It wasn't until after midnight that Pierre finally fell exhausted into his easy chair and once again picked up the bundle of letters. As he read each one he began to feel as though he knew the two lovers. The intensity of the love that was being poured out on paper was palpable. Pierre himself had never felt that way about anyone, but began to wish he might one day have a love like these two had.
By one-thirty, he had finished all the letters, save one, and two glasses of wine. Common sense told him that he should go to bed, but curiosity was too great. That was a trait he got from his mother. Impatience, and curiosity. He smiled. He really should call her this week, it had been longer than usual since they had spoken, and much too long since he'd gone for a visit.
The last letter was dated August 26, 1971. If this was only a summer romance it surely was a hot one, he smiled to himself.
My darling,
Our time here is coming to a close, and I want to reach up to the sun and moon and stop them from spinning to slow down our time together. It has all gone much too fast. When I close my eyes at night all I see is you. I see your beautiful eyes, the cute way your mouth turns up when you smile, the way you fiddle with your dress when you know I'm watching you. You are my life. I want to spend the rest of it with you by my side. How I long to take you in my arms, to hold you, to care for you, to show you how passionate I am about you. I hope that you know how I feel, and I hope that you feel, if only in part, the way I do for you.
I thank you, my love, for these weeks together. I will cherish them always. As I left you in the early hours, as you slept so peacefully, I whispered a promise to you. "I'll always be by your side, forever and always."
I love you, my darling,
Yours forever,
Pierre nearly shook with excitement. The signature was much clearer on this letter, and very, very familiar. He still couldn't be sure if it was a 't' or an 'i' or a 'j', but the little lighting bolt on the end was unmistakeable. He ran up to the storeroom at the top of the stairs and pulled out a box. He hadn't dug in there for years, but he knew right where to look. In a pile of old letters, college transcripts and pictures was the letter he was looking for. He had treasured it for years because it had been the only one he'd received from a very special man in his life. It was a letter conveying pride at the young man he'd become, able to stand up for himself despite a domineering father and the wishes of his country. The signature was what mattered now though. A firm "J" with a lighting bolt at the end. Joseph.
Joseph had written the letters.
A/N Aww, now who would have thought it would be Joseph? he he. I'm posting this story all at once. Hope you like it. More to come...