The Love Letters

by Beverly Lewis

  “Marlena . . . I was hopin’ I might see ya.”

  “Nat?” She blinked back her tears and smiled for her beau. “What a surprise.”

  He was dressed like he was ready for Preaching as he got down from the carriage. “You’ve been cryin’, honey,” Nat said, moving near. “Are you all right?”

  “’Tis the hardest day of my life.”

  He glanced back toward the meetinghouse. “What’re ya doin’ out here, love?”

  She told him how Brother Ranck’s message had pulled at her heart, and that Angela Rose had become restless.

  Nat looked down at the baby and nodded. “You have many responsibilities just now.”

  Oh, she wished he might invite her to go riding, to take her away from there. “The sermon will be over very soon, and it will be time for my family to view Luella’s body,” she told him. “I really oughta go back in.”

  “Wish I could be there for ya.” He slipped his arm around her waist. “I really do, but . . .”

  “You can’t, ain’t so?” She knew why. It was against the vows he planned to take when he joined church.

  “At least I can be with you now. I wasn’t sure I’d catch ya.”

  “Denki for coming, Nat.” She put her head down and bit her lip. “The Lord knew I needed to see ya.”

  He looked startled at this, not accustomed to that way of talking. Then, surprising her, Nat leaned closer. “Aw, love.” They moved nearer the bushes, out of view. “My heart’s with ya; never forget that, Marlena.”

  She tried to speak but rested her face against Angela’s dimpled cheek.

  Nat touched Marlena’s chin, lifting her face and drawing near like he might kiss her.

  “Angela’s brought me such comfort these past few days,” she said, glancing down at her niece. “It’s like the Lord sent her for that reason, ya know.” She felt like she was opening the lid of her heart and spilling it out.

  “It’s only natural you’d feel attached to her right now, with your sister gone,” he said, stepping back. There was something amiss in his voice. “How long do you expect to have her?”

  “Well, the other grandparents will decide where Angela Rose will live as soon as they return from their trip,” she told him. “Till Gordon’s home from the war anyway.”

  Nat nodded and looked relieved. “That’ll be helpful, if they take her, considerin’ all you’re doing for your Mammi this summer. Truly gut news.”

  “I s’pose,” she said a little reluctantly and wondered if Nat noticed her hesitation.

  “I guess I’d better get goin’,” he said, leaning in abruptly to kiss her cheek. “Denki for lettin’ me know you’d be here today, love.”

  She watched Nat climb back into his courting carriage. When he turned to look at her one last time, he waved his hat and smiled at her.

  Despite his warm farewell, Marlena was surprised at how he’d seemed to dismiss Angela Rose, even taking a step back from her. Would he rather I wasn’t taking care of my sister’s baby?

  Chapter 21

  Ellie and the girls finished hanging out the wash on the clotheslines, then hurried indoors to resume washing the woodwork and the floors with lye soap in hot water. When that big chore was finished, Ellie made her way out to the barn, curious as to what Small Jay was up to. She could only hope Roman might take notice of their son’s eagerness to assist Boston.

  She pushed open the heavy barn door and found her boy standing on a step stool, pounding a nail, his lips puckered with determination. “Your father’s told me some interesting news.”

  Lowering the hammer, Small Jay frowned; then, seeing her happy expression, he smiled. “Is he gonna let Boston move into the Dawdi Haus?”

  Ellie’s heart sank. “Now, son, you know better. But he did talk Boston into going to the doctor. How ’bout that?”

  Looking somewhat disappointed, Small Jay nodded pensively. Cautiously, he got down off the stool and went to replace the hammer in Roman’s large tool chest. When he returned, he reached for Boston’s shoulder bag and stepped back up on the stool to hang it on the nail. “See? Now Shredder can’t get into it.”

  Ellie agreed it was an excellent idea and walked with her son to the barn door and helped him shove it open. “Your father’s gone to town to run an errand.”

  “To Joe’s store?”

  “Could be, but I’m not sure. In the meantime, maybe you and Boston would like a tall glass of cold root beer, since I think Boston’s already done with his mornin’ chores.”

  Immediately, her son’s face brightened. “I sure would, but Boston might turn up his nose. Homemade’s not as sweet and fizzy as fancy folk like.”

  “I say we find out.” She noticed Small Jay looking over toward the Martin farm as they walked from the barn. “Marlena Wenger and her Mammi will be back from Luella’s funeral later today.”

  “The baby, too?”

  She found this surprising—he’d never expressed much interest in little ones before. “Well, I believe so. Why do ya ask?”

  “Angela Rose smiles at me.”

  “Jah, she’s a happy baby, all things considered.”

  “Looks kinda like Marlena, I think.”

  “Do ya, now?”

  He nodded. “Is Marlena gonna be her Mamma?”

  Ellie didn’t know how to answer. “Gott will provide,” she assured him. Then, glancing toward the porch, she smiled to see Boston in a rocker, just waking up from a nap. “Here we are, son. And look who’s had his forty winks already.”

  Boston’s gaping mouth slowly closed, but he had a relaxed look. “Young man,” he said, his eyes widening.

  “Boston has somethin’ to tell ya,” Ellie told Small Jay. “A little surprise.”

  This seemed to boost the boy’s pace, and Ellie stood back as Small Jay moved toward the porch steps, reaching to grip the railing.

  “Have ya got somethin’ up your sleeve?” Small Jay asked, hobbling over to sit in the rocking chair next to Boston.

  Mischievously, the man raised his shirt sleeve and peered underneath. “Indeed I do. Your very kind mother has offered to sew a suit and some new shirts for me,” Boston announced.

  “Does that mean you’re coming to Preachin’ next Sunday . . . here, at our house?” Small Jay paused and shook his head. “Wait . . . ya mean you’re gonna dress like Dat and me?”

  “I certainly am,” Boston admitted.

  Small Jay clapped his hands. “Mamma, was this your idea?”

  It was Ellie’s moment to head for the kitchen.

  “Mamma?” His voice had never sounded so lilting. “Is Boston stayin’ on with us, then?”

  “Just till his family is found,” she called over her shoulder, heartened at the joyful response.

  “Ach, Mamma, ’tis the best news of all!”

  “I’ll be back with the root beer,” she said, ever so thankful her son had such a good friend. She wondered how long it would be before Boston trusted them enough to share the story of his life. If he remembers.

  She thought again of Roman and how he’d hemmed and hawed but eventually volunteered to help her get Boston to the doctor today. It was a marvel, nearly a miracle. Most of all, she was glad Roman had agreed to let the man work there in exchange for his very humble bed. If Roman can learn to accept Boston, why not Marlena Wenger . . . and my sewing students? she wondered, feeling a sliver of hope.

  The private family viewing was in progress in one of the rooms just off the vestibule when Marlena returned inside. Already she could hardly believe that Nat had been there; he’d come and gone so quickly.

  She stood in the vestibule with Angela cuddled next to her, knowing she really ought to go in to see her older sister one last time, if for no other reason than to comfort Mamma and Dat. Yet she wouldn’t think of taking Angela Rose along, and she was reluctant to give her up with Gordon’s aunt somewhere around. Maybe I should just remember Luella as she was.

  Marlena stepped near the windows in the entrance area, dr
awing strength from the sunlight streaming down like an English bridal veil. Was my sister’s beauty her downfall?

  Something Dawdi Tim had sometimes said came to her mind. “Pretty is as pretty does, yet what good’s a pretty dish when it’s empty?” Marlena considered those words with a sad heart.

  ———

  The first person to emerge from the viewing room was Gordon’s aunt, one of the few Englischers present—a tall, lean woman wearing black from head to toe, including dark lace veiling over her auburn hair. Marlena stiffened as the woman looked her direction and, lifting her thick brows for a split second, walked quickly toward her.

  “I was hoping we might have an opportunity to meet,” she said. “I’m Angela Rose’s great-aunt Patricia.”

  Marlena introduced herself, as well, and was glad the woman didn’t offer to shake hands. Angela Rose was squirming and becoming quite fussy, undoubtedly tired of being held.

  “There is certainly a strong resemblance between you and Luella.” Patricia managed a brief smile. “You’ll be interested to know that I’ve finally received word from my brother and his wife—Gordon’s parents.” She continued talking as if she were somehow in charge of the moment. Or if not that, the baby’s future, at least the part that was to unfold under her watchful eye. “Anderson and Sheryl hope to hear from Gordon by the time they’re back from their travels, and they’ll decide what to do from there.” Here, Patricia touched the baby’s tiny hand, and Angela began to cry nearly on cue.

  “She’s tired, as you can imagine,” Marlena explained.

  “Poor dear, I’m sure she is,” Patricia said. “Such a dreadful day.” She stepped back a bit and sighed. “I spoke with your parents regarding the baby’s care—I’ve spent quite some time tasking myself over this matter. I’m too busy at work to care for Angela, so for now, I believe you and your grandmother are a better option.” She went on to make a point of saying that she was single, as well.

  Marlena nodded as the woman continued to converse with such composure that Marlena wondered whether Patricia Munroe had experienced even a speck of sorrow this day.

  ———

  “Nee . . . it’s all right, really,” Marlena tried to assure her mother after the family had left the small viewing room, again politely refusing anyone’s offer to take Angela Rose so she could step in to pay her last respects. “I’m fine, honest I am. Anyway, it’s time for the burial service,” she said.

  Mammi Janice came to her rescue and gently guided her outdoors, where the long, shiny hearse was parked near the entrance, waiting to take her sister’s body to the cemetery. Marlena noticed Patricia making her way across the parking lot to her car and wondered if she, too, would join the procession.

  Glancing over toward the honeysuckle vines near where she’d seen Nat, she was still surprised at his impromptu visit. To think she’d walked outside within minutes of his arrival! Yet the joy of seeing his handsome face had diminished when she considered his cool response to Luella’s baby. I really enjoy caring for Angela Rose. And for as long as need be.

  Seeing her parents and siblings heading outside now, she could not comprehend, for the life of her, how it had come about that Luella was to be buried in a plot in their family’s row. It wasn’t necessary to know, of course, but it was true to her father’s compassionate nature. Dawdi Tim would’ve done the same thing, she thought, even though everyone knew Luella had cut her Plain ties.

  “What if Gordon Munroe doesn’t agree with his wife’s burial location?” Marlena whispered to Mammi as they waited for the casket to depart from the church.

  “It’s all in God’s hands, dear.”

  That seemed to be Mammi’s unswerving answer to everything, and it was one Marlena knew Mammi Janice also believed.

  Nestled against Marlena, Angela Rose fell asleep during the ride to the cemetery in the plain-looking limousine. Katie and Rachel Ann sat on the other side of Mammi, leaning forward repeatedly to stare at their sleeping niece, till Mammi eventually patted their knees and they quit, wearing more serious countenances as the ominous-looking motor vehicle took them to Luella’s final resting place.

  It was harrowing, really, what with the casket in the hearse just ahead of them. Marlena assumed her sisters and brothers were also shuddering at the thought. Avoiding eye contact with her parents, Marlena tried not to think about the strange situation—the family unified one last time. She sighed and looked down at Angela’s pretty little face in such sweet repose, oblivious to the weight of the moment.

  Marlena relived Angela’s sudden arrival in Brownstown last week—all the crying and resisting, rutsche and fussing. And oh, the anguish in her pretty eyes. It broke Marlena’s heart to think this baby, asleep now in her arms, might have to go through yet another uprooting.

  Heeding the urge to pray, feeling desperate now, she opened up her inner being to God like Mammi did every day, except in a silent prayer. Dear Lord God, wilt Thou be our helper, especially for Angela Rose’s future? My mother and grandmother always say to trust in Thy wisdom, O Lord, and I really want to do that right now . . . more than anything else on Thy green earth. In our Lord Jesus’ name. Amen.

  After a generous hot meal shared with the extended family, her mother mentioned a box she’d packed for Marlena with a few of Luella’s personal items. “Why don’t ya take it back to Brownstown and look through it when you’re ready.”

  Surprised, Marlena wanted to ask about it but kept still.

  “According to Gordon’s aunt Patricia, there’s nothing in there he would care about. Of course, I got her say-so first.”

  The intensity in her mother’s eyes seemed to indicate her need to create a bridge of sorts between Marlena and her sister, and Marlena hoped Mamma wouldn’t be disappointed.

  “There are even some postcards Luella received from one of the neighbor girls in Brownstown. You might remember Olive Hendrickson?”

  Marlena couldn’t believe Luella and Olive had kept in contact. “Really? That’s a shock.”

  “Evidently Olive was a gut friend these past years,” Mamma said.

  Marlena hadn’t forgotten the time Olive and Luella had gone hiking all over Olive’s grandfather’s land and came across an old wooden footbridge spanning the gorge. Luella had talked a lot about it.

  “You’re sure it was Olive who wrote to Luella?” Marlena said, still surprised.

  “Jah, the English girl who lived not far from the Millers’.”

  “I never would have guessed,” she said in a low voice.

  What else don’t I know about my sister?

  Chapter 22

  Following the noon meal of baked chicken and mushrooms, and mashed potatoes with gravy, Ellie sent Dorcas and Julia out to the woodshed to carry in armloads of kindling to fill the woodbox. Meanwhile, Sally stayed put to wash dishes. And when the kitchen was all redd up, Ellie and her three girls went out to the hen house to gather eggs. She observed the delicate way young Sally reached for each egg and placed it in her metal basket.

  The girls talked of their fondness for their unusual guest. Julia cheerfully suggested they start calling him “Onkel Boston,” which brought a stream of giggles from Dorcas and Sally.

  “He must have a family somewhere,” Dorcas observed.

  “Jah, maybe.” Julia smiled sweetly. “But if he doesn’t, we could adopt him.”

  Always our little dreamer, thought Ellie.

  Later, as they wiped the eggs with a wet cloth, Julia told on her little sister, pointing out that Sally had recently boasted she was getting old enough to gather eggs more often. “She said she never cracks a single one, Mamma.”

  “My girls are growin’ up to become responsible young ladies,” Ellie replied.

  A long moment of silence passed, and then Julia asked hesitantly, “What ’bout Small Jay? Will he ever grow up?”

  “Well now, Julia.”

  “I just mean so he can help Dat round the farm, is all. He surely seems to want to.” Tears sprang into J
ulia’s eyes. “I’m awful sorry if it came out all ferhoodled, Mamma.”

  “Oh, my dear, of course you are.” She gave her a smile, wishing she’d initially been less quick to respond. How she loved her daughters, who, like Small Jay, had gone out of their way to make Boston feel welcome.

  After Roman came in from cultivating the fields and had washed his hands and face at the well pump, he accompanied Boston Calvert to the gray family buggy and waited till he was settled inside. Small Jay stood near the carriage with pleading eyes. He wants to come along, Ellie knew. But Roman sent him back into the house with his sisters, and the corresponding looks of disappointment on both her son’s face and Boston’s were not lost on Ellie. Witnessing the growing bond between them yet again only made it harder for her.

  As they rode, Roman talked about the barn, which also needed to be cleaned thoroughly for the upcoming Preaching, including hauling away manure and stacking hay. Boston was quick to volunteer his “assistance,” as he said. As usual, his choice of words made Ellie even more curious about him—clearly this was a man with a higher education than eight years, like their Amish scholars. Maybe even a college education. Roman, however, seemed out of sorts and grumbled about all the time it had taken to fetch several runaway cows earlier. Even when Ellie stuck her neck out and tried to assure him that they wouldn’t be gone long, he continued to grouse about the day’s remaining work.

  Then, changing the subject, she said, “By the way, Small Jay did a real gut job of cleanin’ up the mess Shredder made.” She wanted to bolster her case for giving their son more tasks around the farm.