The white-haired man limped down his driveway – an old wound from the war making it difficult to walk – and opened his mail box, idly flipping through its contents. Bill, bill, grocery flyer, bill, solicitation...and a small green envelope with red lettering on it. Curious, the old man shut his mail box and hurried as much as he could to his front porch. Sitting down in one of the white wicker chairs his late wife had picked out with care, he put the rest of the mail on the matching table and looked at the envelope.

There didn't seem to be anything inside it; it felt too light for that. The color scheme reminded him of Christmas, which wasn't for another five months, unless the sender was going for a Christmas-in-July theme. The man flipped the envelope over, gently teasing the mouth of it open with his fingers, and, as he'd thought, there was nothing inside. Had the sender put this in his or her mailbox without realizing the accompanying letter was absent? Was it somehow the mailman's fault? Sitting up straighter in his chair, the old man felt a burst of excitement go through him. It wasn't everyday little mysteries like this landed at his door.

He flipped the envelope back around and finally paid close attention to the words on the front. His address was written in somewhat legible cursive, and though he could read the return address, he did not recognize it. What was most interesting, however, was the small list of instructions written underneath his address. Was that his letter?

Go to Sally's Cafe. Sit outside and order apple pie. Wait until 2. Sally's Cafe was a place he and his granddaughter often visited. A pang struck him as he thought of Emma, whom he'd raised when her father skipped out and her mother died. She was also off to war, as he had once been, and he hadn't seen her for at least seven months. He tried to keep his mind away from terrible scenarios, and perhaps this mysterious note would be able to help him do just that.

About an hour later, at five of two, the old man was sitting at an outside table in front of Sally's Cafe, slowly picking at his slice of apple pie. Plenty of cinnamon and a dollop of ice cream, it felt like a slice of Heaven. If Emma were here to share it with him, like so many times before, it really would be Heaven. The whole time he'd been there, he'd kept an eye out for any one who seemed to be waiting for him, but nobody had popped out to him. He was beginning to wonder if  he had wasted his time, though the pie and the free refills on coffee surely couldn't be considered a waste. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was 2:00. He had waited. Where was the person who had sent him those instructions? He stood up, feeling annoyed at the sender and himself.

"Gramps?" The old man spun around, startled by the familiar voice. Right behind him, wearing her Army Combat Uniform and looking as beautiful and terrifying in it as the day she left, was Emma. The man gasped, stunned into immobility for a moment, before reaching out and pulling her into a bear hug, like he used to do when she was little. Though she was 5'10", he was 6'2", and he relished the fact that he could still enfold her entirely. He breathed in her scent and gripped her tighter.

"I missed you, baby girl," he said, finally pulling away, though only slightly. The bright blue eyes she had inherited from her mother and him sparkled as she smiled at him.

"I missed you, too, Gramps," she replied. Her smile grew into a grin. "I wanted to surprise you. Since you're always reading those mystery novels, I thought this would be a cool way to do it. My friend Molly wrote your address and used hers as the return so you wouldn't recognize my handwriting or anything that might give me away."

He chuckled. "Well, color me surprised!" he said. He stepped back and squeezed her hand, then guided her around the table. They sat down, and he pushed his nearly-finished apple pie towards her, the ice cream now a melted puddle. Emma dug in eagerly, grinning as she swallowed. He grinned back.

Now it was Heaven.