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Footsteps clicked evenly down the hallway, even on the carpeting. As the footsteps reached his apartment door, they slowed and came to a stop. There, on the floor where she normally dropped her letters, was a letter lying at the toes of her high-heeled sandals.
Carefully the woman knelt down, the fluid hem of her light skirt ruffling in the air currents generated by the movement. The hem of a short trenchcoat puddled on the ground as a slender hand first dropped her letter to him then picked up the other letter. On the front, in black ink were the words "With Hope". In an unwitting echo of his own movement, the fingers of her free hand came to her own lips.
"With Hope..." she whispered. He had written her back... She stayed there for a moment, her head bent and a few auburn spirals dangling over her temples as she looked at the envelope now lying across her knees. The crisp white paper contrasted sharply against the black georgette skirt.
Slowly she stood up, the hem fluttering as she did until it fell just above her knees. One hand held the letter as she stared at it, the other hand pressed against her stomach as if to stifle the butterflies and knots she could feel forming. He'd written her a letter. Was it a good letter? Or would she feel three inches tall after reading it? After all, he didn't know her from Eve and perhaps he was seeing someone.
She turned the envelope over and pulled open then flap. The bundle of other mail in her hand was shifted to the crook of her elbow as she unfolded the letter itself and began to read. Her feet were rooted to the spot as her pale green eyes flicked over the words.
'As I sat reading your letter last night, Hope, I found myself needing to respond to you. I pray you do not find fault with my calling you Hope, for that is what I think of when I read your letters. You sign them 'with hope'. You have written that I give you hope... well, you have given me hope that the world is not as ugly and cruel as I have seen it to be at times.'
She slowly turned around and began walking back the way she came, her head bent over the letter in her hand and oblivious to anyone walking by. Her eyes welled with tears at the kind things he'd written so far...
'No, dear Hope... I am not uncomfortable by what you have written. I am intrigued that you could know so much about me, yet never have met me. Where are you Hope? What is your name?'
Absently her hand reached for the buttons on the elevator. She sniffled slightly. He wanted to know her name, where she was. Oh if she could only screw up her courage to the sticking place and knock on his door tonight after he returned home.
'I am amazed that for someone you do not know, you are so entranced. You say that it is hope that guides you through the day, the hope of seeing me again through my window. Well, Hope, it is you that guides me through the day, the hope of finding another of your sweetly scented letters under my door, the hope that I can read your words and smile peacefully for once. Your words are the light in what darkness my day brings to me. You say that the thought of me leaves you breathless? Your words leave me breathless, dear Hope.'
'As you have signed, so shall I - With Hope.
'Frank'
She sighed softly at the words. With Hope... His name was Frank. Again she read the words, this time speaking them as softly as a whisper. At the same time, the soft 'ding' of the elevator chimed and she stepped forward... right into the solid chest of someone else exiting the elevator.
"I'm so sorry Miss." A pair of hands caught her by the shoulders and steadied her.
"It's all right, I should have looked where I was going," she said easily as she folded the letter and stuffed it into the stack of mail she'd picked up from her mail box.
"You OK then? I didn't jar you too hard?"
His was a smooth mellow voice, accented and rich. Just what she pictured Frank's to sound like. Inside, her stomach flip-flopped in place and her heart started pounding. She quickly stepped past him into the elevator. "Yes, yes I'm fine," she said a bit breathlessly. Just before the elevator doors closed completely, she looked up...
...And into a pair of eyes she'd only seen from a distance. Her own pale green eyes widened in alarm and panic as the brushed steel doors of the elevator closed, sealing her safely inside. Oh My God... it was him.
Frank's forehead puckered. He didn't recognize her. She had a stack of mail in her arms, so she had to live in the building. But he knew everyone who lived on his floor. He'd made a habit of introducing himself every time someone moved in. He felt safer that way and it was good manners. But this auburn haired vision was new to him.
He looked back down the hall and saw an envelope on the floor in front of his door. His eyes widened when he realized it wasn't where he'd left his envelope this morning. Immediately he turned back to the elevator and punched the button. What if that was her?
"C'mon, c'mon!" Repeatedly and rapidly he stabbed at the button. He freeze-framed the image of the woman in his mind. Shoulder length auburn hair in soft spiral curls, green eyes of an odd shade of pale lime, creamy milk toned skin. She was just about Alex's height he'd guess, without the heels on... with the heels on she was his height.
The elevator doors opened and he literally rushed in, stabbing at the button for the ground floor. She couldn't live on a floor below him, there'd be no way of seeing into his bedroom. What if she didn't live in the building. Wait, she had to, the mail in her arm. Maybe not, perhaps she picked up her mail at a remote post box... He hurried the elevator down as he tried to picture her in his mind. Short black skirt with red roses on it that fluttered when she walked... a black top that showed a peek of her stomach as she took a deep breath, high heeled black sandals that laced up and tied into feminine little bows at her ankles. WAS that his Hope?
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. He pushed out of them before they were fully opened and he rushed into the lobby. But it was only Gerard that greeted him.
"Mr. Donovan? You all right Sir?"
"Where is she?"
"Who?"
"The woman who just got off the elevator before me. About my height, auburn hair, pale skin..."
"Oh, Miss Weathers. She's already gone up the right elevator. She was so flustered and pink-cheeked, she said she'd gotten on the wrong elevator. Poor girl, tried to unlock what she thought was her door and got the shouting of her lifetime. I think she was in tears. Such a sensitive lady too."
"What's her apartment number?"
"Now, Mr. Donovan, you know I can't give that to you. It's against building guidelines."
"Gerard... I need to know where to find her. It's important."
Gerard hedged and looked conflicted. "Mr. Donovan, you know I like you, and I want to help you... but without anything other than 'it's important', I can't give you her number."
Frank sighed and nodded. He turned back to the elevator and punched the button. What if that was the mysterious 'Hope'? Her name was Weathers...
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