Bette sat at the table with her pen in her hand and the paper in front of her and confronted every writers challenge: how to begin? The sun was setting now and the hillside beyond her balcony was a changing display of golden light. Beautiful, she thought. She took a deep breath. OK, write from your heart.

Dear Tina, she wrote, and then crossed it out. Tooformal.

My Dearest Tina, Too Victorian.

Baby, No, too intimate for now.

T, Baby, No, no, no. Too Sinatra.

Good thing I bought a lot of paper.

Dear T., Yes, Dear T.

Bette looked again at the hillside and the shifting patterns of light and color. A treasured image of Tina came to her mind and she began to write.

There was a morning about two years ago when I picked you up at the airport after one of your last business trips to New York. You were hungry and we stopped for breakfast on the way home. We sat by the window. You were wearing a black t-shirt that was a little rumpled from the plane. Your hair was tousled slightly and your eyes were tired. Yet, when I looked across the table the light from the window was shining on you and you never looked more beautiful. I didnt hear what you were saying. I couldnt speak. You were a Vermeer portrait there before me.
In that instant I could not believe that you loved me. I could not imagine what I had done in my life to deserve the honor of loving you. When you asked me what I was thinking, all I could answer was, I missed you. You took my hand and all the golden light inside of you flowed between us.
I lived a perfect moment that day and I have never forgotten it.
When I fell in love with you Tina, I changed forever. The passion that I had always felt for art I suddenly felt for another person: you. Your love for me made me feel open, awake and alive. It was exhilarating, freeing and joyful beyond anything I could have imagined.
My love for you made me kinder and more compassionate. You made me live for something larger than myself. Together our love was passionate and powerful.
The night you told me you were pregnant I was so happy, so incredibly happy. We both were. I felt so close to you then. When you were pregnant it seemed to me that all that was true and beautiful about us was growing there inside you.
The thought of having a baby also scared me. I was afraid that I would not be able to provide for you and the baby, especially if I took a risk and lost my job. I began to question my feelings and myself, but I didnt tell you because I thought it would pass.
After the miscarriage I felt helpless and sad. I knew you were devastated and I tried to be strong for you and strong at work. Then things got complicated and nasty at work and, I guess I lost my way. Its no excuse, but its the best explanation I have.
The loss of our baby and the love we knew is the greatest pain I have ever known. I violated our trust and hurt you deeply, and I regret that every minute of every day that I have lived without you. I miss you so much.
All I wish for T, is to see you and to talk to you. I want a chance to make things better between us. If that chance never comes – a thought I cannot bear – I want you to know what you have meant to me.
You will never leave my heart.
I Love You,
Bette

Bette put down the pen and then put her hand to her head. A wave of pain went through her and her eyes filled with tears. She raised her head again and placed her letter to the side. She sighed and took a fresh piece of paper, taking a moment to feel the texture of it beneath her fingers. She picked up the pen and fought back doubts and the urge to change words. She copied it all onto the new paper, folded it and tucked it into the envelope. She sealed it and addressed it, writing only B.P. for the return address. Slowly, she brought the letter to her lips and gently, hopefully left a kiss.