Page 111 of The Last Letter of Rachel Ellsworth

Veronica laughed. “You know what? It always is. I don’t know why I’m still responding.”

“Do you want to talk it out?”

“No, thanks. It’s all stupid divorce stuff. Never any fun for other people.” She bent her head over the phone, her hair tumbling forward. It seemed more alive somehow, falling freer. “I can’t really ignore my daughter, even if she’s annoying me.”

Mariah nodded. It reminded her that she hadn’t texted Jill, so she did that quickly before they got moving. Henry had already told them not to expect Wi-Fi, but it was fine now.

Hey! I’m on a train on the way to Delhi. How was Christmas and everything?

A text came back immediately.Hey, stranger. Christmas was quiet. Jack is doing very well, so we’ll take that as the best Christmas gift ever. SO good to hear from you. Are you enjoying yourself? Did you read your mom’s letters?

Yeah. Just today. It’s a good trip.

How’s Henry? And Veronica? Did she turn out to be a good companion?

She’s really good, honestly. Better than I expected. I think she’ll do a good job on the book.

Glad to hear it.

Hey, wondering if my mom talked about what happened after her last letter? Did you sendallthe letters?

. . .

. . .

. . .

Mariah narrowed her eyes. Why was it taking so long?

Can I call you tomorrow?Jill asked.

I’d rather do it now?

She waited. The phone was in her hand. No dots. Some new passengers settled across the aisle, two young women with hennaed hands. They giggled together, sharing something on one’s phone.

Impatient, worried that the train would start moving, Mariah dialed her aunt. “What isup, Jill?”

“It’s complicated,” Jill said. “And I’m tired, and you’re so far away, and I just would rather wait to talk about it.”

“You’re freaking me out.”

She was quiet for a long minute. The train started moving very slowly. “Hurry,” Mariah said. “I’m going to lose you.”

“I’ll send the last letter to Veronica. There are—”

The call dropped. Mariah dialed again, but she didn’t pick up, or it wasn’t going through. Holding the phone, she asked Veronica, “Is your phone still working?”

“Yes. Unfortunately.” She held it close to her belly, as if to muffle the buzzes Mariah could still hear.

“Can you get online and see if Jill sent another letter?”

“Sure.” She opened the app. They started moving faster, out of the station and into the city. Lights sparkled all around. Mariah saw into rooms, saw laundry on a line, and a woman cooking. They passed a tall apartment building, most with lights on, and kept moving. She called Jill again. Still didn’t pick up.

“Nothing,” Veronica said. “But I think I lost service. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of worried about what happened to my mom back then. She didn’t want to tell me.”

Veronica held her phone in her lap, looking at her. Henry sat next to her, reading his fat history book again. His glasses madehim look less like the wild photographer and more like an ordinary guy.Getting old, too,she thought. Wrinkles around his eyes and on his neck. He sat next to Veronica, and she thought, with a start of surprise, that they looked like they belonged together. Not like a new couple, but one that had been together for ages and ages. As if they were supposed to be—