Hannah ~ The Letters

The First Letters

She read the last sentence twice, but she couldn’t close the book. The author just wrote a novel she wished she could belong in. Sighing she let the book rest on her thighs. It was only 2:12 in the afternoon and she was home alone with the cat. Her husband would not be home for hours. Today was one of those Saturday’s where he had to go in to the office all day. She flipped to the back of the page and looked at the author’s photo. The woman was difficult to identify. Was she Spanish, Native American, Asian? She read the name. Emmelia Darlington. It sounded British? American?

Closing the book she leaned over the arm of her couch and slid the laptop off her desk and on to her lap. With a quick tap she had pulled the author up on Google search.

Of French, British, Filipino descent. The author grew up in London, England as a child and moved to the states when she was 9. She drew her writing influences from her father’s side of the family. Published poets and short story writers. The woman scrolled through the rest of the article and found an email address for fan mail. Yes she was definitely a fan. She opened Gmail and began writing.

Hello Emmalia!

My name is Hannah, and I just finished reading your book Strands. I have to say it was like you were in my head the way you described how your main character Beth felt. I even have to tell you I began styling my hair like hers because it…made sense?

Hannah paused in thought.

“I should send her a picture.” And she fished around the couch for her phone. It had fall between the cushions. She attached the image and continued writing.

Here’s a Selfie - haha, you must think I’m crazy, but I just want you to know your writing really does make a difference in my life. After a long day of work opening your book is such -

She paused. A relief? A satisfaction? An outlet? All the above she decided. Then typed it in.

So please write more. Write so I can fall in love again. Write so I can dream and fantasize, and be young and carefree if only in your books.

Thank you and best wishes.

Hannah Montgomery

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Dear Hannah,

I hope this letter finds you well. It has taken my staff quite a few weeks to find your address.

Now that you are discovered I must confess you are a great likeness to my character Beth. I had described Beth’s features many a times to my editor. Not only that, the artist who did the cover for my novel also provided me with character sketches. You will find enclosed my version of Beth. It is you the woman in the drawing. I presented my editor your picture in tandem with the sketch. She could only describe the resemblance as uncanny.

So here is my request to the real life Beth:

Hannah may I write to you in short stories, letters, poems, and sonnets? May I hope for your speedy reply in letters brief or lengthy so that I may possibly touch upon the real Beth.

Please know that once you agree there is no turning back. With your hand written letter addressed to me this will constitute as a binding contract. From that moment forward you will belong to my world of words. Do not take this warning lightly.

Trust at your own risk.

Sincerely the Author,

Emmalia Darlington

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Hannah carefully folded the piece of parchment and slid it back into the envelope. She darted a glance at her husband. Their eyes met.

"What’s up?" He asked and took a bite of broccoli.

"The-ah author I told you about. She wrote back."

"Oh, that’s fast. Don’t they get a lot of mail?"

"Yeah-no it’s not that." Hannah squinted down at her envelope.

"What’s wrong?"

"It’s weird. She found our address and wrote this hand written letter." She waved the envelop at him.

"That’s…weird. Is that legal?"

"I don’t know. I guess so…she did it."

"What did she say?" He asked putting his fork down and studying her.

"Well, the first thing she said was that I look like her character. I mean exactly like her character. Here. There’s a picture." She opened the envelope, and pulled the image for her husband to see. He raised his eyebrows.

"Then she asked if she could write to me."

"Uh…that sounds stalker-ish. You should probably say no."

"Yeah…what do I do with this James?" She looked at the letter, then carefully folding it back into the envelope.

James studied his wife. “I don’t know. Just throw it away I guess.”

Hannah nodded. Her husband studied her.

"Do you want me to throw it away?"

"No. I just wondered why me?"

He chuckled. Then stood from his seat. “Because…” He walked to her side, “You’re beautiful, sweet, kind, loving, smart, and mine. Who wouldn’t want you?” He asked softly into her ear.

His hands wrap around her waist. Their warmth seeping through her clothes surrounding her in a protective cocoon. She smiled and leaned her head against his. The letter slipped from her finger tips as her husband kissed her just under the jaw line.

Hannah carefully folded the piece of parchment and slid it back into the envelope. She darted a glance at her husband. Their eyes met.

"What’s up?" He asked and took a bite of broccoli.

"The-ah author I told you about. She wrote back."

"Oh, that’s fast. Don’t they get a lot of mail?"

"Yeah-no it’s not that." Hannah squinted down at her envelope.

"What’s wrong?"

"It’s weird. She found our address and wrote this hand written letter." She waved the envelope at him.

"That’s…weird. Is that legal?"

"I don’t know. I guess so…she did it."

"What did she say?" He asked putting his fork down and studying her.

"Well, the first thing she said was that I look like her character. I mean exactly like her character. Here. There’s a picture." She opened the envelope, and pulled the image for her husband to see. He raised his eyebrows.

"Then she asked if she could write to me."

"Uh…that sounds stalker-ish. You should probably say no."

"Yeah…what do I do with this James?" She looked at the letter, then carefully folding it back into the envelope.

James studied his wife. “I don’t know. Just throw it away I guess.”

Hannah nodded. Her husband studied her.

"Do you want me to throw it away?"

"No. I just wondered why me?"

He chuckled. Then stood from his seat. “Because…” He walked to her side, “You’re beautiful, sweet, kind, loving, smart, and mine. Who wouldn’t want you?” He asked softly into her ear.

His hands wrap around her waist. Their warmth seeping through her clothes surrounding her in a protective cocoon. She smiled and leaned her head against his. The letter slipped from her finger tips as her husband kissed her just under the jaw line.