Unintentionally Yours
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Terry Fowler
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18,3K
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17
Chapter 1
“Come on, Champ.” Leah Wright tugged gently on the leash in hopes of motivating the elderly dog. “Please, Champ. Just a short walk and then you can have your afternoon nap.”
She frowned when the Welsh corgi stretched out on the cool tile of her parents’ kitchen floor, lifting his head now and again to nibble at the food in his bowl.
“Honestly, you have to be the laziest dog that ever roamed the face of this earth. Or maybe you’re a miniature donkey. You’re stubborn enough, that’s for sure.”
Her grumbling didn’t affect him in the least. Leah didn’t have time for this. She wanted to get on with her plans, not wait around all day for Champ to decide he was ready for exercise.
The University of North Carolina fight song filled the house. The doorbell. Her parents loved the gift from a college pal. Leah found it a bit strange but supposed it was their way of showing support for their alma mater.
She wondered who could be at the door at this time of day. Probably a family friend who wasn’t aware her parents were away. She dropped the leash and told the dog, “I’ll be back.”
Champ rose and ambled after her, the leash trailing behind him. He barked with the song.
Now he moves, Leah thought. “Hush,” she told him, not surprised when he continued to bark.
The bell rang again. Surely her parents’ friends wouldn’t ring the doorbell incessantly. “I’m coming.” Leah hurried through the dining room and into the entry hall. She gingerly pushed the curtain aside and peered outside.
A stranger. Handsome with his sweet face and dimples, but he looked angry. Leah hesitated, not sure what she should do. Don’t be silly, she told herself. Something could have happened or maybe he had the wrong house. She unlocked the dead bolt and pulled the door open.
“May I help you?” she asked. Champ continued to bark and she stepped on his leash to stop him from running outside.
The man waved a flowery envelope in her face. “Are you Marty Washington? Uh...” he lifted the envelope and read the label “...Martha Wright?”
Leah recognized the envelope as one she’d mailed earlier in the week. With her parents out of town, she’d decided to surprise them by doing the organization she’d been trying to talk her mom into for months. The letter had been sticking out from underneath the blotter on her mother’s desk, so of course she’d mailed it.
“She’s my mother. She goes by Marty. I’m Leah.”
“Josiah Byrd.”
He handed her a card. Leah glanced down and saw from the photo that he was the Byrd in Byrd Realty, a well-known local commercial real estate company.
“Your mother wrote this letter nearly thirty years ago.” He slung the words in accusation. “Dad’s deceased. I’m curious as to why anyone would mail such garbage after so long. She was obviously angry, and the allegations would break my mother’s heart.”
Dread and surprise swamped Leah. What had she done? What did the letter say? Fighting back her urge to blame the lateness of delivery on the post office, to say it was a miracle it showed up after all this time, she frowned and said, “I’m sure you’re wrong. My mother would never intentionally hurt anyone.”
“Well, according to what she wrote here, she was gunning for my dad.”
Offended, Leah said, “That isn’t something my mother would do.”
“Read this.” He thrust the letter at her.
Leah pushed the envelope away. While she might be curious about the contents she had no intention of reading anyone’s personal communication without their permission. “It’s none of my business. Why would you read a letter that wasn’t addressed to you?”
Not bothering to hide his disgust, he said, “Because someone mailed it and Dad’s not around to read it.” Josiah crumpled the envelope in his large extended fist. “And if it’s true, my father kept major secrets from my mother.”
Leah wished he’d stop flapping that letter around. And explain what he was talking about. Was he saying her mother was a liar? “I’m sure Mom can explain.”
“She had no business writing him in the first place. He was a married man.”
Anger didn’t suit Josiah Byrd. His youthful face showed a gentility that had little to do with anger. “My mother is happily married to my father. They recently celebrated their thirtieth anniversary and are on their second honeymoon. I still say you had no business reading her letter. Isn’t that against the law or something?”
Suddenly he looked taller and loomed even larger as he stood there in her parents’ doorway frowning down at her. His blue gaze narrowed with disdain. “Look, lady, I’m not here to argue legalities with you. Just tell Marty Washington or Martha Wright or whatever she calls herself that my father is dead and there’s no reason for any more of these letters.”
Leah struggled to project the same image, pulling herself up to her full five-five height. “I mailed the letter and I’m sure my mom can explain why she wrote your father. Come in. We’ll call her right now.”
When Champ refused to move, Leah bent to lift the unwilling dog and carried him back inside. Josiah Byrd followed them into the entry hall. She unsnapped the leash and set Champ on the floor. When he darted for the door, Josiah blocked him and pushed it closed.
Leah lifted the cordless phone from the end table and hit the redial button. She’d talked with her mother an hour before. They were visiting her Aunt Gwen in New York before leaving for Spain.
“Hey, Aunt Gwennie. May I speak to Mom?”
“Sure, sweetie. Hang on.”
Marty Wright came on the phone. “Leah? Is something wrong?”
“There’s a guy here. His name is Josiah Byrd.” Her mother’s gasp disconcerted Leah. “He has the letter you wrote his dad. I told him you could explain.”
“How did he get that letter?”
Her mother’s cold, accusatory tone made Leah nervous. She didn’t much want to admit her role in the situation. “I mailed it for you.”
A distinct pause crossed the miles. “Oh, Leah, what have you done? I never intended for that letter to be mailed.”
“But why else would you write it? It was addressed and sealed.”
“I needed closure for something that happened a long time ago.”
Leah grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut. She’d really done it this time. “I see.”
“I doubt that.” There was no hint of forgiveness in her mother’s tone. “I suppose he’s furious?”
Leah opened her eyes and studied Josiah’s expression. He had a lot going for him with that cleft in his chin, smooth shaved face and thick dark hair. “Yes. He said the allegations could have caused his mother grief.”
“No allegations. All truths. Put him on the phone.”
Leah handed over the cordless and eavesdropped on their one-sided conversation. Her skin warmed as she considered Marty Wright’s embarrassment. Leah knew she should have asked. But in her defense, it looked like a letter that had been forgotten.
“I see,” Josiah said a couple of minutes later. “As I told your daughter, I need to be certain this doesn’t happen again. Today is the one-year anniversary of my father’s death. It hasn’t been a good year for my mom.” He paused and Leah knew her mother was expressing sympathy for his loss. “Thank you. Sorry to have bothered you.”
He turned the phone off and handed it back to her. “I apologize for my outburst.”
“I’m so sorry,” Leah said. “My parents are away and I thought this was the perfect opportunity to surprise Mom.”
He flashed a wry smile. “And instead you got surprised?”
Leah grimaced. “And you. I’m so sorry that I upset you today of all days.” She paused, at a total loss as to how to make amends for the situation. “I feel really bad. Is there anything I can do?”
His mouth twitched, bringing the dimples to his cheeks. “Don’t mail any more old letters before asking the sender’s intention.”
She nodded agreement. “You can bet on that. I hate to think what Mom’s going to say when she sees me. I know she’s terribly embarrassed.”
His head dipped to one side and the cornflower-blue eyes rested on her. “What kind of surprise did you plan?”
“A bit of organization. That’s what I do. I help people eliminate the excess accumulation that’s weighing down their lives.”
Leah removed a business card from her pocket. She’d taken them with her earlier when she went to the store, pinning a few on the service board.
He studied it briefly, nodded and shoved it into his coat pocket. “I have to go. Mom’s waiting for me.”
“I’m really sorry.”
His gaze lingered on her face. “It was unintentional. And I’m embarrassed by my behavior. Just forget I came by. Forget you ever heard the name Josiah Byrd.”
At the door, he paused and pressed the doorbell again, a smile crossing his face. “I thought that was the Carolina fight song.”
Leah pumped her arm in a weak imitation of a cheer. “Go, Heels.”
He chuckled and kept walking.
Forgetting was easier said than done, Leah thought as she watched him run down the sidewalk to his big navy blue truck parked in the street.
The phone rang and Leah glanced at the caller ID. Just as she thought. Her mother.
“Has he left?”
Leah glanced up to see the flash of taillights as his truck stopped at the end of the street.
“Yes. I’m sorry, Mom. I had no idea.”
“Please tell me you’re not reorganizing my house.”
Leah knew she’d better come clean. “Just a little. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, stop whatever it is you’re doing. You’ve already surprised me enough.”
She recalled her mother’s stern tone from past chastisements. “I came over to feed the animals and thought I’d take care of a few things while I was here. You did tell me to mail those payments.”
Her mother had never fully subscribed to the idea of a clutter-free home. She thought it was fine for those who chose to live that way but said it wasn’t for her.
“You have no idea what’s important to me, Leah. And while I understand your philosophy toward clutter, it doesn’t mean I support you going through my home and making decisions that affect me and your father when we’re not there. You need to stick with your clients. The people who choose to have you toss their belongings.”
“Yes, ma’am. Is it okay if I clean my old room?”
“No. I cleared that room after you moved out. There’s nothing in there but items I want to keep and things I thought you might want one day for your kids.”
She gave up. “Okay, Mom. I’ll stop.”
“Thank you.”
“Will you explain about the letter?”
Marty Wright sighed heavily. “I once thought Joseph Byrd would play a part in my future.”
That shocked Leah. “Does Daddy know?”
“He does. The relationship with Joseph was over before we started dating.”
“What happened?”
“He married someone else.”
“Josiah’s mother?”
“Leah.” Her groan sounded so close Leah could almost feel her mother’s breath. “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s in the past and needs to stay there. Your father is the perfect man for me. I’m thankful God intervened in my relationship with Joseph.”
Utter misery filled her. “Oh, Mom, I can’t tell you how sorry I am to remind you of this, particularly now.”
“It’s okay, honey. You didn’t know.”
Leah refused to be comforted. She had caused someone she loved and a complete stranger pain. “I feel bad about Josiah, too. His dad’s dead. I wonder what happened to him. He couldn’t have been that old.”
“Joseph was the same age as your father and me. It was cancer. I read his obituary in the paper.”
Leah sighed at the sad news.
“Don’t beat yourself up. These things happen in life. We have to roll with the punches.”
“But I hate being responsible for the pain of others.”
“Then it’s a lesson well learned. Don’t take it upon yourself to handle other people’s business.”
How many times had her mom told her to mind her own business? Would she ever learn? “Yes, ma’am. Prayers for a safe flight.”
Her parents were scheduled to leave for Spain around 7:00 p.m. Ben Wright had shocked his wife when he presented her with the itinerary the night of their anniversary party. She’d always wanted to travel and he’d said neither of them was getting any younger and they should visit the places they’d talked about over the years.
Leah had cried nearly as much as her mom. She hadn’t realized her father could be so romantic. She longed to find the man God intended for her and have the same kind of relationship but thus far her Mr. Right had stayed away.
“Okay, Mom. Give Daddy my love and have fun.”
“We will. And Leah, no more reorganizing. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am. No more reorganizing.”
