Oh, my dear affianced manfriend,
how
our being apart makes me languish.
I'm a prisoner in my own house,
but
it's not like I've any ambition
to do anything. My cat didn't
understand why she couldn't be with
me. Poor thing. I kept trying to
tell her that she'd only make me
sicker, but she meowed all the more
desperately.
We've had to send
her to a cat-sitter for the duration.
Either Bobby or one of his cop friends
is here all day or night. I told them
to stay downstairs on watch. If they
sat
out in the hallway outside of my
room, they wouldn't see Geoff trying
to climb the tree or something outside
my window. Surely the presence of
more than one KSP patrol car outside
on
the street would make him think
twice about attacking.
But, then again, as crazy as he's gone,
he may try anything. I would have
no qualms about shooting him in the
head
if he came after me again.
I've
been wanting to call the cathedral
here
locally to reserve the church for
our wedding, but seeing as we have no
date
yet, I can't do that.
I asked mom to pick up the latest issue
of
Modern Bride, though. I'm also
making my list of things to do, and trying
to decide on a maid or matron of honor.
I
may just make life simple for myself,
and
ask Barbara. Have you thought of
who you want to be your Best Man?
No, I hadn't gotten that far yet.
The thought of marriage used to make
me
cringe, and after Geoff, I didn't
even
want to go out. But I met you,
and
all that changed. I mentally
started planning our wedding the day
I met you.
Mike buried his face in his pillow and bawled. Had he known that, he would've popped the question much sooner,
and they possibly could've gotten married before she died.
I
spoke with Dad & Uncle Hank about
what you could do once back on your
feet.
They agreed with me that you
have great potential do to many things
within
firefighting. Oh, my dear
manfriend,
please do not give up
on yourself!
The color of ink changed.
You'd
think, in a house full of
civil servants,
there'd be a working
pen
to be found. If this letter ends
up being written in crayon, don't
be surprised.
Hey, that's okay. I don't care if it's written in chalk on a paper sack, just get it to me. Mike,
you moron, what ARE you thinking?
Another coughing fit. I'm exhausted.
I'll have to close here. Remember,
I
love you and want to be there with
you.
All yours,
Betsy