Edith and the Mysterious Stranger (8 page)

“May I see you to your buggy, Miss
Edith?”

She nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.”

Henry smiled, took her bag in one hand, and
took her by the arm. After helping her into the buggy and handing
her the bag, he smiled sweetly once again, his eyes never leaving
hers.

“May I call on you some time, Miss
Edith?”

She was about to say she was too busy, but
changed her mind and nodded. “Of course, I’d like that.”

Edith whipped the reins and the horse took
off in a trot.

It was about time she gave men a chance. She had
been too judgmental and she wanted to change all that. Edith had
noticed the way Henry watched her and had not taken his eyes off
her the whole time. He had a gentle voice and loved children as she
did. He believed in the importance of music for children. And she
realized that he was trying harder to be a real gentleman by
escorting her to the buggy. In fact, he seemed more humble since
the last time she saw him.

Perhaps she had misjudged him and had been too hard
on him. She nodded to herself. She really should give him another
chance, get to know the inner person, his heart. If he called on
her, she would not mind.

She shook her head in confusion. No man had ever
lived up to her qualifications. Why that was, she was not sure.
Perhaps she was looking for a man that didn’t exist? Perhaps she
put the perfect man on too high of a pedestal that no man could
ever live up to? If the ideal man didn’t exist, then what? Was she
supposed to reevaluate her life and priorities? Was she expecting
too much in a man? What was she afraid of?

Whatever the problem was, she was waiting to
fall in love, and it had not happened as of yet. Although, if she
was constantly turning men away after their first or second call,
maybe she would never fall in love.

It was dusk, and the evening was peaceful
and pleasant. Edith bid farewell to Melinda and Gilbert, and headed
for the buggy. A couple days had passed since she had given her
mother the letter to deliver to the mysterious stranger, and she
was wondering what he looked like, who he was, and what he did for
a living.

As she stepped into the buggy, she heard the
soft melodic sound of music in the distance. The music was mingled
with the sounds of a soft breeze and a Meadow Lark singing in the
background. Whatever it was drew her in the direction from whence
it came.

Edith immediately stepped down from the
buggy and listened. It was a soft melancholy sound, so beautiful
that it took her breath away. The melody was one of longing and
full of emotion. She had heard melodies such as this in the Celtic
folk songs of long ago.

As she approached the bunkhouse, she recognized the
delicate strumming of a guitar and the faint sound of the
harmonica. The music was played in perfect harmony, but yet each
instrument carried something special of its own. The music was
coming straight from the soul of the person playing. The sweet
notes were elusive and sweet, and it held her spellbound.

She was tempted to enter the bunkhouse, but at the
same time, she didn’t want to disturb those who were creating this
lovely music. But curiosity overtook her, and she tiptoed into the
doorway of the rustic-looking building where a dozen bunk beds were
strewn across the open room. She stood as silently as possible, for
she did not want to startle anyone by her presence.

At the far end of the room was a lean handsome young
man in his teens, sitting on a bed playing the harmonica. His eyes
were closed, and he was gently swaying with the music. The person
playing the guitar was sitting on another bed opposite the young
man. He was in his thirties with wavy brown hair. He was a
rugged-looking fellow with broad shoulders. His eyes seemed to be
far away in a dreamland, as he carefully listened to the harmony of
the music.

For a few minutes, she stood in awe and watched,
loving every note that drifted toward her. The sound caressed every
fiber of her being, and she was completely relaxed. Edith closed
her eyes and could imagine singing to this haunting melody. It had
touched her heart. When it came to an end, she opened her eyes, and
the two men were staring at her.

Startled that she had been caught eavesdropping, her
face flushed a rosy color and she quickly dropped her eyes to the
floor.

David immediately recognized her and stood. “Can I
help you, Miss Edith?”

Edith looked up, feeling embarrassed. She tried
her best to blurt out an apology. “I…I’m so sorry.”

“For what, Miss Edith?”

“For disturbing you. You see, I heard your
music and… Well, I couldn’t help it. I had to see who was playing
such lovely music.”

She looked at the other man who acted amused
by her nervousness. He had a grin on his face as if enjoying her
flustered look.

She took a deep breath and continued. “The
music was so relaxing. It sounds familiar. Is it a Celtic
melody?”

The man nodded. “Irish. I’ve been teaching
it to David.”

“It was lovely. Simply lovely. In fact, I
was touched by the way you played it. You know what I mean. From
your heart.”

David turned toward his partner and
introduced him. “Miss Edith, this is Joseph. We all call him Joe
around here. Joe, this is Miss Edith. She’s a cousin to Mrs.
Roberts.”

Joseph nodded. “Glad to meet you, Miss
Edith.”

He strummed a few chords as he watched her.
His eyes swept over her, looking her up and down as if he were
appraising her, judging the nature or value of her. This made Edith
feel uneasy. Then he turned to his music, ignoring her and looking
down at his guitar as he strummed one chord after another, as if
searching for the right melody. After a moment, he started playing
the sweet melodic notes of “Beautiful Dreamer” by Stephen
Foster.

Just as she turned to leave, he asked,
“Where are you from?”

Edith turned to face him. She was caught by
surprise, both by his question and his change of mood. One moment
he looked her up and down as if judging the value of her, making
her feel uncomfortable, and the next he acted disinterested in her
all together and turned to his music.

Edith stood in the doorway, watching him play one of
her favorite songs, wondering if he were more interested in knowing
where she was from or more interested in what he was playing.

Joseph looked up from his strumming and asked,
“Well?”

“I’m from Utah.”

“Oh.”

It came out as if he really didn’t care at all, as
if he were just making conversation. He continued playing, looking
at his fingers as the melody drifted throughout the room. Then he
looked up again and their eyes met. His eyes steadily held hers but
he remained silent.

When she turned to leave once again, Joseph abruptly
said, “So, Miss Edith, do you know much about music?”

Edith’s eyes widened. Did she know much about music?
She pondered the question for a moment and then turned around and
answered, “A little.”

Joseph nodded. “Can you play the guitar?”

She slowly shook her head, noticing that he was
changing the melody once again.

“Can you play the harmonica like David?”

She shook her head again.

“Hmmm, too bad. So, what
can
you do?”

This sort of question amused Edith.

“What can I do?” Suppressing a smile, she very
quietly replied, “I can play the piano a little.”

She was not lying. She did play the piano. She just
left out the fact that she had played since childhood and that her
mother had given her many a lesson.

“That’s nice. Can you sing?”

Edith suppressed a grin. “A little.”

“Do you know ‘I Dream of Jeanie’ by Stephen
Foster?”

“Yes. Doesn’t everybody know Stephen
Foster?”

Joseph smiled as he played one of the
sweetest melodies that Stephen Foster had ever composed.

Then he raised his eyebrows and asked, “Do
you want to sing it while I play, or would you be too
self-conscious or embarrassed? If you’re too shy, you don’t have
to.”

Edith’s eyes widened at such a question. She
had performed in many concerts, and here he was asking her if she
would be embarrassed.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he
said nonchalantly.

With confidence, she answered, “No, I
wouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“All right. How’s this key?”

Edith listened carefully. “Could you bring
it down a couple steps?”

“Sure. How’s this?”

She listened to the melody and nodded.
“That’s fine.”

As
Joseph
strummed a few
notes
, he said, “This is just an
introduction. Do you know what an introduction is?”

Edith nodded, trying very hard to suppress a
smile.

“I’ll nod when it’s time for you to come
in.”

He
strummed a few more chords and
then
looked up at her and smiled,
giving her a nod. That was her cue. Edith started
singing.

I dream of Jeanie with the light brown
hair,

Borne, like a vapor, on the summer air;

I see her tripping where the bright streams
play,

Happy as the daisies that dance on her
way.

Edith’s voice was rich and beautiful. Her
tone was exquisite. And her technique was one of complete emotion
as each word was sung. She closed her eyes and sang with fervor,
with great warmth and earnest feeling.

Many were the wild notes her merry voice
would pour,

Many were the blithe birds that warbled them
o’er:

Oh! I dream of Jeanie with the light brown
hair,

Floating, like a vapor, on the soft summer
air.

As she held the last sustained note, she
gradually opened her eyes and noticed that both Joseph and David
had their eyes transfixed upon her. David’s expression was one of
wonderment. But Joseph’s was completely different. His was one of
reverence. As their eyes met, he smiled and gave a nod.

After a few seconds, Joseph realized that he
was staring, and instantly broke the spell that he was under. He
cleared his throat nonchalantly, as if the song had not affected
him one bit.

Then he smiled and said in a disinterested
matter-of-fact tone, “That was nice, Miss Edith.”

She stared at him and softly asked,
“Nice?”

Joseph nodded. “Yup. That was nice. Well,
I’ve got to go. Got a lot to do tomorrow.”

Edith could not believe her ears as she
repeated, “Just nice?”

“Yup. Real nice.”

She shook her head in amazement. She had sung
with deep feeling, straight from her heart, and for an instant she
thought she had touched their souls just as they had done to her
with their music. And all he said was, “It was nice.”

She felt irritated toward his attitude.
Immediately she turned on her heels and strode toward her buggy,
feeling unappreciated and unwanted. What was she doing singing to
an unappreciative audience in the first place? What did this
uneducated farmer know about music, anyway? His attitude annoyed
her to no end.

She could not hear David and Joseph’s last
comments as she walked away, but it did not matter to her one iota.
They could keep their comments to themselves for all she cared.

Joseph and David walked toward the door and
stood at the entrance, watching her walk gracefully toward the
buggy in a brisk manner. Her skirt swayed back and forth in
agitation as she walked, and that made Joseph grin with amusement.
She seemed a bit aggravated with him, he noticed.

As Joseph watched her intently, he softly said,
“David, wasn’t that the most beautiful voice you’ve ever heard in
your life?”

“It sure was, Joe. I was speechless. I couldn’t
think of a thing to say.”

“The words that came to my mind were angelic,
lovely, exquisite, beautiful, enchanting. And I’m not just talking
about her voice, either.”

David grinned at Joseph. “She is that, I agree.”
Then they turned around and walked back inside the bunkhouse. “By
the way, Joe, thanks for lending me your harmonica. I bought my own
today so you can have yours back.”

A rap at the door brought Melinda to her feet.
She was sitting on the sofa quietly reading a book. As she opened
the door, she smiled when she saw Edith. They embraced one another
and then walked over to the sofa arm in arm.

“How are you feeling today, Melinda?”

“Just fine. I felt movement for the first time
and I was so excited. Not to mention how excited Gilbert was. How
have you been lately? It’s been a week now. Have you heard from
your mysterious stranger?”

Edith nodded as they sat down side by side. Her
eyes were shining with happiness and Melinda noticed it right
away.

A lovely smile formed on Edith’s lips as she
said, “I brought the letter with me to read to you. Are you still
interested?”

“Of course,” she said with enthusiasm.

“Well, when I asked him about revealing who he
was, he had a very good answer.”

Edith pulled two letters from her bag, opened
one, and softly read it to Melinda.

Dear Edith, the Confused,

The Lord said to the Prophet Samuel in the
Old Testament, “Look not on his countenance or on the height of his
stature.” Then he said, “Man looketh on the outward appearance, but
the Lord looketh on the heart.”

I prefer that you get to know my heart
first. I want you to know what kind of person I am inside and I
want to know what you’re like inside, too. Isn’t it our souls that
must commune first? Let’s not talk of what we do as a living or
boast of our exploits. Let’s speak of our beliefs, our desires in
life, and our goals. Let’s speak from our hearts and what we love
most in life and what makes us happy. Or what saddens us. But let’s
not talk of our everyday labors.