The Love Letters (22 page)

Heeding the urge to pray, feeling desperate now, she opened up her inner being to God like Mammi did every day, except in a silent prayer.
Dear Lord God, wilt Thou be our helper, especially for Angela Rose's future? My mother and grandmother always say
to trust in Thy wisdom, O Lord, and I really want to do that right now . . . more than anything else
on Thy green earth. In our Lord Jesus' name. Amen
.

After a generous hot meal shared with the extended family, her mother mentioned a box she'd packed for Marlena with a few of Luella's personal items. “Why don't ya take it back to Brownstown and look through it when you're ready.”

Surprised, Marlena wanted to ask about it but kept still.

“According to Gordon's aunt Patricia, there's nothing in there he would care about. Of course, I got her say-so first.”

The intensity in her mother's eyes seemed to indicate her
need to create a bridge of sorts between Marlena and her sister, and Marlena hoped Mamma wouldn't be disappointed.

“There are even some postcards Luella received from one of the neighbor girls in Brownstown. You might remember Olive Hendrickson?”

Marlena couldn't believe Luella and Olive had kept in contact. “Really? That's a shock.”

“Evidently Olive was a
gut
friend these past years,” Mamma said.

Marlena hadn't forgotten the time Olive and Luella had gone hiking all over Olive's grandfather's land and came across an old wooden footbridge spanning the gorge. Luella had talked a lot about it.

“You're sure it was Olive who wrote to Luella?” Marlena said, still surprised.

“
Jah
, the English girl who lived not far from the Millers'.”

“I never would have guessed,” she said in a low voice.

What else don't I know about my sister?

F
ollowing the noon meal of baked chicken and mushrooms, and mashed potatoes with gravy, Ellie sent Dorcas and Julia out to the woodshed to carry in armloads of kindling to fill the woodbox. Meanwhile, Sally stayed put to wash dishes. And when the kitchen was all redd up, Ellie and her three girls went out to the hen house to gather eggs. She observed the delicate way young Sally reached for each egg and placed it in her metal basket.

The girls talked of their fondness for their unusual guest. Julia cheerfully suggested they start calling him “Onkel Boston,” which brought a stream of giggles from Dorcas and Sally.

“He must have a family
somewhere
,” Dorcas observed.

“
Jah
, maybe.” Julia smiled sweetly. “But if he doesn't, we could adopt him.”

Always our little dreamer,
thought Ellie.

Later, as they wiped the eggs with a wet cloth, Julia told on her little sister, pointing out that Sally had recently boasted she was getting old enough to gather eggs more often. “She said she never cracks a single one, Mamma.”

“My girls are growin' up to become responsible young ladies,” Ellie replied.

A long moment of silence passed, and then Julia asked hesitantly, “What 'bout Small Jay? Will
he
ever grow up?”

“Well now, Julia.”

“I just mean so he can help Dat round the farm, is all. He surely seems to want to.” Tears sprang into Julia's eyes. “I'm awful sorry if it came out all
ferhoodled
, Mamma.”

“Oh, my dear, of course you are.” She gave her a smile, wishing she'd initially been less quick to respond. How she loved her daughters, who, like Small Jay, had gone out of their way to make Boston feel welcome.

After Roman came in from cultivating the fields and had washed his hands and face at the well pump, he accompanied Boston Calvert to the gray family buggy and waited till he was settled inside. Small Jay stood near the carriage with pleading eyes.
He wants to come along,
Ellie knew. But Roman sent him back into the house with his sisters, and the corresponding looks of disappointment on both her son's face and Boston's were not lost on Ellie. Witnessing the growing bond between them yet again only made it harder for her.

As they rode, Roman talked about the barn, which also needed to be cleaned thoroughly for the upcoming Preaching, including hauling away manure and stacking hay. Boston was quick to volunteer his “assistance,” as he said. As usual, his choice of words made Ellie even more curious about him—clearly this was a man with a higher education than eight years, like their Amish scholars. Maybe even a college education. Roman, however, seemed out of sorts and grumbled about all
the time it had taken to fetch several runaway cows earlier. Even when Ellie stuck her neck out and tried to assure him that they wouldn't be gone long, he continued to grouse about the day's remaining work.

Then, changing the subject, she said, “By the way, Small Jay did a real
gut
job of cleanin' up the mess Shredder made.” She wanted to bolster her case for giving their son more tasks around the farm.

“I noticed your young man out there, as well,” Boston chimed in, which made Ellie smile. “He was scrupulous in his work.”

“That cat,” Roman muttered. “Shredder seems to have disappeared.”

“Maybe he suspects trouble,” Ellie suggested.

Roman harrumphed. “No question 'bout that!”

She didn't care to know what her husband had planned for the feline. Instead, Ellie turned the topic to setting Boston's mind at ease about Dr. Isaac, who was well-known in the Plain community. “He treats mostly Amish and Mennonite patients, and with much success,” she added.

Her remarks seemed to register enough that Boston nodded his head. Later, though, when the man's head drooped to his chest, Ellie wasn't sure if he had been going along with what she'd said or had already been in the process of falling asleep.

The visit with the folk doctor went as well as Ellie had expected. Boston seemed to like Dr. Isaac, who, not surprisingly, had a tincture and an herbal tea on hand to offer Boston. “They just might help you.” Boston promptly handed them off to Ellie for safekeeping, concerned about forgetting when to take them.

They returned to the horse and carriage, where Roman awaited, his head back, mouth wide. Evidently her husband had fallen asleep during the hottest part of the day.

The sky was clouding up in the west as they headed toward home down the stretch of road that wound past the Martin farmhouse. Ellie looked but didn't see any sign of Janice and Marlena—perhaps they hadn't returned yet from Mifflinburg. She wished she had a wristwatch like the Mennonite girls who came to her sewing classes, but she assumed that, if they weren't home, they were at least heading this way. Even though she didn't know Marlena all that well, she felt sensitive toward her, and she asked God to be near Marlena and her family on this difficult day.

As they neared the turnoff into their lane, Roman began to fish for information about Boston's former whereabouts. “No man's an island, ya know.” He glanced at Boston. “Surely your relatives are lookin' for ya, sir.”

“My dog is the last remnant of my family life,” Boston said with a shrug. “He's my faithful companion . . . all I have.”

“Well,” said Roman, “if you want, one of the English neighbors can drive ya to the police department in Lancaster City. Someone might have filed a missing person's report there. What would ya say to that?”

Ellie held her breath, pleased and surprised that her husband had offered this.

“I wouldn't say that
I
'
m
the one missing,” Boston said.

Roman chuckled at that.

“As long as you're with us, we'll get you feeling better, the Lord willin',” Ellie said, patting the little paper sack.

“Did the doctor say that stuff would remedy his confusion?” Roman asked, his brow furrowed.

“Well, not in so many words, but he did say the tincture and tea can't hurt.”

Roman huffed. “There's a world of difference 'tween that and a cure,” he pointed out.

Ellie supposed her husband was right, but she could still hope, couldn't she? Besides, Dr. Isaac had never steered them in the wrong direction before.
He just couldn't cure Small Jay.

“If you'd like, I can take ya over to the Hendricksons' place down the way,” Roman said, leaning forward to look at Boston, his gaze probing.

“Do I know them?” Boston asked.

“No . . . but they could get you to the local authorities. Surely the police have been alerted if you have family somewhere frettin' 'bout where you've gone.”

“But since that would be an exercise in futility,” Boston interjected, “I'd rather resume my work earning my keep, if you please.”

Ellie swallowed her hopeful sigh, knowing as rigid as Roman was, he would never seek out worldly folk, not even to report a possibly missing man. It simply wasn't his way.

As they pulled up to the house, she rejoiced silently to see her dear boy standing at the mailbox, slipping a letter inside and putting up the little wooden flag. Then, turning, he stood there, no doubt waiting for Boston's return.

Our precious gift,
Ellie thought of Small Jay, clearing her throat to keep the tears at bay.

After his father unhitched the horse and buggy and returned to field work, Small Jay and Boston took turns sweeping the porch and the sidewalks leading to the house and
Dawdi Haus
.
Allegro sat eyeing them on the lawn but hurried to Boston's side when the man took a seat on the back porch.

“How about I read another letter to ya?” Small Jay volunteered. “All right?”

Boston agreed. “But first I want to relay the discussion during the ride back from the doctor . . . if I can remember all of it.”

“Take your time. I have all day, ya know. Dat doesn't think I can do much work round here.”

Boston looked puzzled. “And why is that?”

Small Jay shook his head. He wasn't about to tattle on his father.

Thankfully, Boston let that slide and told him what Dr. Isaac had said, as well as about the possibilities for locating any family Boston might still have.

“Maybe your love letters will tell us where you're from,” Small Jay said softly.

Boston smiled. “There may be some truth to that, young man.”

“What if you just listen while I read and tell me if something jumps out?”

“Jumps out?”

“Jogs a memory,” Small Jay clarified with a glance down at Sassy, curled up at his feet.

“Love letters, you say?” Boston teased from his willow rocker. He pulled his harmonica from his shirt pocket and began to play the same sad yet pretty tune that Small Jay had heard many times before.

“Did Dr. Isaac give ya anything to take?”

“Why do you ask?”

Small Jay knew that most of Dr. Isaac's remedies needed
time to work. Still, he hoped for a better outcome for his friend than himself. “Just wonderin', is all.”