Five Years Later 

 Clance took a bite of the misshapen cinnamon roll as he sat down behind the desk in his study. He smiled as they buttery treat fell apart in his hands, thinking back to watching Fern as she tried to teach their two sons how to make the rolls. 

There were few things that could make him smile more than his family. At that thought, he reached into his desk drawer as he licked the last of the treat from his fingers. He reached for the piece of paper he was looking for, careful not to add any more dirt to the wear that already showed on its outside. 

It had been five years since Fern had stepped off the train to start their life together in Hollow, and it was about four years and eleven months since the time he’d first read the letter now sitting before him. 

In the years of happiness, he’d spent with his wife, he’d often read the letter again, reflecting on how much they’d had to go through to find the happily-ever-after they were now living. This day especially was his favourite day of the year to read it, and he leaned back in his chair and held it in front of him now. 

 “Dear Clance,” he read, remembering exactly how he’d felt the first time he’d read those words in her first letter to him all those years ago, when she’d written to him about becoming his mail-order bride. The letter before him now hadn’t come for many months after that first one that had started it all though. 

 “I didn’t plan on writing you a letter as well, today. My fingers still are a little numb from how much I wrote to my sister earlier this afternoon. And I want to promise you that this time, I certainly didn’t say anything remotely awful about you, or something you had done or said even.” Clance chuckled at that now. It was funny, back then, he never would’ve thought he would ever be able to laugh about the words he’d once read on that horrible day they’d been robbed. Now, he was able to look back and laugh at his foolishness, but only because he was so happy with his life as it was.  

 He cleared his throat as he read the next part, knowing that the words were much more serious. 

 “I know that it’s in the past, but at times, the memories of the night we were robbed haunt me. I can’t get myself to forget the fear and worry I felt, no matter how much I try.  

 I know you must understand that—you probably understand that more, as you have been living in the ranch far longer than I. That’s what I tell myself as an excuse for your actions.” Clance shook his head at the man he used to be. He’d changed a lot since then, all for better, he thought—and all thanks to Fern.  

 “Whenever I feel the pain of when you yelled at me fresh as ever inside my bones, I whisper to myself that the only reason you took your anger out on me was because of all you had lost. 

 You almost did lose me then too, Clance…” This was always the hardest part to read, but he always did. He couldn’t imagine his life without Fern, and he paid close attention to this part, so he never repeated his mistakes again. “But you had a part of my heart, and I couldn’t begin to endure the pain it would have caused to part from you, when you had half of me in your fist.  

 I know you that you have no clue of what you’ve been holding for quite some time now. Though I want to tell you that I care for you so much more than just friends, but a little less than lovers. I also want to wait until I know you’re capable of loving me as much as I deserve.  

 You’re in your room right now. I only just left your study after listening to you explain all about Georgia, and how I misunderstood your words. Do you blame me though? Anyone would have assumed you were in love with someone else if they had seen your face once I confronted you about her.” Clance winced, hating to think back on that awful day when he’d almost ruined his marriage and lost the woman he loved.  

 “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. You looked at me like I was a stranger you had never seen, and I was asking you something so personal, you thought it was strange.  

 The more I sat on the grass waiting for at least one word to spill from your lips to prove me wrong, the more your expression turned to guilt. I assumed it was guilt for being unfaithful, but now I know it was guilt for being afraid.  

 I don’t know if I should believe every single word you spoke to me today and forgive you. Or if I should bear the pain of leaving a half of me with you, and in return have the relief of knowing you won’t be able to break your promises again.” Clance cleared his throat of the tears that always threatened when he read those words. It would have been unbearable to lose her, and he was grateful every day that Fern had been strong enough to reach through his insecurities and help him find his way to her.  

 “I don’t know a lot, and I can’t make decisions without knowing. It’s hard for me, Clance. I’m writing this so you’ll know someday that the only reason I’m in your life while you read this, is because I adore you enough to look past all things and forgive you.  

 So here are the words you hope to hear, I forgive you. And will keep doing so, but with a fight. You won’t know this until much later.” He smiled again, knowing that Fern had stuck to that promise. Fern certainly was a fighter, if nothing else. That was one of the greatest lessons his wife had taught him in all these years—how to fight for the things he loved. 

 He went back to reading. “And I hope you’ll forgive me for all the distress I’ve caused as well.  

 But there’s more I want to say to you.  

 Despite what you may believe, you’re better than any man I’ve met before. And trust me, I’ve spoken to many suitors before I responded to your ad. Do you know why you’re better, Clance? It’s because you don’t see how much goodness you have inside yourself. How much love you have to give someone else, and how much room you have in you to be loved.  

 Georgia didn’t steal everything from you, and now that I know your story, I promise I won’t allow you to think that she’ll ever have the chance to steal more from you. 

 When I give you this letter, I’ll tell you to read it only when you fall in love with me. Perhaps you’ll be sitting out in the patio as the sun is high above your head, and joy spilling from your heart. I’ll be inside baking. Or maybe if it takes you a little longer than I think, I’ll be inside with our child.” The picture she’d imagined was close to the reality of when he’d read this letter for the first time. He’d snuck outside to read it after her watching as she baked, though it had been before they’d learned she was pregnant with their first child.  

 “Where are we Clance? Where are we right now? I hope it is somewhere good. I hope there’s loud laughter and memories of different adventures in all the crooks of our house.” Another prediction of hers that had come true.  

 “I didn’t mean for this letter to sound so depressing, and now that I think of it, I may have written more hurtful phrases than ones that secretly mean I love you.  

 But please remember…I love you, Clance.  

 I love you now, and when you read this, I’m sure I’ll be loving you harder.  

 I’m choosing to say the words on paper, so you’ll know that all these days, or months, or years, you’ve always been a man who deserves more affection than he thinks he does. I couldn’t be happier to be the woman who gets to give you all that. Because to me, all your many flaws mean nothing. I’ll only see you by your perfections.  

 After you finish reading this, come wrap me in your arms and hold me tight against your chest. Press your lips to my ear, and whisper that we’ll keep finding our way to each other no matter what. Always.” 

 Grinning from ear-to-ear now, Clance gently folded the letter and pushed his seat back to do just as she’d instructed in her letter. But before he could stand, a noise at the door stole his attention. 

 He looked up, realising now that he’d been so lost in his reading of the letter that he hadn’t noticed Fern coming in the room. 

 “When’d you get here, darling?” he asked, shooting her the affectionate smile he couldn’t keep off his face every time he saw her. 

 “Somewhere around the part where I saw you were the best man I’d ever met, I think.” She grinned at him coyly, letting him know that she knew exactly what he’d been reading. Fern had written him many letters in the past five years, and he loved to keep them all. But this one letter, the one that represented all his feelings of love for her, was always his favourite.  

 “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here now,” he said as he got up and slowly walked towards you. “You’re just in time for me to do this.” Without any more warning, he jumped in front of Fern and wrapped her in his arms, lifting her up off the ground as she laughed. 

 “Put me down, Clance!” she protested, and it was only then that Clance realised Fern held something in her hands. 

 “What’s that you got?” he asked. 

 “Oh, this?” she said innocently. “Just a little anniversary present.” 

 She handed the wrapped gift to him, and he held the rectangular package in his hands. He looked at Fern with his eyebrows raised, wondering what she’d gotten up to. 

 Not wanting to wait another minute to see, he peeled off the wrappings and caught his breath. It was a painting, set in the same exact setting as the picture of him and his parents that had sat on the wall all these years. Except, instead of his parents, he was staring down at himself—now a man—with his arm wrapped around Fern, their two boys standing at their feet. 

 He felt a swell of emotion fill his chest as he looked down at the perfect family he and Fern had created. He never wanted to stop looking at it. 

 “I thought you could hang it here, in your study?” Fern said, though her uncertainty made it sound more like a question. Clance looked up from the painting and stared at his wife, grateful again for every moment he’d gotten to spend with her. When he didn’t say a word, but just stared, Fern looked down and cleared her throat. “Do you like it?” 

 Clance had to laugh at that, and he did. A great, booming laugh full of joy and happiness. Within seconds, Fern was laughing along with him, though she didn’t appear to know why. Soon enough, she gently flicked him on his arm, a big smile on her face, asking “Well, do you?” 

 “No, I don’t like it,” he answered, and gave a chuckle again as he watched Fern’s expression change into a frown. “I love it. Almost as much as I love you.” 

 And with that, Clance put down the painting and wrapped Fern in his arms again, basking in the joy of their happily-ever-after. 

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