A Letter to Delilah Jaxson Kidman Contents Hey darlin’ A Letter to Delilah Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Epilogue More from Jaxson Hey darlin’ It’s been a while since we’ve done this. A true stand alone novel from me. This one hit home in a lot of ways. I have been sitting on it for a long time, wondering if I would ever release it. Considering the circumstances of life right now, there’s no better time than the present. All I ask you do is (1) read the book, (2) review it, (3) and then email me with any thoughts and questions. Thank you darlin’ … you never fail to amaze me with your love and support. Much love, - Jaxson A Letter to Delilah The letter was not meant for me to read. It was for Delilah. She’s beautiful. She’s perfect. She’s loved. She’s everything I want to be. And I need to know who wrote the letter. Why? You might think I’m crazy… but I’m in love with the person who wrote it. Even if I’ve never met him. Prologue A Meeting I A LITTLE WHILE AGO (Josh) “I’m going to ask the obvious question… do you still miss her?” There wasn’t a need to answer that question. So I didn’t. It didn’t matter where I sat or who I was talking to, the questions were up to me to answer. Or not answer. “I had the dream again. That’s why I’m here.” “The dream. Right.” “With the plane…” “I know the dream. Do you want to describe it again?” I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and stared at the ugly patterned carpet. It always bothered the hell out of me. Everything in the room was square, yet this rug, this damn area rug, was a giant circle. It really pissed me off, and I had no idea why. “The dream,” I said as I stared at the rug. “It’s always the same. We’re on a plane. A normal plane. Like the kind you’d take on vacation. A commercial jet or whatever. But there’s a door that’s almost like a regular door. There are no seats there. It’s tall, wide, it even has a brass doorknob. And I’m always listening to music. I have earbuds in. Then I see her. Just walking from the front of the plane. She’s older, but it’s her. I stand up and watch as she walks to the door and opens it. The door flies from her hand and there’s a thud as it’s ripped away from the plane. Nobody looks up though. Not a single fucking person looks up as she stands there. Her hair blowing with the air rushing through the plane. I rip the earbuds out and drop everything on my seat. I have no idea why I’m not running toward her to save her. Especially after having the same dream over and over and over.” I lifted my gaze from the carpet. “Go on, Josh.” “You know the ending.” “Maybe you’d like to get it off your chest?” “She fucking jumps, okay? She fucking jumps out of the plane. Right out of the open door. Before I could get to her. Before I could wrap my arms around her. Before I could tell her how sorry I am. How much I love her. And that she doesn’t need to jump out of the plane. I can take care of her.” I stood up from the way too comfortable couch and began to pace. I needed a drink. I needed a cigarette. I needed a woman, with her perfect body, to distract me from this shit. All of my favorite addictions waiting outside this room. Soon enough, I’d be done. There was a time limit here, which was good. “Have you ever thought about what that means?” “What?” I asked. “The dream, Josh. Can we break it down together?” “The dream? How?” “Step by step. Take the plane, for example. A dream about a plane can mean several things. Think of it this way - you’re high in the air. You’re above everything. Think of it as a sense of awareness. Think about the speed of the plane. How fast you’re moving. That’s a representation of your life.” “You do know she was never on a plane,” I said. “Think about that. She never got to go on a plane. So why am I dreaming of her on a plane?” “Could be guilt, Josh. I’m not going to lie to you. But what if it means something else? Something much bigger?” “Like what?” I asked. “Well, dreaming of death is always hard. Death is the ultimate end. It’s the final goodbye to life. When we dream of death, it’s our inner feelings that control it. Feelings of guilt. Feelings of jealousy. Sometimes we dream of someone dying because we care so much about them. Other times, it could be a sense of betrayal. Or even something as simple as, say, a career change. So you have these two powerful images… a plane and death.” “Wait a second,” I said as I waved my hand. “This has nothing to do with that. I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit. My life is hectic, sure. But this has nothing to do with it.” “Or maybe it has everything to do with it, Josh. Maybe it’s the final goodbye. You’re in a plane. Way up in the air. Whether you believe in heaven or hell, I think all of us subconsciously look for that comfort in the end. So the plane puts you near where she has to go. And what if she didn’t exactly jump, Josh? What if she left the plane to go to her next place?” I stared with my lip slowly curling. “I’m supposed to believe that?” “No. I’m just giving you my thoughts. We’re just talking. Does any of that make sense?” “No. Fuck that.” “Okay. Well, the dream is the same. It’s always the same.
