Oh my god. The letter...she sent it. She wrote it. She said there was more, but that I would actually receive this one. She...she thinks about me, the way I think about her. She...she loved me. The way I love her...
I have to find her, I must, now. I can't send a letter back, that would be found, be intercepted. No one would care, it's not like anyone pays attention to me. The only one that would notice would be Meredith, and they would be coming with me, anyways. They've wanted to meet Widow, also known as Irene Calla, for so long...I just long to see her again. I wish to see her, to get an explanation...to do my own explaining. I do not wish for her to be harmed, not anymore...I only want to see her. I miss her, I so miss her...and that letter, that letter, that letter. Once I received it, I thought I might have kneeled down and sobbed, right there. Only that's not dignified, and my mother and husband are determined to make a lady of me.
Harry...the way he talks of me, you think he would be glad to be rid of me. I have hidden this letter from him, if he were to find it I should think he would kill me. He would, without a spare thought. He already harms me, he would not hesitate to kill me himself, I think. He would be glad to be rid of me, so I already have thought of leaving. But..even then, I would just be missing. He wouldn't care...
God, I long to be cared for. I yearn to be held in someone's arms, to be able to be held and loved and cared for. It has been so long, and even with Irene...she would hold me. We would lay in bed together, for hours on end, and she would play with my hair and hold me, until we both fell asleep. Nights with her were some of the most peaceful things I had ever experienced, and I long to experience them again. She made me think, no...she made me believe I could be loved. She did love me...she said it, she said that she did.
That made all the difference. And now...now I have proof, real life proof to show to Meredith. I must go see Meredith, and then we can set out to go find Irene. Hopefully she won't kill me, though...after all we've been through, not just her but myself, too, it wouldn't surprise me. There are so many times she could've killed me, but she didn't. She knew I was a Pinkerton...and she didn't care.
There is still some part of me that thinks I will wake up, and that this will be a dream. Or maybe...maybe I will wake up, and I will awaken in her arms. To be loved by a woman is a terrifying, wonderous thing. Maybe I will wake up, and I will be in her arms, her playing with my hair as she sings...she had such a lovely voice, it was so nice to hear her sing. She rarely sung for anyone else, but she'd sing for me, if I asked to hear a tune or two. The fact of that she didn't believe she could sing, she didn't believe she had any talent...oh, how I wish to lift the heartache and sorrow that plagues her. She is a smart, gentle, fierce being, and if she were to lift her heavy wings I truly believe she would be able to overtake us all.
I do not believe in a God, but Irene Calla is an angel. She is the angel sent down from heaven, and I love her so dearly I fear as though I will never stop. She is an angel, a true thing of an angelic nature, and she is both intimidating and a welcoming, calming face.
Meredith and I will be leaving to find her soon. When I told Harry about it, I told him I was going somewhere to do something for work. He wouldn't check, anyways, so it was a fine lie to tell.
My life is built on lies, apparently.
ns 15.158.61.12da2
