Letters to Lincoln

I dozed on and off throughout the night. When the sun started to rise I felt exhausted. I had to force myself to climb out of bed. Forgoing a shower, I dressed quickly and headed downstairs. The only noise was the gentle snores from Lucy, who was curled up in her bed beside the boiler. Without opening her eyes, she wagged her tail a couple of times. I dreaded the day we’d have to say goodbye to her. She’s been a constant companion to us all, especially for Dad, for years.

I made tea and opened the back door. Although December, it looked as if it was going to be a bright day. I preferred winter on the coast. There were fewer tourists than the summer months, obviously. As I sipped on my tea, I remembered back to my childhood. Each day outside of school would be on the beach. As I got older, perhaps late teens, I began to resent living in Cornwall. I wanted some excitement, and as soon as I could, I’d headed to University in London. It was where I’d met Trey.

I smiled at the thought of our first meeting. It had been in the university’s coffee shop. I had queued for my coffee and he’d bowled in straight to the front of the line, oblivious to the complaints that followed him. When he had realised, he’d bought the coffee for everyone in the line. That was Trey all over. He was extremely generous and kind-hearted.

We’d dated for a short while, and we’d broken each other’s hearts when he left to go home to support his mum after the death of his father. I didn’t see him for another year, until one day he turned up at the flat I was sharing. Unbeknown to me, he’d contacted my dad and asked for my address.

I took a deep breath in, the gentle breeze rustled the dune grass, and its sound was as therapeutic as a wind chime. I walked to the end of the garden; just over the fence was the edge of a cliff. I leant on the fence and looked out to the horizon. We’d often see dolphins cruising past, leaping and playing in the surf. I squinted against the sun, hoping to see their fins.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I heard. I startled, spilling my tea down the front of my sweatshirt.

Walking along the coastal path was Daniel. Out of his ‘vicar’ clothes: he wore jeans, walking boots, and a heavy knit sweater. His hair was dishevelled, as if he hadn’t bothered to brush it that morning.

Daniel smiled as he came towards me and leant on the other side of the fence.

“I bet your dad hates this footpath just outside his garden. I can imagine in the summer it’s a nightmare.”

I nodded; it had been an annoyance on occasions. Walkers would stop, stare into our garden, or sit with their feet dangling over the cliff edge causing Dad all sorts of anxiety.

“I walk along here each morning, I guess I can’t really call it exercise. Want to walk with me?”

I nodded again, holding up one finger and pointing to the house. I wanted a coat. I jogged into the house and grabbed a lightweight jacket from the back of the door, left my mug on the counter, and picked up a pad and pen, and then joined Daniel.

I had to run around the side of the house to get to him. Years ago, there had been a gate at the bottom of the garden; Dad had gotten rid of that. He worried about people coming in, and us kids getting out. I smiled my thanks as Daniel placed his hand on my back and ushered me to the side of the path furthest from the cliff edge. It was rather an old-fashioned, gentlemanly thing to do, but I appreciated it.

“I know it’s not your thing, Dani, but I can’t help but stop and look at the beauty that has been created for us. I’m in awe sometimes, does that sound really strange?” he laughed, and I found myself smiling at the sound.

I’d be surprised if you weren’t, I wrote on my pad.

“I haven’t always been a vicar. I’ve always been a believer, of course. Would you believe me if I told you I was in a band? I’d love to lie and tell you we were super famous, but I think Him upstairs might be a little pissed off with me if I did.”

The laugh that left my mouth startled me enough to slap my hand over it.

“You know, you can laugh but not speak. I have a theory on that, want to hear it?”

I nodded, smiling at that smirk that played not only on his lips, but also around his eyes.

“Laughing is safe, words are not. You don’t want to speak, maybe because you don’t want to say the words that swim around your mind, that sit just on your tongue, busting to come out. But to laugh? Well, that’s something different. It’s just a sound, there’s no fear of it turning into a word. I can imagine you want to curse, scream at God, anyone, don’t you?”

I stopped walking, and he turned to face me. “I’ve never experienced the depth of grief you have. My mother died, but that was a long time ago. I can imagine how you feel, however, I’ve seen it too many times, sadly.”

I feel guilty for laughing. I’m not happy, but for that one moment, I was. It confuses me, I wrote.

“I can imagine. It’s okay to have those ‘one moments,’ Dani. At some point, those moments will be more moments, until you can freely be happy without the guilt. I’m glad I was able to make you laugh.”

He turned and we continued to walk, for a while, it was in silence. We came to a bench and sat. Daniel stretched out his legs and raised his face to the sun. He closed his eyes and I watched his mouth move, as if in silent prayer.

I just found out you and Miller are brothers, I didn’t know, I wrote on my pad. When Daniel opened his eyes, I placed the pad in front of him.

“Yes, I’m three years older. We were always so close growing up, but we drifted apart for a while. He was very troubled…” His sentence trailed off as he looked out to sea.

I was curious but didn’t want to ask anymore. I guessed Daniel hadn’t meant to divulge such a personal statement. There was a pained look on his face, and I could have kicked myself for spoiling the moment.

Daniel placed his hands on his knees, and after a deep breath in, with a slow exhale, he stood.

“I have to start making my way back. I’ll have a group of old ladies, headed up by Mrs. Hampton, bashing down the church door shortly.” He laughed as he spoke and I was pleased to see the humour back in his eyes.

“Honestly, Dani, I think they believe I am totally incapable of anything. I keep telling them, I was motherless when I was younger, I know how to make a bed and iron a shirt.”

We walked side by side and Daniel talked the whole journey back. He pointed out different birds; he named the dune grass we passed, and had me laughing a second time with anecdotes of the ‘old biddies,’ as he called them, who ran his life and the church.

All too soon, we’d arrived back at Dad’s garden. “It was a pleasure to spend some time with you, and I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of who Anna really is.”

I smiled my goodbye and watched him walk away. I circled the house to the side gate.

“There you are, we were worried.” Dad’s voice carried down the garden. I turned to see him standing with Miller.

Miller didn’t seem to be as happy to see me as Dad was. Although he smiled, it seemed to be forced.

Daniel and I took a walk along the path, I wrote.

“I bet the fresh air did you the world of good,” Dad said with a smile.

We had a nice time, I laughed! I enjoy his company.

I nodded, shrugging off my jacket and accepting the steaming cup of tea he handed me. I turned to Miller and gave him a smile, he didn’t quite meet my eyes and I frowned.

I didn’t know you were brothers, I wrote, showing the pad to Miller.

There was a moment of awkwardness. “We’re not close,” he said.

I looked at Dad, not knowing what to say next.

“How about a fresh cup of tea, Miller?” Dad said, diffusing the tension that seemed to have mounted.

“That would be great, thanks, Alistair,” Miller said.

I saw the transition. Miller was very transparent with his emotions. A wall had been erected and I knew not to ask any more questions. After all, he was my builder, not a personal friend. I felt a little disappointment in that; I’d have liked to have a friendship with him. I thought that might have made working together easier.

I picked up the roll of plans; assuming Miller had visited for a reason and laid them out on the kitchen table. I sat, expecting him to also sit. He stood, waiting for Dad to finish making the tea. I reached for my pad and wrote.

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