will do my best, though. I can tell you that I have a Ph.D. in genetics from Harvard. Where are you going to college? I'm originally from Dundee, Illinois. My parents still live there, in the house I grew up in as an only child.

I love to read, basically anything I can get my hands on- when I'm not working or sleeping I'm usually reading. I would have to say that my favorite genre is the historical novel, though I cannot say that I have a favorite book in particular. Do you? And speaking of reading, I wonder how you came into the habit of getting a new book every Thursday? That was one of the things I first noticed about you.

I have to respectfully disagree with your assessment of yourself as a terrible authority figure. Your niece is the most well-behaved seven year old I've ever seen. You obviously love each other very much.

Your efforts with me are not looked upon lightly, Zoey. I promise that I will always reply the best I can whenever you write to me. I deeply enjoy learning about you. Please feel free to share anything you see fit. I'll see you on Tuesday.

Sincerely,

H."

On Tuesday there was a dramatic turn of events that forever changed my relationship with Zoey, and made me even more sure of my feelings for her. It was brought on by the disturbance Zoey's brother-in-law caused, and also my own slip. I'd been too bold in letting her have the first initial of my name.

It was Marceline behind the counter that day. She greeted me eagerly and gushed over the flowers I left for Zoey. I had a feeling the Rivers' enjoyed watching someone courting their goddaughter in such a chaste and old-fashioned way. Perhaps they liked the romance of it all, considering the beginnings of their own relationship. Apparently a former "Screaming Eagle" wasn't immune to a little sappiness.

Soon enough Zoey walked in, after I took my seat. She and Marceline exchanged greetings while the older woman made up Zoey's order.

"Are the Grey's back from Colorado yet?" Marceline asked curiously.

"Yes. They got back Sunday night."

That perked up my attention. Perhaps Charles would be able to speak to Olivia's parents about going to the Institute? I would have to speak to him when I got home.

"Will you give this to my admirer, please?" Zoey asked, holding out a neatly folded piece of paper.

Marceline took it happily and promised she would. Within half an hour, I had my letter and was sneaking off to read it behind the bookcases.

"Dear H.,

A clue! My admirer has deigned to give me a clue as to his name. Henry? Howard? Herman? Harold? If I guessed right would you tell me?

As to your questions about my education, I'm in the human genetics graduate program at Sarah Lawrence College. Almost finished, too- I submit my thesis for review on Thursday. Hopefully it will be accepted and I'll receive my doctorate within a couple weeks.

After that... I'm not sure what I will do. I will only confide this to you, admirer, because I want to believe that I can trust you (and maybe because the fact that I can't see you makes me brave), but I'm a little afraid of my future. I can't show it to anyone- there are some who hope that I somehow fail everything, and others who want me to succeed so badly that my greatest fear is letting them down. I don't know what my next step is, though I do have some offers. Unfortunately nothing is jumping out at me.

You asked why I buy a new book every Thursday. It's because of my father, really. Before he died Daddy made me promise to get a new book every week- and read them all- so I would always remember to improve my mind. I guess my library will be quite extensive one day.

My favorite book is A Room with a View by E.M. Forster. Have you read it? I think I love it so much because of the way the main characters choose to defy social convention and follow their hearts. The romantic in me was so glad for the happy ending. It was like a fairy tale ending for adults. So often literature is like real life, and so depressing. Even more often it's worse than reality. Why do you think authors do that? To try to tell the reader their life can't be as terrible as this? I know there's more to it than that but sometimes it's easy to forget.

I'm rambling again, I'm sorry.

When did you graduate from Harvard? Or would that be too much of a clue? Could you tell me more about your job? I hope to hear from you again soon. You shall see me Thursday. I wish I could see you...

Sincerely,

Zoey"

I was just re-taking my seat when a man of middling height with black hair and brown eyes walked in. And he looked angry.

Uh oh. This won't be good.