Gun Brooke - Course of Action

Resting on Annelie's shoulder, Carolyn closed her eyes. As she pulled the pillow under her cheek to not weigh her lover down, she sighed contentedly. "This is heaven."

"Mmm."

Annelie's soft curves pressed into Carolyn as she pulled her closer, wrapping a slender leg around her. "Is this okay?"

"More than okay. It's perfect."

***

Margo looked up from her desk in the heart of the office. "Annelie! Good, you're back. Did all the work you took care of from home yesterday pay off? When I talked to Carolyn earlier, she said you were up past midnight to fine-tune your presentation. How did the meeting go?"

"Excellent." Annelie beamed. "We really made progress, Margo. It looks like we have the go-ahead for those shelters. What did Carolyn want?"

"Just to say hello, I think. She'll call back later."

"Okay. Everything all right here?" Annelie gestured toward the other offices.

"Running smoothly now we can focus on the important things. Oh, speaking of that, there's a package for you. From California."

Annelie had started walking toward her office and now stopped abruptly, her heart speeding up. "California?"

"Yes, from the investigator."

"I thought I'd received all the documents regarding my father and Trevor White. I'd rather not read anything more about that imposter." Annelie scowled.

"I know, but here they are anyway, girlie." Margo handed over a thick parcel. "Seems like an awful lot, just to be documents."

"I'll take a look at this in my office. Hold my calls for now, unless it's personal."

"Will do."

Annelie tossed the package down on her empty desk, then placed her hand on it as if trying to gauge its contents. Suddenly filled with anxiety, she felt her mouth grow stale. She took a deep breath before sliding a letter opener along the edge of the package, opening it carefully, and glancing inside.

She didn't find legal documents or anything resembling what the investigator had previously sent her. Instead, Annelie pulled out two large stacks of small, tattered envelopes.

Breathing hard, she saw her father's name on them and, turning one over, she recognized her mother's name as the sender. They were dated between March 1978 and December 1981.

When she investigated the large package more carefully, she pulled out a single piece of paper, which she skimmed, hoping for a clarification. The package was indeed from the investigator, who explained how the police had discovered the letters among Trevor White's belongings.

With trembling hands, Annelie untied the string and opened the first letter, written only a week after her father left.

Dear Stuart,

First of all, I hope your trip down south went well and you are feeling better. You were so upset when you left and I am grateful Annie was not home to witness it. She adores you and to see her father in your present frame of mind would have been too much for a child like her.

Writing you at a post office box is worrying. How will I be able to get a hold of you in case something happens

to either me or Annie? Is there a phone number I can ring? Please let me know.

Annie asks for you every day when she comes home from school. It is difficult to tell her I am not sure when you will be coming home.

Please write soon, Stuart. We miss you and I am certain we can make it work if you would only give me, and Annie, another chance.

Your loving wife,

Anna

The hopeful tone in Anna's first letter diminished in every letter Annelie read. She had written her husband for more than three years— at first, every week, and then every month. Heartbreaking sentences of how Annelie stopped asking for her father after a while, and how lonely Anna felt while waiting for her husband to contact her. In the last six letters, her tone became resigned and resentful. When he had missed three birthdays and four Christmases, Anna wrote the last letter on New Year's Eve, 1981.

Stuart,

Annie is ten years old. Her three last birthdays have gone by unnoticed from your end. No gifts, and no Christmas presents…not even a card. If you had seen her sitting by the phone, all dressed up, and ignoring the friends I invited to her party, just waiting, afraid she would miss your call…which of course never came.

You make me so angry and I have to be honest—I hate you for what you have done to her. I don't care what you have done to me; I'm a grown woman who can take care of myself. But the child...

Here the letter was unreadable, perhaps from her mother's tears.

...will not write anymore. You have been an invisible member of this family for three years now, but no more. We do not expect to hear from you. If you choose to return to Chicago, know this; you are not welcome here.

Anna

Annelie leaned back in her chair, her eyes full of tears and her stomach a tight knot. Anna had hated her father in the end. Who could blame her? How I wished and hoped he'd return. Every day, for the first year, I expected him to call. When he didn't, when Mom finally stopped reassuring me, I still clung to the hope he would come. If not that day, then next birthday, next Christmas…

Annelie remembered hoping he'd return and mend their little family. I don't know why I was so hopeful for so long. He showed me hardly any interest the first seven years of my life. Mom gave me unconditional love, but thinking back, I realize he merely tolerated me at best. And even Mom finally reached her breaking point. Reading the letters had let her see her mother's more human side, which was a relief.

She jumped when the phone rang, dropping the last letter as she reached for it. "Peterson."

"Hello, love. How's your day going?"

The sound of the familiar husky voice made the tears roll down Annelie's cheeks. "Oh, Carolyn…"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing…I received a package in the mail. My mother's old letters to my father, and I've just read some of them."

"Oh, Annie. I thought she didn't know where he was."

"She didn't. Apparently he gave her a post-office box as an address. As far as I can tell from her letters, he never replied."

"Damn."

The curse echoed Annelie's feelings. "How're things going today?" she asked, wanting to change the subject.

"Great. We've finished the first scenes, and later this week we'll start rehearsing in the studio."

"What scene are you starting with?"

"The one where Maddox shows up at Erica's place, demanding to know why her partner's acting so strange."

"That's the scene leading up to their rendezvous at the office. Are you nervous about acting it out with Helen?"

"Not really. I think it's good we're doing those scenes first. Strangely, Helen and I are becoming friends. I'm afraid we'd get giggly about it if we become too chummy, no matter how seasoned we are. We need to keep the tension as long as possible."

"Maybe you're right. How does Helen feel?"

"She actually told me of her one, quite innocent, encounter with another woman. It was ages ago and never led to anything, but she thought she'd tap into it when we do the love scenes. I didn't tell her, but I think she guesses I have plenty to tap into."

Annelie had to laugh. "You're bad!"

"No, I'm good at being bad, you mean." There was a smile in Carolyn's voice. "I have to go, love. Are you all right about the letters?"

"I am now. Listen, I'll bring them home tonight. Will you read them over with me? I need to talk about some of the things in them. Or perhaps we should wait, since Jem'll be there."

"We can read them in bed before we go to sleep. No reason to wait and have them weighing on your mind."

Annelie gave a relieved sigh. "Sounds like a great idea. It's a date, then."

As she hung up, Annelie felt the butterflies leave her stomach, at least for the time being.