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Kanon had never written a love letter. But since Patience had mentioned she’d never received one, he wanted to do it for her. After nearly bailing out on her, he needed to do something special. But that type of thing wasn’t easy for him to write. Besides the fact that flowery language didn’t come naturally to him, such deep sentiment brought up his own fears and insecurities, tempted him to withdraw again. So he’d try but then put the pen and paper away until he wanted to see her so badly he had to pull it out again.
It took him until New Year’s Eve to finish it. But since he was determined to start the year off right, and he knew he wanted her to be a part of his future, he finally drove over to her house well past midnight and slipped it—such as it was—under her mat.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was the first day of a brand-new year. Patience woke up before Ari and went out to put on a pot of coffee. She liked the quiet early-morning hours in her new place. On the days she was willing to bundle up and brave the cold, she could sit out on the porch and watch the sun come up. Or she could put on some music or a YouTube video on photography techniques while starting her food prep for the week. She was going to try cooking several meals all at once and freezing some to make her weekdays run smoother and enable her to spend more time with her daughter. She also planned to start dropping a meal off at her father’s now and then. He was treating her better, respecting her space, which was nice, but he went out to eat rather than cook, and she knew all that processed food wasn’t good for him.
Today, she and Ari were going to drive to Reno, do some shopping and have a buffet at one of the casinos. Patience didn’t have to worry about sharing her daughter with Jack because he’d driven to Vegas to visit his parents. He’d wanted to take Ari with him, but she wouldn’t leave her new pet, and he didn’t want to deal with the puppy, so he’d said he’d take her for her birthday instead. That had freed them up for New Year’s Eve last night, too. They’d spent a few hours celebrating with Carl by playing cards and dominoes before ringing in the New Year with a bottle of Martinelli’s. Her father hadn’t been interested in staying up until midnight, though, so she and Ari had returned home around ten, put the countdown on TV, and banged pots and pans at midnight—probably much to the annoyance of the Devlins. Patience feared they were having second thoughts about renting to them, but they were good sports about it. The banging wasn’t something they did for long, at least. Then they’d gone to bed.
She’d checked for Kanon’s truck when they drove past the motel on the way to her father’s house and on the way back, which made her feel a bit ridiculous—uncomfortably Glenda-adjacent. But since she wasn’t driving around searching for him, and the motel was on the main drag, she figured looking wasn’t too bad.
He was still in town, which made her wonder exactly when he’d be leaving. She’d been tempted to text Kelsey to ask, but she didn’t want Kelsey to show that text to Kanon. He was moving back to North Dakota. That was all that mattered. She had no choice but to get over him and build a life on her own.
She could do that. She was feeling more confident every day.
And yet…she missed him. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to find someone else who filled her up in the same intangible, emotional sense.
She glanced at Ari’s closed door while she shrugged on her heavy coat and wound her scarf around her neck. She didn’t hear any puppy noises, so she assumed Ari had taken the dog out to go potty during the night. She hoped Hairy and Ari were snuggled up together, sleeping contentedly because Patience desperately wanted to enjoy a few moments to herself.
Filling her mug with coffee, she breathed in the comforting scent as the steam wafted off the top, and went outside. It was after seven, so the sun was already coming up, but with the rest of the world seemingly still asleep, it felt peaceful.
She’d made the right decision getting her own place, she thought. It was worth the added expense.
She was about to sink into her favorite chair when she saw the white of an envelope peeking out from beneath the welcome mat.
That hadn’t been there when they came home last night, had it?
She couldn’t remember seeing it, but she also couldn’t imagine anyone coming over later than they’d arrived home.
After setting her coffee on the small table, she walked back to pick it up. She thought it might be a receipt for the rent she’d already paid. All it had on the envelope was her name.
She sat in her favorite chair as she opened it and was stunned to see the blocky handwriting of a man—and Kanon’s name at the bottom.
Gripping the page tightly, she began to read:
Dear Patience—
When I first came to town, I thought it would be a temporary stopover—a chance to see what, if anything, was left of me here. I never imagined I’d stay, but getting to know you has made it impossible for me to picture being anywhere else. You have this quiet thing about you—this way of making people feel okay and like they belong.
So I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided that instead of making tons of money (ha!), I want the slow mornings with you, the walks down Montgomery Street, the Christmas tree hunts with you and Ari. Hell, I even want the awkward moments of being around your dad. (Kidding…kinda.)
Most of all, I want to be who you turn to when things get heavy, and the one who is also there with you when life is quiet and good. I’m ready to stop holding people at arm’s length. I know that’ll take time and effort—a lot of effort for someone like me—but I hope you can believe in me enough to trust that I will do it.
Expressing my emotions has never been easy for me. But you told me that you’ve never received a love letter, so I’ve done my best. I hope it’s good enough to make you happy. Bottom line, I’d love nothing more than to find out what staying might mean—for both of us.
Kanon
Patience was so shocked she stared at the words on that page for several seconds before she noticed an arrow guiding her to a postscript on the back—and started to laugh and cry at the same time:
P.S. I worked on this letter for a whole week. Otherwise, you would’ve gotten it much sooner, and it would’ve been only two lines: I want you. I can’t leave you.
Those two lines were all she needed, but she definitely appreciated the extra effort. That was huge coming from someone who avoided emotional entanglements as much as Kanon did.
A noise caused Patience to look up—and quickly wipe the tears rolling down her cheeks.
A yawning, pajama-clad Ari, hair mussed from sleep, had brought out the puppy. “You’re up?” she mumbled when she saw Patience sitting there. She started to put Hairy down—but then she did a double take. “What’s wrong, Mom? Why are you crying?”
