The Love Letters

by Beverly Lewis

  When no one came, the boy disappeared into the house, and Marlena considered asking Boston if he wanted to rest a bit on the porch steps. He was teetering now and she worried he might pass out. The man’s border collie made whimpering sounds and settled at Boston’s feet, his black-and-white head leaning on his stately white paws, eyes alert.

  Despite Boston’s earlier protestation, she wondered if he had been drinking, but when she asked if he could manage to stand a little longer, there was no alcoholic smell to his breath. If he was sober, what was causing his terrible confusion . . . and the shakes?

  Ellie appeared just then at the door, wearing a frown. Then, seeing Marlena there with Boston, she stepped outside and smiled. “Well, I didn’t realize you were out here, dear. Goodness’ sake, we can’t have yous standin’ in the heat.” Small Jay stood in the doorway now, and Ellie motioned for all of them to come up and sit on the porch.

  Meanwhile, Ellie called into the kitchen for Julia to run and get their father. Small Jay had already seated himself next to Boston on the last available porch chair.

  “Mamma, this is my friend Boston Calvert,” Small Jay told his bewildered mother. “The man I met . . . at the mill.”

  “Hullo, Mr. Calvert,” Ellie said, making brief eye contact with the bedraggled man. She stood stiffly, her hands on her apron, and turned her gaze to the stable. “Calvert,” she said then, her glance returning to Boston. “I believe I saw your name written on a note.”

  Small Jay’s eyes blinked rapidly, but he said nothing.

  Ellie shook her head, clearly flustered. “Ach, I don’t know what’s keepin’ my husband.”

  A long silence fell over them.

  Finally Small Jay said, “Mamma, can Boston stay with us for a while?” His eyes were pleading. “He’s got no place to lay his head.”

  Boston leaned forward; his hands were shaking uncontrollably now. “May I trouble you, madam, for a glass of cold water?” he asked, his voice faltering. “I would greatly appreciate it.”

  Marlena took pity on him and hoped Ellie might grant the man’s wish. She glanced toward the barn to see if Roman was on his way but saw no sign of him, so she offered to go in herself and get some water for Boston. “I don’t mind, really, Ellie.”

  “Nee . . . I’ll get it,” Ellie said right quick. She reached to open the screen door, which slapped behind her.

  “I’d give up my own room for ya, Boston, but the stairs are awful steep.” Small Jay leaned down and petted the dog’s nose. “Don’t know where we could put Allegro, though. Dat’s not so keen on havin’ animals in the house . . . ’cept Sassy.”

  “Is Allegro the dog’s name?” Marlena asked, finding it peculiar.

  “Yes,” Boston said, then he began to mutter something about his special letters and reached for the shoulder bag he’d dropped on the porch. His eyes looked foggy as he rooted through the soft leather bag.

  Ellie returned with a pale green tumbler of water, ice clinking against the sides.

  “Thank you kindly,” Boston said, his hand shaking so hard that Ellie had to help hold it for him till it reached his lips.

  “I apologize for my husband’s absence,” Ellie said, standing over Boston now like a worried mother. Her face was pink and her expression strained, like someone worried about stirring up a bees’ nest. “If Roman doesn’t come in soon, we’ll just bring you something to eat out here.” Marlena suspected Ellie was going out on a limb by announcing this.

  “That is music to my ears.” Boston craned his head toward Small Jay and handed him the empty tumbler. “I was quite thirsty. And I do thank you for saving me out there, young man.”

  Small Jay grinned back at him. “We’ll take gut care of ya now, Boston . . . you’ll see.”

  At that, Marlena observed Ellie’s eyes grow as wide as Dawdi Tim’s old coat buttons. It seemed all too possible that, once Roman appeared, Boston would be sent on his way.

  ———

  A few minutes later, Sassy came to the screen door and pawed at it, mewing as she peered out at them.

  “I’ll check your food dish soon,” Small Jay promised while Boston looked on, smiling and seemingly getting a kick out of the determined cat.

  Meanwhile, Ellie squinted toward the stable, until finally she headed down the porch steps, making a beeline for it as the tail of her long apron fluttered behind her.

  She’s upset, thought Marlena. Small Jay seemed nearly as nervous as his mother, fidgeting where he sat. Boston, on the other hand, had leaned his greasy head back, relaxed, and was presently snoozing.

  “Is your Dawdi Haus empty?” she asked Small Jay quietly.

  “All ’cept the long table and chairs in the front room for Mamma’s sewing classes.”

  “What ’bout a bedroom on the main level?” She couldn’t imagine Boston making it up even a few stairs, at least not tonight. If Roman will allow a stranger to stay . . .

  Small Jay glanced at the sleeping Boston, then back at her, nodding his head. The boy had removed his straw hat, revealing uneven bangs, and she wondered if he’d accidently moved when Ellie was giving him a haircut. Or had Roman done the hair cutting?

  Just then she looked up to see Roman coming this way, young Julia hanging on his arm, both of them talking and laughing. Oddly enough, Ellie was trailing behind. When the three of them were within a few yards of the porch, Roman stopped walking, and his expression changed to cautious.

  Quickly, Ellie shooed Julia into the house, then stood near her husband and whispered something to him.

  Marlena held her breath as Small Jay rose slowly, laboriously, making his way to stand beside the banister, looking down at his parents.

  Marlena was glad Boston, weary as he was, had no knowledge of the obvious push and pull taking place out there on the lawn.

  Small Jay started to move toward the porch steps, then paused and waited, his shoulders rising and falling. He’s scared and doesn’t know what to do.

  Marlena slid forward in the chair, wondering what was being said between Ellie and Roman. It was ever so awkward to witness Ellie’s apparent pleading—it seemed certain Roman had refused whatever she’d asked.

  “Can my friend stay here tonight, Dat?” Small Jay’s voice rang out at last. “Just till we help him find his real home?”

  Marlena swallowed hard, hoping.

  Roman, glowering, moved toward the porch, where he eyed the sleeping man. He looked at Ellie, who’d followed him and slipped her arm through her husband’s.

  “He needs us, Dat . . . honest, he does.”

  Marlena wasn’t sure how to bolster Small Jay’s pleas. So she sat still, trying to interpret Roman’s demeanor.

  Just then Sassy managed to open the screen door and scooted out, heading for the sleeping dog. She stalked over and sat herself down beside the dog’s head and began to groom her paw.

  “Sure looks like Sassy wants my friend to stay—his dog, too,” Small Jay offered, sitting down on the top porch step.

  Roman’s eyebrows rose as he watched the dog’s eyes slowly open, and then, surprisingly, lean his long muzzle on Sassy’s back. “Where’d this dog come from?” he asked.

  “It’s Boston’s,” Small Jay spoke up. “Ain’t he nice and gentle with my Sassy?”

  Ellie gazed at Roman, her arm still tucked into his.

  With a little gasp, Boston opened his eyes and shook himself. “Pardon me. I don’t wish you to think I find your company lacking . . . not in the least.”

  Small Jay chuckled. “Dat, this is Boston, my friend from the mill.”

  Roman stiffened. “Boston, ya say?” He glanced at Small Jay.

  “Not named for the city,” Boston said. “My mother chose it because of her favorite pie.” He slapped one knee and chuckled.

  “Boston cream pie?” Marlena said, unable to keep still any longer.

  The homeless man gave her an appreciative smile. “Now, I believe that’s exactly the name I was looking for . . . thank you kindly.”
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br />   By now Roman looked not only befuddled but outnumbered. And Marlena hoped the latter was true, because this man Boston was just delightful.

  “I best be goin’ home. Mammi will wonder where I’ve gone.” Marlena rose and turned to offer her hand to Boston. “I went with Small Jay to visit ya today, but you’d already left the mill,” she said.

  “I’m certainly pleased to know anyone who is a friend of this excellent young man’s.” Boston got up with great effort, yet managed to stand straight as he extended a formal handshake to Marlena.

  “It’s time for evening prayers,” Roman said abruptly, walking briskly toward the house.

  “But, Dat.” Small Jay’s voice cracked. “What ’bout Boston?”

  “A drifter’s place is outdoors, son.”

  Small Jay continued. “We could bed him down in the Dawdi Haus—it’s empty, after all.”

  “You heard me.”

  Marlena’s breath caught in her throat. Surely Roman had a softer heart than this.

  “Dat . . . I beg ya. Just one night?”

  “Did I stutter, son?”

  Ellie rushed up the porch steps and whispered to her husband again, but Roman merely shook his head and waved his right hand in the air as he stepped inside.

  Inhaling deeply, Ellie placed her hand on her heart. “If Boston would like to sleep in the haymow, he is certainly welcome.”

  Bright smiles appeared on both Small Jay’s face and Boston’s. “Denki, Mamma. Denki!”

  “Tell that to your father,” Ellie said. “Now, go on in and get ready for family worship.”

  “I’d be right happy to sit out here with Boston.” Small Jay paused. “If that’s all right.”

  “Your Dat wants ya inside, son.” Ellie cast an awkward smile at the man. “I’ll bring some food out to ya soon, Boston.”

  “Thank you kindly,” the man said, his face aglow.

  Then, before going inside, Ellie fixed her eyes on Marlena, and although Marlena was not sure in the least how all this would turn out, she wanted to believe that Roman Bitner wouldn’t be sorry for extending even a small measure of mercy to a very needy man this night.

  Chapter 17

  Daybreak on the Lord’s Day was accompanied by heavy rain. Marlena went to the crib and reached down for Angela Rose, recalling how her father often referred to such a steady downpour as a gully washer.

  She kissed Angela’s chubby cheek, whispered, “Guder Mariye, Bobbli,” and laid her on the bed to wash her up, talking to her all the while. Marlena blew lip bubbles on her tummy, enjoying the way Angela’s wide eyes followed her fingers all around. “I daresay you’re a schmaert little one.” It wasn’t the wisest thing to talk so, but hopefully wide-eyed Angela Rose had no idea what she was saying.

  Marlena carried her to one of the windows and looked down on Mammi’s yellow daisies outside, their graceful petals wide open, drinking up the much-needed moisture. Perfect for weeding tomorrow, she thought, but I’ll be in Mifflinburg. At Luella’s funeral . . .

  She hated to think of Angela Rose going through life without her Mamma. Will anyone take my sister’s place permanently?

  Downstairs, she spoon-fed some warm rice cereal to Angela Rose, opening her mouth wide to encourage the baby to imitate her. Her niece sat more solidly in her high chair now that she was more accustomed to it. Behind them, Mammi made scrambled eggs. A hot breakfast on a Sunday was still unusual for Marlena, who’d grown up in a home where cooking was done only six days of the week. So much of the past is ingrained in me, she thought.

  When Mammi was seated, she and Marlena bowed their heads, and Mammi thanked the dear Lord Jesus for creating this most wonderful day to worship.

  After they’d dished up their eggs and spread strawberry jam on their toast, Marlena brought up what had supposedly happened near the old church. “Did ya ever hear anything ’bout an angel sighting?” she asked as little Angela reached out, trying to touch her face. Marlena caught her hand and kissed it, making smacking noises, which made Angela Rose giggle.

  “Now that I recall, jah, there was a gut deal of talk back a few years ago when all that happened.” Mammi took a sip of her warm tea. “And wise folk never reject the possibility of miracles.” She paused for a moment. “But, my dear, I want to share with ya something our pastor said about that . . . something I never forgot.”

  Eager to hear, Marlena set down her toast.

  “He said it’s less important to seek after miracles than it is to hunger after the miracle-giver.” Mammi stirred a spoonful of honey into her tea before drinking more. “Many folk wear out the path to a miracle or something they believe is of God, but they don’t bother to seek the Lord and Savior,” she restated.

  “Oh.” Marlena wondered if in some way she was one who was grasping for a miracle. “I was just curious.”

  Mammi looked inquisitively at the baby’s messy mouth and chin, and she pressed her lips together, as though trying not to smile. “Just look at ya!” Mammi exclaimed. “I wonder, little one, will this be your first visit to God’s house?”

  Marlena had thought the same thing. “Did Luella ever attend church once she left home?” she asked.

  “Whether she did or didn’t, only our heavenly Father knows the cries of our hearts.” Mammi rose then and went to get a washcloth.

  “Only our heavenly Father knows.” Mammi’s words went round and round in Marlena’s head as she gently washed Angela’s chubby little face. She tried to dismiss them when she took Angela upstairs to get ready for church, but she knew for truth she’d much rather know the miracle-giver than see a miracle, including laying eyes on an angel.

  In her room, she caught sight of her Bible on the bedside table and wished she had time to sit and read as she often did back home before leaving for the Beachy meetinghouse. Just now, she couldn’t get over the way she felt after hearing Mammi’s wise words—nearly at the point of tears.

  This being an in-between Sunday, Small Jay had slept in till seven o’clock. When he finally got out of bed, disturbing Sassy, his first thought was of Boston Calvert. Had his friend slept soundly out there in the barn? With the livestock, Small Jay thought, knowing the makeshift pallet had been comfortable enough because he’d gone with Dat to see to it, giving Boston fresh straw to place beneath his blanket. Mamma, too, had seemed concerned enough to take a spare pillow out there.

  It had been hard not to just go and stand at the back door last evening and gawk; he wanted to know how Boston was doing. Still, Small Jay was mighty thankful to Dat for letting Boston stay at all. Small Jay had tried to tell Dat this, long after his sisters had taken their baths in the galvanized tub and were upstairs for the night. He’d wanted to check one last time on Boston, too, but he figured their guest was just fine, especially after enjoying Mamma’s delicious chuck roast and cooked vegetables. Boston had eaten himself full, his eyes lighting up like the Christmas star their Englischer neighbors put up on their chimney every year. And Boston had scarcely found the words to express his delight when Mamma brought out a nice big slice of strawberry pie topped with real whipped cream. Small Jay had done the talking for him, though, even giving Mamma a hug for her thoughtfulness.

  When Marlena and Mammi arrived with the baby, the redbrick meetinghouse was surprisingly full, in spite of the continuous heavy rain. Marlena assumed that the members who’d left their Amish churches over the years to join this fellowship were thankful not to have to hitch up horses and buggies on such a day. Yet does that make it right to abandon the Old Ways? The question plagued her as she scanned the pews for a place to sit near the back with Mammi and Angela Rose. The congregation reverently filed in, many carrying Bibles.

  Angela took her bottle without a fuss during the four-part congregational singing of hymns, a few of which were new to Marlena. Thankfully, before the start of the minister’s message, Angela fell asleep. Marlena’s mind was in a haze as she anticipated Luella’s funeral right around this time tomorrow.

  She followed
along as Mammi held the Good Book, trying to rein in her thoughts during the sermon text—Psalm 28: “ ‘Blessed be the Lord, because he hath heard the voice of my supplications. The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him.’ ”

  Marlena felt uncomfortable. The sermon somehow seemed to speak directly to her, especially the idea of supplication, or prayerful entreaty. The minister went on to explain how to pray openly from one’s heart with a contrite spirit.

  Truthfully, Marlena had not expected such a convicting message. At that moment, she was caught off guard by a sincere sense of anguish, in part for not following her parents’ and grandparents’ wholehearted worshiping and praying. She felt even more sorrowful as she rehashed the what-ifs that shrouded her broken heart—the unresolved matters between her and Luella. Everything was so terribly jumbled up, even intertwined, in her mind.

  Marlena did yearn to trust God more, just as the psalmist David had. She also desired for the Lord to hear her prayers, yet she was not sure that was possible, not like for Mammi Janice or others. They have such a tender, joyful approach toward the Lord.

  She sighed, unsure of her own faith. Even so, what if the teaching of Mammi’s preacher could become a reality for her?

  After the noon meal of cold ham sandwiches, strawberry-rhubarb Jell-O, cottage cheese, and sugar cookies, Small Jay was permitted to go out on the porch and talk with Boston again, just as he had earlier following breakfast. He’d tried to explain that the People gathered every other Sunday for worship, and that the next meeting was to be held at their house, but Boston didn’t seem to understand—didn’t even know it was the Lord’s Day, of all things. But of course the man had no calendar, so how could he keep track of the days of the week?

  “I contemplated many things last night,” Boston told him presently, while they sat on matching porch rockers. “For one thing, I have never been one to accept handouts. Therefore, if your father agrees, I want to pull my weight here. I prefer to work for my meals and lodging.”