“You got pretty close with them, huh?” Ryker puts his hand on my knee.
“Yeah. It started out with just me and George, but Marion was there one day and, pretty soon, every time I was there.”
“What was George like?”
I take a few minutes to tell Ryker all about George. The Marines, Korea, and even Evie. He gets a kick out of the Evie story, most notably, George’s reaction to it.
“Sounds like he was a great guy.” Ryker gives my knee a slight squeeze before tilting his chin toward the window. “There’s fifty-seven.”
Noting the absence of any cars in the driveway, I knock on the door, wondering if Marion forgot. Half a minute later, she opens the door with a soft smile.
“Glad you two could make it, come in.” Marion leads us through the spacious house to a room that looks like a den near the back.
“Where’s Karen?” I ask, looking around.
“She and her husband took their boys out to give us time to chat. Sit.” Marion motions to the love seat as she settles into the chair.
As Ryker and I settle onto the couch, I notice pictures all over the walls and shelves of Marion and George.
“Now, I asked you two over here today so I could share some things with you. I was going to ask Natalie here anyway, but once I saw you, young man, I knew you had to come.” Marion points at Ryker and I see him blush a little. “As I’m sure you know, I’ve spent several months getting to know Natalie.”
Ryker flashes his best all-American at her. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“Natalie,” she turns to me, “George told me on Christmas that you received a letter from Ryker a few days too late?”
Ryker looks at me, thoroughly confused, as I shoot my eyebrows up.
“I didn’t send you a letter . . .” He shakes his head, speaking almost under his breath.
“You didn’t tell him?” Marion looks at me as though I’ve grown a second nose.
“My mom sent it to me, Ryker. It was your first one . . . It said Merry Christmas . . .”
His eyes grow wide. “You never go that?”
“My mom . . .” I shrug, “I’ll tell you more later.”
“Anyway,” Marion redirects our conversation, “Ryker . . . Natalie told George and me a lot about the letters you two sent back and forth to each other while you were overseas. Do you still have yours?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ryker nod. “Yes, ma’am, I do. Every one.”
My chin quivers a little at his admission. I’ve never asked. I don’t know if I assumed he trashed them during his darker days, but . . . I didn’t want to know if he had.
Marion looks at Ryker, and waves her hand toward the corner of the room. “Ryker, could you fetch that box for me?” Ryker picks up a large banker’s box and holds it in front of Marion, who instructs him to sit. “Open it.”
Ryker shoots me an awkward look, and I just shrug. “You heard her,” I tease.
Pulling off the top, Ryker swallows hard as he examines the contents—what looks to be hundreds of letters, handwritten on folded pieces of paper. Neither one of us make a move.
“When George was in Korea, those were all I had of him until I saw him again. Now, once again,” her voice catches and she tries to clear her throat, “they’re all I have of him until I see him again.”
As my eyes cloud with tears, I catch Ryker’s jaw tightening before he seems to focus on something above Marion’s head.
“What’s this?” he asks, setting the box down and standing. Walking to the shelf behind Marion, he picks up a small picture frame. “Nat, did you see this?”
“No.” I walk to Ryker and have to muffle the gasp that comes from my mouth.
In Ryker’s hand sits a black and white picture that looks to have been taken at a train station. It looks like the cover of a Nicholas Sparks novel. I don’t need to see their faces to know it’s George and Marion; his Marine uniform is wrapped tightly around her tiny frame while her high-heeled feet swing freely from the ground. Watching Ryker’s thumb smooth across the center of the frame, I note George’s white knuckles and a tear rolls down my cheek.
“That’s the day he came home,” Marion informs us without looking at it.
“We have one just like this from the day Ryker left.” I smile through my tears.
“Of course you do.” Marion grabs my hand.
“We?” Ryker asks.
“Yeah,” I look up to find his eyes watering, too, “your dad gave me a copy on Christmas.”
Ryker’s eyes close as he shakes his head and chuckles. “Dad . . .”
“Marion, I’d like to keep visiting with you, if that’s okay with you.” I kneel down and pull her into a hug.
“I won’t take no for an answer. You too, young man. I want to get to know Ryker Manning a little bit.” Marion shoots me a cunning look as heat creeps through my face and neck.
After hugging Marion goodbye, and setting a date to come see her in a couple of weeks, Ryker and I get back into the car and drive to my apartment in silence.