Chapter 6 #2
She glanced toward Peter, who had settled into his usual spot near the window, his fingers wrapped around his coffee cup, his gaze flicking absently over the pages of the book in front of him.
He looked…steady. Constant. A man who knew exactly what he wanted.
And something about that unsettled her.
Because the truth was, she did have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who made her question herself more often than he made her feel secure.
And the even bigger truth?
She wasn’t sure for how much longer.
By the time Friday rolled around, Landry had nearly forgotten about her letter in the excitement over tonight’s concert at Grace Gardens.
Almost.
A month ago, she’d casually mentioned to Chad that Summer Serenade Under the Stars, a chamber orchestra event, would be held on the grounds of the Grand Manse.
She hadn’t expected much from the conversation.
Chad’s only response had been something like, You like that kind of stuff, don’t you?
And, of course, she’d said yes, knowing full well the chances of them actually going were slim to none.
These kinds of events weren’t Chad’s thing.
That was why she’d been so sincerely touched when, out of nowhere, he’d surprised her with tickets.
Tonight, she and Chad would attend the event, arriving early to sample the offerings from the food trucks lining the garden paths.
Tonight, she would step into something she’d always wanted—a beautiful evening of music beneath the stars, hand in hand with the man who was supposed to be hers.
And yet, as the minutes ticked by, her excitement was laced with an odd, creeping apprehension.
One more hour, she thought. One more hour until Chad picks me up. She would change in the back room just before he arrived.
“It’s time.”
Mila’s voice, hushed and brimming with mischief, yanked her from her thoughts.
Landry frowned. “Why are you whispering?” She gestured at the empty shop. “Thanks to all the coffee kiosks on Cripple Creek, there’s no one here but us.”
Mila only grinned and reached beneath the counter, pulling out an envelope.
Landry felt a shiver—anticipation, nerves, something unnamed—race down her spine. “Where did you get this?”
“I brought it from home.”
The breath Landry hadn’t realized she’d been holding escaped in a rush.
For just a second, she’d thought—okay, hoped—that…
“I thought I’d give the ol’ magic box a try.” Mila crossed to the mailbox.
“Are you sure?” Landry asked, watching her carefully. “After what Vern said the other day, he could check the box at any time.”
Mila, now standing before the letter box, frowned. “When did he put this in?”
Landry followed her gaze and saw it—a Styrofoam piece wedged across the opening of the letter box.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “He must’ve done it when I wasn’t working.”
“This is perfect,” Mila declared, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint.
“Perfect?” Landry scoffed. “How can it be perfect? Now you can’t put your letter inside.”
Mila’s red lips curved in an impish smile. “Watch me.”
“He’ll know if you remove the Styrofoam,” Landry warned.
“I’m not touching it.” Instead, Mila moved to the back of the box, opening it like Landry had done when she’d checked for a response to her letter. The box had been empty then. “This way, Vern won’t be snooping, because he’ll think there’s nothing—”
She stopped short, her eyes widening.
Landry’s stomach dropped. “What’s wrong?”
Mila took a step back. “There’s something inside.”
“What do you mean?” Landry hurried around the counter to stand beside her. That’s when she saw it.
A white, legal-sized envelope.
A heartbeat passed, then another.
“Could someone have placed it inside before Vern closed it off?”
Mila shook her head. “You know Vern. He’d have checked.”
She was right.
Landry swallowed hard and reached for the envelope, but the moment her gaze landed on the words scrawled across it, she froze.
A Heart Unheard.
Mila read over her shoulder. “What’s that about?”
Landry barely heard her. Everything inside her had gone still.
“That’s how I signed my letter.” Her voice came out quieter than she’d intended, but the warmth expanding through her was anything but subtle. It seeped into her bones, spreading like sunlight breaking through a storm. “They wrote back.”
The bell over the door startled them both.
Mila, thinking fast, shoved her own letter into the box before snapping it shut, while Landry quickly tucked her envelope into her pocket, fingers curling around it protectively.
There will be time, she told herself. Time to read whatever is inside.
But time wasn’t on her side.
Each time business lulled just enough that she thought she could slip away, another group wandered through the doors, filling the café with chatter and the scent of espresso.
The hours dragged by and flew by all at once, anticipation coiling tighter inside her.
Finally—finally—five o’clock arrived.
The second her shift ended, Landry retreated to the break room, sat at the table and pulled out the envelope. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unfolded the letter.
She skimmed the words.
Then slowed.
Then stopped.
Her breath caught, and before she knew it, she was rereading the lines of one particular paragraph over and over, as if trying to absorb them, as if trying to believe them.
That ache you feel is a gift, though it may not always seem so. It is your heart reminding you that you were made for more than mere existence. Your dreams—no matter how fragile they may seem—are worth nurturing, worth fighting for, because they are yours.
A tear slipped down her cheek before she even realized it. She swiped at it absently, her mind too full, too stirred to focus on something as inconsequential as tears.
Because the ache in her chest had nothing to do with sadness.
It had everything to do with recognition.
She traced her fingers over the crease of the folded letter, as if the weight of the words could somehow settle the storm inside her.
Later tonight, she would read it again. She’d let the words sink in, let them matter.
And maybe, just maybe, she would finally stop running from the part of herself that had been waiting to be heard.