Chapter 2

Hope woke fully after hours of fitful dozing, dozing while replaying those last few hours from last evening. Though the meeting the previous evening had begun with nerve-wracking apprehension and embarrassment, the few hours Hope had spent with him had done much to reassure that her judgment had not failed. In the midst of her isolation, she found some comfort in realizing that her judgment had not failed her. In her letters to him, trapped in the midst of her own isolation, she had bared her own stark loneliness to not only his eyes, but her own, while exposing his own loneliness to his eyes. She had been fearful of the possible consequences of what she had come to see as 'her mission', her efforts to pull this one man back from the edge of a darker unknown. In doing so, she had also come to realize she was accomplishing the same mission for herself. The unsettling picture it revealed of her own bleak state of affairs prodded her on even more. Her quest to save him had morphed into a search for her own salvation and deliverance.


Visions materialized from the darkness of his coffee, the images of the night before pushed to the surface of his memory before dissolving in the mist of steam rising from the cup. He just kept seeing it; he couldn't help but see it. It was there for anyone to see. It was in her eyes, it was in the tone of her voice. There was no denying that it had been there. He had been offered a gift of tenderness. Why or how it had come to him, he didn't understand. She didn't know him, couldn't know about him. Couldn't know how desperately he longed to be valued. He had also seen a flash of recognition, recognition that they shared a sad truth – they seemed to be traveling on the same road - one of silence, of darkness and of loneliness – she had not traveled as long or as far down that road. The questions that hung over them, were of course obvious. Was it too late for him to turn back? The only certainty in the equation was the fact that he wanted to, no, he needed to see her again. The terrifying variable was whether she was willing to see him, now that they had finally met.

He was stunned to realize that he was near hyperventilating. The phone continued to ring in his ear as he consciously slowed his breathing. He had stared at the business card she had pressed into his palm as he left her, really only a few hours ago.

Hope Thornton
Associate Editor

Hudson Publishing.

Written on the back in the blue-black iridescent pen was her cell phone number. There were very few more obvious indications that she was willing to see him again; a willingness to see if more awaited them than this uncommon introduction.


"Hello… Hope Thornton." She was startled by the ringing phone, and that surprised her. She would have wagered that her thoughts were so scattered and all over the place that she wouldn't have been able to focus on the manuscript she was reading.

"Good morning, Hope. It's Bobby. Bobby Goren."

Nervous now, she smiled into the phone, she said, "I ... I did recognize your voice, I knew which Bobby this was. Good morning." She would have remembered his soft, quiet voice, even if she'd had to wait another 30 years before she heard it again.

"You know more than one?"

"Actually… no, I don't. You're the only one."

"So…" he began. He didn't know how to continue.

As the silence continued, Hope ventured in, "So… um… well… last night was..."

"Yeah, last night was..." Bobby stared at the carpet as he tried to think of a way out of this hole. "Well, that's kind of why I called. I thought there might be more to… that we could continue with that conversation… or ... or start a different one. Sometime. Maybe later… today?"

As his mind raced to counter any protest she might offer, he became aware that the short pause he'd been expecting was extending into an uncomfortable silence.

"Hope, are you still there?" Bobby asked apprehensively. He stood and began pacing around the apartment.

"Yes, yes I'm still here. I'm sorry. I… I…"

Crestfallen, he tried to let her off the hook, graciously, "That's all right, I realize this was short notice and… maybe I shouldn't have called..."

"No, no, that's not what I meant." She interrupted him. She realized her palms were sweating when she nearly dropped the phone. "I… I'd like to… I'm just still feeling a little awkward and embarrassed by …" that I've fallen in love with a complete stranger.

"By… by the letters?" Bobby asked as he switched the phone to his other hand, having just wiped it free of sweat on the leg of his jeans.

"Yes, I suppose so, among other things." She stood and started pacing around her office. "They… in the light of day they seem such a Harlequin romance kind of thing to do …" she didn't know how to continue and she let the sentence trail off.

Leaning his forehead onto the cool glass of a window, he hoped the chill would seep into his feverish thoughts, "Do… are you sorry that you … wrote them?" He asked hesitantly. Please... please say no.

So quietly did she reply, he barely heard her response, "N…no. I'm not sorry."

As his heart began to beat again, Bobby pressed, "Then have lunch with me. Meet me for coffee. Anything. I have questions…"

Ohmigod, he has questions! I don't have answers... all I have are my own questions. Not seeing a way out, and not really wanting to see one, she stammered, "My… my schedule is pretty open today or even tomorrow. Um, when were you thinking?" Silently, she amended the today to everyday. There had been an absolute lack of activity on her social calendar of late. Again, late equaling a somewhat qualified time frame, in this particular instance, a time frame extending to almost three years now.

"Now. I was thinking now." Bobby blurted out. "If that's not a problem…"

Hope stopped the pacing she had begun as soon as she answered her phone, and sank slowly down onto the small sofa in her office. She was feeling lightheaded, so much so that she feared she might pass out, but she continued, "Come down whenever you're ready. You'll have to sign in with the guard downstairs, I'll… I'll call down to let him know to expect you, and he'll show you the way up."

"How 'bout we say in an hour? Um… around 11:30?"

"See you soon, then." Hope agreed.

As Bobby let the hand the held his cell phone fall onto the sofa, he leaned back against the cushion and stared up at the ceiling, placing his other hand on his chest so he could feel the rapid beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest.

So, the rumor that he was still alive, seemed to be true. It had been so long since he'd felt hopeful about any aspect of his life, that this sudden revelation of Hope and exhilaration bordered on outright optimism.


As Hope flipped her phone closed, her heart leaped into her throat and she found it difficult draw a breath. She had no one to blame but herself. What had she thought would happen when she started her letter writing campaign? What had she wanted to happen when she started her letter writing campaign? Wasn't it a scene similar to last night's or a phone call like this in the back of her mind all along? Now that it was starting to happen, she was fighting down her inclination to slam closed the door she opened.

............. Chapter 3 Coming Soon .............