The Brave Little Love Letter: A Dear Henry, Love Edith Short Story

What? No. Kat had to be seeing things.

She raced out the front door and skidded onto the porch. “Brady, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be there. At a conference. In Colorado.” She pointed toward the blue house across the street, then realized Colorado would be in the direction of Ms. Appleblossom’s house to the left since that was more westward.

Ack! Why was she worrying about the direction of Colorado in relation to her tiny Illinois town when the real issue was Brady. Here. In his driveway. Dragging a duffel bag out of his SUV right as Mr. Walton, their mailman, ambled down the block with a bag full of mail. Mail that included a love letter Kat never would have written and mailed if she thought Brady was actually going to read it.

No, no, no. It was supposed to be a cathartic exercise. A chance to pour out her undeniable attraction to her adorable neighbor without any danger of ruining their friendship because she planned to retrieve the letter herself when she brought in his mail.

“I thought you weren’t getting back until Thursday.” Kat scrambled down the porch steps, needing to stop Mr. Walton from delivering that letter.

“I know, but . . .” Brady adjusted his duffel bag as if it were chaffing his skin. “Something came up. Needed to get back early.”

Kat pressed her lips together before she shouted something crazy. Something like “Go away and burn that mail, Mr. Walton!”

But she had to say something. Mr. Walton wasn’t going away. He’d obviously taken a postal code oath to deliver mail in all situations, including ones where a woman frantically waved her arms in a shooing motion every time Brady’s back was turned.

“Well gee, Brady. You must be tired.” Ah. Yes. That was something. Something that might get Brady into his house long enough for Kat to retrieve her letter.

“Actually, I am tired.”

“Wonderful!” Kat tried toning down her enthusiasm. If only Mr. Walton would tone down his. The man was practically prancing. What could possibly be so exciting about delivering the mail?

“I mean it, Brady. You should go inside and rest. I said inside,” Kat added when Brady started inching down the driveaway in the opposite direction of his house.

“I was actually thinking about some coffee.”

“Coffee’s a great idea,” Kat said, her voice sounding shrieky to her own ears. “Make some.”

Brady continued shifting his weight, edging closer to the sidewalk. The way he squirmed, you’d think he needed to go to the bathroom. What was wrong with him?

“I know,” Kat said, one eye on the wiggly Brady, the other on the jolly mailman looming behind him. “How about I fix the coffee? Then you can tell me about your conference. In fact, I can’t wait another second to hear about it. Come inside. Right now.”

“Sure.” Brady glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Walton. “Just let me drop off my bag and grab the mail first.”

“No!” Kat raced forward. “I mean, that’s my job. Let me grab the mail.”

“Nah, I owe you for bringing in my mail this week. In fact, why don’t I bring in your mail today? I mean, you’ve got to be exhausted. Bringing in all that mail. Your mail. My mail. I’m sure you could use a break.”

“Oh, but it invigorates me. It does. Let me.”

“Hey you two,” Mr. Walton interrupted, eyebrows dancing up and down. “Got a special delivery. Have to say, I didn’t know people still wrote love lett—”

“Yay, the mail,” Kat shouted, hoping she’d drowned out Mr. Walton’s words as she lunged toward him. “Thanks. I can take it. All of it.”

“Oh no, that’s okay.” Brady reached past her, his duffel bag plopping to the sidewalk as he jutted out a hand. “She’s done enough. Just put Kat’s mail on my tab if you will.”

“Oh, Brady’s such a goof, isn’t he?” Kat fought her way between Brady and Mr. Walton. “But seriously, give everything to me, Mr. Walton. Everything.”

Two strong hands gripped her by the waist, spinning her away. “The letter, Mr. Walton,” Brady whispered. “Give me the letter. Now.”

“Don’t listen to him, Mr. Walton.” Kat jumped over the duffel bag and onto Brady’s back. She didn’t know how Brady had learned about her letter, but no way was she letting him read it. “It’s not his. It’s mine.”

“Lies, Mr. Walton. Lies. We all know it’s my letter.”

“How is it your letter? I’m the one who wrote a love letter and mailed it. It’s mine, okay? Mine.”

“What do you mean you’re the one who wrote it and mailed it? I’m the one who wrote a love letter and mailed . . .” Brady’s voice drifted to silence. “Wait, are you saying you wrote me a love letter?”

Kat slid from his back. “Maybe . . . Are you saying you wrote me a love letter?”

“Possibly.” Brady adjusted his t-shirt. “May have also possibly panicked and caught an early flight back so I could intercept it before you read it because I was afraid of losing our friendship when you discovered how wildly attracted I am to you.”

Oh wow. Kat slid her gaze to Mr. Walton, who was staring at them with both bushy brows raised and a letter gripped in each hand. “So . . . can I deliver these love letters now or what?”

“Sure.” Kat jumped into Brady’s arms, meeting him kiss after kiss. “Don’t know why you waited so long in the first place, Mr. Walton.”

THE END