******
Mattie walked up the stone steps to her porch, and greeted her neighbor as the young woman was locking her front door.
"Hi, Joyce."
"Hi, Mattie. Have a great weekend."
"Thanks," she returned her smile, noticing that she had a suitcase in her hand as she headed down the steps. Mattie turned toward her. "Are you traveling far?"
"Going to visit my cousin for the weekend." Joyce called back to her. "She lives in Connecticut."
"Have a safe trip."
"Thanks, I will." Joyce disappeared around the building toward the faculty parking area.
Mattie reached in the mailbox by her front door, and pulled out several envelopes. She sighed, and unlocked her front door. She laid her keys and mail on the front table, pausing for a moment as she noticed the return address in the corner of one of the white envelopes peeking out from the rest. Blinking slowly, she slid the envelope from the pile, and took a deep breath as she held it up, eyeing the writing on the front, noticing that he had written her full name, Mattie O'Keeffe Shaw in his distinctive masculine script. Her breathing quickened and she frowned as she walked to the sofa and sat down, leaning her cane against the cushion. She stared at his cursive for a moment, then turned the envelope over and slid her index finger under the sealed flap, and took another deep breath as she reached in and pulled out the single sheet of unlined, white paper. Her chin trembled just a bit as she unfolded the paper, and turned it right-side up.
Dearest Mattie,
I'll come right out and say it. You have every reason to despise me. I was selfish and self-centered. Will you forgive me? I've had a lot of time to think this last week since I left you, sitting here at my table in front of the trailer, watching the ocean down below me in what has to be the most serene setting on this planet, and I realize now that you know me better than I knew myself.
I've come to realize, Mattie, that I was a little envious of your calm self-awareness. You seem to know exactly who you are and what you love most in this world, and there was the problem, and the reason, I suppose, for saying what I did. You were right. I pick up and leave. I jump from idea to idea, place to place and I always have. However, in my defense, by leaving America and coming to Cape Breton, giving myself the space to reflect on the past two years, I've come to realize that the war had occupied my thoughts for so long that it had taken over my thinking, and I had become cynical and sarcastic and fatalistic, and I took it out on you. I had worn myself out, trying to take on too much, and I needed to escape and recoup. I would give anything right now to look over and see you sitting in the chair by the table, reading one of your books, seeing you happy and content. You don't 'live in the past,' as I so callously said to you that night, and I wish I could take the words back, but I can't. Just know that I was wrong to say those things. Firstly, because they are untrue, and secondly, because I don't ever want to see you hurt, and I'm so sorry I caused you pain.
She sighed as she turned the sheet over to the back.
If you find it in your heart to forgive me, I would venture to ask you again if you would come to Cape Breton for the summer. I understand that you may have to teach classes and I'm sorry that I made it seem as if I didn't value your career. I do, and I'm proud of your dedication to it.
Mattie, I think of you when I gaze at the stars in the crystal clear blue-black sky from my solitary perch on the hill, and I think of you when I see the sun come up over the ocean,..and every moment between the two...during my sleepless nights. You would love it here. It's pure and untouched. We could explore the island, and make plans for our future together.
I won't write again, as I'm not sure how you feel about receiving this letter. Whatever you decide, I just hope that you have forgiven me and have better thoughts of me.
With warm regards,
Clay
P.S. If you do decide to come, let me know, as there is a nearby cottage in Ingonish overlooking the ocean for rent that, while small, is larger than the trailer, and it has a real toilet, which I know you would appreciate.
Mattie saw that he'd added a phone number to the nearest post office at the bottom of the letter, and she closed her eyes, leaned her head back on the sofa cushion and held his letter to her heart, not sure whether the tears running down her cheeks were from laughing or crying. She decided not to call him, but write him a short letter as well, and she got up, wiping her eyes, and went to her desk, pulling out a box of stationery. She inserted a sheet of pale green paper on a clipboard and went back to the sofa, making herself comfortable. She tucked her right leg under her long skirt and began her letter.
Dear Clay,
Of course I forgive you, but I have one request - that you forgive me as well for criticizing you for the very thing I have done myself. I have always detested hypocrisy in others, and yet failed to see it in myself until you had left.
If classes were over tomorrow, I would have already been packed and ready to run out the door when the last student waved goodbye. I am looking forward to spending the summer with you in Cape Breton and exploring to our hearts' content. Are there horses nearby? My last class is on Friday, May twenty-second. I will leave Brooksford Saturday morning, May twenty-third at six am. I suppose that will put me in Cape Breton around five or so in the evening.
Yours,
Mattie
P.S - The cottage sounds wonderful. I must admit that the clincher was the promise of a real toilet. What woman could resist that?
She copied his return address, a post office box number in Cape Breton, on the front of her envelope and folded and inserted her letter. She held the envelope out in front of her, staring at it for a moment. She got up and headed out to the campus post office, anxious to have her letter on its way.