Letters to Hank

Chapter Three

"Hawaii!" Rose exclaimed. "She went to so many different placed and wrote back to Hank."

Scout sat beside her at the cafe, his iced vanilla late becoming more water than coffee. "And? I don't see why this is so important to you."

"I looked them both up and couldn't find any relation to them. Hazel had quite a bit of information on her out there, but I can't find hardly anything about Hank."

"So you're heading into the stalker profession," he mocked. "Never thought I'd say that."

"Ha-ha." Rose rolled her eyes at him. She laid out some of the cards, careful not to set them on the rings of condensation left by their drinks. "They're all from different places from Hazel to Hank. But they're not related in any way to each other. I don't understand it."

"Maybe they were having affairs and they were secretly lovers."

"But why would they have the same last name and live in the same house?"

Scout shrugged. Sipping his coffee, he glanced out the front window of the shop and watched the cars drive by. "Rose, I don't understand what's so captivating about them. They were literally just two people. They're probably dead by now."

Rose nodded. "Hazel died in Eighty-Six. Hank was born in 1910 and died in Forty-Four. If the website's correct, that is."

"They were probably siblings, Rose. Nothing special."

"But—"

Scout placed a hand over the cards, his thumb brushing against her hand. "This is a mystery you won't be able to solve. Let it be. Hank and Hazel were just people like you and me. Don't try to mess with something that was never meant to be messed with. Besides, somebody gave the cards away to be sold. It didn't matter to them anymore, so don't let it matter to you."

Rose sat quietly, her body trembling. Maybe Scout was right. Maybe they were just ordinary people with ordinary lives. Maybe they were just two humans with nothing special about them.

But the idea of Hank's mundanity wasn't enough to quench the inferno of questions burning within Rose. Nothing made sense, and she was determined to put the puzzle together. Hank was someone, just like Hazel. Two people, their lives intertwined, to form a story like no other.

"Their address is on all of their postcards. What if I go find whoever lives there now? Maybe they could shed some light on it?"

Scout tapped the table, staring at her. "You're not going to let this die, are you?"

She shook her head. "I tried, Scout. But I just can't."

He watched her quietly for a long moment before shaking his head. "I don't want you going there by yourself."

Rose grinned, her left eyebrow arching. "I was hoping someone would go with me." She sighed mockingly. "I just don't know who would voluntarily come along."

"How do I always manage to go along with your shenanigans?" Scout rose to his feet, the metal chair screeching as it moved across the wooden floor. "What's their address?"

***

The driveway was empty and the garage was closed. Double-checking her phone's GPS, Rose glanced at the rusted number 90872 to the left of the home's door. The one-story house was small and built of brick with bushes and trees swallowing the sidewalk leading to the entrance.