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1
ANDREA
Iknow I shouldn’t read his letter again. I’ve read it so many times already. But when my daughter, Sadie, goes off to use the bathroom in the back of the diner, I pull Carter’s letter out of my purse and soak in his words for the umpteenth time.
I can’t wait to finally meet you, Andrea. It feels like I’ve waited my whole life for it.
My heart thrums, a mixture of nerves and excitement blooming in my chest. I feel the same way as Carter does. It does feel as if I’ve waited my whole life to meet him in person. And, to be fair, it’s nearly true. We’ve been writing to each other since fourth grade, ever since we were randomly paired through a national pen pal program.
Now, twenty years later, we’re about to meet—and it could change everything. For better or worse.
“Really, Mom? You’re reading it again?”
The sound of my eight-year-old daughter’s voice jolts me back into the present moment. I quickly fold up Carter’s letter andstuff it into my purse. Sadie laughs as she hops back into the booth across from me.
“Did you wash your hands?” I ask her.
“Nope. I’m a disgusting human being who uses public bathrooms and doesn’t wash her hands.” She grabs a french fry from her plate and bites into it. “You aren’t changing your mind, are you?”
“About what?” I ask.
“Carter.”
“Of course not. I’m excited to meet him.” I pause. “Are you still okay with it?”
“Yes, Mom. I’ve told you a billion times. I think it’s awesome that you’re finally going to meet your pen pal. You should have done this a long time ago.”
The wordpen palfeels far too casual for what I have with Carter. But how else can I describe our relationship? We’re not together. He’s not my boyfriend. Wearejust pen pals. That’s all it’s ever been.
As for why it took us this long to meet each other in person…well, I’ve had my hands full, working a full-time job and raising a kid on my own. And Carter has never suggested that we meet, so it seemed to me that he was fine with keeping our friendship on paper. But a few months ago, Sadie and I moved to a new town that’s just a few hours away from Carter’s ranch, and it felt ridiculousnotto meet Carter. So here we are, on our way.
“We better get going,” I say, fishing some money out of my wallet to pay for our meal.
Sadie walks with a bounce in her step as we leave the diner and walk back to our car. Her hair is in French braids today, and she’s wearing her favorite pink hoodie. She’s so much more of a girly girl than I ever was. It’s been one of many surprising and fun things about raising her. There’s alotof glitter in our house.
“Hey, Mom?” she says as we pull out of the parking lot and get back on the highway. “I’m sure Carter will be a cool guy, but just in case he’s not, should we have a code word or something? In case we need to get out of there quickly, I mean?”
I laugh. “Sure. Sounds like a good plan. How about ‘cilantro’?”
“Ugh! Yes. Perfect.” Sadie wrinkles her little button nose. To her, cilantro tastes soapy and disgusting. I can’t say the same applies to me, but I make a point of keeping it out of my cooking for her sake.
“Your turn to pick the music,” I tell my daughter, pressing down on the gas a little more to bring us up to the speed limit.
“Ooh. I know areallygood new K-Pop album,” Sadie squeals, happily grabbing my phone.
A little over an hour later, after miles and miles of peacefully open highway roads, we spot the entrance to Carter’s ranch. There’s a large metal gate that would look intimidating if it wasn’t open. Our tires rumble over the gravel as I turn off the highway, dust rising behind us in my rearview mirror.
All I can see are acres upon acres of land as the gravel road curves and rises up a small hill. It’s not until we reach the top that the rest of the ranch comes into view.
“Oh,wow,” breathes Sadie. “Look how big this place is!”
I’m at a loss for words. The ranch seems to reach all the way into the horizon, with a backdrop of the majestic mountains off in the distance. There are softly rolling hills, lots of huge trees, and a glimmering lake. An enormous house sits straight ahead of us on one of the hills, and cattle are grazing in the pastures.
I swallow, feeling a little disoriented. This can’t be Carter’s ranch. I must have turned into the wrong place. Surely I would have known if Carter’s property was this massive, this luxurious…
I slow the car down as we reach the wide circular driveway in front of the main house. I’m prepared to drive all the way around and head out the way we came in. But then I spot a figure in the distance, out in the field. A man is riding a horse, coming directly toward us at a steady clip.
Carter.
