The Letters

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by Suzanne Woods Fisher


  This afternoon, Delia stood at the window and watched ordinary people do ordinary things. Rose’s eldest daughter had come back from work, a handsome fellow had stopped by in a buggy to pay a call on her, those two little boys with small black hats ran back and forth from barn to house and back to barn. Those two looked like they were always up to something. Every once in a while, Rose would call to the boys from the house, but it seemed to Delia like trying to herd cats.

  She watched Amish men and women drive past the lane in buggies or zoom on the road in those odd-looking scooters. These were people with families—men, women, and children who lived normal lives. Their hearts were not heavy with anxiety as hers was. They knew what each new day was going to bring, while she had no idea what was going to happen. She envied them, their sense of security. She didn’t think she would ever feel secure again. How could life change so quickly?

  One morning, you woke up on a sunny winter day, happy, your mind filled with nothing weightier than the thought of where to have lunch with your friend or what to cook for dinner. And then a conversation began, or the telephone rang, or the lab report arrived, and everything you thought you knew for certain was suddenly called into question.

  Tomorrow would be Sunday. Rose had brought her a handwritten list of churches in the area, gently suggesting that Delia might want to consider going. She looked over the list and saw one for the denomination she belonged to in Philadelphia.

  After Will was born, Delia and Charles used to go to church each week. Delia had insisted that they provide Will with some kind of spiritual foundation. Charles didn’t object, nor did he ever get involved. Over the years, Charles accompanied them less and less. At first, there was always a reason—an emergency at the hospital, an out-of-town conference. Then the excuses stopped and he just admitted he was tired and needed a morning to relax. Delia kept going until Will became a teen and started to object too. He said the youth group kids were weird. Charles insisted that Delia not force Will to attend church if he didn’t want to. So she didn’t. Naturally, Will slept in on Sunday mornings. And then Delia stopped going too.

  She heard the faint buzz of a saw from a neighboring farm and remembered when she and Charles were first married, how the two of them would work together, fixing up their first house. They had loved each other back then, passionately and thoroughly. They enjoyed each other’s company. She wondered what had happened to make it end. Life, she supposed. A child, busyness, schedules. And there was Charles’s success. She knew she was the envy of her friends, of everyone in town. She wanted for nothing. But success had a price too. Loneliness. Charles was hardly home, and when he was, he was very distracted and distant.

  A few months ago, just as they had sat down to Thanksgiving dinner, Charles was called away on an emergency. That wasn’t unusual, but Delia felt so let down, more than she typically did. Will had told her not to be disappointed—it was easier without Charles. He was right. She and Will had a wonderful evening together—watching old movies and eating so much until they couldn’t move from the couch.

  Still, it saddened her that Charles missed so much. Will wasn’t home very often and who knew where he would land after he graduated from vet school? His concentration on ornithology was very rare. He had offers from the states of Florida and Alaska. An organization in Europe had showed interest too. Who knew where he might land? All she knew for certain was that their days together as a family were coming to an end.

  When Will decided to go to Cornell for vet school after college, Delia’s loneliness became more acute. She’d been hoping he’d attend graduate school closer to home, someplace where he could come home for holidays or drop by on weekends. Now she was almost relieved that he lived so far away, too far to get caught in the complications of dismantling a marriage.

  She wondered what would happen to her friendships if Charles divorced her. She remembered a woman named Carla whose husband had left her for a younger woman. Everyone dropped Carla like a hot potato, as if she suddenly carried a contagion that threatened to infect their own marriages. Delia, included. How stupid of her. How uncaring.

  She also felt betrayed, bereft, heartbroken, abandoned, all those emotions she’d imagined women must feel when their husbands walked out on them. She was so sure she would never, ever be one of those women—but here she was, in Carla’s shoes. And just like Carla, she had never seen it coming.

  A wave of exhaustion hit Delia. As she eased back onto the bed, she considered calling Charles, but she was afraid if she phoned, he would be angry that she hadn’t come to the lawyer’s meeting and then she would cry. She refused to cry one more tear over this failed marriage.

  Soon, she should call the doctor’s office for a follow-up visit, to see if her pathology report was in. But what if it was bad news? What if the cancer had spread? That news could wait. She didn’t think she could handle anything more right now.

  She told herself she didn’t care, anyway.

  7

  Bethany was horrified when Rose invited Jimmy Fisher to come over for a big goose dinner on Sunday. Never mind that he had provided the geese, dressed them too. Yesterday afternoon, after Jimmy had returned from his talk with Galen, he was cheerful as ever and set to work butchering the geese. Bethany couldn’t get her head around that—everyone was sure Galen would chew him out for setting off those firecrackers, but Jimmy came back acting like he was having the best day a man could have. When the boys asked what Galen wanted with him, Jimmy only said that Galen preferred to volunteer what he wanted you to know.

  As Jimmy butchered the geese, he found the stomachs full of wheat, even their throats, almost to their beaks. The boys couldn’t stop talking about it. The whole topic turned Bethany’s stomach, which only amused Jimmy Fisher.

  She did not trust that boy with the blue, blue eyes. She was just waiting for Jimmy to spill the beans that she worked at the Stoney Ridge Bar & Grill and wore English clothes. She knew he was holding it over her head, acting smug, like he’d got the best of her.

  Rose had invited Naomi and Galen for the goose dinner. The strange lady in the basement too. Somehow Rose had convinced that lady to try going to church in the morning—which she did—and to come for the goose dinner when she returned. Bethany figured Rose wanted to try to get that lady out of bed.

  Around one in the afternoon, the guests arrived at the house, acting quiet and uncomfortable. Except for Jimmy, who didn’t have enough sense to know how awkward the situation was; Galen, who didn’t speak much and kept to himself; a depressed English lady; a grandmother who got the hiccups if she had a fit; a little sister who spouted off facts; and two brothers who couldn’t sit still. At least Bethany had sweet Naomi to talk to.

  Rose didn’t seem to realize it was an awkward collection of people, either. She welcomed everyone in as if they were family. She gave them jobs to do to help get dinner on the table—Jimmy and Galen brought chairs in from the other room, Delia cut carrots for the salad, Mim set the table, Bethany and Naomi made biscuits while Rose made gravy.

  All this bustle made Mammi Vera, seated at the kitchen table, frown with disapproval. She complained that Rose was always telling people what to do, but the truth was, everyone relaxed when they had tasks. Soon, there was cheerful conversation and banter going on. Rose was able to do that—to create that kind of atmosphere. Why couldn’t Mammi Vera see that?

  When Rose pulled the roasting geese out of the oven, Naomi breathed in the scent and thanked Jimmy Fisher for providing such a good dinner. It hadn’t occurred to Bethany to thank him. Sometimes, she wished the Lord would just knock her over with sweetness and goodness, because she didn’t seem to be getting the knack of it on her own.

  “You wash up good, boys,” Rose said to Luke and Sammy as they burst through the door. “I’m going to civilize you if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Civilize them?” Mammi Vera said. “They need so much more than civilizing.”

  Rose ignored that remark and steered Delia to
a chair at the table. As everyone found their seats, Galen moved to the head of the table.

  “That’s Dean’s place!” Mammi Vera said, her voice as shrill as a penny whistle. Galen froze, midair. He was the last to sit down; there were no other available chairs.

  “Galen, you just sit right down and don’t give it another thought,” Rose said, frowning at Mammi Vera.

  “She’s getting more and more like a dictator,” Mammi Vera muttered to no one in particular.

  “Yes, but a benevolent dictator,” Rose answered, tying napkins around the boys’ necks, for all the good it would do. After the silent prayer ended, a flurry of activity began. Rose began to carve the geese.

  Luke sniffed appreciatively. “Do I get a leg?”

  “Here you go. But save the wing for your brother.” Rose served him and passed the platter of goose meat as Bethany passed the gravy.

  “The gravy would be better if it had more substance,” Mammi Vera said, peering into the gravy bowl. “Next time, add a little more flour.”

  “The goose is cooked just right,” Jimmy Fisher said cheerfully.

  Mammi Vera sniffed. “It’s passable.”

  Bethany’s discomfort had taken a new turn. What must Jimmy Fisher think of them? The boys’ stomachs were grumbling unpleasantly as they tore into their meal. They were practically inhaling their food; their stomachs were bottomless pits. Their plates began to look like graveyards of bones. Mammi Vera made caustic comments every chance she could, and Mim used a finger to capture the absolute last drop of honey that dripped off her biscuit. She reached out to kick Mim in the shin.

  “Ooph!” Galen, sitting next to Mim, grimaced in pain. Bethany had kicked the wrong person. She kept her eyes lowered, suddenly fascinated by what was on her plate.

  Mim, oblivious, looked up. “Does everyone know that honey is the world’s purest food?”

  Her sister was always spouting off odd facts. Bethany had heard enough details on the subject to have already forgotten more than most people ever know about the properties of honey. “Yes, we all know that, Mim,” she said, to cut short the talk of honey.

  “I didn’t,” Jimmy Fisher piped up.

  “Mammi, you have some food on your chin.” Bethany reached over to wipe her grandmother’s chin with her napkin.

  Luke reached out and grabbed a biscuit, then another.

  “Do not bolt your food, Luke,” Bethany whispered. “Teeth are quite useful for chewing.” He was half wild, was Luke. Boys were.

  Luke stuffed a biscuit in his mouth and talked around it. “Sammy and I are starting a business. Renting sheep. To make money.”

  Galen tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow a grin. “Now, tell me what exactly can a sheep be taught to do?”

  “Mow grass, for one,” Sammy said. “Warn you about snakes and coyotes and wolves.”

  “And they can add fertilizer while they’re working,” Jimmy said. “No extra charge.”

  Vera let out a cackle of a laugh, like the sound a hen might make if the hen were mad about something.

  Luke turned to Galen. “A good sheep can be trained. I could train one to bring your mail up to your house.”

  “Why not just train the goat?” Galen said. “He spends more time at my place than yours anyhow.”

  Luke and Sammy looked at each other. “We could rent the goat!” Luke said. He turned to Galen. “Want to be our first customer?”

  “I’ll give it some thought. I’m pretty busy now, though, with buggy training a green batch of Thoroughbreds. Jimmy is going to start working for me. Starting Monday.” Galen glanced at Jimmy. “Early.”

  Sammy’s face lit up. “Jimmy, you’ll be able to come by here every day!”

  Jimmy Fisher did that crazy up-down eyebrow wiggling at Bethany and she felt a flush creep up her neck.

  “Rose, have you thought of giving a handle to your bed-and-breakfast?” Galen said.

  “Like what?” Mim said.

  “What about Eagle Hill?”

  Everyone stilled. It was Delia Stoltz who volunteered that suggestion. She had been so quiet during dinner, they had practically forgotten she was there.

  “Why, Eagle Hill is a fine name, Delia,” Rose said. “A wonderful choice.”

  “It is my farm,” Vera added, her feathers ruffled. “Everyone seems to forget that.”

  “Every farm needs a name,” Rose said.

  Vera turned to Rose and narrowed her eyes.

  “Now you’re taking over my farm. I can’t imagine what’s next. Maybe you’ll be the first woman bishop of Stoney Ridge.”

  And a silence like cold, still air filled the kitchen.

  Bethany could see Rose look at Vera for a moment, holding her peace.

  Then Rose laughed and the tension was broken. “No, I don’t have aspirations to be a bishop, Vera. I’m having enough trouble with this tribe of wild Indians, right here.”

  Bethany exhaled. Rose had a way of defusing a difficult situation; she never failed.

  Vera sat there, sulky.

  Bethany knew that look on her grandmother’s face. It was time to take action, before something worse happened. “Come, Mammi Vera,” Bethany said as she jumped up to help her grandmother rise to her feet. “You’ve been sitting all day. It’s bad for your circulation. You have to get up and walk around.” She caught Jimmy looking at her, then quickly away, as if she had caught him at something. She glanced around the table. “We’ll be out on the porch if you need us. Mammi needs fresh air.”

  It was no great surprise to Rose to hear those kinds of remarks come out of her mother-in-law. Rose knew Vera wasn’t in favor of creating an inn in the basement, but she also knew Vera wasn’t in a position to make decisions about the farm’s future. She had no understanding of the dire financial situation they were in. She had always turned a deaf ear and blind eye to any talk or news about Schrock Investments and acted as if it was all too complicated for her.

  Rose felt a flash of annoyance, most of it with herself. When Vera insinuated she was taking over the farm, she couldn’t disagree. Somebody had to steer this ship before it sank. Sometimes, she felt as if she had turned into another person, as if someone else walked around in her shoes. But the hardness Vera referred to was a result of dealing with the mess Dean had left behind.

  As she dried the last dinner dishes and put them away, she hung the wet rag over the faucet and went to the window to see what was going on in the yard. Galen and Jimmy had the boys and Mim engaged in a game of horseshoes. Bethany and Naomi’s capped heads were together, talking earnestly. Vera was resting in her room. Delia sat on the porch step in the sunshine, head bent back, watching the sky. What was she looking at? Soon, Rose figured it out. Some kind of noisy drama in a tree. She watched one of the eagles descend like an arrow into the tree, and a flock of birds blasted into the air, filling it with strident, high-pitched squawking.

  Eagle Hill was a fine name for the farm. No matter what Galen had said about the game commissioner and people nosing around, she considered it a blessing that an eagle couple had chosen it for their nest. She walked out to join Delia on the porch step. On the western horizon, the sun was a crimson orb, sinking into the treetops.

  “The big one is Mrs. Eagle,” she said to Delia. “The smaller one is the mister.”

  Delia had smiled at that and Rose felt pleased. Just as pleased that Delia had agreed to come for dinner, though she didn’t say much and she didn’t eat much—she just nibbled at her food.

  “What kind of eagles are they?”

  “See their white heads? That’s how you know they’re bald eagles. They’re a threatened species in Pennsylvania. Thankfully, they’re no longer an endangered species. It’s a wonderful comeback story. Things can get good again.”

  Rose smiled and Delia gave her a curious look.

  “Someday, I hope to get a porch swing out here,” Rose said. “Seems like porch swings are just as good for grown-ups as they are for children.”

  Rose and Delia wa
tched the eagles dip and dart above the row of pines that lined one edge of the driveway. A whole dancing flock of birds disappeared, dark little dots against the sky.

  “I hope you don’t mind me saying that your mother-in-law is a ball of fire,” Delia said.

  Rose burst out laughing. “I don’t mind at all. You’re right. And she hasn’t been well lately. It’s made her an even hotter ball of fire.”

  “Your eldest daughter is very patient with her. Goodness, she reminds me of an Egyptian servant girl, all but fanning your mother-in-law with palm fronds.”

  Rose smiled. This, to Rose, was Bethany’s greatest gift—her patience and kindheartedness to Vera. Bethany was always showing care to Vera in special ways: giving her shampoos, rubbing lotion into her crepe-papery arms and legs, asking her questions about her life as a little girl. No wonder Vera adored her.

  Delia brushed off her trousers. “Didn’t you go to church today?”

  “It was an off Sunday,” Rose said. “We have church every two weeks. A good day for a big goose dinner.” She looked over at Delia. “I saw your car leave this morning. Did you go to church in town?”

  “I did.”

  That was all she had to say and Rose didn’t want to push her.

  Delia stood up to leave. “Thank you for including me today.”

  “I’m glad you came. We can be a noisy crowd.”

  “Yes, but you’re a noisy crowd of love,” Delia answered.

  To Rose’s surprise, she suddenly felt Galen listening to their conversation. Not just watching, but listening. When she turned her head and saw his eyes, she thought she caught a glint of something—amusement? Pity? She couldn’t tell.

  It had to be admitted that Rose Schrock set a fine table. Naomi had been the one to accept the supper invitation of those two little rapscallions who came flying through the hedge to rap on the door. Galen wouldn’t ordinarily have done it, but then his life was no longer ordinary.

 

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