The Love Letters Page 20

  “Might ask him first if he’d like to go or stay. How’d that be?” Roman was grinning and looking right at her.

  My husband’s asking me?

  Roman was certainly chock-full of surprises today.

  Chapter 29

  Marlena helped Mammi clean the house, then stopped to make supper. She’d washed another pile of diapers yesterday but needed to wash more soon, in anticipation of Gordon’s parents’ arrival.

  While she and Mammi chopped cucumbers and tomatoes for a garden salad, Marlena talked freely about yesterday’s unexpected visit with Luke Mast. “He suggested we finish our discussion another time,” she confided.

  “Well, wasn’t that nice of him,” said Mammi. “Maybe he wants to be more than just a friend.”

  “Ach, Mammi . . . that’s not what I meant.” Marlena told her they were friendly but there wasn’t any romantic attraction.

  “I see,” Mammi replied, keeping a straight face.

  “My heart belongs to Nat Zimmerman.”

  Mammi’s eyes twinkled. “You may be interested to know that Luke Mast has always reminded me of your Dawdi Tim when he was that age.”

  “He does?” Marlena didn’t think they looked anything alike.

  “It’s his disposition—Luke’s mannerisms—not so much his looks, I s’pose.”

  “Oh, maybe so.” Marlena wondered why Mammi mentioned this, but as she thought about it, she could see what Mammi saw. Jah, I sure can.

  ———

  When supper dishes were cleaned and put away, while Angela Rose chewed on a teething ring, Marlena took time to cut out pieces from Luella’s dresses. She decided to balance the solid-colored fabric with florals or prints. Half Plain, half fancy, she thought, realizing her sister had been Amish longer than English. This brought her some solace as she measured random sizes and pieces of fabric, looking forward to making a crazy quilt like one Ellie Bitner had shown the class. If she could just take another look at the method, that would help greatly. I’ll just have to wait till the next class, she thought as she stopped to bathe Angela Rose in the deep kitchen sink.

  “Tomorrow’s market day,” she told the little one, smiling into her face while lathering up her silky hair. She kissed the tiny nose, which made Angela giggle.

  Then, just as she’d wrapped her in a towel, Dorcas Bitner appeared at the back door. “Hullo there!” Marlena called to her. “Come on in.”

  Mammi came from the front room to welcome Dorcas, as well, evidently setting aside her circle letters for now.

  “I dropped by to see if you’ll be needin’ a babysitter tomorrow,” Dorcas said as she walked over to Marlena and Angela Rose. Dorcas reached out her finger, smiling at Angela, who grabbed hold and tried to suck on it. “She must be teethin’, jah?”

  “She has been drooling a lot,” Marlena said, then apologized for being too busy to let Dorcas know sooner. “I’m so glad ya dropped by.” They made arrangements for tomorrow morning.

  “My sisters are lookin’ forward to seeing Angela again.” Dorcas retrieved her finger and leaned down to kiss Angela’s forehead. “Such a sweet little one.”

  Marlena didn’t have the heart to tell her this most likely would be the last time Dorcas would babysit. “She likes seein’ you. Just look at her smile.”

  Mammi, who’d spread out Marlena’s piecework on the kitchen table, motioned for Dorcas to come look, and Dorcas hurried over. “I’m makin’ a quilt from my sister’s dresses to give to Angela Rose as a remembrance of her Mamma,” Marlena explained. “It’s one way to use up some old dresses, ain’t?”

  Dorcas nodded, awful solemn just then.

  “I can hardly wait for your mother’s next quilting class.”

  Dorcas looked like she didn’t know what to say. Was it the fact that the fabric was from Luella’s dresses, or was it something else?

  Seemingly uncomfortable, Dorcas finally said she could let herself out, then turned and left, nearly stumbling toward the back screen door. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, then.”

  Marlena said good-bye, curious why she’d left so abruptly. Then, eager to read Nat’s letter, she put away the pieces and took Angela upstairs to get her ready for bed. She dressed her in one of the soft cotton gowns, then sat in a chair to give Angela her bottle, wondering all the while what Nat had written.

  It took longer than usual to get Angela Rose settled, but finally, when she was asleep and in her crib, Marlena went out to the second-floor balcony and sat down in Dawdi Tim’s old chair. She was grateful for her darling’s letter, missing him so.

  My dearest Marlena,

  It was wonderful seeing you again following your sister’s funeral. Sad as the circumstances were, I wish we could’ve spent longer together. Lord willing, there will be plenty of time for that when you finally return at summer’s end. Till then, I must try to be patient.

  I hope things are going well for you with your sister’s baby. Are her Englischer grandparents coming for her? Or perhaps she’s even gone by now. I’m glad that we agree that’s the best place for her. You’ve done so much already!

  But there’s more on my mind, dear, than your many responsibilities. Some of what you shared with me in your last letter really surprised me. I know you’re there to help your grandmother, but I prefer that she go on her own to the Mennonite church. Couldn’t you attend the Old Order Preaching with the neighbors you mentioned, the Bitners? And it doesn’t seem wise to pursue friendship with any New Order Amish, even Sarah Mast, no matter how friendly she might be. Truth be told, the thought troubles me.

  Marlena gasped, unable to read further. “Troubles him?”

  She wished now she’d had the courage to share about her spiritual longings in her recent letters. Nat was clearly upset, and it bothered her that he was attempting to say what was best for her without knowing the whole picture. She felt especially frustrated that he was intruding on her close relationship with beloved Mammi. “Puh!”

  The burning aggravation drove her back indoors to the bedroom, where she dropped his letter into the drawer and decided not to read the rest of it right now. I’d really better not. . . .

  Ellie cut ample slices of her strawberry pie and asked Julia to help her carry the dessert out to the porch, where Boston was already making music, entertaining Roman and Small Jay.

  “What other songs can ya play?” her husband asked as he and Small Jay rocked together side by side.

  “Let me think,” Boston said. “Ah, yes . . . do you know this one?” And he began again.

  Right away, Small Jay’s eyes grew big. “ ‘In the Garden,’ ” he said, humming along.

  “‘While the dew is still on the roses,’ ” Ellie sang softly. Boston knows this?

  After that hymn, Boston played two others that he said were tunes from his childhood. To Ellie, they sounded nearly angelic, they were that awe-inspiring.

  Later, as Boston stopped to catch his breath, Roman asked when he’d learned to play. “As a youngster, I studied the violin, and after that the piano. So it was easy for me to pick up the harmonica and make music.” He held the mouth organ out for Small Jay to try. “Wipe it off first, if you’d prefer.”

  Ellie was amazed by Boston’s apparent clarity tonight. This was the first she’d known about his musical ability as a youngster, and she wondered if he still played the other instruments. She recalled again the letter that Abigail had written, thanking him for writing “your exquisite melody.” She might have asked about it, but here came Dorcas, waving and returning from the visit to Marlena.

  “She must be goin’ to babysit tomorrow,” Ellie said, motioning toward her.

  Roman didn’t acknowledge this, but Dorcas was full of chatter. “That’s one precious baby up yonder,” she said. “Oh, and I saw the pieces Marlena’s been cutting out there on the kitchen table, Mamma.”

  “Does she know you’ve quit your classes?” Julia asked unexpectedly.

  “Nee, and the other Wednesday quilting students must not know
yet, either,” Dorcas said, trying to smooth things over, bless her heart.

  Ellie was silent, unsure what to say. The thought of not seeing Marlena anymore at class or otherwise was disappointing, yet when Roman looked over at her, she put a smile on her face, just for him.

  Small Jay walked next door to the Dawdi Haus with Boston to see where Mamma had him set up to sleep. In the largest of the rooms downstairs, he spied the big table. “Wonder why Mamma won’t be teachin’ classes anymore,” he muttered to himself.

  “I’m sure your mother will tell you if you ask,” Boston replied.

  Small Jay knew she’d probably try to explain if he asked . . . unlike Dat, who was less predictable. Did Boston know that? Small Jay considered Boston to be mighty wise sometimes for such a confused man.

  After Boston said good-night, Small Jay left by way of the squeaky back door, slowly making his way down the few porch steps and around to the main house.

  Small Jay was surprised to see his father still sitting outside and thought he might test Boston’s advice from the other day. “Venture forth. If you do it in the right spirit, God will be with you.” Boston had sounded so sure of himself.

  At once, Small Jay’s chest felt tight. Certain no one was around, he went up the porch steps and eased himself into the rocking chair next to Dat. “Denki for lettin’ Boston sleep next door,” he made himself say, though the words sounded pinched, like they were stuck under his tongue.

  “Boston seems happy enough,” Dat said, crossing his leg over one knee.

  Small Jay considered that.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Dat looked over at him.

  Small Jay nodded, but he could not let this moment pass. His heart sped up. “Remember when we used to go fishin’?” He glanced at the glassy pond in the meadow behind them. “Over yonder.”

  “Been a gut long time.”

  “I think so, too.” Small Jay breathed deeply, trying to get some air into his lungs. Maybe that would help him calm down. “What if we went again sometime?”

  His father’s eyebrows rose. “Well, we sure could.”

  Oh, Small Jay was just dying to ask when, to get it set in his mind that he hadn’t dreamed this. But he didn’t press, instead soaking up what his father had given him just now.

  Boston’s suggestion worked, thought Small Jay gleefully. Dat knows I want to go fishing with him, and he didn’t say no!

  A slow-moving car was coming this way as Marlena walked up the hill toward Hendricksons’ house. The mosquitoes were out thick and biting, so she hurried her pace, wanting to get there and back before too long.

  Mrs. Hendrickson came to the door, inviting her inside, smiling and wearing a short-sleeved top tucked into a graceful floral skirt. “How nice to see you again, Marlena. Goodness, last time was your grandpa’s funeral, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Marlena remembered, and they reminisced for a time about the large crowd that had come to pay respects to a man who’d grown up in this area. Then Marlena told her the reason for her visit. “I have more sad news, I’m sorry to say. My sister Luella passed away suddenly last week, and I thought you . . . and Olive might want to know.”

  “Oh, my dear, what a shock! Whatever happened?” Mrs. Hendrickson lowered herself into the nearby chair, sighing.

  Marlena mentioned the accident, leaving out the details.

  “I know Olive will be terribly upset about this. Is there anything we can do for you, Marlena?”

  Marlena thanked her and said she was doing as well as could be expected. “I’ve been staying with my grandmother to help out this summer.”

  “I’ll definitely phone Olive right away tonight.” Mrs. Hendrickson paused to fan her face with a hankie. “You may not know this, but Luella and Olive were fast friends for years. Their letters flew back and forth until Olive moved to Philadelphia—she lives there now. I believe they’ve been in touch since.”

  Marlena didn’t know if she ought to mention the many postcards and letters now in her possession, but Isabelle Hendrickson seemed to have more on her mind.

  “Olive always had such nice things to say about your sister.”

  Marlena smiled. “I’m takin’ care of Luella’s baby for a while.”

  “What a blessing for the little one. What’s her name?”

  “Angela Rose.”

  “Oh, do bring her over sometime. I’d love to see her!”

  Again, Marlena felt hindered by the lack of a good response, knowing too well that Angela wouldn’t be around to do any visiting. “Well, I’d best be getting back to Mammi.”

  Mrs. Hendrickson said she understood and was glad for the visit, then rose from the chair and accompanied her to the front door and clear out to the road.

  “I’m glad Olive was such a close friend to Luella,” Marlena managed to say.

  “Yes, they were nearly like sisters in some ways. So this news will be very difficult.”

  Feeling numb now, Marlena waved woodenly and headed back down the hill, toward the familiar farmhouse.

  Mammi was already upstairs in her room when Marlena returned, so she knocked lightly on her door. “It’ll be an early morning tomorrow,” she said softly.

  “Jah, how’s Isabelle?”

  “She was shocked about Luella.”

  “Undoubtedly.” Mammi sounded tired.

  “I’ll leave ya be, Mammi. Gut Nacht now.”

  Mammi said the same, and Marlena turned toward the room she shared with Angela Rose, who was still sleeping peacefully. Marlena knew how easy it would be to fall into contemplating Mrs. Hendrickson’s reaction to Luella’s death. Instead, she went to her drawer and quickly removed Nat’s letter, ready to finish reading. Thankfully, the remainder was full of typical talk about his family and the farm there. Nothing else worrisome.

  She felt she ought to write back, to let him know that she was struggling terribly right now, trying to understand the longings of her heart. Surely the Lord God wants us to seek after Him. . . .

  Once she was ready for bed, Marlena found some stationery and began to share her innermost thoughts with her beau as never before. She kept her letter polite, yet she made it clear that she truly enjoyed her grandmother and her church. And I’m learning many new things from the Bible, things I’ve never heard before now.

  Yet she did not write anything more about Sarah and Luke Mast. I’m not willing to give them up as friends, she thought, finding it unbelievable that Nat would even suggest such a thing.

  Chapter 30

  Small Jay hoped Boston wouldn’t be too lonely while he and Mamma went to market Saturday morning. Their driver was Lois Landis, a Mennonite neighbor, and while Mamma did the talking on the way into town, Small Jay did the watching. He enjoyed seeing all the other neighbors’ cows—some Holsteins, others Jerseys—and young, scampering goats, too, out on the grazing land.

  A few times he caught himself counting, then remembered he wasn’t alone. Mamma looked his way as if she might remind him to keep his thoughts to himself, but she simply smiled a sympathetic smile.

  She knows me but good. . . .

  The closer they got to market, the more he wished he’d stayed home with Boston to help curry the horses. The work wasn’t easy for a man like him.

  Small Jay had overheard his father talking to Boston again that morning, asking where his family or close friends might be located, sounding concerned. But Boston had been more baffled than usual by what Dat was saying, and Small Jay’s former notion that Boston’s memory was clearer in the mornings didn’t seem to be true after all. Still, he hoped the folk medicine Dr. Isaac had given Mamma for Boston might help before too long. Boston had been faithfully drinking the medicinal tea each morning, and taking the tincture at the noon meal.

  When they arrived, the driver helped Mamma by carrying in her delicious preserves. Mamma herself brought a large canvas bag of her tatted doilies and other handiwork. Small Jay had always been interested in her embroidery but knew he ought not to say anything, lest
Dat shake his head at him. Women’s handiwork. Truth was, those items brought a good price, and Dat should be happy for the extra money, especially now that he had an extra mouth to feed with Boston. Even so, Dat’ll miss him when he goes back to wherever he came from, thought Small Jay, hoping maybe then he might step into Boston’s shoes out in the stable, grooming the horses and whatnot all.

  At that moment, Small Jay noticed a dozen or more scooters lined up against a wall and wondered how long before he, too, might be allowed to ride one down to market, or over to Joe’s General Store.

  When can I prove I’m old enough?

  Inside, clusters of customers were already waiting at the homemade popcorn booth, and the half moon pies just two tables away were popular, too. He was glad to arrive early, as Mamma liked to do, because once he’d helped set out the preserves, he could wander about, visiting with other Amish boys, usually younger. Most were youngsters outside the Brownstown Amish church district—some slipped him nickels or dimes, feeling sorry for him, he guessed. Luke Mast had never done that, though. Luke and his mother had always treated Small Jay very kindly, even respectfully, which made him feel like standing taller, head high. Of course, he’d never want to give in to pride . . . though he had been sorely tempted. Fact was, Luke just brought the good out in people.

  Wandering about, change jingling in his pocket, Small Jay headed straight for the chocolate chip cookies at Gracie Yoder’s aunt’s market table. While his own mother’s cookies tasted even better than Nellie’s, he liked to think he was helping the Yoder family in some small way. And, too, he hoped he might get a glimpse of Gracie there. She’s probably home babysitting her twin sisters today. He’d heard through the grapevine that Gracie’s mother depended on her a lot.

  Small Jay’s mouth watered at the smell of the oversized chocolate chip cookies even as he eyed the peanut butter ones. But he only had enough for one, because he’d spent most of his birthday money on a new leash and collar for Sassy and two batches of licorice for his father. Better that Dat has treats, since he works so hard.