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It had been fifteen years since her mother died. Soon after her funeral, I’d left for a peacekeeping mission, and I’d left Melinda behind to live with her aunt and uncle. I felt they could give her a more stable life than I could. I’d been right. They raised her in a loving home, treated her as if she were their own, while I moved from mission to mission. I sent money to support her and called as often as I could, and at least I knew she had what I wasn’t able to give. Looking back on the situation, I was the absentee father she needed during that time, and as of late, I felt I needed to make that up to her.
“Glad to hear it. You still working at that bakery?” I asked. When Melinda finished school, she left our hometown and settled in Willow Valley.
“The Crispy Biscuit, yes. I love it there. They’ve given me more responsibility there, too, since Christmas. I really stepped up when Brooke got hurt.”
“That’s good. How is Willow Valley?”
“Honestly, I love it here. I know you’d love it there too, Dad.” She paused, as if waiting for me to respond, but when I didn’t, she cleared her throat and continued, “Oh, did you get my letter?”
I glanced over at my side table. I had gotten her last letter; it still lay on the top of the pile of my mail. “Yes, I did.”
“Well, what do you think? I expected a response. Did you want to take part in that program I’m organizing?”
She’d written to me to tell me about an army pen pal program she was starting. I was proud of my girl that she’d started something like this. Some of my men received very few letters from their families. Some were completely alone, and I’d seen the effects that had on them. That was why, when Melinda originally brought it up to me, I said that my crew would love to take part. I’d had each of my men, who wished to take part, give me their names, and I’d sent them to her. However, I’d failed to put my name down.
“It surprised me to see that your name wasn’t on the list, Dad. Did you not want to take part? I know you only have a year left and then you’re retiring, but it’s still a year, Dad. A year of being alone. A year of only receiving my letters, which I’m sure they aren’t that great.” She giggled. “I mean, how much do you really want to know about baking?”
I let out a breath. “Don’t kid yourself. I love hearing from you, kid. I want to hear all about baking. In fact, I want to hear everything about you and your life. Yes, you are correct, I have one more year left. I just don’t know what I am going to do after I leave here.”
“Well, Dad, it’s still a year. I hoped that you’d come and join me in Willow Valley when you retire. It would be nice to get to spend time with you again. I really think you’d like it here. It’s quiet, and there are a few military men that have settled here.”
“I know. You’ve told me before.”
The line grew quiet. Then I heard Melinda clear her throat. “Dad, can I ask you something?”
“Of course, you can.”
“How come you never remarried?”
I looked over at the small side table and at the small pictures of my wife and daughter. The most recent picture I’d received of Melinda had stopped me in my tracks. She was the spitting image of her mother. It was almost as if I were looking at a picture of my late wife when she was Melinda’s age. I won’t lie. It tugged at my heart.
“My dear, I hope you never understand my reasonings. What I will say is that work took over, and I needed to invest my time here.” It wasn’t a lie; it was the truth. Sort of. I’d buried myself in my job, pledging myself to my men instead of finding a life for myself, and that allowed me to protect my heart. It wasn’t much of a life, anyway, always being away from the ones you loved. I’d realized that after Polly had died and you would have thought I’d want to be with my daughter, but somehow, being here was what eventually healed me.
“What are you going to do when you retire? You’re going to need people, Dad.”
She was right. I would need people. As she’d suggested, I was seriously considering moving to Willow Valley. I just needed to make sure that move was the right one for me before I said anything to her. “I know, Melinda, and as I told you, I would think about it.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Now, with that said, this would be the best time then to agree to join the army pen pal program.” I could hear the laughter in her voice. How did I not see that coming?
I let out a deep breath. “All right, you win. I feel like I was just ambushed.” I laughed.
“You kinda were, and honestly, I figured you would have seen that coming from a mile away. Perhaps you are losing your touch!” She giggled.
“Hey now, I’ll have you know I am still as sharp as I was years ago.”
* * *
I watched as Sanders carried a large mailbag over his shoulder and dropped it down on the floor. “Mail call!” he shouted as he dug into the bag.
Moments later, I was sitting down sifting through my small pile of mail when a blank envelope caught my eye. The only giveaway was a sticker on the back sealing it shut that read APP. I smiled. While I wasn’t keen on developing a friendship with a stranger, I still tore open the letter. Unfolding the letter, I straightened out the pages and sat back in my chair and started reading.
To a new friend,
I really do not know what to write. So, I’ll start by saying my best friend, Trinity, coerced me into participating in this program. She keeps telling me I need to meet new people. I think secretly she just wants me to meet a man so I can date. The entire thought scares the daylights out of me. You see, I lost my husband a few years ago, eight to be exact, which I realize is a very personal fact about me, especially to write in a letter to someone I don’t know.
Anyway, let me introduce myself. My name is Peggy Hollis. I live in the small town of Willow Valley. It’s a cute little town, and one I’m thrilled to call home. I haven’t always lived here. I moved here, yes, after he passed away. I never thought I’d find a place to call home again, but I did. The residents opened their hearts and doors to me quickly, as we all do when someone new comes to town. That is how I met my best friend, Trinity. She owns a small bookstore, Bluebird Books. I am a reader of romance, and once I’d settled, I found I needed something to pass the evenings away. I was in luck because her store has a great romance section.
Now I bet you’re wondering what I do. No, I just don’t sit around reading great romances all day, although I probably could. I own a little flower shop here. Actually, the only one, Peggy’s Petals. How did I decide this was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life? Well. My husband, he was never great with words. Instead, he used to shower me with the most beautiful arrangements for my birthdays, anniversaries, and for all those silly I’m sorry moments. He said he spoke the language of love with flowers. So, I decided after he passed to open this small flower shop. It genuinely makes my heart happy to see those happy as they pick up arrangements or are surprised with one. So, now, I help those to speak the words that are scarce, through the language of flowers.
