I know you asked me not to do this. Those last words you whispered to me were to stay strong, to keep the hope alive in my heart and to be there for Mary. I wanted you to say you loved me and you’d come home for me.
The dust trail following Doug’s car is gone now. You’ve really left me. Us. A part of me kept hoping you wouldn’t, but I knew deep down you would. Please come home, Jack. Please.
There’s not much I won’t do for you. I wish with all my heart you didn’t have to leave, but I know that for you, serving your country is your way of protecting your family — even when I disagree.
I can say that now. Here, in this journal that you bought for me. You asked me to write to you daily in this, to share with you my day, to tell you stories about Mary...I just hope you won’t regret it.
If there’s one thing you know about me, it’s that I’m honest to a fault. I love you Jack, but I am angry with you for leaving. I’ve never felt this angry with you.
If you don’t come home to me — I will never forgive you. How’s that for my first letter to you?
I’m sorry. That was horrible. You don’t need to be reading that nonsense. I can’t promise never to write it but I will promise to keep my fears to myself. I’m scared that you are gone. I’m worried that you won’t come home to me.
Jack, you need to keep your promise to me, that you’ll come home safe and sound. I don’t care if you’re scarred or missing limbs — you just need to come home.
It’s late. The house is quiet and the reality of you not being here has finally set in. I’m not sure I can sleep tonight without you by my side. This will be our first night apart since we’ve been married. It doesn’t feel right.
I was able to keep busy this afternoon, working in the garden and baking a cake with Mary. She is such a strong little girl. She carried in some wood logs and placed them by the fireplace, just like you taught her. You would have been proud of her, Jack. We said a prayer for you tonight at dinner — actually, Mary was the one who prayed for you. I couldn’t get any words out past the lump in my throat. You should have seen her. Her eyes were clenched tight and her hands were folded beneath her chin. She asked that God’s strongest angels become your body guards.
Speaking of Mary, she’s up in our bed, curled tight on your side. I stayed with her while she cried herself to sleep. She’s too young to understand what this all means. How you are fighting to protect our country and our rights. She just knows that her daddy isn’t here, taking care of her. I’m not sure if I’ll be everything she needs.
I think that scares me the most. I know, you’re probably shocked to hear me admit that, waiting for lightning to strike. I’ll try Jack. I promise I’ll try to stay strong, to be what Mary needs me to be while you’re not here.
Just promise to come home, okay?
Love, forever yours.
Two
Dear Jack,
You would have loved today. It was beautiful, full of sunshine and a gentle wind. If you were here, you’d be out in your front garden, nurturing those rose bushes as if they were your babies, then you’ll be grumbling at me to make you some homemade iced tea. But you’re not and I’m too afraid to touch your rose bushes. I did water them and they look fine. There are a few buds that look promising.
Mary and I spent the day soaking up the sun. First, we worked in the garden, pulling weeds and making sure the tender shoots were doing okay. Then, instead of heading back into the house for more housework, I thought about what you would do if you were here. You always spent time playing with Mary, teaching her things, making her smile when you weren’t working hard on fixing the lawn mower or building another doll house to sell. You never seem to worry about getting your things done when Mary’s around. She’s always been your number one priority. I’m not like that, able to switch off the part of me that is always thinking about what needs to be done, but I’ll try to be. So, we played on the swing you put up for her for what must have been hours. You should have heard her, Jack. Her laughter was beautiful.
Just when I thought my arms would fall off from pushing her for so long, Doug’s vehicle drove down our driveway. Mary was so excited, she jumped off the swing and ran towards the passenger side of the truck. She thought you were home. I wish you were.
It was a good thing he came bearing gifts. Mary lit up like a christmas tree once she saw the bag he pulled out. He brought her a new bouncing ball, skip rope and crayons. You would have thought he brought her a puppy the way she squealed. Jack, if he ever brings us a puppy and you’re not here, just know that one day when you do come home, I may just smother you in your sleep. Taking care of a dog right now is not something I want to do. Do you hear me? No, of course you don’t. But I warned Doug and by the look in his eye, I wouldn’t put it past him that he’d thought about it.
Now, I know he said he only came by to ‘check in on us’, but you asked him to take care of us, didn’t you? I can think of two reasons why you would do so.
1. For your own peace of mind. You needed to know that the person you trusted the most was taking care of your family when you couldn’t.
2. To give him something to do since he couldn’t join you.
I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. It’s nice to have a man around the house. All he needs to do is fall asleep on the front porch while I’m telling him about my day and I’d think he was you. I miss that, actually...you, being here.
In all honesty, it feels...odd...to have Doug come out here and not have you around. You are his friend, not mine. I’m just the wife of his best friend who makes sure he’s always fed. It was awkward for a few moments. I think we both realized it at the same time, but then Mary threw her new ball at him and forgot to warn him. I gotta say, she’s got a good arm. You taught her well. Good thing the ball was plastic, otherwise she would have broken his nose.
He’s a good man. I’m not sure why he’s never married. In all the years I’ve known him, there’s never really been a woman in his life — that I’ve known of. I imagine you’re shaking your head at me, aren’t you. You probably know all his deep and dark secrets. Not that I want to know them. I don’t. But maybe he knows yours, the ones you won’t tell me about. The ones that
a wife should know. Don’t bother denying it, Jack. I know you better than you think. Don’t for a moment believe you’ve fooled me. I’ve seen those shadows in your eyes when you’ve had a little too much to drink.
Anyways, Doug stayed for dinner. He sat in your place, I hope that was okay. Mary set the table and she led him there before I could stop her. You know, she always sets a plate at your chair, the same as I would do if you were working late or out in your shed and lost track of time. I don’t dissuade her; it’s kind of nice to pretend that you will be home soon. I didn’t make anything special, just shepherd’s pie, but the man seemed starving. Like normal. So I sent him home with the leftovers. It’s the least I could do. But why is it I have a feeling I’ll be seeing more of him than normal?
I love you Jack.
Three
Jack,
There was a reason I never wanted to be a widow, a single parent, solely responsible for raising our daughter. I need you home and I need you home now.
Notice I didn’t start this letter off with Dear? Right now I have less than loving feelings towards you. Today was not a good day, Jack. Not a good day at all.
It started with Mary waking up on the wrong side of the bed. Or maybe it started with me not having much sleep since all Mary could do was cry last night. Yes, cry. All. Night. Long. No, I’m not being overly dramatic, trust me on this. She hasn’t been feeling well, just a summer cold, but she’s only a little thing and she doesn’t handle being sick very well. Reminds me of someone else I know. Her whole body ached so I made a nice warm bath for her, but it didn’t seem to help much. I swear she’s going through a growth spurt at the same time, I had to rub her legs for hours just to help ease the aching. The warm compress I made only worked for so long. I even tried that trick
of yours, placing a hot bowl of water beneath the bed, but it didn’t work. It only works when Daddy puts it there. Daddy has the magic touch. Daddy only knows how to make me feel better. I want my Daddy.
Honestly, I love you Jack. I love Mary. But I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. You were the one to always comfort her when she was sick. You were the one she wanted, not me. Even now, when you’re not here, you’re the one she wants. Right now, she’s calling for you. It’s almost ten o’clock at night, she should be sound asleep but she fights it and is fighting me. I had to finally leave her side and come down here to make a cup of tea. Will she ever stop crying? I hope so. I can feel your displeasure with me. I know, I know...suck it up buttercup, right? Life isn’t always going the way we planned, but it’s how we handle it that matters. All right, Jack. I hear you. Maybe another warm bath will help her fall asleep...
Mary is in bed now, fast asleep. Finally. The warm bath seemed to help. We also wrote you a little story. I’ll post it tomorrow in the mail for you. I’m sure you’d love to receive it. When I suggested to Mary that we write stories every week for you, she calmed down. Why didn’t I think of this earlier?
This hasn’t been all that easy for me. I’m sorry if it seems like I’m just complaining. Well, I’m not really all that sorry, because I am complaining. But you’re the only one who will listen — you really don’t have a choice. Trying to be both mother and father, homemaker and provider — it’s all tiresome.
I was so tired today that I burned the bread I made, dropped our last container of milk all over the kitchen floor and threatened Mary within an inch of her life if she didn’t stop crying.
I’m not the best mother out there. I’ll be the first to admit that. But yelling at her while she’s not feeling well? I felt horrible. It reminded me of my own mother. How hard and unyielding she was. I’m turning into my mother and I hate it. Jack, I’m not as strong as you thought I was. I’m sorry.
Mary is finally asleep. I cuddled with her and read her a story tonight. She’s wearing one of your shirts to bed, it seemed to help calm her down. She’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep.
A cheque arrived today. Thank you for having a portion sent home. I hope you made arrangements to keep some with you. I know things aren’t a bed of roses there. The little bit you sent home is enough to help out. Please don’t worry about us, you know we are fine, especially compared to most people. I was able to sell another quilt, and I have orders for a few more. I heard today on the radio that the church in Kinrich is looking for donations for the upcoming winter months. I have all that wool boxed up in the attic; I could put my knitting skills to use and make some hats and mittens to keep me occupied in the evenings when Mary is in bed.
Goodnight my love. Sweet dreams!
Four
Dear Jack,
Your letters came today. All five of them. The last letter is dated over a month ago and it looks like it was dropped in a puddle and left there for a few days. Your writing is hard to read but I think I got the most of it. Mary’s letter was fine though; I think the small fabric bookmark helped to protect it. She is afraid to use that bookmark, by the way. She thinks she’s going to lose it. I suggested we could frame it and put it beside her bed.
It’s hard to believe it’s been over two months since you left. So much has happened, and at the same time, nothing has happened. Nothing, compared to you.
I can’t imagine sleeping in barracks with all those other men. The lack of privacy in almost every area of life, that is not something I can do. Are you getting enough to eat and drink? The last thing we need is for you to be sick. Please take care of yourself.
I’ll take my time reading your letters, that way they’ll last. I’ll save them until the house is quiet and Mary is up in bed, when I miss you the most. The evenings are long and hard to get through. I knew I would miss you, but not this much. I’ve never wanted to be a needy wife, but I’m not too ashamed to admit that I need you Jack. I need your touch, your laughter, your warmth. It’s colder at nights now and I find I’m wearing my wool leggings beneath my flannel nightgown at nights. Soon, I’ll need to have the heat on low. See — I remembered your words about the pipes freezing. I’m so thankful that we decided to upgrade the old farmhouse all those years ago with the heating. How my parents managed to get by with only the fireplace as their heating source, I’ll never know.
Doug is becoming a regular fixture around here. I keep a list now on the table by the back door of all the little chores I need done. He seems lost without you and if I can help him keep busy, then so be it. There are a few other families in the area now where the husbands have left to join the war. The Johnston farm is up for sale. I’m not sure if you heard or not, but Charlotte got word that Michael won’t be coming home. She received a letter. A letter, Jack. I dreaded opening up the mailbox today to find a letter like the one she received. I thought that someone would have visited her personally or something...anything has to be better than getting a cold letter in the mail informing you that the one man you depended upon would never be coming home because he believed in a country that couldn’t even deliver the news in person.
Anyways, I’ve sent Doug over there and to a few other homes where the women have a list of items they need help with. Keeps his hands busy and his mind off of what is happening to you over there. Who knows, maybe he’ll find love in one of those homes. I hope so. He deserves it.
Love you, Dottie.
Five
Jack,
Doug stopped by just as Mary and I were sitting down to eat. I almost laughed when he knocked on the door. It reminded me of all those times when you would be working out in that rusty old barn of yours fixing one of your toys and it was time for dinner. I never needed to call you or send Mary out to get you, you always knew right when to show up — when the food was on the table.
Mary lights up whenever he’s around. It’s a good thing he’s her godfather. It’s not that she sees him as a replacement for you, but that he reminds her so much of you. It was nice to have him play with her after dinner while I cleaned up. Most nights, things are quiet around the house. Mary and I will sit and read a story together, she’ll have a bath and then right before bed she works on coloring some pictures. Like the one included. She spent a few days on that picture. According to her, it’s a tree house that you are going to build for her when you get home. She’d really like to have it by her birthday, if that will work for you.
Having Doug here tonight made me realize just how much I miss the laughter and the shouting and the commotion when you’re home. It’s like the house is an empty shell without you.
Don’t get mad, but I made Doug share some stories with Mary, stories I hadn’t even heard. Why didn’t you ever tell me about the time you tried to get a cat out from under your father’s shed only to realize it was a skunk? I still chuckle when I hear it. I can picture you trying to show off to...was it Marybelle or Susie...by getting a stuck kitten. I remember you from when we were little. You were all legs and arms, a stick compared to most of the other farm boys. I can see you trying to worm your way beneath that shed, coaxing the kitten to come out with sweet words you thought the girls wanted to hear. Oh Jack, the way Doug told the story, of when that skunk sprayed you, I had tears in my eyes. I still do, just thinking about it. Is that where your hatred for tomato juice came from? I wonder why you never told me?
I try not to think of what you are doing right now. While I’m sitting here, sharing my day with you, are you deep in the trenches? Are you having to dodge enemy fire or are you shivering in the cold wishing you were home? If I could, I’d make sure you were never cold again. Never.
I love you Jack. Come home soon.
Six
Happy Christmas Eve, Jack.
The Christmas tree is decorated and the candles are burning in the window. This time they hold an extra special meaning. Will they help lead you home, bring you back to your family in time for Christmas?
The tradition? I know you’re probably wondering what and why. Starting memories is always good, and without you here, we need all the good we can get. Well, I let Mary open a gift early. No — I’m not spoiling her, far from it. I made her open the new pyjama’s I bought her. You should have seen the look on her face when she unwrapped her gift. Oh Jack, I could almost hear your laughter as she looked up at me in disgust. But there was a surprise hidden in one of the pant legs — a new picture book. Her eyes lit up and she scampered off to bed pretty quick too when I said we would read it before bed.
Want to know what I want for Christmas this year? You.
I hope where ever you are that you are safe and well.
I love you Jack.
Merry Christmas Daddy!
(This is a letter from Mary to you ...she talks faster than I can write.)
Daddy, it’s Christmas and we have a tree and Santa Clause came and brought me presents, even though the war is on and the bad soldiers are keeping you from being here. Santa has magic and I hoped he would bring you home, but Mommy says his magic is only for toys.
Daddy, I think we need to change Santa’s mind.
Mommy loves you (I really do, Jack) and Uncle Doug loves you and I love you. Thank you for the baby doll. Mommy says she knew you would want me to take care of her the moment she saw her in the store. She’s so pretty, Daddy. She has yellow hair and blue eyes just like me. Mommy says I have to give her a name. What do you think I should call her? Mommy says I have to draw you a picture of her so you can know what she looks like. But she looks like me. How about Emily? That’s a pretty name right?
The Finding Emma Collection (Books 1-5) Page 5