A Promise Kept 3

Rebecca threw her pencil down at her open notebook with a groan of frustration. "Ugh, it's hopeless! I'm

never

going to get this."

Henry looked up from his textbook to give her a sympathetic grin across the library table. He wasn't the only one. Rebecca had thrown the pencil at her notebook with enough force to make a bit of noise, and it bounced off her page with some force. Along with Henry, a few of the students at the tables around them looked up at her, and even the librarian on duty at the front desk a few feet away gave her a suspicious look.

Henry grinned at her, though. "We've all been there. I'm sure you're doing better than you think you are."

Rebecca appreciated Henry's attempt to cheer her up. It was times like this when she felt grateful for having her study period line up with Henry's.

For one thing, it meant she could see her oldest and closest friend during school hours; and this semester, she only had two classes with him, so having an extra period where she could spend time with him made all the difference. But on top of that, it meant that when moments of doubt like this one came, Henry was right across the table to talk her through it.

He was good at talking Rebecca up when she felt down. He always had been, ever since they had first become friends when they were kids. But unfortunately, despite Henry's talent for it, his encouragement fell a little flat sometimes.

After all, the two of them were both in their senior year of high school. The stakes were a lot higher than when they had been children; Henry wasn't trying to cheer her up about the fact that no one had liked what she brought to show-and-tell anymore.

There was a lot more on the line, these days. Rebecca was working hard-- so hard, every day, at all times-- to try and secure the future she wanted for herself. She was studying for her classes while at the same time also sending out a never-ending stream of college applications. And at times like this, when her schoolwork stumped her, she felt like she wasn't going to measure up, no matter how much she tried to. And even though Henry's reassurance was comforting, it could no longer assuage her doubts the way it once had. Not when she knew how much was on the line.

"You don't get it, Henry," Rebecca said, with a frustrated shake of her head, and a partial sigh. "This is my senior level Law class, and I just can't put it together in my head. I'm trying to apply to get into college for pre-law, for god's sake. If I can't even understand a high-school level Law class, what chance do I have of making it through university, let alone finding success in the working world?"

In the course of speaking, Rebecca's voice had risen in volume, drawing the eyes of neighboring students again-- and by the time that Rebecca had finished her increasingly panicked rant, the librarian had left her front desk post and crossed to the table. Both Rebecca and Henry looked up at her when she reached them.

"You two do remember where you are, don't you? This is the

library

.

Everyone here is trying to concentrate on their work. If you need to have an impassioned conversation with each other, it would be more considerate for you to move yourselves out to the hall tables."

Rebecca flushed a bit. She hadn't realized she'd been that loud. "Sorry, Ms. Jensen," she apologized.

"We'll be quieter," Henry added, and Rebecca nodded her agreement.

Ms. Jensen didn't look completely convinced, and she was still giving Rebecca a suspicious look by the time she'd re-stationed herself at the front desk.

Rebecca gave another apologetic smile to her, and then turned back to Henry.

He tilted his head, to try and get a better view of her notebook from where he was sitting. "What part of the classwork is giving you so much trouble?"

"These hypothetical scenarios," Rebecca groaned, more quietly this time. She cast a quick look to Ms. Jensen at the front desk-- she was no longer watching her. She'd been quiet enough.

Rebecca looked back to Henry. "The teacher gives us a scenario, and then we have to read the existing case law and mock-up a legal response to the situation. But all of the case law is just so dense, and I can't make my brain synthesize the information. I'll never be a lawyer," Rebecca wailed in conclusion, the despair clear in her voice. She let herself flop forward, arms on the table first, folded over each other-- and then her head against her arms.

Henry's hand came across the table to give Rebecca's arm a shake, stirring her to lift her head back up from her arms to look at him again. Once she had, Henry took his hand back.

"Well, who says you have to be a lawyer?" He asked, in a tone of genuine interest and concern. Then he gave her his friendly, crooked smile. It reassured her-- but not enough to cheer up completely. "You could be something else," Henry suggested, brightly. "You could even drop you law class. We aren't even past the drop date deadline in the semester yet."

Rebecca shook her head forcefully. "I

want

to be a lawyer. It's the only career I've ever been interested in. I'd give

anything

to be a successful lawyer."

Henry's eyebrows lifted when she said that. "You'd give anything?"

Rebecca nodded eagerly. "

Anything

."

"Well, if you'd really give anything," Henry said, watching her closely as he spoke, "I might be able to help you in your career. I have a certain talent I could pull out, and use on your behalf. But I wouldn't do it for free-- I'd expect something in return."

Rebecca listened; her eyes wide with curiosity. She'd never heard Henry talk this way before-- and what was this mysterious talent he was referencing? He'd never mentioned it-- could it really be powerful enough to help her?

"What would you want in exchange for helping me?" Rebecca asked. She had no predictions as to what his answer was going to be.

"If I use my talent to pull strings for you, and I help you to become a successful lawyer, would you be mine?"

Rebecca did a double take. Would she be

his

? That almost sounded like--

"Henry, do you have a crush on me?" The shock in her voice was evident to her own ears.

Henry gave her a very direct look, which left nowhere for her to hide. "Yes, Rebecca, I do. I'm attracted to you-- I have been, for a very long time. I'm willing to make this deal with you-- I'll get you the career you want; if you'll give yourself to me."

There was a charge in Henry's words that made Rebecca tense up. He was a familiar, comfortable figure in her life-- she'd always thought of him like a kind of teddy bear; or a brother. He was a security blanket for her in human form, and he'd never let on that he wanted anything more from her than that.

She didn't know what to do with this information. She only knew that thinking of Henry having a crush on her made her feel awkward. And she wanted that awkwardness to end-- she wanted to

stop

feeling tense about this.

The best way to do that that she could think of was to laugh him off. "Sure, Henry. If you've got some magical, special talent that you can use to make me into a successful lawyer, and you use it for that, I'll be yours."

Henry smiled, but his eyes held the same charge. "Great. I'll be sure to hold up my end of the deal. Just make sure you hold up yours."

There was still another half-hour left in study period after that part of their conversation ended. But oddly, it seemed to streak by without Rebecca noticing; in fact, the entire rest of the day passed without Rebecca noticing it go by.

She only really started following the progress of time again when she got home at the end of the day. And by then, she had forgotten all about Henry and the strange conversation they had had that day during study period.

***

"Great job on your panel appearance tonight," The member of the news staff told Rebecca, as he helped her take off the mic on the lapel of her suit jacket.

"Thanks, David," Rebecca returned. She'd done enough of these panel spots now that she knew most of the staff members by name. It was one of the more satisfying parts of her job-- one of the things that gave her the feeling that she'd

made

it, and all her ambitions had been fulfilled.

After all, she was only 29 years old, and she was on the fast track to making partner at her firm; and if that weren't enough, she was respected enough by her community at large that she was frequently invited to sit on one of the panels of the local news show to share her opinions on some of the political or municipal goings-on of the day.

And on top of that, she had a research paper coming out next month in a law journal, in which she had published several others before. And she'd published still others in journals other than that specific one.

When Rebecca had used to dream of being a lawyer, she'd never dreamed she would have such success, let alone so much of it, and so quickly into her career. She'd only been practicing law for a few years but, here she was.

And yet, though she was successful in each aspect of her career, it was when she sat on the local news panel that she felt most appreciated for what she did. In those moments, she felt like a true pillar of the community-- respected for the work she did.

It was a very satisfying feeling.

She waved her goodbyes to a few more staff members as she stepped out through the front doors of the news building, and then took off across the parking lot to let herself into her car.

As she drove home, she savored her feeling of accomplishment just a little more. It was amazing, really; her career had come so easily to her.

She'd stressed so much back in the day about getting accepted into a school for her pre-law degree, but when her admission letters came, she'd been accepted into some of the finest in the country.

All her nerves and doubt had been for nothing. Getting her pre-law degree had turned out to be a breeze. And then when it had been time to go to law school for real, that had come even easier, and before she'd even completed her final year of it-- before she'd even been called to the bar-- she'd had a plumb job at a great firm waiting for her, and within only a year, she'd moved from working as a paralegal there to having her own law practice under the firm, with her own clients, and her own assistant.

And in the few years that had followed, Rebecca become an established professional name in the community; and she'd also had some of her legal research accepted for publications into reputable legal journals. It had all fallen into place so easily, like it was meant to be; like it was predestination working in her favor; like it was fate.

Rebecca was grateful for it every day. She was one of the few lucky people in the world who

truly

loved her job-- and loved every part of it.

When Rebecca got home, she parked her car in the driveway and got out, before going up her front walk to the door of her house. She made enough by the year that she had easily been able to afford buying her own house; and she'd become a homeowner well before most of the other people her age that she knew.

She reached her front door, and after she had unlocked it, but before she went inside, she lifted the lid of her mailbox.

There was a letter inside. Strange-- Rebecca hadn't been expecting a letter. Who sent letters by mail anymore, in this current day and age? Hadn't everyone switched to digital by now?

There was no postage on the envelope, so whoever had written this to her must have come by her house personally to place it in her mailbox by hand.

On the outside of the envelope, only one thing was written, centered in the middle of the envelope's front face-- "From Henry."

Rebecca frowned as she took the letter inside with her.

Henry

-- now

there

was a name she hadn't heard in a long time. He'd been her best friend since before she'd even started school as a young child and had stayed her best friend all the way through her youth and adolescence until high school graduation... and then he'd just... faded away. She hadn't kept in touch with him during her first year of college at all, and had completely failed to keep track of him throughout the years since. She hadn't spoken to him in person once since her graduation day.

She still had fond memories of him, though-- how could she have not? He'd been such a huge part of her life for so long, even if he had gone out of it eventually. Part of her was even pleased to have received this letter. At last she could find out what was going on in his life, after the ten plus years they'd gone without speaking. Maybe she could even get back in touch with him, and they could become friends again.

It was a nice thought-- it made Rebecca happy.

And it didn't bother her so much to think of someone stopping by her house to hand-deliver a letter; not if it was Henry who had done it. It didn't even strike her as odd that he knew where she lived. They had enough of the same friends and acquaintances in common that it was perfectly plausible he might have gotten her address from one of them.

Rebecca took a seat in her living room armchair, getting ready to fully enjoy the experience of reading a letter from an old friend. And once she was settled in place, she tore open the sealed lip of the envelope to pull the letter out from within it.

Rebecca--

(the letter began):

I saw you on the commentary panel last week that aired on our local news station. Speaking with authority on your realm of expertise becomes you-- and you also looked very beautiful in your finely tailored pantsuit.

Rebecca stopped reading for a moment. This was strange-- not like the letter she had been expecting at all. Henry hadn't mentioned anything about his own life; it was only about her.

And, frankly, it made her feel a little flustered to read it... he was writing about her as if he... well... desired her. And desire was not typically an emotion she associated with Henry.

At all

.

She resumed reading:

I've seen you on that same panel more than once; every time I see you there, your beauty strikes me.

But your panel appearances are of interest to me for another reason. It seems that you're receiving recognition in our community for the work you do. You have been receiving it for quite some time, now. I've noticed; and I let you enjoy it awhile.

But you made a deal with me. I kept my end of that deal-- I pulled the strings for you behind the scenes, I made sure all the doors were open for you to walk through. I handed you the career you always said you wanted.

It's time for you to hold up your end of the deal. I gave you what you wanted-- now you give me what I want. Become mine.

I'm waiting for you.

- H

When she reached the end of the letter, her hand twitched involuntarily, and the paper crinkled in one section in response to it.

Rebecca didn't notice the paper warping under her involuntary motion; She didn't notice, either, when the hand still holding the letter fell to her lap.

What was Henry

talking

about? She didn't remember making any deal with him. And it seemed laughable to imagine Henry as some kind of puppet master behind the scenes who had

arranged

her career for her. She'd secured her own career for herself-- she'd earned it. She was

that

good.

Besides, that wasn't how the world worked. Things weren't that simple. They couldn't all just be neatly arranged by one person to run smoothly, in just exactly the way that person wanted. That was how things happened in stories; not how they happened in real life. Rebecca shook her head in disbelief.

After a moment of indulging her confusion, she collected herself again. Well. So much for that-- after a letter of this kind, she didn't feel particularly keen on getting back in touch with her old friend. He clearly had some strange obsession with her; and it almost sounded like he was outright delusional. If he believed that he was single-handedly responsible for her career, he clearly wasn't sane.

Too bad-- she'd been interested in getting back in touch with her friend as she had known him. Clearly, he wasn't that person anymore. Too bad.

But she was an adult; she could live with that disappointment.

Rebecca slipped Henry's letter out of sight into a drawer; filing it away in the back of her head as surely as she had filled in her kitchen counter drawer.

She didn't think about it again.

Time passed. Rebecca kept busy with her job, and enjoyed every second of it, as always.

Then, two weeks later, there was another note in her mailbox. This one had not been placed into an envelope. It was much shorter in length than the last one had been, but she recognized his handwriting.

It was short enough that she could read it without needing to take it inside. That was what she did. She read it while she was still standing outside her own door.

Rebecca-- Remember now. Remember now, and come back to me. You don't have to remember all at once, but remember. Put it together for me. Figure it out. You'll know when the time is right for you to come and find me.

He hadn't signed his initial to it at the bottom, but she knew this note was from Henry, too. It was unintelligible to her-- she chalked it up to Henry's world of mental delusion, and didn't bother herself about it any further.

The note didn't make it into the drawer with the letter. Rebecca threw it into her recycling bin before she even went inside.

But over the next few weeks after that second note, Rebecca found herself drawn repeatedly to the same question. Was it

possible

that Henry had, somehow, played an invisible part in the construction of her professional success?

She didn't believe it

was

possible; it sounded laughably far-fetched to her. But the scholar in her wouldn't let her throw the question out without at least

considering

it, and exploring it from all angles, before she could dismiss it once and for all.

It was hard to know where to even start looking for possible answers, though. The question was so far-fetched that Rebecca didn't know what evidence there was that could possibly support it, let alone where she could find it.

Still, she kept the question in her back pocket, letting her mind work on breaking it down for her as she went on with the routines of her life; the way she did when she was working on the topic for a particularly difficult research paper.

In the end, Rebecca decided the place to look was around her own life... She decided to look at it with a stranger's eyes, and consider if there was anything in it that was strange or out of the ordinary; but which she had so far failed to notice, as a result of too-close proximity.

In between the goings-on of her life, Rebecca did find one thing that struck her as bizarre. Now that she thought about it-- she was single. She was single, and she always had been. She was nearly 30; would be thirty next year, and she had never once dated anyone.

Why hadn't she?

She thought again of Henry's letter, and also of his note, with a slight chill. He'd written of her as if she were

his

. As if she belonged to him, was his rightful property that had only gone somewhere else on loan; and now must be returned to his possession.

If Henry were not delusional... if it

were

possible that he had somehow procured her career for her, then he must have had some way of influencing people. Some kind of natural charisma.

And if he

had

influenced other people on her behalf, could it be possible he'd used that same influence on

her

at some point? Something to make her wait, turn down the advances of anyone who approached her? To save herself for him?

It wasn't like she'd had any lack of offers. Over the years, she'd been asked out many times, by many men. Yet she had refused them all.