The Love Letters (26 page)

In the middle of their supper, the phone rang and Mammi Janice motioned for Marlena to answer it. “Martin residence. This is Marlena.”

“I'm sorry to interrupt your meal,” her mother said.

“That's all right. We're almost finished.” Marlena glanced at her grandmother and mouthed that it was Mamma. “It's always
gut
to hear your voice.”

“Yours, too, dear.” Her mother paused a second. “I know you remember meeting Patricia Munroe at the funeral. Well, she called a little bit ago with news that Gordon is officially missing in action.”

“Oh no. They can't find him after all these days? I thought they were tryin' to—”

“It's more serious than that,” Mamma interrupted. “Patricia said the transport plane he and other soldiers were flying in was shot down.”

Shot down?

Marlena gripped the phone. “Are ya sayin' Gordon's just lost, then? Not . . .” The lump in her throat kept her from saying what she was thinking, hoping it wasn't true.

“I asked Patricia the same thing.”

“Well, he and the other soldiers have to be
somewhere
.”

Her mother explained what little she'd been told. “It's such a difficult area to search, and in enemy territory, too. Gordon
may have been captured. We simply don't know . . . and might never know.”

“Do his parents know this yet?”

“
Jah
. They'll get back from the Mediterranean as soon as their ship reaches port and they can arrange for a flight home.”

Marlena's mind was spinning. Gordon was feared dead—undoubtedly his parents would be coming for Angela. “Oh, Mamma, after Luella's accident . . . now this . . .” Her voice failed.

Her mother was silent, too.

Marlena's lip quivered and she turned away to hide the tears springing up. “Honestly, I don't see how we can possibly give Angela up,” she said softly into the phone.

“Believe me, I understand. But Patricia will be callin' back in a few days, once Gordon's parents are finally home and settled . . . ready for Angela Rose. So I'll let you know when they arrive.”

After they said good-bye and hung up, Marlena filled Mammi in on the call, but she had no desire to finish eating supper. She wandered to the front room and out to the front porch swing, feeling almost as sad as when she'd heard of Luella's passing. That Gordon had been lost in battle and might have died was terrible news indeed, but foremost in her mind now was the idea of surrendering her little niece to people who hadn't even bothered to come to their own daughter-in-law's funeral. Surely they could have gotten home from Europe somehow.

Marlena bowed her head and wept. She tried to process this latest jarring news and realized her mother hadn't said anything about stepping forward to take Angela Rose herself. Surely she and Dat hadn't resigned themselves to
Anderson and Sheryl Munroe bringing up Angela as a fancy
Englischer
?

Marlena tensed up at the thought. Considering they'd lost Luella so completely to the world, wouldn't her parents want to do everything possible to keep their flesh and blood in the Anabaptist way of life?

T
hat evening, Ellie heard Boston playing his favorite melody on his mouth organ again, beautiful yet heartbreaking. She and Roman had quietly slipped out the front door to the porch while the girls did up the supper dishes. Roman had suggested they spend some time alone, something that rarely happened anymore.

Together, they relaxed on the old glider, Ellie on one side and Roman on the other. She felt glad it was just the two of them; so many things were on her mind.

But it was Roman who was first to speak. “I've been thinkin',” he said, eyes fixed on their sprawling front yard. “Wasn't sure ya knew that Jake's been helpin' Boston do some of the chores.” He folded his arms across his old white work shirt. “Chores Boston is doin' in exchange for room and board.”

Ellie wondered what to say.

“Strange as it seems, the boy's able to do more lifting and whatnot than I thought . . . and for longer, too,” Roman said. “More strength in those arms than I would've guessed.”

Ellie was heartened but held back.

“Jake's mighty fond of Boston. Which ain't gonna be so
gut
when Boston leaves.”

“
Jah
, when that day comes, it'll be hard for our son,” she agreed.

“I really think we should figure out a way to help Boston get back to his family or friends—move this along, ya know. Someone must be out there wonderin' what's become of the man.”

“I've thought that, too,” Ellie replied.

They talked about what they were willing and able to do under their church ordinance as far as searching. Getting the authorities involved, or not.

“Jake told me just yesterday that he's gathering snippets of information . . . I think that's how he put it,” said Roman.

“He said that?”

Roman nodded and glanced at her for the first time since they'd sat down. “The boy's surely not bright enough to do somethin' like that, is he?”

Since her husband scarcely ever asked her opinion, Ellie felt tongue-tied for a moment. “Well, he's smart in some ways but struggles in others, as we both know.”

“But what sort of clues—or snippets—could he be getting from Boston?”

“Maybe they're from the love letters,” she admitted.

“The
what
?”

Ellie told him about the clutch of letters in Boston's satchel. “He says he doesn't know who the letters are from, exactly . . . what his relationship to the woman might be. Boston really doesn't remember much at all, I'm afraid.” She continued, telling Roman that both she and Small Jay thought the letter writer, Abigail, was Boston's wife. “But she might be deceased
now. On the other hand, he also talks 'bout a woman named Eleanor, but Small Jay and I really can't figure out who that might be.”

“I guess that explains some of what Jake's sayin'.”

Ellie smiled a little, pleased to hear Roman talk this way after all the years they'd been at loggerheads over their son. She ventured out on a limb and asked, “Since Boston's workin' for ya, have you given any thought, maybe, to lettin' him sleep next door?”

Roman's eyes locked on hers. “What 'bout those sewing classes you're havin' over there?”

“But . . .”

A long silence passed between them. Then Roman said, “Well, never mind, I daresay Boston can sleep over there.”

Ellie's heart leaped up.

Roman continued. “I nearly forgot you're quitting your classes.”

“I do plan to, but there's a hitch with this Friday.” She described her quandary.

“How's that a problem, Ellie? Just tell any of the girls who might show up for the last class.”

She nodded compliantly but was annoyed when Roman got up right then and went into the house without even looking her way or saying more.

I brought this on myself.

———

By the time Ellie managed to compose herself and return to the kitchen, the place was spotless, and the girls were out playing hide-and-seek in the backyard.
Roman's allowing Boston to sleep in the
Dawdi Haus, she thought, watching her husband put up a rope swing on one of the sturdiest limbs on their
old oak tree for the girls. Ellie stood behind the screen door now, listening while Boston played the lovely tune over and over. Small Jay sat transfixed next to his friend the harmonica player, keeping him company there on the back porch while Allegro and Sassy snoozed at their feet.

It was hard not to simply ask Boston if she might just sit down and read through all the letters he kept in his bag—one after another. The fact that he wanted someone to read them aloud caused her to wonder.
Does he realize how personal they are?

Ellie wondered how she'd feel if such special correspondence belonged to her. She pondered this till the tears welled up. If
she
were the one suffering with a waning memory and was lost from home, would she realize the letters might be the only tangible link to her beloved . . . or to her family?

She was certain Small Jay believed this. Even so, it was beyond her how on earth their son could make heads or tails of it all.

Marlena found her grandmother sitting outdoors in the gazebo with her Bible after Angela Rose was asleep for the night.

“I've been doin' nothing but praying while you put Angela to bed,” Mammi said before Marlena even brought up the phone call again.

“Our family needs prayer,” she said, sighing. “Guess we'd better start getting Angela's things packed and ready.”

“I've wondered if Gordon's parents might try to come home sooner if something has happened to him.” Mammi's voice sounded so frail. “We must pray earnestly for them.
Ach
, receiving such news . . . their son over there in a terrible war. No wonder they want their grandbaby with them.”

Marlena nodded. She certainly couldn't deny them such a comfort. Angela Rose would bring Gordon's grieving parents some much needed solace. “If only they had the dear Lord to lean on just now,” she said quietly, more to herself.

“Well, they
do
, my dear. He's closer than a brother, our Good Shepherd, everything their hearts long for.”

“Do ya think they understand how to reach out to Him?”

“That's what we're here for, Marlena. To point the way and be the light they need.” Mammi wiped her eyes. “We'll do all we can to show kindness when they come. They may never experience God's love otherwise.”

She should have known her grandmother would talk this way. Mammi always did.

“The Lord Jesus says ever so gently, ‘Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden.' He offers rest and peace. Think of that, honey-girl. Rest and peace during this awful sad time.” Mammi dabbed her eyes with her hankie. “Come . . . oh, come unto me, He says. Don't wait a minute longer, He pleads.”

Marlena had never seen Mammi so moved.

“If we sow seeds of compassion, we harvest love. If we sow kindness, we receive kindness, Marlena. And the Lord calls us to be witnesses to that compassion and kindness, too, remember.”

“This must be the reason your church—and others—sends missionaries to other countries.”

Mammi nodded her head slowly. “I just wish someone had put their arms around poor Luella to let her know how precious she was to us . . . that we cared for her and wanted the best for her.” She turned her head toward the Bitners' farm, looking that way for the longest time. “I don't mean that
none of us did, mind you. It's just that once she was gone from the family, who knows if she remembered how much God loved her.”

Marlena thought of Olive's correspondence with Luella.

“Do ya hear that music?” her grandmother asked. “I hear the same melody nearly every day now.”

“It's Small Jay's friend Boston. Is the tune familiar to you, Mammi?”

“I don't recall ever hearin' it before.”

Marlena didn't say what she was thinking, but the melody sounded like a sad yet sweet love song. Maybe the sweetest she'd ever heard.