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“Hey. Hey, what’s wrong? What’s going on? Why are you laughing?”
I clutched my sides and leaned back on the bed as I let the emotions of the night wash over me. “Nothing,” I managed to get out.
“Nothing?”
“I mean…no—God, it’s just…funny.”
“What is?”
“I have had so much stress over these letters. They’ve been sitting in there, in my closet, tormenting me for years. Years, Landon,” I told him, biting back another laugh. “And this is all it is. Memories from my childhood. Memories of my mom.”
“I think it’s pretty amazing. I wish I had something like this from my parents,” he admitted.
I leaned forward and kissed him. “Oh, I love you. You are right. This was so worth it. I should have opened these a long time ago. Though, maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have been as forgiving. Maybe I needed someone to show me that it’s okay to make mistakes. That we can forgive and we can move on from what happened.”
He brought his lips to mine again. “I’m glad that I could be of service.”
“Oh, you have been of great service,” I said, moving my eyebrows up and down.
He laughed. “Are you saying you’re ready for round two?”
“Um…yes, but also sleep?”
“In that order?”
“You’ve convinced me.”
Landon carefully put all the letters back in the box and set it on the floor. “What are you going to do about all of that?” he asked as he climbed back on top of me.
I fell backward on the bed and enjoyed the feel of his body pressing into me. “I think I know exactly what I need to do.”
His eyes swept over my face, and he smiled. “Good.”
Then, his mouth covered mine, and all talking ceased.
* * *
The next morning, Landon and I presented our identification to the security guard at the gate outside of the prison where my father was housed. I was dressed in a simple blue sundress and a distressed jean jacket, and I was shaking like a leaf. I’d been so confident when I planned this trip the day before, but now that I was here, I couldn’t believe it was actually happening.
After clearing our IDs, we were told where to go for visiting hours.
Landon put his arm around my shoulders and steered me into the building. “It’s okay,” he told me. “You can do this.”
“I know I can. But I’m…what if he doesn’t want to see me?”
“The man has been writing you letters for six years. He wants to see you.”
I knew he was right, but still, I couldn’t shake the fear from my veins. This could be a disaster.
I took a deep breath and walked inside.
Landon and I found a table at the back of the room, but I couldn’t sit. I was too jittery. Nerves were fighting their way through my body, and I clenched and unclenched my hands. Landon stood by me and was my rock through the whole thing. Other visitors came in and waited, sitting casually at tables. This clearly wasn’t their first time.
A buzzer by the door announced that inmates were being let into the room, and I snapped to attention. My eyes were fixed on the door, as I waited for that moment.
Anxiety crept through my body, and I shook my head. “Maybe we should go,” I whispered.
“We can if you’re not ready.” He took my hand in his. “But I think you’re ready.”
