The Love Letters

by Beverly Lewis

  “It’s all right,” she said, reaching out but not touching him. “You can trust me. Honest, ya can.”

  His soft blue eyes blinked several times. “Just wonderin’ if it’s a gut idea or not to have my friend Boston meet my parents. I’m hopin’ they might let him stay in the empty Dawdi Haus, maybe. He can keep cookin’ his own food, if they want. He does it now over a campfire.”

  He went on to explain a little more, but it was hard to understand, really, all this about a stray man living in an abandoned mill and cooking outdoors near the creek. And apparently eating cereal and beef jerky, too. How could Small Jay be so sure about this drifter with the strange name?

  “I’d like to meet this friend of yours,” she said at last, wondering if it was wise to do so on her own.

  “I could take ya tomorrow.”

  “Maybe after market,” she suggested. “I’ll see if my grandmother can watch Angela Rose.”

  Small Jay’s eyes shone with unexpected intensity. “You’ll go?”

  She assured him she would, one way or the other. But she was quite worried about the man Small Jay had supposedly befriended. Might he take advantage of the boy?

  Small Jay picked up his cat again and squeezed her till she opened her mouth wide and meowed. “Denki,” he said, eyes bright. “I think you’ll like Boston, too.”

  They turned off the main road and walked down the tree-lined lane toward his father’s house, so Marlena could confirm that Dorcas was planning to babysit tomorrow. When Small Jay looked worried, she reminded him, “You can trust me, remember?”

  His mouth curved up instantly. “I’ll try to remember. Ain’t always easy.”

  She pointed out to Angela Rose the red and white geraniums lining the cement walkway, glad she’d heeded Mammi’s urging to go for a stroll. But she was still disturbed about this man Small Jay seemed so anxious for her to meet.

  Why does he want to spend time with a hobo?

  Over in the backyard, Ellie was beating rag rugs at the clothesline, seemingly unaware of Small Jay’s comings and goings. Or of his secret.

  Did I promise too quickly?

  “We leave behind traces of ourselves, Marlena, in everything we do—the decisions we make, the vegetables we sow, the meals we cook . . . and eat,” Dawdi Tim had once told her when Marlena was perplexed over a particular choice. She had valued his wisdom and always would. What a powerful influence he had been on her life when she was young and unable to make her own choices about what church to attend. Now he wasn’t around to ask any more questions. All the same, she couldn’t simply embrace his and Mammi’s beliefs from their Mennonite church. From the way they prayed and studied the Bible to how they lived their everyday lives—much of it differed from the Ordnung Marlena had been raised under. And I would never want to own a car, no matter how black the bumper was!

  Back home at Mammi’s, she bathed Angela Rose and gave her a bottle, eventually putting her to bed. Even after the lovely walk, Marlena felt a need to sort through her thoughts and the mixture of sadness and even resentment she was experiencing. Those niggling remnants from the past with her sister that would never be reconciled now that Luella had died. Oh, if only Dawdi Tim were still alive, I’d sit down with him and talk his ear off.

  Chapter 13

  Marlena had slept lightly, aware of the baby’s movements in the crib, every little sound. Thinking of the state of Luella’s soul had kept her awake, too, even more than Angela Rose sharing the same room . . . so much more.

  In the middle of the night, Marlena had gone down to the kitchen to drink some milk, hoping to get to sleep again before the baby’s next feeding. She had nibbled on a cookie while standing at the back door, staring out through its window past the wide porch and the yard, clear out to the dark trees silhouetted against the sky. Luella’s death had stirred up things she’d never addressed before, especially their differences in belief.

  Now that it was morning, she lifted Angela Rose out of her crib and cuddled her. Then, thinking it might please Mammi, she dressed her in the new pink-and-white sundress with little cap sleeves, almost like wings. “You look so sweet today,” she whispered, reaching to pick her up. “Dorcas from next door will take gut care of ya while Mammi and I are gone a few hours.” She kissed the peachy cheek and leaned her head against Angela’s, letting the tears fall. Her cuddly niece, dear as could be, was still a reminder of Luella’s deserting her family and faith . . . and marrying a worldly man.

  The marketplace was already bustling with people when Marlena and her grandmother arrived. Familiar merchants were setting up tables and stands where, within the hour, customers would wait in line for German sausages and homemade breads, as well as produce fresh from the garden—carrots with the greens and soil still evident, and varieties of leaf lettuce, peas, and radishes.

  Marlena’s mind was occupied with thoughts of Angela Rose, wondering how she was doing at Bitners’. She trusted Ellie to watch over Dorcas, who seemed not only willing to have Angela there but excited, too, as were Julia and Sally. The girls had gathered around Marlena when she’d first arrived, making over the baby, touching her little hands, talking baby talk. Marlena hadn’t seen Small Jay, though, and assumed he was occupied with Sassafras somewhere. Such a kind and loving family, she thought as she counted out the change for jovial customers, a number of them eager to speak with her. Even though she knew few people in the area, she could always tell which ones were the tourists from their questions about how the jam was made, some even so bold as to request the recipe, which Marlena could honestly say she’d never written down.

  “So, it’s all up here?” one bright-eyed woman asked, tapping her temple. And Marlena assured her that it was indeed true.

  By midmorning, they’d sold nearly all the many pints of strawberry-rhubarb jam, but Marlena knew better than to think Mammi would leave this early for home. Just when she’d spotted another friendly face—one from her grandmother’s church—and started to go over to say hello, Marlena noticed Luke and Sarah Mast heading her way.

  Immediately she smiled at Sarah, who had always been welcoming to her and her siblings.

  “Wie geht’s, Marlena?”

  Moving around the table, Marlena went to greet her, offering a quick smile to Luke, as well. “I’m all right. Denki for askin’.”

  Sarah reached to touch her hand and glanced at her brother, then back at Marlena. “We heard the sad news . . . of your sister’s passing.”

  Luke offered to shake her hand, which caught Marlena off guard. “It must’ve been unexpected,” he said, eyes serious.

  She said it was, and looked away—the reality was still so fresh.

  “If there’s anything we can do,” Sarah said, “anything at all, please let us know.” Here, she looked again at Luke. “Ain’t that right, Luke?”

  He nodded. “I ’spect you’ll be going to the funeral, ain’t?” Luke stood only a head taller than his tall and very blond sister.

  Nearly a matched set, Marlena thought, taking note of their blue eyes and the exceptional gold hue of their hair. As New Order Amish, Luke’s straw hat brim was noticeably narrow, and Sarah’s dark maroon-colored dress and matching cape apron were practically red.

  “Sorry?” Marlena said, having forgotten the question. “A lot on my mind.”

  “Your sister’s funeral.”

  “Mammi and I are goin’, but it won’t be easy. . . . Luella wasn’t in Jesus anymore,” she found herself explaining.

  “Aw . . . would be ever so hard to bear,” Sarah said softly.

  Luke stepped in closer. “I’ve heard your parents are no longer members of an Old Order group.” He stated this nearly like a minister might, but since his father was a preacher, she wasn’t really too surprised. He had such a brotherly manner about him that Marlena didn’t feel put upon whatsoever.

  “Jah, ’tis true, and I’ve been goin’ with them to the Beachy church back home—out of respect, since I’m still under Dat’s roof, ya know. But t
his summer, I’ll be worshiping with Mammi at the Mennonite meetinghouse while I’m here.”

  Sarah’s eyes were intent on her. “Really, now? We have kinfolk who joined that church last year.”

  Luke removed his straw hat and ran his long fingers through his hair, a smile spreading across his face. “Do ya ever wonder sometimes which end is up?”

  “For pity’s sake, Luke Mast!” His sister turned, frowning and blinking her eyes at him.

  “I meant no harm,” Luke said, palms up. “It must be awful confusing, that’s all.”

  “Ach, believe me, it can be at times.” Marlena felt sure he wasn’t poking fun at her.

  They talked awhile longer about market next weekend and all the rhubarb Sarah had to do something with, and then they parted ways.

  When Mammi saw Marlena returning to the table, she patted the chair beside her. “Such a caring Bruder un Schweschder. They seem to look out for each other.”

  “I’ve always thought so, too,” Marlena agreed. “Makes me wonder what it would’ve been like to have an older brother.” She thought of Luella right quick and cringed at how that must have sounded. “Puh, I didn’t mean . . .”

  Mammi patted her hand. “I know what ya meant, honey-girl. You and Luella were never close like that.” She looked away for a moment. “Must make things all the harder for ya now.”

  Mammi knew? She found this surprising yet almost a comfort, knowing she wasn’t the only one who’d realized it.

  They spent another half hour socializing, and then Mammi was ready to head home. Considering Marlena still had to pay a visit to Small Jay’s friend at the mill, she was glad to be getting on the road. What sort of name is Boston? she wondered. Ellie’s son often got things mixed up.

  On the drive toward home, Marlena recalled that Luella had once snuck home a small transistor radio she’d borrowed from an Englischer friend. Boldly, Luella had tuned in to a rock ’n’ roll station, wanting Marlena to listen with her. But when Marlena refused, Luella’s eyes had flashed. “You never try anything, Marlena. You’re just a no-fun fuddy-duddy!”

  Marlena pushed the remembrance from her mind and asked Mammi if they might stop at the store up ahead so she could purchase a kitchen fan.

  “Whatever for?” Mammi looked aghast.

  “To keep you and the baby cool when I’m out in the garden and whatnot.” Marlena sighed. “We made more than enough at market today, ain’t so?”

  “It’s a luxury we can do without.”

  So is this car. Marlena hadn’t expected her to put up a fuss. She tried not to smile.

  “I’d really like for you to have a fan, Mammi.”

  Her grandmother made several more excuses before concluding adamantly, “That’s what windows are for. . . . The Lord sends along His breezes, ya know.”

  “All right, then, if you’d rather not.”

  Mammi glanced at her. “I daresay you’ve become right fancy in your thinkin’ since you started going to church with your parents.”

  “Not at all, Mammi. I’m Old Order, for certain.”

  “So the fan wouldn’t have benefited you, too?”

  Marlena groaned and smiled at her. “I guess you’ve got me there. Even so, I do wish you were more comfortable these hot summer days.”

  Mammi didn’t say another word as she stepped on the accelerator and drove right past the store where fans could be had. And that was that.

  Chapter 14

  By the time Marlena put Angela Rose down for her nap that afternoon, she was breathless and felt flushed. She hurried out the back door, rehearsing what she’d told Mammi about needing to run an errand on foot, without mentioning where or what, trying her best to shield Small Jay’s secret. Mammi, who was already tired from market, assured her that was fine; she would just sit at the table and shell a batch of peas Ellie Bitner had left on the porch while they were gone.

  Now, as Marlena moved down through the willow grove and scanned the area below the pond, she thought it best to simply wait for Small Jay there. No sense risking being seen near their lane or backyard.

  In due time, she heard Small Jay coming along, talking to his cat, and she turned and followed, albeit out of sight, parallel to him in the grove. She could see Ellie’s son limping out toward the road, his head turning from side to side. He’s looking for me.

  When he’d finally arrived at the end of the lane, she slipped out of the trees and onto the road. There, they’d be obscured from the view of either house. “I saw ya headin’ this way,” she explained.

  He smiled and nodded shyly. “You remembered!”

  “I did say I’d go with you.” She matched her pace to his slow stride, wishing for a way to help the poor boy get down the road and back more easily. Mammi’s car would be just the thing. Of course, she didn’t have the slightest notion how to drive.

  “Dorcas sure is high-minded today,” he said, “since she babysat for your baby.”

  “Well, my niece.”

  He shrugged. “I saw her takin’ the bottle when I went in for the noon meal.” Small Jay said he couldn’t get over how tiny she was. “Smaller even than I must’ve been.” His face clouded. “But of course . . . when she grows up, she’ll probably be bigger than I am now.” He pushed his hands into his pockets.

  Marlena felt a tug on her heart. “Sometimes, though . . . small is better.”

  Small Jay looked up at her. “Vas?”

  “Sure,” she said confidently. “My Mamma says Gott ain’t hindered by the size of the vessel—that’s you or me. In fact, she says that His power is seen even better in those who are weak or small . . . or less fortunate.”

  Small Jay’s eyes widened. “So . . . sometimes small is better?”

  “Evidently that’s the way the Lord looks at it.”

  Small Jay marveled. “Does that mean He can work through me?” Small Jay said, looking up at her just then. “Ya sure?”

  “Last Lord’s Day at Mammi’s church, I heard the preacher read a Scripture verse that said when we are the weakest, the Lord is strong.”

  Small Jay whistled to his cat. “Hear that, Sassy? God can work through even the smallest of us.”

  Sassy cocked her head, and Marlena smiled, encouraged by Small Jay’s improved mood.

  When they arrived at the mill, Small Jay knocked at the door where he said he’d seen Boston going in and out. But there was no response, nor any sign of the border collie Small Jay referred to as Allegro. He knocked again, but still nothing. “Something’s wrong—he’s always here,” he insisted.

  The boy appeared to be frantic, creeping back and forth from one door to another, knocking, waiting, then knocking . . . resorting to pounding with his small fist, all the while calling, “Boston!” again and again.

  At last, when she could stand it no longer, Marlena intervened, lest the neighbors wonder what the world was happening, or lest the poor boy hurt himself. “I’m sure he’ll be back later,” she assured Small Jay.

  But he shook his head and resisted her resolve to head home. Standing his ground, arms folded, he pouted and limped over to a tree stump, sitting there for a time. Then, without warning, he got up and went to the creek’s edge and peered down, pointing out the location where his so-called friend kept a milk bottle, a carved-out area where the creek water ran past. “Where’d Boston go?” he said softly now, as if talking to himself. “Where?”

  “Maybe just walkin’ his dog,” Marlena suggested. “Like you do Sassy.”

  Small Jay brightened at that. “Then he’ll be back,” he exclaimed. “I wanna wait for him!”

  Marlena sighed. Waiting didn’t seem like a good idea. “Might not be wise to loiter on private property,” she said, looking around.

  Clearly dejected, Small Jay finally picked up Sassy, and they walked toward the road. “I bought my Dat some black licorice yesterday,” he told Marlena, who said that was a thoughtful thing to do. “Jah, I’m tryin’ to do nice things for my father.”

  Marlena wonde
red why he was telling her this, but she was glad she could be there to listen to the boy, who talked more like a youngster than a teen.

  They had gone only a short distance when a stout neighbor woman came rushing out onto the road, her long black apron flying, her hair wrapped in a triangular blue scarf. “Are ya looking for that rumpled-looking fella? The one with the dog?”

  “He’s my friend,” Small Jay said quickly.

  “Well then, you should know that there were several neighbors—Amish and English alike—over there not an hour ago. From what I heard, they ran the bum off, claimed he was trespassin’.”

  Small Jay’s lips pursed at this news.

  “Did anyone say where he might’ve gone?” Marlena stepped forward, knowing it was important to Small Jay and even more curious about the man now that she was certain he was real.

  “It’s beyond me what he was doin’ over there in the mill,” the plump Amishwoman replied. “It’s anybody’s guess where he’ll land next. My guess is jail.”

  Marlena shivered, and Small Jay’s face turned pale.

  “Jail?” he asked.

  “Why sure, that’s where a trespasser ends up, young man.”

  “Was his dog with him when he left?” Small Jay asked timidly.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. But I can tell ya I had the heebie-jeebies, thinking a drunkard might be wanderin’ about.” The woman folded her ample arms across her protruding middle.

  “Denki kindly,” Marlena said quickly, anxious to end this conversation.

  She breathed a sigh of relief as the gossipy woman headed back to her front yard.

  “Why’d she say jail?” Small Jay whispered to Marlena as they continued on their way. “Boston’s done nothin’ wrong.”

  Marlena didn’t know what to say to that. Trespassing did seem serious enough to get a homeless person in hot water.