“OK. OK,” he replies as I move closer.
“Well,huh,” my brother says.
I lean forward to see. “What is it?”
“There’s a letter with your name on it.” He holds out a ratty looking envelope before pulling out something else that’s wrapped in a yellowed silk handkerchief.
Opening the letter, I instantly recognize Gramps’s messy handwriting. I know it well because after spending my last summer here when I was twenty, Gramps and I promised to write to each other once a month. And we actually did, every month without fail, six letters each a year, until he passed. Seeing his unmistakable scrawl again has me swallowing down a growing lump at the back of my throat.
As soon as I start reading, I realize that this letter isn’t like the light and breezy ones we used to share.
Jude,
If you’re reading this it means two things—I’ve gone to be with my One, and it’s time for the mountain to heal.
I’ve learned many things in the years I’ve spent on this earth, but there are only a few that I know to be absolutely true.
Death and loss are inevitable. Then again, so is true love. The kind that you can’t deny or ignore. The kind that you feel deep down in your soul. The kind that consumes you in all the ways that count.
This mountain and the spirit that lives within her has been heartbroken for a long time—generations, in fact. And only the calling together of two soulmates dedicated to the mountain where their family roots were grown, will unite what was once torn apart.
I can’t tell you how I know, but you were chosen to carry the Henley name for a reason. I hope it was so you could find your Marion just as fate intended.
I hope the letters and diary notes my great grandparents wrote about each other will help guide you to finding a place in your own love’s heart.
Because you, my boy, are special. You were born special and you always will be. Only a magical, spectacular woman with unknown strength and a heart big enough to rivalyour own will ever be able to fulfill that busy brain of yours. Or be the calm in your storm.
She’s out there, Jude, and I know you’re about to find her. It’s been written in the stars before you both were born. You two together are the only ones who can bring the mountain back together again, even if you end up needing Sully Wilson’s blessing to make it happen.
Then again, though we spent our whole lives as rivals and I’m writing this letter knowing my time is coming to an end, I know that Sully and I were not all that different.
We only did what we were taught to do—hate each other.
I hope you and your brothers can turn the page and start writing your own story, rising above the past and making it right again in the way only you will know how to do.
Love and miss you always,
Gramps
P. S. The silver hairpin was a gift that Henley gave Marion on their wedding day. He wore a white shirt he borrowed from his brother paired with his church pants and a black leather strap fashioned into a tie, all because he wanted to look the best he could possibly be for his beloved bride.
They were married on the grass lawn outside the front of the Wilson farmhouse where I believe a flower garden full of daisies still grows to this day. Though since Coopers are banned from the Wilson homestead, they might’ve been dug up and covered in manure for all I know.
When you find your Marion, give this gift to her just as my great grandfather gave to his One.
Share their love notes about each other with the love of your life too. It will help guide you along the way.
“Jesus,” I say, rubbing a hand over my mouth as the words on the page in front of me turn blurry.
“What is it?” Will asks, startling me. I’d been so engrossed in Gramps’s letter that I’d actually forgotten I wasn’t alone.
“It’s…shit… it’s alot.”
“OK…” He looks down at his hand, unwrapping what I now know is a vintage hairpin that holds so much history and significance.
“He says I need to find my Marion and give that to her,” I nod at the silver heirloom.
“YourMarion? Wait… Henley…you’reHenley.”