This House of Lonely Echoes

Jamie told Harry she was going to call a few people to see if anyone else she knew had ever spoken with Hilde. Harry sat admiring the view out of Max and Jamie's apartment while finishing off a coffee. She only overheard snippets of conversations, either Jamie knew quite a lot of people, or she wasn't having that much success finding anyone who knew her pen-pal.

She caught the tone of Jamie's conversation changing as it suddenly went from light-hearted to sounding serious.

“Where are you sure? Just repeat it back to me a second time, just to make sure I heard you right?

She noticed Jamie scribbling something down on a note and then pocketed it.

“Thanks for that. Call me next time you're in town.” Jamie said, ending the call.

She came back over to Harry. “I was speaking with a friend of a friend and they said the name was familiar and gave me an address. I think it's better if you see it rather than me telling you.”

“That sounds ominous, but I trust you,” Harry replied.

“Max has already taken the car, so we'll need to get the bus.

The two of them boarded the bus into Aspen. They sat in silence as this was Harry's first opportunity to take in the view in the daytime. The landscape was really beautiful, and the snow gave it this mystical, ethereal quality to it all. Harry was surprised that they Jamie made them get off at a residential district and not the commercial district. She watched Jamie look at the note she had made earlier and then compare that against a map on her phone. She trusted Jamie, though and any lead that got her a step closer to where her friend was was a step in the right direction. The bus had dropped them off at the bottom of a hill.

“Where are we going, Jamie?” Harry asked her.

“You'll see when we get there,” Jamie answered.

Harry couldn't help but pick up on a slight nervous tension in her voice when answering the question. They headed up the hill, and Harry was asking Jamie various questions about some of the best skiing routes. Harry was keen to go skiing once they tracked down Hilde. They got halfway up the hill, and Jamie stopped them at Presbyterian church. She thought it was a strange place for them to stop, she didn't recall Hilde ever mentioning doing anything with the church. Possibly she had started doing volunteer work?

“Is this the place your friend gave you the directions to?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, this is where she said to go,” Jamie replied.

For a moment, Harry felt her feet had gone leaden, and she couldn't take another step further. She wasn't quite sure why. Jamie saw her standing there looking mystified and took her by the hand and lead her into the churchyard. Jamie left Harry by herself for a moment. She looked at the church for a moment, which was a lot simpler in its design compared to many of the orthodox churches back home, which were often more lavish and stylish. She saw Jamie talking to an older black groundskeeper. The groundskeeper was pointing towards the back of the church. Jamie came back over to Harry.

“Does Hilde work here?” Harry asked.

“Harry, it's better if I just show you,” Jamie said, sounding concerned.

Jamie led her up past the church to where there was a small row of gravestones. It was a small and well-maintained little plot of land. There were several Yew trees that looked like they had been standing there for many years. Jamie led her past a few lines of graves, and then her heart sank as she realised where Jamie was leading her. She stood there and began crying uncontrollably as she read the text on the gravestones.

Hilde Swanson 2001-2014

Some stars shine for only a moment, yet their light remains long after they are gone. Yours will guide us for the rest of our lives

Jamie walked up behind her and hugged her. “I'm sorry, Harry. I know this hurts, but I didn’t think you would believe me unless I showed it to you.”

“But this doesn't make sense. I have a letter she sent me two weeks ago.” Harry said, sounding anguished.

“I wasn't sure if you were just in shock when you mentioned that,” Jamie told her.

Harry reached into one of her pockets and took the folded last letter that she had received from Hilde a few weeks ago. She passed it to Jamie, who took a moment to study it.

“This doesn't make sense. Why would someone have you come all the way out here if your friend passed five years ago? That's kind of weird or some sick joke.” Jamie commented.

“None of this makes any sense,” Harry said, sounding exasperated

The pair of them watched the groundskeeper walking over to them. He was talking to someone on the phone.

“He said to call you if you came looking for her.” The groundskeeper informed her and passed Harry the phone.

“Hello, Harry. This Wilhelm. Hilde's father. I think I owe you a long overdue conversation. I'll send a taxi to come and pick you up from the church.” Wilhelm advised.

“Thank you, Wilhelm. I look forward to meeting you.” Harry said handing the phone back to the groundskeeper.

“Who was that?” Jamie asked.

“Hilde's father wants to speak to me. He's sending a car for me” Harry told her.

The two of them walked back to the entrance to the church.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Jamie asked.

“I think this is meant to be a conversation between the two of us. Thank you for getting me this far.” Harry replied.

“If you need somewhere to stay later, you can crash with me and Max again,” Jamie replied.

The taxi pulled up, and Harry hugged Jamie before getting into the vehicle. She watched Jamie walk back down the hill toward the bus stop. Harry sat in silence in the taxi as it drove her across Aspen and eventually pulled up into the drive of a large mansion. The grounds looked immaculately maintained. She attempted to give the driver a tip, but he waved her off and explained he had already been suitably compensated for the ride.

Harry got out and walked up to the front door and knocked. She was greeted by a thin, bespectacled older man in either his very late fifties or early sixties. He had greying hair and was wearing a tweed jacket with black trousers. Crowding round his ankles was a long-haired tortoiseshell cat.

“You must be Arakaya. Please do come in.” Wilhelm greeted her.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Hilde's father,” Harry replied.

“Can I take your coat, Arakaya? He asked her.

She took it off and handed it to him. He invited her to follow her into the living room. There were two sofas placed on opposite sides of a coffee table. She noticed there was a wheelchair in one corner, covered in dust, and it had been collapsed down to a more portable form.

“I was about to make a pot of tea. I find Chamomile is often relaxing. I also have Earl Grey if you would prefer.” Wilhelm offered.

“Some Chamomile would be lovely.”

Wilhelm left Harry with the cat. She sat down on one of the two sofas and the feline quickly joined her, seeking attention. She recalled that Hilde had once mentioned a kitten in one of her letters. She had been called Dahlia. She began making a fuss of her and checked the collar to confirm that she was the cat her friend had mentioned.

Wilhelm returned and placed the teapot down on the table and poured a cup for each of them. He set it down on the table for her. Wilhelm was aware she was staring at him, a look that demanded a thousand answers.

“Can I call you Harry?

“I would like that. You already know what I'm going to ask.”

“There was never going to be an easy way to tell you this. Hilde passed away five years ago. She had always been a sickly child and when she was nine was contracted a rare form of cancer.”

“But the letters. I was still receiving letters from Hilde as recently as a few weeks ago.”

“The moments when Hilde was happiest were when she received one of your letters. It allowed her to forget about anything that was happening to her, the ways her body was betraying her. She would spend hours afterwards telling us about Harry's adventures. She loved hearing from you, loved you telling her about your world. She would start thinking about all of these vivid stories, all of the things that she wanted to do with you.”

“She put these things in her letters. She told me about the wild adventures we would go on together, all the cute boys we would meet, places she wanted to see with each other. I wanted more than anything to experience these things with her.”

“I knew how much those letters meant to both of you. I hate the subterfuge and the deception but knowing how much they made you happy. I started writing them to you after she passed away. When you suggested finally meeting, I thought I could finally tell you. I knew that I had to eventually and then when it came time to pick you up from the airport, I got scared. I'm sorry I did that, Harry.”

“What of Margaret?” Harry asked, realising that Hilde's mother was absent from all of this.

“Sadly, Margaret passed two years ago. Now it's just me and Dahlia in this house of lonely echoes.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Would you like to see Hilde's room? Apart from removing the dust, I have keep it untouched she left me. She would have liked for you to see it.”

“Then yes.”

Wilhelm guided her through the house and to Hilde's bedroom.

“I'll give you some time alone,” Wilhelm advised, letting her into the room.

Harry stepped inside, uncertain what to expect. Hilde's bedroom was decorated in a style she expected of a teenage girl. The walls were painted in pastel colours. There was vanity, decorated in stars. She saw there was a collection of snow globes from different places from around the world. What caught her eye most of all was the large pinboard that dominated one wall. It was a collage of things that Hilde had cut out of various teen magazines and travel brochures. There was also trinkets and knick-knacks that Harry had sent her over the years.

She started to cry when she saw what Hilde had done. Pasted on many different items were drawings of two stick figures labelled Harry and Hilde. This was Hilde imagining the places that she had wanted the two of them to visit. Hilde had mentioned that she liked drawing in some of her letters. She went back over to the desk and found a sketchbook. She flipped through it and saw how Hilde's talent had taken shape over the years she had drawn many scenes from the adventures she imagined of the two of them.

She sat on Hilde's bed for some time, just imagining the conversations she could have had with her friend, the places she could have seen with her. She wished Hilde had been brave enough to tell but she also understood why she did not, the letters had always been her escape and even if for a little while it allowed to forget about that part of herself.

She left Hilde's bedroom and found Wilhelm in the kitchen.

“I was making another tea. Would you like to join me outside? Hilde liked to sit with me on the back porch and look over the garden and watch the birds.”

“I would like to join you.”

Wilhelm made them a second tea, and they went to sit on the back porch. Wilhelm provided both of them with blankets for warmth.

Harry noticed there were many bird feeders hanging from trees, hooked over poles and free-standing.

“Hilde loved animals in all shapes and sizes. She could sit out here for hours and watch and sketch them.”

“I saw the chair back in the living room. How bad was she?” Harry asked.

“It was a rare form of cancer that affected the bones in her legs. She was sadly confined to the chair for her past few years. We paid for treatments, experimental techniques and for a little time it made her better. But there was a lot of pain and discomfort. We realised that she was doing it for us, trying to extend the time she had with us. What time she had with your letters. “ Wilhelm explained.

Wilhelm started crying. The tears streamed down his cheeks. Harry just got up and comforted him. It was strange Harry comforting him, when it was she who had only just learned of her friend's passing.

“I'm sorry I thought I would be able to put on a braver face than this. I'm sorry reminiscing like this, going over things I thought had put away years ago..I wish you had really met her, Harry. She was brilliant, kind, funny, sensitive, always curious.”

“I wish I could have as well.”

They sat there and finished their drinks before heading back inside.

“There are a few final things I need to discuss with you. The chalet I mentioned in the letter is booked if you wanted to stay there. You are also welcome to stay here as well, or you could return to your friend I saw you with earlier.”

“I think I would like to spend at least one night here.”

“I would, and Dahlia would be delighted at the company. I am an excellent cook.”

“I haven't had a proper meal since the plane. If you can call airline food a proper meal.”

“Next there is the matter of Hilde's will.”

“Her will?

“I have a copy in my study. I'll fetch it for you.” Wilhelm advised.

He left and returned a few minutes later holding a laminated copy of Hilde's will. He handed it to her and gave her a moment to read it.

“I'm her sole beneficiary?

“After Hilde, Margaret and I decided against having any other children. I used to be an academic, a researcher. I travelled the globe a lot, but after Hilde's illness got worse, I took a position that would let me be closer to her. Margaret was an artist and sold many of her paintings. She left what would have been her inheritance to you.

“Her inheritance.”

“It is a reasonable amount, and it would also include the house after I pass on. I don't plan on going just yet, mind you, and I filed things with my lawyer quite some time ago.”

“But why?

“She loved you, Harry. I think she hoped you would be able to go on the adventures she always wanted the pair of you to go on.”

“This is a lot.”

“I know. All of this is a lot to process.”

Harry left Wilhelm alone in the kitchen for a moment and returned to Hilde's bedroom. She picked up the sketchbook and returned to Wilhelm.

“Hilde's sketchbook. I've not looked through it in years.”

“I'm going to visit the places she mentioned and then record them in here for her. I think it is what she would have wanted.”

“Spend the night. I'll make you a fantastic breakfast. Return to your friends and then decide what you want to do next. The house will be here when you want to come back.

Harry did as Wilhelm suggested and spent the night. She spent hours pouring over Hilde's sketchbook. She was sad that she never got to meet her friend and would always cherish the letters she had sent. She would honour her friend's memory and fill the sketchbook and tell her friend everything.