Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dear ShopGirl,
I know it’s silly to write this in an email. After all, you are one room away from me, snoring (in a most adorable fashion, of course). Why email someone who I could be sitting next to and talking with?

You’ve gotten to be a habit with me. Whenever something good happens, I want to share it with you. And something good–the best something good–has happened.

You met me.

That sounds self-important, I know. Kathleen of last year would be scoffing. But I think Kathleen of today understands.

No more secrets. I am Joe Fox, you are Kathleen Kelly, we are finally together.

And I couldn’t be happier.
Joe

Joe,
There I was, on the steps of the 5th avenue library, still a little lost in my book, when all of a sudden a cat leapt off of Patience (or was it Fortitude? Every time I think I know which is which, I can’t remember if I’m remembering right or wrong), and it landed on top of a hot dog cart. The customer screamed, the seller sighed, and the cat curled up nice and warm. It was New York in a nutshell and you weren’t here at home for me to tell.

Which is to say that I miss you very badly, and eight days is far too long for you to be gone. I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to permit it after this trip. I’m sure you understand.

Love,
Kathleen

Hey there, sweetheart,
I have been instructed to send this exactly as dictated.
Joe

Dear Kathleen,
How are you? I’m fine. I’m sorry that my nephew put your store out of business. I had a talk with him.

I finished Betsy-Tacy and Tib. Are you related to Tacy and her sister Katie? You have the same last name.

What should I read next?

Yours sincerely,
Annabelle

Joe,

Why aren’t you answering your phone? Are you online? I’m trying to call you!

Your secretary is scheduling us a celebratory dinner.

My book has been sold!

Get ready for a lot of twirling.

Now hang up and call me back!

Love, Kathleen

Now how did you swing this, sweetheart? I promised no more solo business trips, at your request. And yet, I am here and you are gone. Away. On a business trip.

Brinkley keeps letting out these mournful sighs, and since I’ve been sharing snacks with him, I know it’s because he misses you.

I think neither of us should be allowed to go on business trips alone. Do you agree with this proposal?

Knock ‘em dead!
Love, Joe

Joe leafed through the album, skimming everything that Kathleen had put together. Some of the pages made him laugh, others made him want to kiss her with every fiber of his being. Their first year together, in printed emails and ephemera and stickers.

He could practically feel Kathleen vibrating with impatience as he paused on a page here and there. His lack of verbal response was probably driving her up a wall, and he grinned to himself. It wasn’t intentional on his part, he really was almost speechless, but it was also kind of funny how predictable she was.

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” Kathleen finally burst out. “It is, it’s too much, I knew it was.” She shook her head. “Too many pages, too–mmmm.”

He pulled back just enough to tuck Kathleen’s hair, which had come loose in her shaking, back behind her ear. “It’s marvelous,” he breathed. “How did you even–”

Kathleen slid from the armchair to the loveseat he was on, squeezing herself in between him and the arm. “I’ve been collecting things,” she said triumphantly. “Little things from our dates and favorite places. Things that would make me think of you when I saw them. So when I was thinking about an anniversary gift, I thought about something that would make you think of me, and voila! Our scrapbook.”

“A scrapbook, right,” he repeated. He wrapped his arm around her, and slid the album so it rested over both of their laps.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said, turning back a few pages. She pointed to a photo that Matthew had taken of the two of them and Brinkley. It was crooked, part of Joe’s head had been cut off, and Brinkley’s backend was a blur of movement.

“Annabelle was trying so hard to get Brinkley to do a trick for the camera,” Joe said, shaking his head. “And the big dumb mutt just kept going over to give her kisses.”

“Poor Matthew,” Kathleen said. “The camera angle is a bit avantgarde–”

“I believe it’s a Dutch tilt,” Joe said.

“Oh, well, then,” Kathleen said. “Then he has a good eye for framing and surrealist innovation.”

“He’s going places, absolutely,” Joe said. “I’d forgotten all about this one.” He paged forward to a two page spread as they debated the superior A Star is Born.

“Because you knew you were wrong,” Kathleen said. “Why remember something so wrong?”

“Oh ho ho,” he teased. “Bold words from the woman who thinks that Janet Gaynor gave a superior performance to Judy Garland. Who is Janet Gaynor? The world does not remember.”

“I did not say that she gave a superior performance,” Kathleen protested. “See? Right there.” She stabbed her finger at the email print out. “Janet gave a quieter and more heartfelt performance. The heartbreak of Frederic March was more pronounced than James Mason. Not everything needs to be big and loud to be felt!”

“All right, all right,” Joe said, rubbing her shoulder. “We do not need to relitigate, I apologize.”

“I accept,” she said seriously, and then kissed his nose.

“Thank you,” he said, giving her a squeeze. “And thank you for the last year and this beautiful record of it.”

“Thank you, too,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s been a good year, hasn’t it?”

“The very best I’ve ever had,” he agreed.

“And it’s all right here for us to look through and remember whenever we want,” she said, flipping through the pages again. Trips to the zoo, vacations up north, love notes, promises they intended to keep to each other. All there.

“Almost all,” he said, and she abruptly sat up

“What do you mean almost?” she asked.

“I sent you an email earlier,” he said. “Did you not read it yet?”

He knew she hadn’t, because he’d sent it from her computer while she was pulling his gift out.

“Noooo?” she said, squinting at him. “Why did you email me earlier?”

“I already typed it out to you,” he said. “Why would I tell you? You can read it.”

“Okay,” she said, dragging it out.

He carefully kept his face neutral as she kept squinting at him, as if she could read his mind with her eyes.

“I guess I’ll read it when we get back from dinner,” she said. “We need to head out soon, right?”

“Not that soon,” he said, trying to sound casual. “You have time to check your email now if you want. I know you were waiting to hear back from Christina.”

“Okay,” Kathleen said after a beat. “Sure. I’ll go check my email. I’ll be right back.” She kissed his cheek and headed for her computer.

Joe rubbed his palms on his slacks and exhaled.

The computer loudly dialed and squealed its connection. It was interminable, but finally, Joe mouthed along with his second favorite three-word-sentence: “You’ve got mail!”

He knew she read quickly, so he counted quietly in his head. At 10-Mississippi, he heard her gasp and went to her side.

“Oh, Joe,” she murmured, as he slowly knelt next to her. The computer monitor showed the top half of his email, another half dozen proposals from classic literature still to be read, but she knew what he was doing.

“You’ve already made me the happiest man in the world,” Joe said, pulling out the ring box and opening. “Will you allow me the honor and privilege of being your husband, partner, and most staunch champion…for as long as we both shall live?”

“Yes, of course,” Kathleen whispered, tearing up. “Joe. I'm yours for ever--for ever and ever,” she quoted.

He slid the ring on her trembling finger, and took both her hands in his, kissed her fingers and then her lips.

Kathleen pulled back and beamed at him. "You know what this deserves, right?"

She pulled them both up to stand and they twirled around the room, laughing until they cried.

Dearest Joe,
The rector’s wife is knocking on the door, but I’m ignoring her. Does she think that I’m somehow trying to be a runaway bride? And I chose to run away into an office?

But really, now I’m the silly one who is writing an email to you when we’re in the same building, waiting to see each other in front of all of our family and friends.

I never once guessed that going into that ridiculous chat room would be the best thing I ever did. You were the best birthday present I could have ever gotten.

I wish our love story could have started right then and there, but as much as I cringe thinking about those months we didn’t get along in person, I wouldn’t give them up for anything. They strengthened our relationship and brought us right to where we are now.

I love you, Joe Fox. I can’t wait to start the rest of our lives.

Love, Kathleen

(But you will never get me to agree that Poirot is better than Marple, so stop trying!)