You Can't Hide by Theresa Sneed (uplifting novels TXT) 📕

glance at the letters, Sofia took her place at the head of the table. “There’s always so many, but at least, now, we have another writer.” She smiled at Nancy. “Welcome, Nancy. We hope you will stay.” She set the paper and the box on the table.

The other women joined in with their greetings. Gem sat directly across from Nancy, gave her a slight grin, and then turned her attention back to Sofia.

Sofia reached forward and took the nearest envelope. She opened it. “Sad in Salzburg,” she said, holding it out to Gem who eagerly took it, along with a sheet of paper and an envelope from the small box. Sofia opened another. “Oh, this one’s new.” Reading down through it, she set it aside. The next letter was from, “Troubled Trina.”

“She’s mine.” Wendy reached for the letter.

Sofia perused the next note. “Bothered in Bixby?”

Gabby reached forward. “She’s mine.”

Nancy sat still as each woman claimed several of the letters. Once all had been taken, some of the women went to other parts of the courtyard, leaving her alone with Millie, Gabby, and Sofia.

Noting her obvious confusion, Gabby said, “This is what we do on Mondays—answer letters, and give advice. Y’know, kind of like Dear Abbey, only just for women.”

Still confused, Nancy blurted, “Oh, I thought you wrote things.”

“We do,” Gabby said, making a face. “Oh, you mean like poetry? That’s on Thursday.”

“Oh.”

“Yep. On Monday, we answer letters,” Millie said. “Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, we come together and share our works in progress, from journals and poetry, to novels.”

Sofia picked up the letter she had put aside earlier. “Do you want to give it a try?” She held it toward Nancy.

Not really. “Okay,” Nancy said. Sure this wasn’t the place for her, she began planning her escape. She’d read the letter and politely refuse it, excuse herself, and then flee back to her blue cabin. Will you listen to yourself, Nance? She inwardly groaned, aware of her craziness. You’ve got to fight this insanity—not flee it. Still, she thought to mimic the women who had found a quiet place to read their letters, took a piece of paper, an envelope, and the letter, and went to one of the hidden benches.

She didn’t open the letter, but just stared at the sunlight that filtered through the leaves and danced on its folded page, beckoning her to open it.

Several minutes passed. She wondered how long the writing group met. Stepping to the hanging branches, she parted them and looked out. Millie still sat at the white table, vigorously writing her response. Sofia sat back in her chair, pen in mouth, reading one of the letters she had chosen. Gem sealed an envelope and placed it back in the middle of the table along with at least a dozen sealed envelopes.

Nancy let the branches fall back into place, opened the letter, and sat down on the bench.

Hello,

I’ve never done this before. Not sure I want to. Truth? I don’t want to, but they’re making me. My mom and my therapist, I mean. I don’t need your help. I don’t need it, and I don’t want it. I just want to be left alone. No one cares anyhow, so why should you?

-Nobody Important

Nancy stared at it for a long time. How was she supposed to answer a letter from someone who didn’t want her advice? Sound familiar, Nance? She groaned and searched for a pen in her pocket.

Dear Nobody Important, she began, but then crossed out nobody and changed it to somebody.

Dear Somebody Important,

Boy, did you get the right person to answer this. I feel just like you do, well, I don’t feel like I’m not important, but I definitely understand wanting to be left alone.

I guess the first thing I would say to you, if we were sitting across from each other, is to stop calling yourself nobody. Nobodies don’t exist. Everyone is somebody, and so, you are somebody important.

If you think negative thoughts about yourself, then you might begin to believe them, and if you believe them, then you won’t see yourself for who you are—incredible. We all are, you know—incredible.

So, I guess, just start with that. Look yourself in the mirror and say, “I am somebody important.”

And wanting you to reach out to someone you don’t know, like me? Well, I guess I see how that could help, even if it’s from a total stranger. It’s funny, I don’t even know you, but I find myself caring about you. Maybe that’s the reason they want you to reach out—to discover that many people would be there to help . . . if you’d just let them.

She reread her own words aloud. “Many people would be there to help, if you’d just let them.” Astonished, she glanced about, but still hidden by the massive willow tree, no one had witnessed her reaction—the strong tingling going throughout her body, or the tears that had quickly followed.

After regaining her composure, she again stared at her letter, wondering how to sign it. After some thought, she decided to use a pen name—something that would show she was a caring person.

She thought it clever enough, so she signed her letter:

Love, Karin

Sealing it, she wrote Nobody Somebody Important on the envelope. She didn’t disturb anyone’s writing, just slipped the sealed envelope in with the others on the white table, and left the inner courtyard, feeling delightfully empowered.

Twenty-Five

Kiltegan, Ireland

Sally stared up at the ceiling, trembling from the nightmare that had shocked her awake. Her eyes went to the calendar hanging on the wall. Large X’s crossed out the days, showing how much time Nancy had been gone. Three days left, she thought. She rolled over and sat up. A heavy sigh left her lips.

Scary dreams were one thing, but what about that weirdo in the white van? Maybe she was being overdramatic. After all, couldn’t he simply have been asking for directions? Still, there was something strange about him—some eerie