Letters to Hank

Chapter Eleven

Rose had sent out countless Facebook messages to people she thought that may have been related to Hank. Much to her dismay, the only people that responded said they had never heard of a Henry "Hank" Gordon or a Hazel Kroyer. Dejected, she sat on her bed, her head in her hands.

"Any luck?" her mother asked, jabbing the door open with her thumb. She was a woman of stature—broad height, almost six feet tall, and hands that could qualify for a football player's. Opposite of her intimidating look, Marie Nash was the kindest and gentlest woman Rose knew. She sat beside her daughter, her long fingers knitting together. The bed creaked and trembled at her weight.

"No." Rose sighed. "I just can't give up. I spent almost a hundred dollars on a plane ticket to go find answers. I hardly got anything."

"You found Hank's daughter, correct?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Have you found anyone related to Hazel?"

Rose shook her head. "Not yet. I thought I found some relatives, but none of them have responded to my private messages."

Marie stroked Rose's hair tenderly. "Give it some time. Some people don't live on Facebook."

"I guess so."

"You're the most determined person I know, Rose." She kissed her daughter's forehead and stood. Cupping Rose's face in her large hands, she said, "You'll find what you're after one way or another. Just don't give up."

How many times had she been told that? Don't give up, Rose! You'll make it! Yet as she stared at her wall, postcards in hand, she was hollow, devoid of any perseverance.

Everything changed, though, when her phone let out a single, high-pitched chime. On her screen read a simple message, one that made Rose's heart freeze in her chest.

I'm Hazel's granddaughter. Where did you find the postcards?

Rose gasped, her mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara desert. She quickly called Scout, her stomach churning.

"Hello?" said he, his voice raspy and strong.

"Scout, I found Hazel's granddaughter."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes! Scout, she has the answers I'm looking for!"

"You thought Heidi did, too."

"This is different. This is Hazel's bloodline. Surely she knows more than Heidi." Rose's head hit her pillow as a rogue tear slipped from her eye. Her motivation crept back into her soul, her body quivering with hope.

"Have you even talked to this woman?"

"Well, no. She just responded a minute ago."

"Respond, you goose."

"I will. I just had to tell you first."

Scout laughed from the other side of her phone. "Well, respond and then get back with me."

He didn't have to tell her twice. Grinning, she said, "I will." Rose hung up without a goodbye, her fingers numb with excitement.

I found them at the Mid-American Antique Mall here in Saint Louis. They were in a box filled with other postcards. I just happened to notice that a dozen were addressed to the same person. She hit send quicker than lightning.