Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The boat landing at Culler Lake was alive with movement when Landry arrived on Sunday morning.
Colorful flags snapped in the breeze, families and friends gathered along the shore, and rowers prepped their boats in the sparkling sunlight.
The energy in the air was electric—laughter, encouragement and the steady thuds of oars hitting the water.
Today’s Row-A-Thon was more than just an event—it was a mission.
Every stroke she took would mean more money for a local farmer, a beloved fixture at the GraceTown Farmers’ Market, who was battling cancer.
For the past month, Landry had been gathering pledges—customers, friends, even her family members had chipped in.
Now, she just had to row her heart out.
“Landry Fisher,” she said, approaching the check-in station where an older gentleman with a perfectly groomed Vandyke beard and a clipboard stood.
“Good morning, Ms. Fisher.” He smiled warmly. “I’m Barry Whitehead. It’s a pleasure to meet you and, more importantly, thank you for participating.” He scanned his list, checked off her name and handed her a numbered bib.
“I was a sculler on my high school crew team.” She accepted the bib, unable to keep the excitement from creeping into her voice. “I’m looking forward to having a pair of oars in my hands again.”
Barry gave her an approving nod. “Muscle memory is a powerful thing. Check in with Rosemary—she’s the one in the yellow vest. She’ll direct you to your boat.”
“Thank you.”
Landry turned toward the water’s edge, eager to get started. But just as she took a step, a familiar voice cut through the bustle.
“Landry!”
She whirled instinctively.
And there he was.
Peter stood beside a sleek road bike, his helmet tucked under one arm, his golden hair catching the sun like some ridiculous advertisement for effortless charm.
“Hi.” She grinned, unable to hide her delight. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d check out the old highway.” He gestured behind him with his helmet. “But I got distracted by the flags, the rowboats and the general spectacle of people trying not to fall into the water.”
She laughed. “That is part of the entertainment.”
His gaze roamed over the scene before locking back on to her. “What kind of event is this?”
“It’s a fundraiser for Eloise Stein. She was recently diagnosed with cancer. She’s a favorite at the farmers’ market—her berries are amazing.”
Peter nodded in understanding. “Rowing isn’t easy.”
“I was a sculler on my high school team,” she said, a little proud, a little nostalgic.
Peter’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Learn something new every day.” Then, with a slow grin, he added, “I was a coxswain.”
She blinked, then smirked. “It fits.”
He chuckled. “Hey, be nice.”
“I am being nice.” Her grin widened. “A coxswain steers the boat and gives commands. You’re a professor. You steer the class and give orders, er, assignments.”
Peter exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “Walked right into that one. If I’d known about this event sooner, I’d have signed up.”
“So you could sit in a rowboat and bark orders?” she teased.
His lips curved mischievously. “So I could sit in a boat with you.”
The words landed like a soft punch to the gut—unexpected, but not unwelcome.
She quickly recovered, arching a brow. “Instead, you’ll be standing on the sidelines, cheering me on?”
“Absolutely.” He leaned casually against his bike, his eyes full of easy amusement. “I’ll even do the whole ‘Go Landry!’ routine. Maybe throw in some air punches. Very inspiring.”
She crossed her arms, pretending to scrutinize him. “Hmm. That’s a big commitment.”
“I’m committed,” he shot back without hesitation.
And that did something to her—made her heart stutter just a little.
She glanced at his biking attire—formfitting black shorts, a performance tee and, because life wasn’t fair, toned arms that definitely belonged to someone who worked out regularly.
“You sure you want to hang around and be my personal cheerleader?” she asked, trying to sound casual. “It looks like you had your day planned.”
“I did.” He met her gaze, his voice quieter now. “But I’m not above pivoting when something better comes along.” Then he added, “And it just did.”
Landry felt her stomach dip in a way that had nothing to do with pre-race jitters.
She should say something snarky. Tease him. Turn the moment into a joke.
But instead, she just smiled.
And Peter smiled back.
And somehow, that felt like the beginning of something neither of them had planned for.
Standing on the shore with the other spectators, Peter never let his gaze waver from Landry as her slow, rhythmic strokes cut through the glasslike water.
The sunlight glinted off the ripples in her wake, casting a golden shimmer around her, making it seem like the lake itself was guiding her forward.
She looked strong. Determined. Free.
His chest tightened.
Someday, he thought, we’ll go out on the water together.
He would sit across from her in a rowboat, staring into those sea-green eyes, watching as the sunlight danced in their depths.
They would drift, the world narrowing to just the two of them, and they would talk about everything—about art and books, about places they wanted to go, about the kind of futures they dreamed of having.
He wanted that.
He wanted her.
And yet, a shadow of doubt crept in. How fair would it be to start something with her now, knowing he would be leaving?
The idea of walking away before things even began felt unbearable, but would staying and leaving later be even worse?
She had dreams, too. Big ones. Wild ones. The kind that didn’t include waiting around for someone else’s timeline to line up with hers. Hadn’t that been part of why she’d left Chad?
He replayed her words from the night before. Chad loved the version of me that fit neatly into his world, a version that required me to shrink my dreams to make room for his.
Something in that phrasing nagged at him, a sensation like déjà vu scraping against the edges of his thoughts.
Then, suddenly, it hit him.
A Heart Unheard.
His breath left him in a sharp exhale. No. It couldn’t be.
Could it?
He froze, his mind flipping through past letters with frantic precision. The yearning in her words, the desire to experience life fully, to travel, to write—they had always felt so familiar, so deeply in sync with the woman he had come to admire.
Because maybe…it was her all along.
Landry.
A surge of disbelief and exhilaration surged through him, crashing into him harder than any wave. His pulse pounded in his ears. It made sense. Too much sense.
And yet…what if he was wrong?
Peter forced himself to move, clapping, cheering as her boat passed, but his mind remained a storm of uncertainty, excitement—and an ache so deep it startled him.
What if it isn’t her?
What if it is?
There was only one way to find out.
Tonight, he would write another letter, accepting her offer to meet.
And this time, there would be no hesitation.
He needed to know the truth. Because if A Heart Unheard was Landry, then somehow, across time and chance, their hearts had already found each other.
“Well, this is an unexpected pleasure.” Mila’s eyes danced with curiosity as she grinned at Landry from behind the counter at City Hall Coffee that evening. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you back here so soon.”
“Yeah, well…here I am.” Landry forced a smile, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
Mila arched a brow. “How was the rowing event? Did you crush the competition?”
“It was fun,” Landry admitted, brushing stray hair behind her ear. She glanced around the seating area, relieved to see only two tables occupied. Less chance of anyone overhearing what she was really here for. “I rowed for an hour and raised…”
When she quoted the amount, Mila let out a low whistle. “Damn, girl. You rowed your heart out.”
“Eloise is a sweetheart,” Landry said softly. “I was happy to help.”
Mila nodded, then narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Didn’t you have your mom’s birthday thing tonight? You baked a coconut cake, right?”
“Her favorite.”
Mila pulled a face. “Ugh. The worst of all cakes.”
Landry smirked. “Hey, it was great. Or at least I assume it was.”
Mila’s brows furrowed. “You didn’t have a piece?”
Landry hesitated. “Their card group meets every fourth Sunday. This was the night.”
Mila’s face darkened. “They picked their card game over you?”
“I’m taking my mom to lunch later this week.” She tried to keep her voice casual, but the words felt thin, weak even.
Mila exhaled and shook her head, but thankfully, she let it go. “Fine. Whatever. Now, let’s talk about the real reason you’re here. Let me guess—someone interesting was at the lake today?”
Landry couldn’t quite stop the smile tugging at her lips.
Mila’s grin widened. “Peter.”
“How did you guess?”
“I’m psychic.”
“You’re annoying.”
Mila ignored that, leaning over the counter with smug satisfaction. “I remember you whining last night after the party at the Wexmans’ house about how you weren’t sure when you’d be seeing him again—”
“I was not whining.”
“You absolutely were.”
“You asked how the party went, and I told you!”
“And what did I say?”
Landry sighed, already knowing where this was going. “That I’d see him again before I knew it.”
Mila smirked. “And?”
“You were right. Again.”
Mila leaned back with a victorious nod. “Of course I was. If he was at the lake, why aren’t you with him now?”
“He had a bike ride to finish, and I had a cake to deliver.”
Mila gave her a long, assessing look. “There are a lot of missing pieces to this puzzle.”
Landry laughed. “When can you take a break?”
Mila scanned the shop, then turned to Martin, the part-time employee manning the counter. “I’m taking a break. If you need me, I’ll be right over there.” She pointed to a table near the letter box.
Martin barely looked up from his phone. “Cool.”
Landry hid a smirk as she followed Mila to the table.
They had just sat when Mila tilted her head toward the letter box. “Have you checked it lately?”
Landry shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I got anything.”
Mila narrowed her eyes. “Doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.”
“It’s empty,” Landry insisted.
Mila gave her a deadpan look. “Check.”
“But Martin—”
“Is more invested in whatever’s on his screen than in what you’re doing,” Mila shot back. “Go on.”
Landry sighed but stood, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Yes, Mother.”
Mila chuckled and crossed her arms, watching as Landry walked to the box.
Her breath caught in her throat the moment she opened the back.
Her pulse kicked up.
She stared.
Her fingers trembled as she reached inside, brushing against smooth paper.
“Mila,” she whispered, barely able to force the word past the lump in her throat.
Mila sat up straighter, immediately alert. “What? What is it?”
With a shaking hand, Landry pulled out the envelope that was unmistakably from Kindred Spirit.
She sank into her chair, heart hammering against her ribs.
Mila was practically vibrating with anticipation. “Open it. Open it!”
Landry’s fingers fumbled as she tore open the envelope.
Her eyes flew over the words. Short. To the point.
Dear A Heart Finally Heard,
I’ve been thinking about my previous response, and if I’m being honest, I regret it.
I worried that rushing to meet could ruin something good, but after thinking about all the changes and challenges you’ve faced recently, and the courage it takes to do so, I don’t want to let my own fears get in the way.
If you are still willing to meet me, then I’d like to suggest we meet at the Black Apron Bistro on the River Walk this Friday at seven p.m. The reservation will be under KS.
Please let me know if this works for you. My heart is already racing at the thought of seeing you.
Yours,
A Kindred Spirit
Landry lifted her head, her breath uneven as she met Mila’s questioning gaze. “He wants to meet.”