“How did you know that desk is River’s?”
Startled, Patrick put down the delicate gold bracelet he’d been holding. “Oh well, that was easy. River’s favorite color is blue. Slate is her favorite shade, but any blue will do. Blue and white rug, pale blue lampshade, and” he picked up a squeeze tube, “she always carries this lotion in her purse for her hands. River’s favorite time of day is when the sun has set, and the stars make the dark sky appear deep navy.”
He pointed toward another desk. “Raven loves everything green. She says it reminds her of your garden. And the last one, of course, is Rowan’s. Yellows. She told me yellow is a happy color.” Patrick looked at Bébhinn, shrugging.
“You know my granddaughters. I didn’t even know why they preferred one color over another. You care about all my grandchildren, don’t you?”
He sighed, admitting, “Yes.”
“I hope you win River back, Patrick. I hope youdeserveto win her back.”
“It’s all I want, Bé— Nan.”
She patted his arm. “Why don’t you unpack, and I’ll get dinner situated.”
Patrick made quick work of unpacking. He put his notepad, pens, and envelopes on River’s desk, looking at himself in the attached makeup mirror. God, he looked defeated. And that needed to change. If he felt defeated, then he was sure to lose.
He wanted his letters to make him and River closer. He wanted his words to show her how much he loved her, how hard he was willing to work on himself for her. So, he had to change his attitude. It was as simple as that. He had five weeks to convince the Byrnes that he was worthy of being let back in.
Five weeks.
19
Dear River,
I miss you.
This is my first night at your grandma’s. I’m sitting at your desk as I write this. Nan— she asked me to call her that— insisted I sleep in your room.
I like being close to your things.
God, how I miss you— and what a boring letter this must be to read.
Since it’s still cold as hell outside, I’ll be washing the windows inside. I admit the attached greenhouse, with all that glass, gave me pause.
I saw your parents’ memorial cabinet. It’s beautiful. I think I’ll try sitting there some night. I hope you don’t object.
I hope you find something every day that makes you smile. Not a smile to appease others, but a genuine smile. A smile that proves you’re happy. I hope Raven and Baby O continue to do well. I am excited to be an uncle. Bran is nervous. I would be nervous too.
Have you noticed anything... something between Row and Dad?
I imagine everyone is about to move into the ‘O Building,’ as you call it. Would you consider asking Raven to send me a picture of the baby’s room? And maybe a picture a week of her ginormous belly?
I better sign off. I’ll be starting early. I’ll write you tomorrow and let you know if my window washing skills are up to Nan’s standards.
All my love,
Patrick
Three weeks had passed since he’d left Dublin. Missing River hadn’t gotten easier, but living with what he’d done had. He and Nan spent hours together. She told him of summers with the girls, about her husband’s goofy sense of humor, and of what a proud father Daniel had been.
Patrick told her about Bran and him sneaking out of the house when their nanny fell asleep so they could slip off to the old gardening shed. They worked hours for over a year using wood scraps to build a pirate ship. Bran said he would be captain, and Patrick, his first mate. They would sail anywhere they pleased. He still laughed at the memory. He told her about how his dad had helped with school craft projects— about his big hugs and stories at bedtime. And he told her about his mother’s indifference.
It felt good to talk. He never thought it would. He thought sharing his vulnerabilities would make him weak, but Nan had a way of making him feel proud of opening up.
Living here had been a revelation.
Patrick had just got home from working for Mr. Dunn, Nan’s neighbor. He was a gruff, no-nonsense man. His property was even nicer than the Byrne plot and meticulously maintained. Pat’s body was on fire after the day’s labor. It felt amazing. The gym or his daily runs didn’t compare to actual outdoor physical activity. Patrick’s time here had been a revelation in more ways than one. He felt more connected to, well, himself. More than he’d ever remembered being. Living with River’s grandma was like signing up for a spiritual retreat-boot camp; hugs and tough love.
