If Only She'd Loved Him

Chapter 62

Saturday 3:07 pm

Frowning, Jean reached for the envelope. She recognized the handwriting. Only Megan wrote in such rounded loops. A writing specialist had once told her that was a sign of a romantic, but Jean thought Megan just liked being loopy. Curious as to why Megan hadn't simply called or texted, she ripped the envelope open. The gold butterfly slid out first.

Looking down in surprise, Jean's frown deepened. She twirled the chain between her fingers, glinting it in the light. "This was from her grandmother," she said. Her voice had gotten cramped, worried. "Megan never took it off, not ever. She even wore it when she went swimming." The necklace spun as she spoke; the butterfly twirled into gold lace.

Matt touched her on the shoulder, pressing his fingers down gently. "There's a letter here too," he reminded her.

Pulling out the note, she read it out loud. Her fingers wrapped in a vise grip around the thin gold chain.

Jean,

I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I just need some time to myself for a while.
Sometimes life doesn't give you what you want unless you force it.
I figured this out long ago and so I'm not coming back.
I need to be with the one I love.

Megan

"I guess we have our answer now," Matt said.

Jean shook her head in a daze. "No, this isn't right. You don't understand. Megan never took her necklace off. She'd never do this."

"Not even to say goodbye to her best friend?"

"No, she wouldn't do this. She couldn't do this." Jean shook her hands, making the butterfly dance. "She owes me more than a necklace in a note! She's my friend! This doesn't make sense!" Jean paused, "I know it sounds crazy, but this isn't right. It doesn't feel right!" She lifted the envelope up to her face. "It doesn't even smell right! Oranges? Megan barely drank lemonade without gagging. Why does this smell like fruit?" she demanded, shaking the letter in his face.

Matt pried the letter away from her hands, sniffing at it. "I don't smell anything. I think you're imagining things."

She snatched the note back. "No, I am not!" Spinning around on her heel, she stormed back into her apartment. Matt wasn't going to leave her alone like this, not after the shock she'd just gotten. He followed.

"I didn't know Megan too well, but doesn't this sort of thing fit her personality?" he asked. "Isn't this just an unusual way to say goodbye?" Leaning over her shoulder, he read the note out loud again. "She needs to be with the one she loves. Isn't that possible?"

"No!" Jean yelled back. "It isn't. Listen to this. Sometimes life doesn't give you what you want unless you force it. That's not Megan. She'd sit on a bus going the wrong way because she felt that was the way things were meant to be. She believed in fate when it came to love, not force. She did not write this!"

"Isn't it her handwriting?" Matt pointed out gently.

"Yes, but—"

"Then Megan wrote it," he stated. Taking Jean hands between his, he cradled them inside his own, trying to comfort her. "I know it's hard," he continued, "but we rarely know people as well as we think we do."

"You don't understand," Jean argued back, but her voice was weaker than before. "Something is wrong here. I can feel it," she insisted.

Matt shook his head at her. He forced himself to be hard, trying to get her to understand the truth. "Jean, we're the ones who were wrong," he said. "Megan wasn't kidnapped. She left voluntarily. She must have set the whole thing up from the beginning. It was probably one giant game to her. It's just too bad it had to hurt you."

He cursed Megan from afar. What she'd done to Jean was tearing her up. Didn't she know she was messing with more than her own life? If she had just played it straight from the beginning, none of this would have happened. He sighed, at least one good thing had come out of Megan's note, they could stop looking for her. Maybe now that it was all over he and Jean could go get a coffee together, talk about something other than Megan or Paul for a change. "It's a good thing we found out the truth before we drove all the way up to Cameron Lake," he added. "We would have looked like idiots."

Jean took her hands out of his palms, then gnawed at her right knuckle as she considered what he'd just said. "This isn't right."

When was she going to give up? She'd just gotten a letter, even a farewell present, and she still wouldn't see reality. "Face it," he said flatly. "Megan just said goodbye. You need to accept that."

"Without telling anyone?" she scoffed. "Without getting her things? No. No. No. This doesn't make sense." She slammed her fist on the table.

Matt looked down at her still clenched fist and frowned, "What will make you feel better about all this?" he asked.

"A personal phone call from Megan, not a letter, not a text. I want to hear her voice."

"Can't help you there," he replied, "How about a coffee and a cherry Danish? I'll help you pick out the one with the most frosting."

Jean took the offer for what it was: a date. She shook her head. "No, not now, not till I'm sure." Matt felt rejected.

Disgusted by the past forty-eight hours, he stood up. Here, he'd been worried about some girl he barely knew. Got into a huge fight with his own roommate. Was about to get into yet another fight over this same girl, who'd apparently been playing them all like suckers. He was suddenly very glad he'd never really gotten to know Megan. If she walked in the door right now, I'd probably punch her out, he thought. Megan wasn't around, so he turned on the only person who was. "Then Jean-Genie, sit there till you are sure. Megan's fine. She's with the one she loves. You need to get on with your life too," he reminded her.

Damn! Jean wanted to cry, damn! Megan, I'll never forgive you if you're not in trouble. You're costing me a chance at a great guy, a nice guy, a good guy. I don't want to go this alone, she thought to herself, I can't go through this alone.

"Matt, couldn't we just go check?" she begged. "Make sure about Cameron Lake. Talk to Erik Miller. Please, it would make me feel so much better."

"We'd just be wasting our time," he replied. "We're not even sure if he's there or where the cabin is. It's a big lake."

"We could do a search while driving.  We could ask around when we get there. Oh please, if I could just get rid of this feeling. I'll let it all go. I'll let Megan go, and I'll concentrate on the future. Please Matt," her voice slipped. "I don't want to just do nothing again."

Matt paused at Jean's reference to the past: the night she'd confessed she'd stayed silent about seeing Paul, not because of shame, but because she'd wanted somebody else to go through the same pain. Was it guilt that had been driving her so hard? Despite his anger, he knew he was starting to melt. "It's over an hour drive," he argued less strongly. Jean was looking at him like he was Superman. Wasn't she a journalism major? He'd always had a weakness for Lois Lane. Still he refused to give in to her too easily. "It'll be getting dark by the time we get there," he pointed out.

"That's okay," she said eagerly. "I've got a flashlight in the car and we've got our cells."

"What if Erik's uncle has a different name? What if Sean lied to us about that too, and the cabin's in some other name entirely? We'll never find the place then."

"What if he didn't?" she responded. "C'mon Matt, we're wasting time. The sooner we go, the sooner we'll be back. I just need to know. Please, understand, I need to know," she pleaded with him.

He had a thousand arguments, but somehow, none of them seemed as important as the way her eyes were shining at him now. Her fingers dug into his arm. It was amazing the strength they had, the warmth they fired through his body. He finished melting at their touch. Even Superman had his kryptonite. "Then let's go."