“What’s that?”

“You deserve this, Grant. Don’t think otherwise. I know you’ve been deserted and left behind in the past. You feel as though it’ll always end with a broken heart, but she’s it, Grant. I wouldn’t have thought it, knowing you two apart, but now that I see you together I see it there,” she says, patting my hand that rests on top of hers. We’re almost to her house now and I see Fred throwing down salt on the stairs.

“What’s there?” I ask, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

“It’s hard to explain. The best way to explain it is the one love of one’s life.” She pats my hand again and I lean over, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks for everything, Mrs. Fletcher,” I say before retreating down the walkway.

“Grant,” she calls out and I turn around.

“It’s not the love you have for her or the love she has for you, it’s the love you build together that will get you through the rough patches you’re sure to experience. Believe in her love, Grant. Don’t worry about heartache, just enjoy your time with her.” I lightly jog back up to her and kiss her on the cheek again.

“Thanks for the advice. I hope I don’t screw it up,” I admit.

“Think of it this way, Grant. If something happened tomorrow, would you have loved her any less?” Her fragile hand pats my bicep. I nod my head, understanding what she means.

I say good-bye to Mrs. Fletcher and give Fred a wave before heading back to my cabin. I do understand what she’s saying, I’m too far in at this point. If this ends badly today or years ahead of now, my heart will still break. I’m too vested in this connection we have, so I might as well enjoy the ride.

Jessa

I sit back down at the table after saying good-bye to Mrs. F and watch Grant walk her down the steps. He obviously loves her, given the caring way he makes sure she’s safe getting back home. A stranger walking by would assume she’s his grandmother. How did I get so lucky to have such a kind-hearted boyfriend with a body that most guys envy and most girls drool over?

After a very brief deliberation, I decide to consume another mouthwatering cinnamon roll made by Mrs. F. I don’t mind eating in front of Grant, but the way I’m scarfing these down, I’m not about to stuff my face in front of him either. Noticing a small white envelope on the table, I reach over to pick it up. There isn’t a name on it so I debate on whether or not to open it, not wanting to overstep my bounds.

Suddenly, a whiff of Mrs. F’s perfume hits my nostrils and I can’t decipher if it has been lingering here since she left or if it’s coming from the envelope. I hesitantly rub my fingers across it. Grant and I have come so far this trip and the last thing I want is another setback. God knows we both have our share of issues, although he’s yet to share his with me. The envelope’s obvious discolored appearance indicates that either the envelope or the letter inside is from years past. Finally, deciding if it was personal it would’ve had his name on it, I open it. Once the letter is out of the envelope, I realize that the strong perfume scent came from the letter itself.

My Dear Grant,

I bet I’m surprising you with this letter. I gave it to Mrs. Fletcher, knowing when you found her, you would bring her here. Although I don’t know her, I’m sure she’s wonderful. I’m not trying to rush you, sweetheart, but make a home here with her. It’s not a fancy life and most likely you can’t make a ton of money in an area so desolate, but it’s worth it in the end. I hope you cherish and love this cabin as much as I did.

I would come up here by myself most weekends when I was pregnant with you. The serene and calming affect always comforted me as I sat in the rocking chair, looking out over the priceless view of the lake. On cold winter nights, your dad would make a fire and we would cozy up on the couch when we would come up here together. There are so many memories that were made within these walls, and I hope many more will be made with your wife and my grandkids.

Talk to you soon.

Love,

Mom

XOXO

I drop the letter on the table as though it’s on fire and just burned my fingertips. How could I have been so stupid to open it? I quickly put it back in the envelope, but I have no way of sealing it. Panicking, I lick the sealant, hoping remoistening it will work, but the envelope is so old there’s no way I can pull it off. Just as I’m about to search the drawers for a white envelope, I hear the doorknob turn. Oh shit!

“I knew you were going to sneak another cinnamon roll,” Grant teases when he walks through the door. His face smile becomes a frown immediately when he sees me holding the opened envelope.

Not knowing what to do, I sit there staring at him like a moron, with the letter between my hands. “I’m sorry, Grant. It wasn’t my intention to pry,” I apologize to him, although I know that if I didn’t want to pry, I shouldn’t have opened the letter in the first place.

“Who’s it from?” he quietly asks. The cold air whooshes into the cabin from the open front door. Grant hasn’t moved an inch, his hand still resting on the doorknob.

“Your…it’s from your…Mom,” I stutter, embarrassed that I put us in this awkward situation. “I’m sorry,” I apologize again.

He says nothing, but finally shuts the door before slowly walking my way. As he nears me, I see the anguish that fills his beautiful blue eyes. I don’t know if he’s going to hug me, kiss me, or slap me. But when he reaches my chair, his feet stand alongside mine and he gently takes the letter out of my hand.

“So, I guess I have no choice but to tell you now.” He places the letter on the table and grabs my hand, the warmth of his touch making me believe that it’ll be okay.

“If you’re not ready, you don’t have to tell me, Grant. I wasn’t trying to find answers…” I continue talking until he places his finger on my lips.

“It’s time,” he sighs, and I can’t ignore the feeling in my gut that I’m forcing him to share with me. “You already know my mom died when I was fourteen. Well, she left a box of letters for me to read during specific milestones in my life. I don’t know what that one entails,” he says, pointing to the letter. “I thought it was from Mrs. Fletcher, but when I saw your face, I knew it was another letter from my mom.” He carefully pulls it out, reading the letter to himself before placing it back down on the table. “Does it scare you?” he softly asks.

“Does what?”

“The fact that a dead woman predicted that I would bring only one girl up here, and that she wants me to make my home here with her,” He says, his face serious.

“Am I the first?” I ask, my voice shaking because I’m hoping I am.

“And only,” he reveals.

“No, it doesn’t scare me,” I say, and a small smile graces my lips.

“Good.” His lips turn up in a wide smile. “It’s amazing how right my mom has been in the letters she left me. I only have a few left so I’m happy she surprised me with this one.” Although his smile appears genuine, there’s something there underneath it. He’s hiding more, but I have to decide how much to push. Not wanting to upset him, I decide to let it go for now.

“She sounds like a wise woman,” I say and he nods his head.

“She was.” He stands up and starts clearing the dishes, but I grab them from him.

“I’m sorry, Grant,” I tell him, praying he hears the sincerity in my voice.

“I know…everyone is. It’s hard losing a parent. God, I lost both,” he says and I scrunch my eyes in confusion.

“You still have your Dad,” I mention.

“No, he’s just a bankroller for school. He’s most definitely not a parent,” he says, his voice angry with a hint of sadness.

“It’s never too late,” I say, placing my hand on his shoulder. When he turns around, his eyes are distant and cold.