“Remember,” he says. “The story’s not over. We have time.”
Theo hasn’t fully rebounded from our weird elevator conversation earlier. Still, I get a small grin as he leans on his armrest, ready to read the letter with me.
But I’m not sure I’m ready. The date of this letter was just days before the one Paul gave us when we started this trip two weeks ago. I sense the end approaching, and I don’t want it to, as surely as I don’t want to drive home today.
Theo’s hand covers mine, his thumb tracing a line over my knuckles. A touch of reassurance.
With an exhale, I read.
May 6, 1957
Dear Paul,
I don’t want to worry you, but I spoke with my father today and he wants me to meet a friend of Robert’s who lives here. The expectation was clear: he wants me to go on a date with him. It seems they’re tired of waiting for me to find someone myself. I told him it wasn’t possible, that I’m too busy with school and I’ll find someone when the time is right. My father didn’t have much to say after that, but my brother asked all sorts of questions about who I’ve met since last winter. Since you.
I think they’re suspicious.
I have a wild idea. I’ve been thinking about it for quite a while, but I’ve been too scared to say it out loud. I have no idea what you’ll think, or if you’ll even want it.
What if we elope?
We could get married when school ends, keep it a secret until it’s done. Maybe my parents will accept you once you’re my husband. And if they don’t, there’s nothing they’ll be able to do anyway.
It’s a risk. They would be very angry. But I think eventually they’d forgive me.
I wish
I love you.
Kat
I trace the crossed-out I wish, rubbing at the ache in my chest. The anxiety in Gram’s letter transfers to my already unsettled stomach. She cut herself off before she could complete the thought, but she let Paul see her worry, her hope and despair in those crossed-out words.
“The elopement was her idea?” I ask.
Behind me, Paul says, “It was, but I’d thought about it, too. When she brought me the letter, I was relieved. It seemed we had the perfect solution to an imperfect situation.”
A tangle of emotions wrap around me. I look over at Theo, his face reflecting what I’m feeling: curiosity, concern, a hint of sadness. I know only some of it is related to Gram and Paul’s story.
If I hear the rest now, it’ll be my last game of Tell Me a Secret with Gram. It makes me want to bend over in my seat and cry. But I also want to know. I need that closure before I get the closure from this trip.
And maybe I need the reassurance that after things end, life goes on. Sometimes even beautifully.
I turn back to Paul. His eyebrows raise, his age-worn hands folded in his lap.
“Can you tell me the rest?”
Paul’s expression softens. “Of course.”
Theo squeezes my hand and starts the car while Paul begins.
We wind through Palm Springs as he tells us he suspects Robert’s friend tipped Gram’s parents off about their relationship.
“There’s little other explanation for why her parents rushed down to LA and pulled her from school,” Paul says, settling into his seat as we merge onto the freeway. “I have to assume she sounded different after their call. I’d overheard enough conversations with them to know it was a possibility. She thought she kept our secret well, but I worried they’d hear it in her voice—the anxiety, the extended pauses before she answered questions. Secrets get harder the longer you keep them.”
In my periphery, Theo shifts in his seat. I look over at him, questioning, but he only shakes his head.
“Robert’s friend was local, and her brother was terribly overprotective of her. Robert never admitted it to Kat, but I believe he had his friend follow us after that call,” Paul says. “Unfortunately, I believe the day he chose was the day we got our marriage license.”
The van jerks as Theo repeats, incredulous, “Marriage license?”
My jaw drops to the floor. “When you said you’d made plans, you really made plans.”
Paul laughs wryly. “We did. Even though it was all very fast, we were determined. Too determined. In hindsight, we wanted to make it work so badly that we didn’t see the holes in our plan.” He sighs. “Kat had never stepped out of line, and she loved her family dearly, despite how heavy-handed they could be. I knew she hated keeping that secret, but I underestimated her fear of how it would alter their relationship. I was so distracted by all the logistics that I didn’t see that she was struggling with the decision itself.”
I imagine her trying to figure out which way her life would go. Which way was right, and how much it was going to hurt either way. “So what happened?”
“Like I said, we went to get our marriage license. It was just before finals. Kat was a nervous wreck, looking over her shoulder every moment, but when we got that license in hand, she seemed relieved.
“Two days later, there was a knock at our fraternity house in the middle of the night. It was Kat’s friend, Gail.”
“Damn,” Theo murmurs.
“She told me that Kat’s family and Robert’s friend had shown up at her dorm, saying they knew about the elopement. Her parents made her pack up her things,” Paul says. “The timing was too coincidental, and Robert’s friend being there when they got her still makes me think he was the culprit.”
“Screw that guy,” I mutter. Paul and Theo chuckle in tandem.
“Gail escorted Kat to the bathroom, and Kat told her where all of our letters and pictures were. She was able to write me a quick note telling me what happened. She told me not to worry, we’d figure it out, but of course I was worried sick.”
“How could you not be?” I say, feeling sick myself. “Was that it? You never got to see each other again?”
“Oh no. I was furious and determined to figure it out. My parents urged me to let her go, but that, of course, made me dig my heels in even further.” He looks at his grandson, a soft, sad smile on his face. “Stubborn pride runs in the family.”
“Granddad,” Theo says, a warning in his voice. I look between the two men as they seem to have a silent conversation.
Finally, Paul looks back at me. “Kat’s friend in Glenlake was able to act as an intermediary for us. We sent letters, had a couple of calls. I held on to our marriage license, just in case, but she got more hopeless, even as she insisted she’d figure something out. Her parents were very good at persuading her, telling her she’d find someone new, that they’d never accept me. She’d had a wonderful relationship with them up to that point, so their opinion mattered.”
“So did yours,” I say.
“Yes,” he says. “But so did hers. I offered to talk to her parents, to assure them, but it was too late. Too much time had passed, too many lies and secrets in our relationship. I never would have gained their trust.”
“Wasn’t there a chance they’d come around?”
“Maybe they would’ve tried in their way, but what if Kat’s relationship with her parents eventually deteriorated beyond repair? What if Kat lost them?” Paul shakes his head. “I couldn’t have lived with that. I loved her, but I didn’t want her to sacrifice, even though she was willing to. We would’ve fallen apart under that pressure. Hell, we already had. It took me years to recognize that truth, but once I did, I could see it from the start.”