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Still, I took my first easy breath in days, as I stood in the dark hall of Ivy House. Maybe, just like a Dicken’s story character, I needed to confront the ghosts of my past, before I could have a real future. Without some kind of change, my future felt bleak. Richer than I could have imagined, and lonelier and more unhappy than ever before. It hardly seemed a win.
Pushing off the door, I ambled through the hall shaking off my jacket and boots. It was snowing outside, and the big white flakes drifted past the window. I stared out there for a long time, regrets churning in my gut, then turned on my heel decisively, and started upstairs.
Soren’s room lay at the opposite end of the hall to mine, and I hadn’t so much as looked in there. I’d been so determined that everyone should know, especially myself, that I wasn’t interested in knowing anything about him. I pushed open the door now, and inhaled the faint smell of violet water and lavender. Something about the smell hit me low in my gut. It smelled vaguely similar to my mother.
Inside the room, I switched on a low lamp and the orange light spread across the dead man’s things. He had floor-to-ceiling books along two walls, all the titles looking well-loved and worn. His bed was simple and modest. A dressing room sat off to the left, and I had the vague impression of many dress shirts hanging in the darkness.
It was all clean and tidy like Alfred had made sure to put away all the personal effects of his late, beloved boss. There was so little mess, in fact, that it was impossible not to notice the stack of bound papers sitting on a long, slim console table.
Nerves clutched at my gut as I approached the table. The lack of mess in the room left me with no doubt that the papers had been left out for me to find.
As I reached them, I saw my own name sitting at the top of a handwritten page.
Letters. They were letters.
With unsteady fingers, I reached for the top letter. It was dated around five years ago.
Dear Lars,
This is the first time we’ve spoken, well, the first time I’d put pen to paper. I’ve spoken to you, and your mother a hundred times in my head, but the words never made it past my coward’s lips…
I put the letter down, the world lurching around me. I could hear Charlie’s voice in my head, demanding to know if I couldn’t give Uncle Soren a little grace, or if I planned to forget him completely.
My blistered heart stung as I reached for another. The letters were all very similar. Soren had been a man who’d closed himself into the tiny box of proprietary pride that his parents had fashioned for him and lost the chance to change it when my mother had died. He’d thought himself cancer in my life, and for that reason, had never reached out even when I’d gone to live in Sunshine Home, settling inside for donating huge sums of money for my care.
Disbelief echoed through me, rooting me to the spot.
The last letter was dated a few months before his death.
Dear Lars,
I know you’ve never read a single word of my mumblings here, and you don’t think about me, your last remaining relative, a disappointment to the end, but forgive an old man if I confess, you are my closest confidant. Getting old and sick humbles even the proudest souls, and I have been humbled by my impending end. I see the world through a different lens now, and I can say for certainty that knowing you will die, and not a single soul will mourn, is a heavy weight.
I find myself full of regrets with no time to change them. All I can do now is pass on the lessons I’ve learned, which is this; people need people.
Don’t push away anyone who cares for you, bring them closer.
Don’t turn your back on anyone to satisfy old grudges, you’ll regret it.
Don’t wait to be happy, life, in all its glory, is shorter than you could ever imagine.
Dear boy, I missed my chance to say this to you in life, even to the end, I’m a coward, it seems. So, instead, I’ve given you the only thing that ever brought me joy, Ivy House. This place holds the memories of your mother and me, back when I smiled and laughed with joy, with the only woman I’ve ever really cared for. I have no children, my bitter regrets left me unlovable, but I have you. My only family, and heir.
Let Ivy House into your heart, and don’t wait to be happy, Lars. Take this apology from an old sinner, and live a life you won’t regret.
Your Uncle,
Soren.
CHAPTER16
Charlie
“What? Like you have anywhere better to be on New Year’s Eve?” I teased Lily as she poured bubbles into plastic flutes and scowled at me.
“Stop pointing it out, it’s just depressing.”
“I mean, it doesn’t have to be. But considering the number of young single people coming tonight, I think we need a big party next year on the big night. Briar Vale needs a new New Year’s tradition, I think.”
