The Letters

by Suzanne Woods Fisher

  “By any chance are you Rose Schrock?” the woman asked, pulling her sunglasses off her face.

  “Yes. Yes, that’s me.” Rose took a step closer. Something about the abject relief in the woman’s face spiked concern in Rose. “Are you all right?”

  “I’d like to book a room at your hotel.”

  Oh. Oh! A guest. A guest! “Well, I need to get fresh sheets on the bed, but then you would have the entire base—flat—to yourself. How long did you want to stay?”

  The woman looked at the setting sun. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  As Delia Stoltz got out of the car, she suddenly heard shrieks of laughter, and a little boy flew around the corner of the house, another slightly taller boy in hot pursuit. The boy in the lead ran to one of the sheds between the house and the barn and tried to hide in it, but his brother caught him before he could get inside, and they tusseled and shrieked. The older boy was trying to put something down the younger boy’s shirt and finally succeeded, at which point the smaller boy began to hop up and down while the older one ran off, laughing.

  The mother, Rose Schrock, appeared out of the basement to the house. She wore a plum-colored dress and a matching apron and had a stack of sheets in her hands. Clearly out of temper, she yelled something in another language at the two boys, who immediately stopped their shrieking, looked at one another, and slowly approached her. Rose addressed herself to the older boy, who made some excuse, and the younger boy, in his own defense, pointed back toward the shed. She listened a minute and began to talk rapidly in a low voice, too low for Delia to hear. She was giving her sons the what for, Delia supposed.

  At first Delia hesitated. If the woman were the quick-tempered type, perhaps she should get back in the car and leave. The last thing she needed right now was a woman out of temper. But as Delia watched her, she found she couldn’t stop looking at her. Her eyes flashed as she lectured her sons, neither of whom was taking the lecture silently—both were trying to talk back, but Rose Schrock didn’t pause to listen. She had abundant brown hair tucked into a bun, covered with a thin organza cap, though the bun had partly come loose in little ringlets around the nape of her neck. Her eyes were gray and warm, fringed by dark lashes and framed by dark eyebrows. She was quite pretty, without a stitch of makeup.

  The boys looked around and became aware for the first time that a stranger had come. They instantly stopped fidgeting and stood like statues.

  “Pardon the commotion,” Rose Schrock said with a smile. “We’re a noisy crowd. So you aren’t sure how long you’ll be staying?”

  “If that’s all right,” Delia said. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

  Rose only laughed. “You don’t look like the type to trouble anybody. We grow our own troubles—it would be a novelty to have some we aren’t already used to. These are my sons, Luke and Sammy.” She reached for Delia’s hand. “Why don’t you come inside?”

  A moment or two later, Delia watched Rose put fresh sheets on the bed and plump the pillows. Delia thought it was strange that she didn’t ask for any money or registration information. She showed Delia how to turn the lanterns on and off, and the pilot light on the stove.

  When Rose went up to the house and Delia was alone in this sparsely furnished . . . basement! . . . panic rose. She hadn’t thought this through. She had a toothbrush in her purse, of course, who didn’t? She had a change of clothing in her gym bag, kept in the trunk of the car. But that was all. No nightgown. No face cream. Not even a book to read.

  Maybe she should go back to Philadelphia. She could leave some cash on the nightstand and leave. She heard a knock on the door and Rose popped her head in again. “I noticed that you didn’t have much luggage, and thought that maybe something had happened to your things. So, I brought a few items for you.” In her arms was a nightgown, a Farmer’s Journal magazine, a spare toothbrush and toothpaste, and a hairbrush. She lowered her voice. “I included some ladies’ unmentionables.” Color filled her cheeks, and her voice dropped. “Just in case you might have forgotten to pack some.”

  Mouthwatering aromas wafted down from the house. Delia’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten much today.

  A big yellow dog came bursting through the door and hurried over to sniff Delia.

  “That’s Chase,” Rose said. “He’s a good friend and companion.”

  Delia looked at the dog. “Is he named Chase because he chases squirrels?”

  “No. Because he chases his tail.”

  The big dog watched Delia. It took a few steps forward, sat on its haunches, and lifted a paw as if it was saying hello to Delia. She tentatively reached out to shake its paw. It was the oddest thing—there was a look in this dog’s soulful eyes as if he knew Delia was hurting and felt empathy for her. What an absurd thought!

  “Oh, you’ve passed the test. He likes you. You must have a knack for pets.”

  Delia had never had a pet. Why did it suddenly seem as if she had missed something? “I’m afraid not.” Her son had always wanted a dog but Charles refused. He said that he’d had enough animal rearing in his childhood to last a lifetime. A slight smile tugged at Delia’s lips. It was ironic that Will was going to be a vet—not a neurosurgeon like Charles had planned for him to be. She had never told Will, but she had been a little disappointed by his decision too. She had hoped he would follow in Charles’s footsteps. After shaking this big dog’s paw, she felt a glimmer of understanding of something Will talked about—that when an animal knew you, you felt some kind of special connection to it.

  Already, Delia’s life was changing. She was changing. Her stomach tightened. She had never liked change, and here she was faced with overwhelming change.

  A knock at the door startled Delia.

  Rose looked over at the door. “That’s my daughter, Mim, bringing some dinner down to you. Just in case you haven’t eaten.”

  Tears pricked Delia’s eyes. How long had it been since someone had fussed over her? Maybe she would stay one night. Just one. She put down her purse. “Thank you, Rose. For everything.”

  After Rose and Mim set dinner up, they left. Delia sank down in a chair at the table. It was after six and she was hungry, exhausted, and sore. She ate like she hadn’t eaten in days. Afterward, she took a long hot bath, climbed into bed with the Farmer’s Journal, and listened to the peculiar sound of buggy horses as they clip-clopped along the asphalt road. It was so quiet here, so strangely quiet. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, she would decide what she needed to do next. For now, she was right where she needed to be. She had no doubt of that. In the middle of an article about raising feeder pigs, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Bethany didn’t know what to make of the newest guest in the farmhouse basement. The lady drove up in a fancy car and went straight to bed. Three days had passed and she still lay there. Mim said she spoke in the manner of a British queen.

  “Am I to presume you are Miriam?” the lady had asked her when they first met, shaking her hand. She said everything about the lady was stylish and expensive.

  Rose brought meals to her and tried to keep the boys away from playing near the basement windows. She said that it was obvious the woman needed a good rest and that was the least they could give her.

  Well, that lady could sleep all she wanted, but Bethany did suggest to Rose that she ask for room payment up front, just in case the lady expired in her sleep. “It happens, you know,” she whispered to Rose. “I heard about it at work. A maid walked into a hotel room to clean it and there was a dead body. Just lying there. Decomposing.”

  Rose laughed. “Delia Stoltz isn’t dying. She’s just . . . I don’t know what. She’s worn out. And she’s here for a reason. The Lord brought her to us. He has a plan.”

  That was just like Rose—always attributing unexplained events to God’s sovereignty. Bethany believed in God, how could she not? But there were a lot of things that happened in life that were just . . . bad. She didn’t think it was fair to blame God for a person’s bad ch
oices, bad decisions. Take her father’s final choice, for example. That certainly wasn’t God’s fault.

  Then whose fault was it? Bethany didn’t know. Mammi Vera blamed Rose for his death, but that wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. Bethany didn’t know what would have become of them without her stepmother. Rose was taking care of her father’s cranky mother, she was looking after his children, and she was determined to pay back all of her father’s debts, one by one.

  Bethany was doing all she could to help. It was the least she could do for Rose. Before she and Jake got married.

  She heard a horse and buggy come up the drive. Curious, she wiped her hands on a rag and peeked out the window. Why, it was that audacious, flirtatious Jimmy Fisher. Bethany quickly looked in the washstand mirror Rose had left on the kitchen counter. She pinched her cheeks and bit on her lips to give them a little blush, smoothed back her hair, and hurried outside.

  Jimmy jumped out of the buggy when he saw her. “Well, well, hello there.”

  “I don’t know why you act so surprised,” Bethany said. “You know I live here.”

  “I haven’t seen you at the market in a while and thought I’d stop by. I was passing through.”

  “Passing from where to where?”

  “From there to here.” He grinned. “I have a little side job for Amos Lapp, down the road. Snow geese are causing damage to his winter wheat field. If they’re left alone, they’ll leave a bare spot of wheat several acres in size.”

  Bethany had heard about them. Thousands of snow geese had been wintering in a wildlife area of Stoney Ridge.

  Luke and Sammy appeared out of nowhere, wide-eyed. “You gonna shoot all them birds?”

  “Nope,” Jimmy said. “There’s a limit to the amount a fellow can shoot.” He bent down to the boys’ height. “I’m gonna set some firecrackers and flush them out.”

  The boys let out a whoop. “Think it’ll work?”

  “Will a frog hop?” Jimmy stood and wiggled his eyebrows at Bethany. “I’m known far and wide for my pyrotechnical skills.”

  How could he say something so ridiculous? Why was she even listening to him?

  “Speaking of work,” Jimmy said, “I came by to let you know I’ve heard of a job opening. A good one.” He lowered his voice. “One that does not require the art of deception.” His eyebrows hopped up and down.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “The Sisters’ House.” He took in Bethany’s confused look and explained. “Not too far from here. You would know them from church. They’re a bunch of elderly sisters, living together. They need a little extra help and I thought of you.”

  She knew those old sisters at church. Everybody did. They sat in the front row, looking like a chain of cutout dolls in their starched white prayer caps and matching dresses, all of them nodding off during the second sermon.

  Still, Bethany hesitated. “What kind of help?”

  “Get their house organized. It’s a little cluttered up.”

  Organizing a bunch of little old ladies? She saw herself carrying out chamber pots and hanging wet sheets to dry. And what if they were all cranky like Mammi Vera could be? Older people often got cranky.

  He winked. “Gotta strike while the iron’s hot, if you know what I mean.”

  She didn’t. This fellow’s winking and eyebrow wiggling was scandalous. She had never met anyone as bold and coarse and outrageous as Jimmy Fisher.

  Luke pulled on Jimmy’s sleeve. “Are you gonna blow up them birds?”

  “I’m not blowing up anything. I’m just trying to scare those birds out of Amos Lapp’s wheat field. He wouldn’t even let me take a single shot at them. Said they’re too beautiful to eat. I might disagree, but I always respect my employer’s wishes.”

  “Can we come with you to watch the firecrackers?” Luke asked. Sammy nodded.

  Jimmy looked at Bethany. “Sure, if it’s okay with your big sister. It’s quite a sight to see all those geese take to the sky at one time.”

  “I suppose they can go.” She glared at the two boys. “As long as they promise to stay out of your way.”

  “Maybe you’d like to come too. It won’t take too long. We could talk about your new employment at the Sisters’ House.” There was more eyebrow wiggling.

  Bethany wondered if Jimmy Fisher suffered from facial tics. Or Tourette’s syndrome? She had seen someone with Tourette’s once, over at the Stoney Ridge Bar & Grill. But that particular fellow swore like a sailor and he didn’t wiggle his eyebrows.

  She decided she should go along, just to keep the boys in check.

  Rose didn’t know where the boys had gone, or Bethany either. She was moving the goat and the sheep from the far pasture toward the pen attached to the barn. She waved to Galen, who was exercising a horse in a fenced paddock. A strange sound, like the steady rat-a-tat of a drumbeat, filled the air. The goat and the sheep started to bolt, splitting off into different directions. Galen’s horse reacted nervously, rearing and running in the paddock. Chase barked frantically, trying to get the animals into the pen. Then the air was filled with honking geese.

  Galen ran over to help Rose gather the goat and sheep. “Are you all right?” He scooped up one of the stray ewes in his arms like it was a bag of potatoes and carried it into the pen.

  “Yes,” she said, shielding her eyes against the setting sun, watching the geese overhead. “Just surprised. What was that noise?”

  “Sounded like gunshots.” Galen closed the pen latch and turned to face her. “I’ll help you get those sheep to market this spring.”

  Rose cringed. “I just can’t do it. They’ve become pets for the boys.”

  Galen looked at her with that slightly amused look he often gave her, as if he wondered if she might be a little dotty.

  “I’m thinking about shearing them, though, and selling the wool.”

  “To whom?”

  “I haven’t planned that far,” Rose said honestly. “Seems like every time I make a plan, something happens to change it.”

  “Well, life’s a twisting stream.”

  Most wouldn’t think to hear such quiet philosophizing out of Galen, but she had come to expect it. Luke and Sammy galloped down the driveway. “You wouldn’t believe it, Mom!” Sammy said. “Hundreds and dozens of snow geese flew in the air! A couple fell to the ground. Jimmy Fisher said it was easier than shooting fish in a barrel.”

  “What type of gun did Jimmy use to shoot the geese?” Galen asked.

  “He didn’t!” Luke said. “He used firecrackers! He thought the ones that fell to the ground died of sheer fright. My eagles came flying around to see what was going on.” Luke spread out his arms and soared around the barnyard.

  Galen frowned. “Doesn’t that boy realize how dangerous it is to set off firecrackers at this time of day? Livestock is feeding. Why, your mother was practically trampled by the sheep.”

  Trampled? There were only five sheep. But Rose thought it was kind of Galen to remind the boys to show concern. Those two little boys needed constant reminding.

  Galen looked at Sammy. “Where is Jimmy Fisher now?”

  “He’s on his way home with Bethany,” Sammy said.

  “With two geese!” Luke added. “Mom, he’s bringing them to you to cook for dinner.”

  Rose’s spirits lifted. “A goose delivery? It’s too late to start for tonight, but maybe I’ll cook it for Sunday supper.”

  “Jimmy said he’d dress them for you,” Sammy said. “And guess what else? We saw the eagles carrying branches in their talons. We think they’re building a nest in the big tree up there.” He pointed to the very tree, high on the hillside, that Rose liked to sit under some mornings to greet the dawn.

  Rose shielded her eyes and looked up. There, in the dead branches of the oak tree, was the start of a big mess of sticks. “Well, I’ll be.” She turned to Galen. “An aerie. Right here. Wouldn’t that be something? To have a bald eagle pair choose this very farm for their home?”

  Galen
’s gaze turned to one of the eagles, bringing in sticks to the tree. “It’d be a pity for us all.”

  “You may call it a pity, but I’ll call it a blessing,” Rose said. “Think of all the publicity the inn might get. Why, this could be very good for business.”

  Galen frowned. “You might be changing your mind when folks set up telescopes to gawk at the eagles after the game commissioner tapes off your property.”

  “I would still feel blessed that an eagle couple had sensed that this farm would be a good place to raise their young.”

  Galen lifted his eyebrows, as if he didn’t know what to make of that. “Tell Jimmy Fisher I want to talk to him before he heads home,” he said before he slipped back through the hole in the privet.

  Luke and Sammy exchanged a look. “Jimmy’s in trouble,” Luke whispered.

  For three days, Delia had stayed in her nightgown, mostly in bed. Rose’s daughters, with anxious faces, brought meals on a tray down the stairs. Delia tried to appear calm and reassuring to them, but inside she felt that she had lost the will to live.

  Last evening Rose asked her if she needed a doctor, because there was a very nice doctor in town who made house calls, but Delia assured her that she just needed some rest. So Rose refilled her mug of tea and promised to do a better job of keeping the boys shouting distance away from the basement.

  Rose must be a restful person to live with, Delia thought. The farm was a restful place. She had been lucky to meet red-haired Lois at the gas station and find this place.

  It felt so strange, so troubling, that she could not sleep well. She lay down, slept and woke, slept and woke, disturbed each time by foolish dreams. She dozed for a few minutes now and then, because when she opened her eyes, she remembered shreds and pieces of disjointed, implausible dreams. Then she would be wide awake. These senseless dreams came from being overtired. She had heard on Oprah once that dreams are never really senseless, that if you take the disjointed sections apart and rearrange them properly, they will make sense. She decided that was foolish fodder.