The Last Letter
: Chapter 14

Letter #20

Chaos,

I feel like all I write to you about lately is Maisie’s diagnosis. Honestly, sometimes I feel like that’s all I think about. I’ve become one of those people with a one-track mind, and everything revolves around her.

So let’s try to snap out of that for a few minutes. Christmas is coming. It’s one of our busiest times of the year for guests, and as usual, we’re booked solid through the first week in January, which is great for business and referrals.

I moved the kids to the last cabin we had available and took it off the books. It’s the best way to keep Maisie safe when her levels bottom out, and so far it’s working. And there I go again, back to the cancer.

We put up a tree in the cabin, and Hailey, my receptionist, moved in with us to help at night when I have to run out. I’m beginning to think the kids like the privacy better, too. Colt even asked for a tree house out back for Christmas, but I told him he’d have to wait for my brother to get home. I’m pretty handy, but a tree-house maker, I am not. It would probably bust apart before he stepped foot in it. I’m also wondering if it’s a good idea to build him a tree house when we’ll hopefully be back in the main house soon-ish. Soon. Whenever. Truth is, everything feels like soon lately.

How are you guys holding up with the holidays? Do you need anything? I had Maisie and Colt send you a few pictures. They were worried that you didn’t have a Christmas tree, so they drew a few for you and helped me bake this weekend.

It’s hard to believe it’s already December and that you guys are coming home soon. I can’t wait to finally see the person I’ve been talking to all this time and show you around. Don’t freak out, but it’s definitely what I’m looking forward to most in the new year.

~ Ella

…

Problem solving was a skill I was particularly proud of. There wasn’t an issue I couldn’t fix, a puzzle I couldn’t piece together. I was good at making the impossible a reality. But this felt like beating my head against a brick wall just to see how it felt.

I flipped through the MIBG information for the hundredth time and cross-referenced what I’d found on my phone. What I wouldn’t give for my laptop.

It was ridiculous that Ella’s insurance didn’t cover the therapy, but mine would. Then again, if there was one thing the military got right, it was health insurance, which I still had since I’d gotten sidetracked and hadn’t signed Donahue’s declination papers yet.

“I wouldn’t have left the tower,” Maisie said from her bed, sitting up and bouncing slightly on the mattress. We’d been out of the ICU since this morning, right before Ella left for Telluride.

I glanced over at the movie—Tangled. Rapunzel. Got it. “You would if your mom was an evil witch.”

“But she’s not, so I would have stayed.” She tugged her cap down farther over her forehead.

“But look at that big wide world. Are you saying you really don’t want to see what’s out there?” I set everything down on the table.

She shrugged, twisting her mouth to the side and scrunching her nose.

“There’s a lot out there.” I pushed off the floor, rolling in the chair over to the side of Maisie’s bed.

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean I get to see it.”

There was no whine in her voice, just simple, accepted fact. It dawned on me how young she was, how much of her life she remembered, and how much of it had already been spent fighting. This had been a hellish seven months for Ella, but it must have seemed an eternity to Maisie.

“You will,” I told her.

She glanced my way a few times before finally turning her head and meeting my eyes.

“You will,” I repeated. “Not just the whole school part, either. That’s just the beginning.”

“I can’t even graduate kindergarten,” she whispered. “Please don’t tell Mom I’m sad. She’s already sad enough.”

It was like talking to a mini-Ella, already concerned about everyone else but herself. Even their eyes were the same, except Maisie hadn’t learned how to guard her thoughts yet.

“I have an idea,” I said.

Forty minutes, another hospital gown, and a quick run to the nurses’ station, and we were nearly ready.

“Ready?” she called from the bathroom.

“Almost,” I tried to say, my mouth holding the tape dispenser as I wrapped the string around the frayed edge of a strip of my undershirt.

I ran the string up to the top of the hat and then taped it. Arts and crafts were not my strong suit, but this would do. I knocked on the bathroom door, and it opened far enough for Maisie to stick a hand out.

“Your highness,” I said, handing her my creation. Thank you, God, for nurses and pediatric craft stations.

Maisie giggled and took it, shutting the door in my face. Man, she’d bounced back so quickly. The antibiotics were still pumping through her IV line, and she was still hospital-bound, but it was night and day from the day of the soccer game.

I kicked myself for the hundredth time for not noticing while I’d carried her to and from the car. There had been no fever then, no redness, nothing, but I’d known she was off, that she was overtired.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

I checked my watch. They would be walking across their little stage any minute now. “I am if you are.”

“Give a speech,” she ordered with the door between us.

“You know normally you wouldn’t be in hiding, right?”

“You’re not supposed to see me until you call my name.”

“That’s for a wedding,” I told her, trying not to laugh. “The bride and groom aren’t supposed to see each other until they meet at the altar. Not this.”

The door opened, and I caught it so she could walk through, bringing her IV pole with her. She stepped around the door, and my smile flew so wide I thought it might split my face.

She wore a solid-colored hospital gown over her normal one, courtesy of the nursing staff, and on her head was my god-awful graduation cap. Those suckers were awkward to make. Her tassel, streaming from the side, was thick on the fringe, but I’d been under a little pressure. Not my finest work, but it would do.

“Please be seated,” I ordered, moving to stand at the far side of the room at the foot of her bed.

Head held high, she walked over and took a seat at the table.

Motion from the door drew my eye, but when I saw it was just the two nurses who had helped me hunt for supplies, I threw them a quick smile and turned back to my one-girl audience.

“Speech,” she reminded me with a serious nod.

“Right.” I quickly grabbed the rolled-up paper that served as her makeshift diploma that I’d scribbled on. “Today is the start of your journey.” What the hell was I supposed to say next? People weren’t my strong suit, let alone kids.

She tilted her head, nearly losing the hat, and quickly righted it. “Go on.”

“Okay.” An idea popped into my head, and I ran with it. “I’ve heard it said that the greatest adventure is what lies ahead. Well, I read it, but we’re going to use it.”

Maisie stifled a giggle and then nodded in all seriousness. “Go on.”

“And the story I read was about a fierce princess who wanted to fight for her kingdom. When all the men were called to war, she was told that as the princess, she had to stay behind and care for her people. She argued with the king that she could care for her people by fighting for them, but he ordered her to stay behind—to stay safe.”

“He wanted her to stay in her tower,” she said, leaning forward.

“Hey, at graduations, the graduates don’t interact with the speakers,” I teased her.

She grinned but sat back in her chair and made the motion like she was zipping her lips.

“Now where was I? Ah, the princess. Right. So the princess, being as smart as she was, knew she was needed. So she dressed like a man and snuck into the army camp, riding out to battle with the men.”

Maisie’s eyes lit up, and her mouth dropped open slightly. “What happened?”

“What do you think? She ran into battle in full armor, swinging her giant sword, and she struck down the Naz…uh…dragon, slaying it in one mighty swipe and defending her kingdom. She was the leader her people needed, because she was brave enough to fight.”

Maisie nodded enthusiastically, and I almost forgot I was supposed to be giving a graduation speech…for a six-year-old.

“Right. So, as you embark on this journey of your education, you must remember to be brave like the princess.”

“And tell all the kings they’re wrong!” She jumped up.

Oh, this was not going the way I’d intended.

“Kind of. When you’re…you know, big enough to swing a sword.”

She seemed to ponder this for a second and then nodded with all seriousness.

“So,” I continued. “You have to fight for what you know to be right. Stand up for the people who need your protection. Never let anyone tell you that you’re anything less than a warrior because you’re a girl. Because in my experience, girls are the strongest warriors. Maybe that’s why all the boys try to keep them out of battle. They’re scared they’ll get shown up.”

“Makes sense,” Maisie agreed. “Is that it?”

“It is. Speech over.” I tried to recall any graduation I’d ever had and failed, because I’d never had one. I’d shipped out for basic the moment I finished my senior year, the day before graduation. But I’d seen plenty in movies. I cleared my throat. “The time has come for you to leave the childish, carefree days of kindergarten and embark on your journey in elementary school. When I call your name, please rise and accept your diploma.”

“Beckett, you know I’m the only one here, right?”

I shushed her. “I haven’t said your name yet, graduate.”

She gave me the same look Ella did when she was ready to call me on my crap, and I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.

“Margaret Ruth MacKenzie.”

She stood, regal as that princess, and walked toward me with her head held high, bringing her IV pole with her. When she arrived in front of me, I crouched down to her eye level. “Congratulations on your graduation.” I handed her the diploma with one hand and shook her hand with the other.

“Now what?” she whispered.

“Now you flip your tassel to the other side.”

She did the mouth and nose scrunch thing again and moved her tassel to the opposite side.

“I now pronounce you graduated,” I said in the most official tone I could muster.

She grinned and laughed, pure joy radiating from her like sunshine. Then she launched herself into my arms as the nurses in the doorway began to clap.

I held her, careful not to squeeze too tight, but she didn’t have that same issue, and hugged me to the point of near strangulation. Man, I loved this kid. Loved her strength, her tenacity, her kindness. She was one of a kind, and I hope she knew how precious she was, not just to her mom, but to the world.

As the clapping subsided, I glanced over to see no less than half a dozen nurses watching Maisie’s graduation. The girl was magnetic—she drew people to her everywhere she went, and I was no different.

“How about a picture?” a nurse who looked to be about Ella’s age asked.

“Yes! Absolutely!” I handed my cell phone to her, and she snapped a few of Maisie and me. “Thank you. Now just the graduate,” I said to Maisie, turning the camera on her as she struck a pose.

“It was Aowyn,” the nurse said with a smile while the other nurses congratulated the graduate. “The princess who slayed the Nazgul. It was Aowyn.”

Busted. “Tolkien fan?”

“Movie fan. Kind of comes with the territory when you work in pediatrics.”

“Think she noticed?”

She shrugged. “It was a good speech. Little girls need more warrior queens.”

“I like warrior queens,” Maisie said, coming to stand next to me. “Is it time for Moana?” As quickly as her joy came on, she sagged a little against me, and I felt the tiredness take over.

“That sounds like a plan to me.” Putting my forearm under her, I stood, lifting her slight weight, and carried her back to bed, her IV in my other hand.

She scooted back, sitting upright, and took off her cap as the nurses left. “Thank you,” she said, playing with the tassel.

“I know it’s not the same—”

“It’s better.” She met me with a look that left no room for argument.

I sat on the edge of her bed, adjusting her IV pole so it was closer to her.

“It’s just the start, Maisie. You have so much ahead of you. The summers, the mountains, the sunrises. The choices you’ll get to make when you decide which college you want to go to, the second you take off on a trip to backpack across Europe. Those are the moments when you find out who you’ll be, and that’s just a glimpse of what’s waiting for you when you’re past this.”

“But what if this is all there is?” she whispered.

“It’s not,” I promised.

Her face twisted, her lips pursing, and tears welled in her eyes. “Am I dying? Is that what’s happening to me? Mom won’t tell me. Please tell me, Beckett.”

A vise gripped my heart, squeezing until I was sure it couldn’t beat.

“Maisie…”

“Please. Am I going to die?”

I thought of the MIBG therapy she needed, the countless drugs, treatments, operations, transplants. Everything that was standing between her and a disease-free body.

“Not on my watch.” I didn’t care what I had to do. I’d find a way for her to get what she needed. I wasn’t watching another kid die if I had the power to change her fate.

“Okay.” She relaxed against the raised bed and took my word like it was gospel. Then she grinned as she played with the strands of her tassel. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Before I lost my shit in front of her, I leaned forward, pressing my lips to her forehead in a quick kiss. When I pulled away, I forced a smile and blinked back the awkward wetness in my eyes.

“Me, too, Maisie. Me, too.”

…

“Gentry, I’m glad you’re here.” Mark Gutierrez met me as I parked the truck at the trailhead. He was in his early thirties, fit, with a full head of black hair and enough confidence to make him a good unit leader for our search and rescue operation, but he wasn’t arrogant.

I was good with confidence, but arrogance was a deal breaker. Arrogance got men killed…kids, too.

Havoc jumped to the ground behind me, already wearing her work vest. That had always signaled her that play time was over, and I was relieved that our time in Telluride hadn’t changed that. Between the trips to Denver and the days I’d spent in Montrose with Maisie, I’d worried that she’d fall out of rhythm. I’d gone back to Montrose and brought Ella and Maisie home yesterday after being there for a week, and when the call came in this afternoon, Havoc had jumped right back into action.

“Hey, Havoc,” Gutierrez said, moving toward her.

“Nope. She’s in work mode.” I cut off his access. She was on alert and sensitive at the moment, and I really didn’t need to file an accident report that he’d lost a finger.

“Right. Sorry, we’ve never had a retired MWD.”

“No problem. Bring me up to speed.” Havoc stayed close to my side as we moved closer to the group of men. Half were in the Telluride uniform and others in the San Miguel County. “Why are we here if the county boys are, too?”

“They’ve been looking for hours, and the missing hiker is a VIP up at one of the resorts, so we got called in to add some manpower.”

“Gotcha.” The circle parted as Gutierrez and I joined in. Havoc was given a wide berth as she sat at my command.

The guy in the center, who was obviously in charge by the bullhorn hooked at his belt, shot us a glare as a greeting.

“As I was saying for you latecomers, Mrs. Dupreveny went out with her hiking guide this morning with her two daughters, ages seven and twelve.”

Not a kid. Please don’t be a kid. I refused to be responsible for the death of another child.

“When she fell, we believe breaking her leg, she sent the guide back with her daughters to call for help. Apparently they were surprised at the lack of service up on the Highline, so we can all assume the guide isn’t a local.”

A snort of exasperation went through the group. I sighed in relief that it was an adult out there alone.

“Guide returned at noon and called the county. We deployed search and rescue shortly thereafter with no luck. Rain was definitely not our friend.”

I looked up at the sky. The clouds were still gray but no longer the water-heavy version known for the quick-tempered thunderstorms around here. We should be in the clear to work for a while.

“As you can tell, the rain has ceased, and we need to find her. Quickly. We’ve got about four hours left of good sunlight. According to the guide, he left her about an hour in and marked the trail with her bandana, which is pink. We found the bandana, and it’s still there, but there’s no Mrs. Dupreveny. Plan is to hike in as a group, then zone out search coordinates and get this woman back to her husband.”

A hand went up from one of the Telluride guys. Capshaw, if I remembered correctly. I really needed to spend more time with the other guys when I went in, not just training Havoc.

“Capshaw?”

At least I got that one right.

“Who is taking point on this?”

A mumble went through the group, and I saw it for what it was, two rival organizations working together, and hoped it wouldn’t get in the way. Egos usually blew an op. I scanned the group, seeing another dog and handler on the opposite side in a county uniform. A yellow Lab who was changing his position from sitting to standing every minute or so. Restless.

Not my business.

“County is taking point. Telluride is here as support.”

Another mumble.

“If you guys are done determining pecking order, can we get started?” I asked, impatience getting to me.

The guy’s eyes narrowed in my direction and then Havoc’s. “You’re the new guy, right? The soldier? And the dog?”

Heads swung in my direction. “That’s us. Now if we’re done wasting daylight?”

He made the be-my-guest gesture toward the trailhead, and we took off. I tightened my small pack on my back and zipped the lightweight fleece across my chest. It was already cool and only going to get colder.

“Damn, gotta step on toes on day one?” Gutierrez asked, walking next to me.

“No point talking when the mission is pretty clear.”

“Point taken.”

We handed out radio frequencies as a group and hiked along the trail, crossing a bridge and earning a view of Telluride. It really was spectacular here, with the mountains rising on both sides of us, reaching toward the sky.

Ahead about twenty yards, the other dog sprinted through the meadow that ran alongside of us. Havoc stayed right by my side, her footsteps and breathing steady.

“So I saw you downtown with Ella MacKenzie,” Gutierrez said, breaking the silence I’d been enjoying.

“Probably.” I liked Mark well enough while we were on duty and occasionally made an effort with him on the conversation front, but Ella wasn’t on my list of approved topics.

“Something going on there?” he asked in a locker-room-talk kind of way.

“Be careful,” I warned.

“Hey, I know Ella. She’s a good girl—woman. I used to be friends with her brother. He died. You know that, right? About six months ago.”

My heart stuttered in a beat that had nothing to do with the altitude. “Yeah, I know.”

“She’s got kids, too. Good kids.”

“Yep.” What was this guy getting at?

He sighed, curving the bill on his cap in a nervous tell. This guy would be easy pickings at a poker table.

“Look, I’m not trying to be nosy.”

“Sure you are. Question is: Why?”

He looked behind us, seeing what I already knew. There were about twenty feet between us and the nearest crew members. Enough distance to talk in private. “I’m just trying to look out for her.”

“Good to know.” There wasn’t a soul on the planet who cared more about Ella than I did, and while it was almost cute—his concern—it was absolutely unnecessary.

“I’m serious. She’s got a shit-ton going on, and if there was a short end of the stick to be had, Ella was given it. Between losing her parents and Jeff walking out—”

“You know Jeff?” My footsteps would have faltered if my body hadn’t been on autopilot, used to pushing on when my mind went elsewhere.

“Knew Jeff,” he corrected. “I hung out with his older brother, Blake.”

“One preppy name after another,” I muttered.

Gutierrez laughed. “That’s so true. They both are—preppy assholes, that is. Trust-fund babies who never had to struggle a day in their lives. Both had their fortunes handed to them, and now their jobs.”

A stab of pure hatred coursed through me like an acidic poison burning in my veins. Of course he had everything easy while Ella worked her ass off.

“So you know where he is?”

“Sure. He’s working for his daddy’s company in Denver. Engaged to the daughter of a politician, if his Facebook is true.”

I stored the information away, feeding the plan that had been forming since I’d promised Maisie that she wasn’t going to die.

“Anyway, you and Ella serious?” He looked at me sideways, and I glanced at his hand. Nice wide gold band. Good. I wasn’t in the mood to fight off some guy for Ella. Not when I couldn’t trust myself not to beat the shit out of him.

“We’re friends,” I said in that noncommittal way. “I’m just helping her out.”

He seemed to ponder that for a minute and then nodded. “Good. That’s good. She needs all the help she can get right now with her kids.”

“No,” I corrected, my eyes scanning the forest line just in case we found our hiker. “She doesn’t need help; she’s honestly got it handled all on her own. But I need to help her. I don’t want her to have to handle it solo. There’s a difference.”

Gutierrez nodded again, like a bobblehead, but sincere. Maybe I’d spent too much time around soldiers. Maybe civilians chatted about their feelings on hikes in the mountains. Maybe I was the odd one for being so closed off, not him for being so inquisitive.

“Sorry, man. It’s just…it’s a small town, and you’re new. And after losing Ryan, I know she’s hurting. I mean, they wouldn’t even tell her what happened.”

Of course they didn’t. Because when ops went wrong, when soldiers were knocked unconscious instead of killed, then hauled out by insurgents into the desert, stripped of their uniforms, bound, gagged, tortured, and shot in the back of their heads while wearing nothing but their boxers, the military tended to hide it from their families and call it classified.

No one wanted to think of that happening to their brother.

“I mean, they wouldn’t even let her see his body. That’s got to mess with her. For all she knows, he could still be alive somewhere, and the military is covering it up to turn him into Jason Bourne or something. It’s messed up.”

The muscles in my jaw flexed as I clenched my teeth to keep my mouth shut. This guy didn’t know anything, not what happened to Ryan, not that he was my best friend. He was just trying to watch out for Ella, to make sure I had a good, clear picture of what she’d been through. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as we approached the search location.

The path was lined with aspens, which cut our field of vision to a minimum, but there it was, tied to the stump—a pink bandana. We gathered in another circle as bullhorn guy took center stage.

It was time to go to work.

…

“That’s quite a dog you have there,” Gutierrez told me about an hour later, when our hiker had been airlifted out and we were headed back down the trail.

“She’s one of a kind,” I agreed.

He then let me walk the rest of the way in silence, for which I was grateful. It had taken me months to let Ryan in, and years to become his best friend. Ella was the only person I’d ever had an instant connection with, and I smiled when I realized Maisie and Colt were on that list now, too.

We made it down to the trail base, and I opened the truck door for Havoc to jump in. She settled in the passenger seat, happy and a little tired.

“You did great today,” Gutierrez said as he stripped off his own pack, loading it into the car parked next to mine.

“Thanks. It felt good to be useful.”

“Yeah, I get that.” He took off his hat and rubbed his head. “Look, about the stuff I said about Ella—”

“Don’t. It’s okay.” My grip tightened on my doorframe.

“Small town,” he said with a weak shrug.

It really was. Maybe not the village with the ski resorts, but the old town. Especially when the tourists weren’t around and it was mostly locals. They were all connected here, and I might not understand it, but I could do my best to respect it.

“Ryan hasn’t been dead six months.”

Gutierrez’s head snapped up.

“He’s been dead for five months and seven days, give or take a few hours. A few very long hours. I know, because he was my best friend. I served with him for the better part of a decade.”

“Oh man, I’m so sorry.” His whole posture slumped.

“Don’t be. Never be sorry for looking out for Ella. I told you only so you’d know that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her safe, to take care of her and the kids. Nothing. They’re the whole reason I’m here.”

He swallowed and finally looked at me, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Thank you for telling me. If you need anything, or if she does, just let me know, or ask for my wife, Tess. Ella won’t ever ask.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty stubborn like that.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Something tells me you are, too.”

“Guilty.”

I drove home with a tired body, a content dog, and a mind that wouldn’t quit running circles. I’d meant what I’d said: there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep Ella and the kids safe.

Or was there?

I hit the brakes as I passed Ella’s cabin.

Her insurance wouldn’t pay for the treatments that could save Maisie’s life.

But I’d read over every scrap of information online about that hospital, and my insurance would.

I threw the truck into reverse and then turned down Ella’s drive. I was out of the truck before the engine died, taking her steps two at a time and pounding on her door before my brain kicked in with every reason she’d say no, knowing I’d have to convince her to say yes.

“Beckett?” Ella asked as she opened the front door. She was in jeans and a long-sleeve tee, her hair in a thick side braid that made me want to grab ahold of it while I kissed her. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry for the drop-by. Do you have a second?”

“Sure, come on in.”

“Not where the kids can hear,” I said softly, tucking my thumbs into my pockets.

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, but she stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind her. “Okay, what’s up?”

“Your insurance won’t pay for the MIBG therapy, or the hospital she needs, or the stem cell transplant.”

“That’s right.” She folded her arms under her breasts and looked up at me, those blue eyes inquisitive but trusting.

“She has to have it, right? Or she’ll die?”

“Beckett, what is this about?”

“Will she die without it?” I repeated, my words a little sharper than I’d ever used with Ella.

“Yes,” she whispered.

I nodded to myself, turning around and pacing the length of the porch while Ella followed.

“Beckett!” she snapped.

I turned around and took a deep breath to steady my nerves. “Your insurance won’t pay for it—”

“Right, we already covered that.”

“But mine will.”

“Okay?” She blinked at me, her forehead puckering.

“Ella, marry me.”

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