Page 1 of Postmarked December

Chapter One

December 17th

Heather Hart sat cross-legged and motionless on the sofa under a large-weave holiday-red blanket. She was barely aware of the glistening Christmas tree in the corner, the falling snow outside her Nashville apartment window, or the dwindling fire. Her entire attention was on the television. Through the blur of tears, a carefree version of herself that she no longer recognized ran down the beach, giggling and hiking up her chiffon gown. Her long brown hair blew in the coastal wind, and her newlywed husband, Toby, trailed behind her, laughing.

The water was bright blue, the sand pearly under their feet. The golden sun beamed down on them, creating a dreamy glow—a stark contrast to the gray December sky outside Heather’s apartment. Toby had his arms stretched out, sprinting after her, barefoot, in his gray suit with a pink-rose boutonniere. They ran off-screen, leaving her wedding bouquet visible in the sand. She waited for the waves to overwhelm the bundle of roses and carry the bouquet out to sea. In reality, it hadn’t happened, but if that video had mirrored their future, it should have.

Her phone rang, yanking her from the memory. She tensed, but didn’t leave the sofa, and it eventually stopped.

Reporters had somehow gotten her personal number and had been calling her, off and on, ever since Toby’s song “Only the Sound,” released after his death, had become a worldwide number-one single. It had topped the streaming and radio charts with over 2.1 billion global streams, and the album, Make Me Whole Again, had dominated the year-end charts with over 3.26 million album sales and 6.97 million equivalent album units by December. It was Toby’s album of a lifetime. And he wasn’t there to see the full fruition of his success.

Because of Toby’s rapid decline, and the fact that so few details were released about it, the press was also still trying to get a handle on what had happened to him. Always opting for charity missions over world tours and awards shows, Toby had stayed out of the public eye as much as possible, so it seemed to the public that his death had literally come out of nowhere.

The holiday season was picking up, so the calls had as well—all of the callers wanting to be the first to break the story about his cancer and his bittersweet rise to success, given the album’s recent achievements. Heather hadn’t spoken to a single one, nor was she planning to. She and Toby had decided that together when the early sales numbers had come in. He’d wanted nothing to do with accolades, big venues, or reporters. And she’d given him her solemn promise that she would not give in to their pressure.

Toby had been an incredibly private person. He was protective of Heather, suggesting she keep and use her maiden name, Matthews, as her legal name, to prevent people from knowing who she was on legal documents. That was fine with her, but she called herself Heather Hart. And despite his fame, he had no social media, which was also fine with her. She didn’t either. When his cancer had taken hold, she was glad to be able to easily cut off from the outside world without the noise of everyone checking in. Because of the care he’d taken to preserve her privacy, and the fact that neither of them was terribly flashy, no one seemed to recognize her when she was out.

Toby always saw discretion as a sign of respect and humility, believing some things should remain unshared with the public. It seemed almost fitting that he wasn’t there for most of his worldwide success. He wouldn’t have known how to handle it. Recognition was a side effect of doing what he loved, which was strumming his guitar and jotting down songs in his battered notebook, giving his life a melody.

Now, Heather couldn’t ask him what to do or who to talk to, so out of an abiding regard for his wishes and a need to hold onto him, she avoided all the press. That was what he would’ve wanted anyway.

Her phone rang for a second time.

The distraction from her wedding video was probably a good thing. It being only early in the morning of the first day of her Christmas break, she’d already been struggling, wondering how she’d ever make it through this first Christmas without Toby.

She’d been looking for the box of memories that held her favorite photo of them, a rare appearance at his publisher’s holiday gala two years ago. That had been one of the memories she held onto the most.

Toby hung his guitar on the wall mount behind the sofa, his songwriting notebook and pencil, along with balled-up pieces of paper, still strewn across the coffee table. “I bought you something.”

Heather marked her place in her book with a finger and looked up, curious. Toby showed his love by doing rather than buying, so she was unsure of his motives.

He walked across the room and removed the book from her lap, turning it over on the table to keep her place. Then he took her hands and gently pulled her to a standing position.

“I know I’m the one who doesn’t like the limelight,” he said. “And I haven’t taken you out like I should have.”

“It’s fine, really, Toby. I married you, so I knew what I was getting into,” she teased.

He offered that adorable grin. Then he leaned down and kissed her. “You deserve to sparkle like the bright star you are. I RSVPed to Stargate’s gala.”

She widened her eyes dramatically. “You? You’re going to your publisher’s gala?”

“No press allowed,” he said, his eyebrows bobbing. “Just me… And you…” He let go of one of her hands and spun her around. “And this…”

He led her into the bedroom. Hanging on the closet door was a long red silk-and-chiffon designer gown she’d admired when they’d been in New York.

She gasped. “Is that the Iris Acatrinei gown?”

“Mm-hm. And I can’t wait to see you in it. And later, out of it.” He tickled her sides, and she squealed with laughter.

During moments when he’d still felt good, Toby had been organizing their paperwork, getting all their accounts ready for her to take over, and putting boxes of old files in storage while she was at work, sending them with a hired courier. She just knew he’d inadvertently sent the box of photos with their gala picture in it on one of those storage runs. When she couldn’t find it, she’d put on the video instead. Why she’d decided to watch it during the holidays was beyond her. Masochistic, really.

When Heather’s phone rang for the third time, she clicked off the television. She rubbed her eyelids to dry the remaining tears and pushed the blanket off her legs. Clearing her throat, she crossed the room to the kitchen counter to get her phone and check the calls. She blew out a sigh of relief to see the latest was her fellow librarian and best friend, Marion Wilkins.

“Just checking in on my favorite person on her first day of Christmas break,” Marion’s chipper voice bellowed down the line.

They’d worked together in the Ellis Elementary library for a year now and, both personally and professionally, Heather couldn’t have managed a day without her. With Toby’s music career exploding, she hadn’t had to hold a job. Toby gave a huge portion of their earnings to charitable causes, leaving them just what they needed to live on, which had always been perfectly fine with her. And then, she needed something to take her mind off the stress of his cancer. So she’d made use of her Master’s of Education and Library Science degrees and taken the job at Ellis Elementary School. Since then, Marion had been with her through all the highs and lows.

“Wait. What was that?”