Author dreampop
Disclaimer I don't own.
Rating G
Summary Dear Joanna Beth, It's your Uncle John.
Dear Joanna Beth
Dear Joanna Beth,
It's your Uncle John.
I'm not some possessed man, or a shifter, or just some stranger writing this letter, alright, so don't let your imagination get ahead of you.
I know you've already got ideas up in that pretty head of yours about what happened to me and why I haven't been around in a long while to see you and your mama. But that's exactly why…it's just you and your mother, and I don't think I could handle that.
Don't think I don't care about you, Joanna, please. I'm not saying that since your daddy's passed that there is no reason for me to stop on by. Girly, there are a thousand and one reasons why I should.
I should be there for your next birthday in a couple of weeks. I should be there for Christmas dressed up like Santa. I should bring my boys over so you can finally meet them. (You'd like the younger one, but my older son would probably give you hell.) I should be there to teach you how to drive and threaten to shoot any boy who comes near you, because trust me Joanna, they will. You've got your mama's sass and your daddy's looks, and there'll be a line out the Roadhouse door of guys just waiting to pick you up.
Someone has gotta look after you, be a father to you, and…Jesus, Jo, I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. Your daddy was a hell of friend, and God know I ain't got many. I owe Bill Harvelle at least the promise to look after his little girl.
And your just that, sweetheart, a little, innocent girl with big brown eyes and pretty blonde hair just like my Mary. You don't deserve the life I've left you with, but ain't that what I do? I screw up. I let down the ones I love.
And I do love you, Joanna. Know that alright? Even if I never come back to Nebraska, never send you a damn birthday card, never eat dinner with you, never let you handle the Impala—I will never, ever forget you, Joanna Beth. You got that?
I'm your Uncle John. Always will be.