Raleigh Harper / Emily Watkins

The cruise had those cheap little pads of paper emblazoned with their logo, and the bottom said come sail with us. Raleigh'd found the pad of paper and a pen, and it'd taken her until the fourth day to actually decide to write the letter. She was sick; the wound in her side had gone bad, and she already was burning up with fever. She'd folded the pages and stuffed them in the pocket of Joel's shirt before she finally let herself take some painkillers, until she spent a majority of her time sleeping, forgetting she'd actually even put the letter there in the first place.

When they landed, when they were in the hospital, the nurse had been helpful. The folded up pieces of paper had somehow fallen on the floor- she'd thought they were trash at first. When she'd scanned the note, thought, it was addressed to Joel, and it was an easy thing to slip them into the pile of clothes that would be going home with him. It looked important, but Joel was sleeping while he was waiting to be released for the day, so she didn't say anything, and just moved on to the next patient.

---

( The letter: )

"Yes!" It was a surprised yelp of happiness, and the Waters house - so recently only being where Spencer lived, but somehow it'd abruptly become a bustling hub of activity - smelled amazing, and the kitchen - Spencer was out this morning, and it was probably good because his kitchen? Baked goods. Baked goods everywhere, and it was hot as hell with an exhaust fan in the window and there's cookies and a cake and just now, just now Raleigh's pulling bread out of the oven and it's fine. It's not burnt, it's golden brown and when she raps on it with a spoon it sounds just right and, "Thank you god."

The radio's blaring country music, and she's barefoot in one of Spencer's old t-shirts and a pair of cut off jean shorts, her hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head. She got her stitches out three days ago, and she can bake again. Everything, everything, it's coming out perfect, and she's got flour smearing her cheek and the moment someone - anyone - comes in, they're getting food. She's got a pan on the stove that's stewing apples, and dough in the fridge and honestly, right this minute? Raleigh's in heaven.