CHAPTER 3 – THE LETTER THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE FOUND
CHAPTER 3 – THE LETTER THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE FOUND
The ambulance disappeared into the snowy night with its siren cutting through the silence.
For several seconds, neither Ethan nor Sophie moved.
Sophie looked down at the tiny folded paper attached to the silver snowflake pin.
"Daddy..."
She held it up with both hands.
"It fell from Miss Ava."
Ethan took the note carefully.
The front contained only six words.
To whoever finds this... goodbye.
His chest tightened.
Goodbye.
Not "thank you."
Not "see you again."
Goodbye.
He looked toward the road where the ambulance's flashing lights had already vanished.
Something about the letter felt wrong.
Not dramatic.
Final.
"Daddy?"
Sophie whispered.
"Should we read it?"
Ethan stared at the folded paper for several seconds before shaking his head.
"No."
"But what if she wanted someone to?"
"If she wanted the world to read it, she would have given it to someone."
He carefully slipped it back into the envelope.
"This belongs to Ava."
Sophie's small face became serious.
"We have to give it back."
"We will."
Twenty-five minutes later Ethan arrived at St. Gabriel Medical Center.
Not because of work.
Not anymore.
He had called Mark from the car.
"Handle the security breach."
"What about you?"
"I'm dealing with something more important."
Mark had known Ethan for fifteen years.
He had never heard those words before.
The emergency waiting room smelled of antiseptic and burnt coffee.
People cried quietly.
Children slept across plastic chairs.
Doctors walked past with the practiced speed of people carrying impossible responsibilities.
Ethan approached the reception desk.
"I'm looking for Ava Monroe."
The nurse checked the computer.
"Family?"
"No."
"Relative?"
"No."
"I'm sorry. I can't release any information."
Before Ethan could answer, an exhausted voice spoke behind him.
"He was with Sophie."
Ethan turned.
The older woman from the arena stood there, still wearing the same black coat.
Her shoulders looked ten years older than they had two hours earlier.
"I'm Margaret Ellis," she said.
"Ava's coach."
Ethan extended his hand.
"Ethan Whitaker."
"I know who you are."
Most people did.
But Margaret's expression carried no interest in his wealth.
Only exhaustion.
"You came."
Ethan looked down at the envelope in his hand.
"She dropped something."
Margaret saw the handwriting.
For the first time that night...
She looked frightened.
"Where did you find that?"
"It was attached to her pin."
Margaret closed her eyes.
"Oh, Ava..."
They sat together in the nearly empty waiting room.
Sophie had fallen asleep against Ethan's shoulder.
Margaret watched the little girl for a long time.
"She reminded Ava of someone."
Ethan frowned.
"Who?"
Margaret hesitated.
"Herself."
For several minutes neither of them spoke.
Finally Ethan asked the question that had been haunting him.
"The paramedic mentioned chemotherapy."
Margaret nodded slowly.
"Stage Four."
The words landed like stones.
Ethan struggled to believe them.
"How long?"
"Fourteen months."
He stared.
"She competed while receiving treatment?"
Margaret gave a bitter laugh.
"She won international competitions while receiving treatment."
Ethan couldn't understand.
"Why?"
Margaret looked through the hospital window into the falling snow.
"Because skating was the only place she forgot she was dying."
Ethan felt something twist painfully inside him.
His wife had never been given a choice.
Claire had died within hours of collapsing.
But Ava...
Ava had been waking every morning knowing exactly what waited for her.
Yet she had smiled.
Laughed with Sophie.
Encouraged strangers.
Won championships.
How?
Margaret suddenly spoke again.
"Did she say anything unusual tonight?"
Ethan remembered.
"She said she used to teach children."
Margaret smiled faintly.
"She loved teaching."
"What happened?"
"Treatment."
Silence.
"She couldn't risk getting infections."
Another silence.
"She cried more over leaving those children than she did over losing her hair."
Ethan slowly removed the envelope from his coat.
"I think this belongs to you."
Margaret looked at it but didn't touch it.
"No."
"What?"
"If Ava wanted me to have it..."
"She would have given it to you."
The older woman's eyes filled with tears.
"She never lets me read the goodbye letters."
Letters.
Plural.
Ethan's heart skipped.
"There are others?"
Margaret nodded.
"Every time she thinks the end is close..."
"...she writes another farewell."
Before Ethan could answer, hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor.
A young doctor rushed toward Margaret.
"Coach Ellis?"
She stood immediately.
"How is she?"
The doctor's expression wasn't encouraging.
"She regained consciousness for less than a minute."
Margaret exhaled in relief.
"Can I see her?"
The doctor hesitated.
"She asked for someone."
Margaret's eyes brightened.
"Me?"
"No."
He checked the chart.
"She asked..."
"...if the little girl with the cotton candy was safe."
Margaret looked at Sophie sleeping against Ethan's shoulder.
May you like
Then at Ethan.
Neither of them spoke.
