Read The Love Letters Online

Authors: Beverly Lewis

Tags: #FIC053000, #FIC042000, #FIC026000

The Love Letters (2 page)

BOOK: The Love Letters
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Chapter 1

M
arlena Wenger was a knot of nerves as she pushed the iron over her grandmother's white pillowcase. She'd dampened it earlier, using a bottle with small holes drilled into its metal lid to sprinkle the water, and then rolled up the blouse to evenly distribute the moisture. Once it was ironed to her satisfaction, Marlena hung it up and reached for the next rolled item, a floral-print cotton dress.

Even though she dreaded the chore of ironing on this humid Tuesday, she'd gotten up earlier than usual, prior to the intense heat of the day. Already, her back ached and her legs had locked—something her mother warned her against.
“You can stand much longer if ya keep
both knees bent,”
she could hear Mamma saying. But it took effort to remember, and there she stood, stiff-legged, her back arched.

Wishing for a breeze from the nearby open windows, she wondered why Dawdi Tim had never purchased a freestanding fan for the kitchen, considering the amount of electricity swirling through the walls of this house.
Makes no sense for Mammi to suffer in such heat.

She let her mind drift back to her hometown of Mifflinburg. There, some of the older farmhouses had second-floor doors that opened outside to nothing but air. Nat Zimmerman's father once told her that such an exit could be the quick end of a sleepwalker. Her Dat, however, had explained that the doors, if propped open, circulated stale air when the upstairs was too oppressively hot for sleeping. But a doorway with no place to land? That was nothing short of peculiar.

Marlena thought now of her wonderful beau, as she often did during wakeful hours. Even her grandmother had mentioned Nat a few days ago, though not in such a positive light.
“He might be worried you'll
grow accustomed to electricity and other conveniences.”
But Marlena was quick to quell her seeming concern, though she doubted Mammi Janice would truly mind if things went awry with her conventional Amish beau.

Nevertheless, Marlena had assured Nat in her most recent letter:
I'm eager to return to the simplicity of the Old Ways. I miss the gas lamps
and traveling by horse and buggy. And I am always
glad to have the chance to chat with Mammi's Old Order neighbor Ellie Bitner.

Presently she glanced at her grandmother, who was sitting hunched over her sewing beneath the table light, needle and thread poised in her fleshy hand.
More and more Beachy folk back home are yielding to the temptation of electric,
Marlena thought, pressing the facing flat on her grandmother's modest dress. How long before Dat and Mamma also gave in to the temptation of electricity and gas ranges and ovens? Of course, they were still considered new converts to the more progressive Amish fellowship, but Marlena was fairly sure her father had privately considered the notion of owning a car someday. The stringent dos and don'ts of the church ordinances had
begun to ease up some since many of the formerly Old Order Amish church members had first split away.

“Will ya run next door for some fresh eggs this morning?” Mammi looked up from her sewing. “There's a-plenty of egg money under the cookie jar.” She offered a small smile. “If ya don't mind.”

“Once I'm finished here,
jah
.” Marlena was glad for an excuse to pay Ellie Bitner a visit. The kind and outgoing Amishwoman had always been someone Marlena yearned to spend more time with.

“Why not take some of your warm raisin bread along, too, dear? Surprise Ellie.”

Marlena agreed, happy to ease her grandmother's load. Just how long before her grandmother could manage without help was unknown. For now, there were quarts of sweet strawberries to be picked and washed for this Saturday's market, and for the table. Soon, the juicy black cherries would be coming on, as well as the bulk of the garden produce. Weeding alone filled up Marlena's morning hours several times a week. Summer had always been a paradise of abundance at Dawdi Tim's beautiful, sprawling farm.

Mammi rose to get herself some meadow tea from the icebox, a newfangled convenience she'd splurged on after Dawdi Tim's insurance paid out. According to the circle letters, Mammi had ordered hers the same week as her Mennonite cousin out in Indiana. “I noticed young Jake Bitner out walking his cat earlier,” she said.

“Sassafras?”

“Mm-hmm,” Mammi said. “Sometimes he practically wears that cat around his shoulders when he sits near the pond in the willow grove down yonder.”

“That cat obviously loves Small Jay.”

“Well, but he keeps the poor creature on a leash, of all things. Restraining a cat is downright odd, if ya ask me.”

Marlena couldn't conceal her smile. “Does Sassy also heel and sit on command?”


Ach
now, for Small Jay that cat might just do anything.”

They laughed.

Mammi had relayed that from the time Sassafras was just a kitten, she'd sought out Small Jay in the most peculiar way, following him around and meowing and carrying on when he left her outside. And this was even before Small Jay had miraculously nursed the kitten back to life, after Sassy was stepped on by one of the mules. Ellie had called her son an angel of mercy at the time. The end result was that the cat eventually moved into the Bitners' house, where she enjoyed store-bought cat food and occasional crumbs from the table.

Finished with her task at last, Marlena unplugged the iron and set it on the counter to cool, then returned to fold up the wooden ironing board covered with a thick terry cloth towel secured beneath by thumbtacks. She carried it into the large pantry off the kitchen. “I'll run over to Ellie's now, Mammi.”

“Don't forget the egg money,
jah
?”

Marlena retrieved the money and waved. “I'll be back right quick.”

Her grandmother let loose a chuckle. “I've heard that before, so just take your time.” She paused and looked wistfully at the ceiling, smile lines gracing her face, then looked back at her. “I daresay something 'bout that big farm calls to ya. Ain't so?”

Marlena shrugged. She couldn't deny feeling drawn to other Amish folk there in Brownstown, like Ellie and her young girls, and Small Jay, too. But this particular summer—right this minute, in fact—she'd much rather be hurrying off to see her darling beau.

Chapter 2

E
llie tensed when her broad-shouldered husband snapped his black suspenders and turned to stride off toward the barn. She stood watching at the back door and saw Small Jay in Roman's path, near the latticed pump house, waiting to ask the same question he asked almost every day.


Guder Mariye!
” Small Jay called out to his father.

“Hullo there, Jake.” Roman tousled the boy's cropped blond bangs.

“Could I help ya, Dat?” Small Jay asked eagerly. “I could water the mules or groom Razor, our pony, or even—”

“Not today,” Roman replied, hustling past him.

Small Jay's shoulders visibly slumped. “All right, then.”

“That's a
gut
boy,” Roman said over his shoulder as he headed to the barn.

Ellie sighed and returned to the kitchen counter, where she was rolling out two crusts for tonight's strawberry-rhubarb pie. No matter how shorthanded Roman was outdoors, he continued to refuse their son's offer to help.
“It takes more time
with him than without
him,”
Roman had claimed to her in the privacy of their bedroom.

She was weary of their ongoing disagreement about the same thing. Certainly she understood, at least to some degree, why Roman stood his ground on this. Even so, she had pleaded with him numerous times to find
something
Small Jay could do.
“He's becoming a young man
, after all,”
she'd urged.

And she heartily disagreed with Roman's recent suggestion. She would not consider having their daughters help with farm chores in Small Jay's stead . . . out there in the hayfield, or cultivating potatoes, or carrying wood to mend fences, or whatever else her husband had in mind. Girls' work was alongside their mothers, and there was no changing her mind otherwise.

On top of all the regular daily chores, she and Roman were scheduled to host the Old Order Amish Preaching service in a mere two weeks, which meant a thorough cleaning, washing ceilings, walls, windows, and windowsills. Every plate in her kitchen, all the glassware, and every single teacup and saucer, too, had to be washed and dried and put away—all essential duties to ready their home for its transformation into the temporary house of worship.

Straightening her long black apron, Ellie scuffed her bare toe on the wide-plank floor on her way to the front room. At the southernmost window, she stopped and squinted into the sunshine, wondering where Small Jay would take Sassy off to this morning—what private adventures they would encounter. Then, hearing the cat's meowing, she saw her son sitting right under her nose, there on the front porch steps, just grinning and talking
Deitsch
to the small cat perched on his shoulder. She listened more closely and was taken aback to realize Small Jay was singing his father's praises.

“Dat's best friends with the bishop,” Small Jay bragged to Sassy. “And Dat's so strong. Why, he could lift a buggy with one hand if he wanted to.”

Just imagine,
Ellie thought, tears coming.

She watched as Small Jay lovingly stroked his cat. Truly, Sassy was about the only thing that could put a smile on those cheeks anymore. Her son had walked that cat all over God's creation ever since school ended back in May and Small Jay graduated from eighth grade. Forlornly, Ellie wondered when it would fully dawn on Small Jay that he really didn't fit in on the farm, or with his father.
Will he ever?

What could she do to help him become stronger, if not smarter? Was there anything? Thus far, not a single medicinal tea or herbal concoction had healed his mind, or the unique way he perceived his life and surroundings. Truth be told, Jake was a special gift from the hand of almighty God, and neither Roman, nor anyone else, had the power to alter the truth of the matter.

Our lives never returned to normal after he was born,
she thought, slipping down into the hard chair near the window. She'd never forgotten the look of sheer dismay on Roman's face the day their Jake came into the world. Quickly, they both had realized something was amiss, even without the midwife saying so. Their son was born alive, but he'd held on by an unraveling thread, not taking his first breath quickly enough or wailing like healthy newborns. And oh, the frighteningly sallow color of his tiny angelic face.

She recalled their son's babyhood, the odd way his eyes were always wide open when nursing, or how difficult it was for him to sit up without support, long past the time when most babies' backs were strong. Jake had walked late, too, not
till he was nearly twenty months old. And when he had cried, it sounded like a bleating lamb.

With all of her heart, Ellie had hoped Small Jay had not retained a mental record of her and Roman's tentative looks in those early days . . . nor the choked words uttered by his father. Just how many memories were locked away in Small Jay's innocent mind before he could even speak?

Yet, what of now and the daily disappointment Roman scarcely concealed from their son? Oh, what Ellie wouldn't give for her husband to be proud of this dear boy who believed his father walked on water.

Ellie jerked to attention when she heard a knock at the back door. She guessed it wasn't one of Roman's brothers. No, the menfolk who helped her husband typically came and went as they pleased, tracking into her tidy kitchen for hot coffee or cocoa in the wintertime, and homemade root beer or iced meadow tea the rest of the year. She'd quickly learned as a young bride that this was the way things would be, and she'd trained her daughters, Dorcas, Julia, and Sally—twelve, ten, and seven, respectively—to help with the constant redding up. Ellie so disliked a messy house.

Making her way to the back door, she perked up to see their neighbor's granddaughter. There was no getting around the fact that Marlena Wenger could turn any man's head. She was tall and willowy, truly beautiful when she smiled, a hint of what looked like scattered sunbeams in her light brown hair. “Hullo, Marlena! You never have to knock,” Ellie said, pushing the door open, pleased for the company. “
Kumme
in for a spell, won't ya?”


Denki.
” The young woman gave her a winning smile and offered a wrapped loaf of bread. “Mammi's out of eggs. And I brought you something.”

Ellie looked at the warm bread in her hand and thanked her. “Ain't you nice.”

“It's the raisin bread you enjoyed last time,” Marlena said, following her into the kitchen.


Meindscht sell noch?—
Do you still remember that?”

Marlena nodded. “It's right moist, too. Saw to that myself.”

“Let's have ourselves a buttered slice,” Ellie remarked, placing the loaf of bread on the counter and opening the utensil drawer for a knife. “What do ya say?”

“I shouldn't stay long. . . .”

“Your grandma won't mind, will she?” Ellie said, feeling the urge to go overboard to welcome her. “I can pour you some cold meadow tea if you'd like.”


Denki.
Tea's fine.”


Gut
, then, we'll have us a chat.” Ellie sliced the warm raisin bread, which smelled heavenly. The luscious aroma brought back memories of her girlhood visits to her maternal grandmother, half a mile away.

“We've seen Small Jay out walkin' lately.”

Ellie glanced toward the window. “Have yous noticed how he always heads in the same direction, down the road toward the old Brownstown Mill and the bridge?” She placed the bread slices on an oval plate and carried it to the table, setting it near Marlena. “I have to say it worries me a bit. But at his age, I need to give him what freedom I can.” She sighed. “How's your Mammi doin' these days? I need to go an' visit her again soon.”

“She'd really like that.” The young woman stopped talking, glancing toward the pond out the window.

“Is there anything I can do for her?”

Marlena shook her head slowly. “Not sure there's anything
that'll heal her broken heart, ya know. She still can't see how she'll get along without my Dawdi.”


Nee . . .
can't imagine how she must feel.”

“Seems to me she's waiting to . . . you know . . . waiting for Dawdi . . . to see him again.”

Ellie nodded and felt sorry for her neighbor. “Maybe in time, she'll feel more like herself.” But she really wondered, knowing Janice Martin's fondness for her late husband.

She poured some meadow tea for Marlena and then for herself at the table before sitting down, aware of the empty chair at the head, where Roman always sat. The thought momentarily crossed her mind that she might've sat next to Marlena for their visit. But she changed her mind right quick, imagining Roman's reaction if he unexpectedly happened indoors. After all, it wasn't too long ago that Marlena had switched head coverings to the Beachy Amish
Kapp
.
Roman frowns upon such higher church folk,
she thought.

“Mammi Janice said something 'bout you having a sewing class in your
Dawdi Haus
next door,” Marlena said. “Is that right?”

“Well, it's quilting on Wednesday mornings and needlepoint on Fridays. Maybe you'd like to join us.”


Denki
, I'll see if I can get all my work done.”

“Just come whenever you can. How's that?”

They finished their tea and Ellie ended up savoring two slices of Marlena's delicious bread, spread with more butter than necessary, but it wasn't every day she had a chance to sit and catch her breath like this.

“Are your girls away today?” Marlena asked after thanking her for the tea and getting up.

“They're over helping their
Aendi
weed the family vegetable
garden this morning—my sister down the road and around the corner. She lives in one of the houses near the old mill.”

“It's been a while since I've seen that mill,” Marlena admitted. “It's real perty with all of those windows, some of 'em gabled. Must be nice and light inside.”

Ellie agreed, and after Marlena paid her for the eggs, Ellie walked her out the back door and down the porch steps. She said good-bye and stood there, observing the lovely young woman head for the pastureland between the house and the willow grove. “
Kumme
again soon,” she called after her, wondering if Marlena would show up for the morning classes.

A gem of a girl,
thought Ellie as she turned toward the house. To think Marlena had left her serious beau behind to come help her grandmother. Although Ellie had heard some gossip at a canning bee last week that Marlena's parents were hoping she'd forget about her boyfriend and turn her back on the Old Order Amish for good.

I sure hope not,
Ellie thought.

Marlena was certain Mammi would be restless by now, wondering how long before she'd return.
My grandmother talks confidently, but there's such pain in her eyes.

BOOK: The Love Letters
9.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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